Half-step Purgatory

Durin stroked the black cat on the armrest of his chair, sitting on the black leather sofa. Through the glasses perched on his nose, his gaze passed over the long table in front of him and settled on the man kneeling on the carpet:
"I understand, you've made money in Naples, your business has been very successful, and you've led a happy life. You've had those secret police, friends in both the law and the underground, and even the Royal Family speaking on your behalf."
"You don't need a friend like me, I know that. You're afraid of owing me a favor, and you don't want to get involved in troubles."
"But now you come to me and say, 'I beg you, Mr. Durin of the Corleon family, please help me seek justice, so that my life and my family will not suffer and sink into despair.'
Yet, in your eyes, I was nothing more than a second-rate artist involved in movies and music. Even at the brink of death, you still show me such disrespect, not even willing to call me by my title... Keeper of Secrets."

Durin's Diary

Constantine Waltz, as the person in charge, was the last one to board the train, and before getting on, he took a thoughtful glance at the window in the middle section of the carriage.


The sight of the little Grassland Elf pulling back the curtain made him vigilant.


It was said that Grassland Elves were the favorites of the Old Era; in this age of abundant Magic Potions and Sequences, they still adhered to the old professional ways, with Magicians and Mages being the most distinguished of the ancient professions. Moreover, it's impossible to easily discern the age of a Grassland Elf with the naked eye; perhaps the one Constantine just saw was an 'Elder' with a century of life.


If he was a professional, he must be at least of the Ninth Ring, or even possibly a Legendary being.


Chapter 4: The Great Train Robbery I