—One more makeup chapter coming at eleven.
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Sorge's wax museum was dim in tone and low in lighting, making the wax figures displayed behind the glass on either side look no different from real people. This inspired considerable admiration and appreciation, but it also raised the unsettling question of whether some of them might actually be living souls, bringing with it a faint shiver of unease.
"Heh heh, my wax figure just has slightly darker skin," said Viscount Wright, pointing at his own figure in a black tuxedo and addressing Sorge and Graniv with a smile. "Your craftsmanship is truly extraordinary, Mr. Sorge. If I stood here beside it at night, no one would be able to tell which was the wax figure and which was the real person."
Due to the aftereffects of the earlier "terrorist" attack, Sorge's complexion had remained poor, but now, upon receiving Viscount Wright's praise, it recovered slightly: "My lord, this was the figure you commissioned upon your return from the Holm Kingdom. Your skin looked just like that at the time."
Viscount Wright laughed heartily, clearly satisfied: "Ah, now that you mention it, I remember. It was July back then, and the sunlight was fierce. Being a Great Knight, I handled it well enough, but some of the people on the same ship even ended up with bronze skin."
"I nearly didn't recognize you when I first saw you, my lord," Graniv said with an obsequious laugh. Then he cast a cautious glance toward Harrison Brown, who was admiring the wax figures a short distance behind them. "My lord, that earlier attack seemed to be aimed at Knight Brown. Do you think there might be more to come? Heh heh — I'm not a knight, I have no ability to defend myself, so I'm rather worried."
Viscount Wright adjusted his collar, exchanged a glance with Graniv, and replied in a nonchalant tone: "Don't worry. Even though they wanted to kill Brown, they weren't willing to pay the price. If they'd truly been serious, they could have sent a mid-tier magician and a knight to infiltrate a gathering like this — that would have guaranteed Brown's death. The only problem is, both that magician and knight would have been surrounded by the Night Watch and our people with no chance of escape. For the Magic Parliament, that would be a completely unprofitable exchange. Even if there are further attacks, they'll mainly focus on creating chaos and long-range strikes. Heh heh, Graniv — I'll prioritize protecting you, my faithful squire with no combat ability."
Graniv had always proclaimed himself the viscount's loyal squire, and Viscount Wright had never minded addressing him as such.
Brown, who was admiring the wax figures of the various nobles in the distance, grew a little more relaxed upon overhearing their conversation. That's right — to assassinate a quasi-knight like himself, who had been elevated by potions, the Magic Parliament would absolutely be unwilling to pay a heavy price.
And behind him, beyond the wall of attendants who had — whether intentionally or not — formed a human barrier, Lucian carried his black leather case, clicking his tongue in admiration at the lifelike quality of the wax figures as he slipped past them and headed deeper into the museum.
After winding through a series of turns in the spacious, dimly lit museum, Lucian found an unoccupied corner. The glass cases here stood empty, reserved for figures that had not yet been crafted.
After calculating his distance from Brown and the others, Lucian tucked the black case into a spot in the corner that would be hard to notice, then took out the Gold Thalers from inside and placed them in a coin purse, before lifting the false bottom.
Neatly secured in the false bottom were ten sticks of Fire Glue, a packet of ordinary gunpowder, and a long rope coiled into dozens of loops.
These were no ordinary Fire Glue — they were enhanced Fire Glue with far more devastating explosive power.
After borrowing sulfuric acid, nitric acid, and other materials along with an alchemical apparatus from the "Ferryman," Lucian had produced some nitroglycerin under the dual protection of a star shield and solar ward, combining it with animal fats. He had then incorporated it into the Fire Glue.
In truth, ever since he first began manufacturing Fire Glue, Lucian had been looking for ways to increase its explosive power. In the beginning, lacking any personal defensive capabilities, he had not pursued the matter. It was only after becoming an official magician and obtaining the Weaver's Bracelet that he had started continuously analyzing and refining the Fire Glue magical formula during his travels. By the time he reached the Duchy of Jibeti, he had achieved satisfactory results — though the scarcity of materials and experimental apparatus had prevented him from putting them to use until now.
The reason he hadn't used pure nitroglycerin directly was that he needed the magical fluctuations produced by Fire Glue.
Since the glass tubes containing the "enhanced" Fire Glue were inscribed with magical runes to prevent accidental detonation from shaking, Lucian placed the packet of ordinary gunpowder alongside it, connected it to the long rope, then closed the black case and threaded the rope through the corner in a winding pattern.
Based on his experience from testing burn times the previous night, he calculated the appropriate length, then carefully ignited the rope with a flint striker.
The rope, treated with a special substance, began to burn steadily and evenly.
Lucian pressed down his black top hat, kept his head low, and strode briskly out of the secluded corner toward the front section of the museum where the nobles had gathered.
*Hsss hsss hsss* — the faint, nearly soundless burning crackled on in this section where not even wax figures stood, and after two minutes of quick walking, Lucian could already see the group of nobles. Some were still admiring their figures, while others were trying to arrange appointments with Sorge for their own commissions.
Lucian leaned against a glass display case at a moderate distance, watching the lively scene. Anyone entering now would naturally go to the front to view the figures — only someone with ulterior motives like himself would venture to the back corners. "One minute left. No one should notice."
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Brown gazed at those vivid wax figures with burning eyes and a hot heart. If his wax figure could one day be collected by a city museum, there would be nothing left to regret in terms of glory.
"Where is Mr. Sorge?" Brown looked around, searching for Sorge, and spotted him surrounded by a cluster of minor nobles on the left, discussing the details of wax figure commissions. Meanwhile, Viscount Wright and the other prominent nobles stood behind, admiring a dual figure of Baron Munkácsy and his wife — one standing, one seated.
Thinking that he ought to confirm his own wax figure appointment, Brown signaled to the adventurer Night Watchman beside him and took a few steps forward toward Sorge.