Mage? Magic Engineer!-Chapter 127 - 124: A Man of Justice

After leaving Valuva High Master, Rorschach didn’t head straight back to the Tower of Stars. With his thesis defense materials prepared and his classes over, the young man found himself with a rare bit of free time.

He’d been in the Magic Tower for so long that he felt himself growing dull. Rorschach had to admit, he wasn’t the type of person who could shut himself off from the world for research and training.

Rorschach could spend a month focused on studying Magic Arrays or throw himself into designing the Transmutation Dust Collector for ten straight days. Even his spare time wasn’t for fun; instead, he used it to compile the Basic Alchemy textbook. But now, he needed to relax and take advantage of the fine spring weather.

As per the requirements of Valuva High Master, Rorschach hadn’t worn his Mage Robe to class. His regular clothes now made it convenient to walk through the city streets without attracting attention.

The spring sun was especially bright as Rorschach ambled aimlessly along the banks of the Seine River. Compared to when he first arrived, the roads of Valuva now bustled with more horse-drawn carriages, many of them in new styles. There were also far more pedestrians than usual.

However, he noticed a change. Before, pedestrians were often well-dressed, their clothes boasting the gorgeous and bold colors typical of the Holy Kingdom style. Now, many of the people around him wore unkempt old clothes, their faces and hair just as disheveled.

There were small kiosks on the street that sold newspapers and other sundries. Rorschach decided to buy a bottle of soda.

Just then, an emaciated, poorly dressed man lunged toward the kiosk like a starving ghoul, blocking Rorschach’s way. He waved a crumpled one-livre note in his hand. "Boss, one Flower Ticket."

"Five-ticket minimum now," the kiosk owner said, glancing at the customer as he began to sort through some small, colorful slips of paper.

"Damn it! Do you want my business or not?" The man raised his other hand—this time clenched into a fist. Rorschach could see that the coarse creases of his knuckles were caked with grime, and the back of his hand was covered in scratches.

"Just this once. You can’t buy them individually next time." The owner pulled out a ticket for the man and took his money.

After getting the Flower Ticket, the man immediately stuffed it into his coat, glanced around, and disappeared into a nearby alley.

Seeing Rorschach’s clean and well-dressed appearance, the owner’s expression changed in an instant. He broke into a smile, revealing yellow-stained teeth. "What can I get for you, sir? How about a Flower Ticket? One livre a bet, and you can win hundreds of Gold Lang. It’s guaranteed by the Royal Family."

"Isn’t it a five-ticket minimum?"

"Since you seem curious, I take it you’ve never bought one before. You can buy a single ticket just to try your luck." The owner was being especially accommodating. "Why, respectable gentlemen like yourself buy Flower Tickets from me all the time. They buy ten bets at a time, or place wagers on the horse races... That man just now was just an old bum. Don’t pay his kind any mind."

’So it’s just a lottery,’ Rorschach thought. ’And a very popular one, it seems. But I’m just a Mage, I don’t have the superpower to turn fifty thousand bets into 220 million.’ Rorschach shook his head and politely refused, insisting on just the soda.

"You get a three-Copper-Coin deposit back if you return the bottle," the owner said as he uncapped it for Rorschach.

"What’s that?" Rorschach’s curiosity was piqued by a stack of marked maps hanging on the kiosk wall.

"That’s the Gold Selling Guide! Heh, it’s a new item. Claims to have a list of all the restaurants and shops in Valuva worth visiting. Basically, it marks out all the best places to eat, drink, and have fun. There’s also a booklet with detailed reviews. The map by itself is twelve Copper Coins, but with the booklet, it’s one livre." 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

’Isn’t this the idea I came up with while I was out with my seniors? They actually made it?’ Rorschach bought the complete set. Sure enough, on the booklet’s title page, listed among the compilers, was a name: "Thor."

’I should hit my senior up for a cut of the profits for providing the idea...’ Rorschach was starting to get hungry, so he decided to check for recommendations. Below the names of the shops on the map were icons and star ratings. A crossed knife and fork obviously meant a restaurant, a cup denoted a teahouse, a hat a clothing store, and... butterflies, which were perched over establishments with names like "Moulin Rouge" and "Dreamy Valuva."

’I should hope... no, I’d better pray that my senior didn’t personally ’review’ the butterfly establishments. Otherwise, there’s going to be a bloodbath in our research group sooner or later!’

"Sir, I wouldn’t go any further down," the owner said kindly when he saw Rorschach put away his map and prepare to continue down the street. "There’s a group of out-of-towners up ahead. They can be reckless. A respectable young man like you could be in danger if you go there."

"Out-of-towners?"

The owner explained, "A factory up ahead went bust, and the workers can’t get their wages, so they’re protesting at the gates every day. These people have no income. When they see someone like you, who clearly isn’t short on money, there’s no telling what wicked ideas they might get."

"Thanks for the warning." ’A factory going bankrupt already?’ Rorschach heeded the advice and decided not to continue. He picked a restaurant from the map and hailed a horse-drawn cab from the side of the road.

Further down the street, there were indeed many people who had lost their livelihoods. But they weren’t causing trouble. Instead, they were gathered around a young man, listening to him speak:

"Listen to me, everyone! You won’t get anywhere like this! This place doesn’t belong to that cunning parasite anymore! You can stand around here all day, but you’ll never see him!"

"Then what are we supposed to do? We came here to work, and we were making a living. But now, bread in the Royal Capital costs a fortune! What little money we have is only enough for rations! We don’t even have the money to go back to our fields! If we don’t catch that lying pig, what else can we do?"

The man who spoke had been a farmer, but he had a relative in Valuva who got him a job at a workshop in the Royal Capital at the start of the year. For the first month, he’d earned far more than he ever did tilling the fields. But then half his village came, and the workshop went bust! They were supposed to be paid quarterly, but now they’d all worked for two months for nothing.

You earn more here, but you spend it just as fast, leaving a man in a bind. We’re surviving on odd jobs and taking shifts waiting here, hoping to catch that damn owner. Our labor isn’t worth what it was when we first arrived, and with no skills, we’re barely staving off starvation.

The young man explained loudly, "Of course we need to get the man responsible... we need to get him! But we can do that by appealing to the courts and petitioning His Majesty the King to get justice and recover the money you’re owed! We shouldn’t be wasting time here accomplishing nothing."

Hearing the words "petition the King" and "recover the money," the out-of-towners grew both excited and timid.

"But sir, we can’t read or write," one said. "And we don’t know any important gentlemen. How are we supposed to make His Majesty listen to us?"

But the young man was prepared. "I’ve already looked into the situation. The Workshop Master is currently being sued by other creditors and has been detained. As far as I know, the man still has money left. He’s not getting away!

"Since he owes you your wages, that makes you creditors as well. I can file an appeal on your behalf, demanding that the judge order him to pay your share first. And if the judge won’t make a ruling based on justice and decency, then I will write a petition to His Majesty on your behalf!"

"Who exactly are you? Can you really help us?" The crowd was incredulous. Was Valuva really such a large place that a strange gentleman would appear out of nowhere to seek justice for people like them?

The young man’s voice was firm, convincing, and deeply reassuring. "My name is Maxim. If you’ll have me, I will be your lawyer from this moment on. I will provide my services free of charge to help you get the justice you deserve!"

Maxim "the Rock" was once again met with cheers and surrounded by the crowd. It had been like this all the way from his small town to the Royal Capital.

...

"Where to, sir?" the cabman asked, having gotten a fare.

"The Golden Crown Tavern, on Montoglie Street." ’What an awkward name,’ Rorschach thought. He had originally planned to find a place to eat near "The Belly of Valuva," but decided he should probably keep his distance from the unreliable aquatic-life manager and underground-club member, Mr. Florent.