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

Bad news, the majority of the seeds have spoiled. A thousand years of time and the rupture of the storage compartments have both contributed to the failure of the seeds.


Good news, there is still one intact compartment, from which eleven catties of mostly intact wheat seeds were retrieved.


Old Enrique gathered his kin, two legends and eleven semi-steps, and over a hundred people protected the seed canisters as they departed—Durin no longer needed to worry about the aftermath of this refuge, so he pacified Dr. Jones by paying their salaries and a full half-year's bonus, then gave them the next address.


"Boss, thank you," Dr. Jones and his team were visibly delighted.


With a casual wave of his hand, Durin said, "Follow us Grassland Elves, and there's meat to eat, but just take it easy when breaking doors from now on. If the next automatic mechanism you encounter is armed with a repeating firearm, you'll be in trouble."


Chapter 120: At Wit's End