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

For problems without an apparent reason, Durin never fretted too much, as he believed in the adage that a way will emerge when the carriage reaches the mountain, and a bridge will straighten when the boat arrives. Clearly, such minor issues were not worth Durin's effort to ponder a reason.


The answer to this problem, however, soon presented itself.


On the second day, a senior named Carter sought Durin's help to draw a structural diagram for a longsword.


Carter, a senior standing at one meter ninety with thighs thicker than Durin's waist, was the epitome of a burly man from the Northern Highlands. Two hundred years ago, he would definitely have been one of those guys who painted their faces, carried a great sword, and charged into battle with a battle cry.


Chapter 21: I Came and I Saw