Saint Samuel Church, main prayer hall.
The bishop with short black hair withdrew his gaze, no longer looking at the middle-aged gentleman in front of the offering box, nor did he feel any urge to go over and chat.
Here, in front of the altar, he represented the Church, under the gaze of the Goddess, and couldn't show extra warmth just because someone donated more.
However, he remembered the man's rather handsome features and mature, refined temperament, and planned to try to get to know him if they met again in the future.
Watching the last banknote slide into the offering box, Klein closed his eyes for a moment, then turned and left.
As he passed the preaching bishop, he deliberately glanced at the clergyman and smiled slightly with a nod.
The bishop returned a warm smile and tapped his chest four times in a clockwise direction.
Klein didn't rush to contact the relevant personnel, making sure his actions were logical and not suspicious. Calmly and gracefully, he stepped aside to let a believer pass, returned to his seat along the aisle, picked up his hat and cane, and walked out of the church step by step.
At that time, the believers who had listened to the sermon either went to the offering box to express their feelings or simply got up and left, seeing no problem since it wasn't mandatory.
Even the devout who loved to donate didn't throw money into the offering box every time they came; they did it once or twice a week or two, depending on their family's circumstances.
Commoners usually gave a few pence, the middle class three to five soli, and the wealthy and nobles in gold pounds, not exceeding one hundred.
This was the norm. On the annual Saint's Day of the Goddess of the Night, called "Winter Festival", the amount of single donations would inflate significantly. Well-off commoners would give two or three soli, the middle class about five pounds, and members of the upper class would donate directly to the diocesan bishop or church charities, ranging from hundreds to thousands of pounds.
— The "Winter Festival" refers to the longest night of the year, considered the birthday of the Goddess of the Night.
After leaving the church, Klein stood at the edge of the square outside, watching a flock of white pigeons flap into the air and circle back down, as if he had nothing to do.
He even bought some food from a nearby vendor and leisurely fed the pigeons. He didn't plan to look through newspaper advertisements for a suitable house in the North Borough himself, as that was the butler's task.
An experienced butler who had lived in Backlund for many years should know which neighborhoods housed different aristocrats, wealthy people, and the top-middle class who could be helpful to the master, so he could choose a residence purposefully.
Associating with neighbors was the first step for a newcomer to enter the appropriate circle!
"Whether it's the Carlton Club where Conservative Party bigwigs gather, or the Free Club of the Liberal Party, as well as various active and retired officers' clubs representing the military, you need a sufficiently influential reference to gain access... Sigh, this kingdom now is what they call club politics." Klein pulled his thoughts back and considered what to do after finishing this persona-building activity of feeding pigeons.
After serious thought, he realized he really had nothing urgent to do, because his plans were still on the surface.
So he decided to enjoy an expensive but lavish lunch, which was not only what Dwayne Dantès would do but also curiosity on Klein's part.
In those months in Backlund before, he had never mustered the courage to visit the most famous restaurants in this metropolis. He always chose between his own dining room, the buffet at Cragg Club, ordinary street eateries, and Lawyer Jurgen's dining room, occasionally going to the East Borough to have breakfast or lunch in a greasy café.
"La Borie Restaurant? Their head chef is said to have come from Earl Hall's household, offering the wealthy, top lawyers, and senior government employees a taste of aristocratic cuisine that’s usually hard to come by... Earl Hall seems to have invested in this restaurant, holding a considerable share... Hmm, this place specializes in Backlund local cuisine, with very famous desserts, and the prices are unfriendly..."
"Intis Sellenzo Restaurant. They serve the most authentic Intis cuisine, heh, many of their signature dishes are attributed to Roselle, said to have been passed down from this Emperor's court... And unlike most restaurants of the same level that only offer a few main dishes to choose from each day, they have a wide variety."
Klein recalled the information about top restaurants he had seen in newspapers and magazines, and decided to go and experience the Emperor's court cuisine.
He didn't linger any longer, hailed a carriage, and headed to the Intis Sellenzo Restaurant in the West District.
Upon arrival, Klein handed his coat, hat, and cane to a waiter in a red vest and asked,
"Are there any vacant tables? I don't have a reservation."
"Yes, there is." The red-vested waiter showed no surprise, humbly asking, "Sir, is this your first time here? Are you alone?"
Klein nodded calmly and smiled, "Yes."
"Then may I have the honor of introducing you to our restaurant's most distinctive dishes and wines?" the red-vested waiter said as he led the guest inside.
"That's exactly what I need." As Klein passed through the ornately decorated doors, he saw walls that seemed to reflect gold.
For a moment, he felt as if he was inside some kind of gold vault.
Then he noticed the oil paintings hanging on the walls, marble statues placed in suitable positions, and gold objects inlaid or scattered in various places.
"Watch your step," the red-vested waiter reminded, guiding Klein to a window seat, where the melodious sound of a violin drifted from the band in the distance.
The waiter brought over the menu and wine list, flipping through them and introducing,
"Our most famous dishes include braised Dageya beef short ribs, black truffle porcini mushrooms, and Intis-style foie gras. I should mention that the foie gras ingredients come from the Bonas Farm in the Champagne Province of the Intis Kingdom..."
Klein listened to the waiter's introduction while perusing the menu written in ancient Feysac script, his eyes drawn to the prices.
After finishing with main courses, appetizers, and desserts, the waiter turned to the recommended wine pairings and finally said,
"All our champagne, red wines, and white wines come from well-known wineries in Champagne Province, including the 1330 Ormier red wine, worth 126 pounds. If you purchase it, you can take it away or store it here and have a glass each time you come."
126 pounds... I could hire an excellent butler with that... Heh... Klein smiled with great poise.