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

Fisher Gregory stood in front of his subordinates.


The agents from the Military Intelligence Bureau had recently suffered a setback in Milan, neither large nor small, as to why they had suffered, it was nothing more than infighting, young adherents of the Northern Doctrine trained by Durin greeting his own Military Intelligence Bureau agents on the clandestine front lines.


Fortunately, it was an unspoken rule for both sides to establish safe houses in each other's cities, and the ones who were found were all released, but incidents like this ultimately caused the Military Intelligence Bureau to lose face—so what if it was infighting, so what if they were all trained by Lord Durin, if our skills were inferior, they were just inferior, even if they complained to Lord Durin, they still lost.


After losing, how could they talk nonsense in front of the lord?


Chapter 240: Side Flank