Chapter Fifty-Eight: A New Commission

The main business of the Seers’ Association was the game of Rod Cards. The association itself did not hold gambling events but organized tournaments to promote interaction among Rod Card enthusiasts, which explained the availability of rentable reception rooms.

The two men settled onto the sofa. Shade tucked his notebook into an inner pocket of his coat, while Mr. Lavender set down his cane and reintroduced himself. The mustachioed middle-aged man was not an ordinary citizen after all.

“I actually hold the title of Baron, but as you know, in a city like Tobesk, nobility doesn’t carry much weight. This isn’t the countryside where impoverished aristocrats with little property can control a village or town. Though it might sound exaggerated, if you shout ‘Baron’ on the street here, you’ll definitely get more than one head turning.”

He shrugged at Shade, who understood the Baron Lavender’s meaning. After all, this was the capital of the Kingdom of Delarion; barons, especially those without much estate, were commonplace.

“Relatively speaking, I’m not very wealthy, but through Rod Cards, I’ve come to know some remarkable people. This commission is related to Rod Cards.

Here’s the situation: on Sunday night, I’ve been invited to a banquet at a lakeside estate outside the city, belonging to Count Clown. It’s a typical outdoor gathering, attracting a large crowd—men out to flirt, pleasure-seeking noblewomen, idle folk, and others with ulterior motives... My friend, Baron Rwanda, is organizing a Rod Card game during the banquet, with a special card as the stake.”

The mustachioed man glanced at Shade, gauging his reaction. After a moment, Shade asked,

“So, you want that card?”

“Of course the Rod Card is important, but more than that, I want to beat that fellow. Do you know how he mocked me last time after I lost the special card from my fairy-tale themed deck—the Firefly Queen? So, Detective Hamilton, I plan to find several skilled card players before the banquet to help me defeat him during the game.”

Baron Lavender nodded at Shade.

“Detective Hamilton, will you accept this commission?”

“I’d love to, but I really don’t know how to play.”

Shade shook his head quickly. Although eager to make money, he wouldn’t take on a task beyond his capabilities.

“No, no, no. Rod Cards is largely a game of luck. Once you know the rules, you can pick it up.”

The Baron shook his head as well.

“Sometimes luck is even more important than skill, and generally, we believe beginners have good luck. For example, you just won against me.”

“That was just luck, and please don’t rely on superstition.”

Shade emphasized firmly; he didn’t want trouble because of this job. Besides, having recently obtained the authentication certificate for the Founder’s Silver Moon card, he was practically set for life. Although he would continue as a detective, there was no need to accept risky commissions anymore.

“I haven’t only sought you out—I’ve found several others as well. If you help me win the game, I’ll pay you one pound—just for winning one round. Even if you lose, I’ll give you ten shillings. Plus, I’ll cover your travel expenses to and from the estate, and you’ll get to enjoy the banquet freely. If you’re lucky, you might even meet a beautiful lady.”

Baron Lavender raised the stakes further.

This made Shade hesitate. Since the Baron didn’t mind if he lost, the commission was acceptable. Earning at least half a pound for one evening was better than many specialized professions.

Still, Shade harbored some doubts and was self-aware.

“Excuse me, Baron. Do you really think I can help you just because I won one round against you? I mean, this is only our first meeting.”

“Actually, I first noticed your detective agency’s location and figured you must be no ordinary man. Earlier, I saw you and Vice Chairman Mark heading to the third floor. Even if you don’t understand Rod Cards, you’re not just any detective. The third floor of the Seers’ Association isn’t easily accessible.”

The mustachioed man smiled, then produced a deck of cards.

“If you still refuse, here’s a suggestion: draw three cards. If their total is 21 or less, you accept my commission. How about that?”

Shade’s interest was piqued. This commission carried even less risk than the one from Mr. Franklin, second only to finding a temporary family member named Mia.

“Alright.”

He took the Baron’s deck, shuffled, and drew the top three cards, laying them out in order on the table—

Star 1, Sun 2, Moon 3.

Both Baron Lavender and Shade raised their eyebrows.

“See, detective? I told you beginners have good luck. Don’t play Rod Cards again before Sunday; it’ll drain your luck.”

This notion seemed akin to some common superstition, like the “law of conservation of luck.”

Baron Lavender grasped Shade’s hand.

“Detective, you must help me. That wretched Rwanda—this time, I’m going to win for sure.”

Strictly speaking, this was Shade’s second commission. For formality, he fetched paper and pen, handwritten a contract, and after both parties reviewed and signed, kept two copies.

Shade valued the meticulous habits of his predecessor, Detective Sparrow, and intended to continue using ledgers, notebooks, and files to record every official commission.

It also made tax matters easier.

The invitation to the lakeside estate’s evening banquet would be sent by Baron Lavender later to No. 6 Saint Derlan Square. At the banquet, the two would not meet directly but act as acquaintances who happened to know each other, then play Rod Cards together.

Baron Lavender hoped this approach would prove his luck to his friend, Baron Rwanda.

Shade was concerned about Lavender’s plan but only sought that half pound; winning or losing was of little importance to him.

“However, I wonder if the banquet food can be taken away, and what the dress code is... I’ll ask the doctor on Saturday; he looks like one of the so-called upper class.”

That morning’s stroke of good luck made Shade question if his fortunes had truly turned. After bidding farewell to Baron Lavender, he did not return home immediately but walked to Old John’s Pawnshop to redeem his cane, said to be crafted from the heartwood of natural snow cedar from the Delado Mountains.

The shop was still staffed only by the owner. The pawnshop was pleasantly cool in the early summer noon.

Old John Jones, the owner, expressed regret at Shade’s decision and repeatedly suggested that if Shade needed money, he could sell the cane outright. John was willing to pay more than the pawn value to purchase it.

“So, how much would you pay?”

Shade did not reject the offer. If he wanted another cane, he could buy a cheaper one with money.

“Hmm... how about seven pounds six shillings?”

The elderly man, still wearing a red wool vest in the summer noon, considered before quoting the price.

His fingers, marked with age spots, twitched slightly.

“That’s not a low price.”

“Ten pounds.”

Shade immediately raised the offer, knowing the other party wouldn’t accept it outright; he was waiting for a counteroffer. Given the current purchasing power, ten pounds could even afford a grand funeral for Detective Sparrow Hamilton, so the price was hardly reasonable.

“Deal.”

Old John accepted at once.