Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic-Chapter 368 Ace Agent "Ashen Eagle

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Because the issue was resolved so smoothly, Shard found that it wasn't even half-past ten when he stepped out of Squirrel Alley. The task of catching the mysterious person wouldn't start until noon, and the other one was too far away, on the other side of the city.

So after some consideration, Shard decided to first head to the Steam Bird Daily Newspaper Office to pay next month's advertising fee, then he took a carriage to the gas company to inquire about pipeline installation. It was only after these errands that he went to MI6's outpost to collect his salary.

And a stroll around the city like this also served to relax his mind.

"Stop laughing. I was just suddenly reminded of Mia," Shard said, somewhat annoyed, but she simply didn't respond to his request.

The MI6 outpost that Shard was liaising with was located in the "City Waste Management Center" in Tobesk Western District.

The last visit was half a month ago. The gray building nestled between a snuff bottle shop and a cobbler specialized in rain boots, and just like last time, it was hidden in the bustling Steam City.

Having been there before, Shard easily entered the building and, upon explaining to the receptionist that he was there to see Mr. Giles Johnson, quickly found that middle-aged man reading his newspaper in the "Equipment Management" section.

Hearing the door open, the middle-aged man, who looked quite bored, glanced at Shard, and once Shard closed the door behind him, the man's face lit up with a smile:

"Oh, look who's here! Isn't this Rejed's Hamilton Knight?"

He stood up to greet Shard with a warm handshake.

"There's no need for such fanfare, Mr. Johnson."

"Of course, there is," the middle-aged man insisted, gesturing for Shard to sit on the iron-framed chair opposite the desk while they were surrounded by rows of filing cabinets:

"You saved the Queen, not only sparing our loyal Director Anlos from managing the Kingdom Cemetery but also saving us pitiful low-level clerks from being at risk of a purge."

He even poured tea for Shard, something that hadn't been offered during Shard's last visit.

"What brings you in today, to collect your salary? Do you have the expense reports for reimbursement? Need to restock on bullets?"

"Of course, I've brought the expense reports," Shard said, pulling out an envelope and taking out the receipts procured from Priest Augustus on Holy Prayer Day. Since everything was legitimate, Mr. Johnson quickly checked and put them away.

Johnson went towards a set of filing cabinets with a bunch of keys and after a while returned with a stack of money:

"MI6 agents don't receive payment vouchers, to prevent anyone from tracing their identities. So count this, and if there's no issue, your salary for the month is settled."

"Alright... but why is there so much?"

In Shard's hands were eight five-pound notes, totaling 40 pounds. His weekly salary was only one pound, and even with the reimbursement of 30 pounds, it should only amount to a little over 34 pounds.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, you've been promoted,"

Mr. Johnson waved his hand to quell Shard's surprise:

"Because of your contributions last time, Director Anlos gave you a rank adjustment. MI6 doesn't have a complex hierarchy. We are directly affiliated with the Royal Army; by that calculation, you're now a Major."

"A Major?"

Shard was very surprised. He knew his friend Captain Lades had served on the front lines for many years without a fault and had only recently managed to attain the rank of captain. Shard had outranked him in one fell swoop.

"That's right, a Major. There's nothing surprising about that. You're our ace agent, and besides, MI6 has a different promotion system than the Royal Army. Isn't it normal for field agents to get good treatment?"

"Me, an ace?"

"Oh, sir, no need to be surprised. This is your officer's ID, please keep it safe. We hadn't managed to finish the last one, and unexpectedly had to change it to a Major's."

Mr. Johnson handed Shard a new identification book. Unlike the MI6 ID which didn't have his full name, the Draleon Royal Army officer's ID included a photograph and the full name, Shard Suren Hamilton. The photograph seemed to be from when Shard had taken one with the King.

"Your salary is now adjusted to a weekly five pounds. Expense reimbursements will, for the time being, remain the same to avoid idle talk. But after the fuss over you has died down by next year, Director Anlos will have a surprise for you," Mr. Johnson explained while Shard wasn't sure how to respond. Nonetheless, the bad mood he's been carrying from his earlier mission had entirely dissipated.

"Oh, and about the bullets. I was hoping to file for bullet reimbursement, but the usage report for the old bullets..."

"Don't worry about it, I'll cover that for you; it's just boring paperwork anyway," the middle-aged man offered enthusiastically. Shard tried to thank him, but he just shook his head:

"Considering your relationship with Director Anlos and Miss Galina, it helps me that you let me do this for you."

"Sorry, my relationship with Miss Galina?"

Shard looked at him quizzically.

"There've been some whispers about the Duchess inviting you to stay the night at her estate... Rest assured, it's just rumors," Mr. Johnson said with an "I know nothing" expression.

Since Shard had nothing else to do before noon, he stayed and chatted with Mr. Johnson for a bit before leaving.

Lately, not only had the city's security been better, but also the MI6 department responsible for the Tobesk Region had little to do. The arrival of the Evil God had temporarily silenced all the unruly elements in the city, but beyond Tobesk, many things were still happening.

"The Gray Gloves have been active in the southern cities recently. Director Anlos left Tobesk three days ago; it seems he's organizing some secret operation."

But since Mr. Johnson mentioned it so casually, Shard wasn't entirely sure whether Director Anlos had actually gone south.

"Are we really in a time of relative peace, yet Carsonrick's Gray Gloves are still so active?"

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Because there was still a month left for the letter sent from an unknown location to arrive at No. 6 Saint Delan Square, Shard was also very concerned about the spies from neighboring countries.

"Of course, it's clear that peace won't last forever. Planting spies in government departments, developing agents among the young people at the Academy, investigating the usage of special steel in factories, or simply sending people to mingle in high society to pry into the secrets of the Grand Nobles... Although these actions seem useless now, they actually hold their respective values. Otherwise, where would be the worth of the Gray Gloves Organization and MI6?"

Mr. Johnson yawned, while Shard felt he had hit the nail on the head about the original work of Detective Sparrow Hamilton.

"Have you also been an agent in the field? I find that you are quite familiar with these tasks," Shard asked with a smile, taking a sip from his teacup. The quality of the tea leaves was not as good as those left by Detective Sparrow.

"Yes, I did it when I was young too, but after taking a bullet in the ankle, I became a clerical logistics staff member."

Mr. Johnson shrugged, his enthusiastic tone becoming lazy, reverting to the tired tone that Shard had heard during his last visit:

"These tasks, performed by the Gray Gloves in Carsonrick, are also what we do, and even those ambitious people from the Little Duchies have their intelligence departments. Mr. Hamilton, national politics is an incredibly complex matter, and we should be thankful that we are in Tobesk City and don't have to do the work of a double agent."

"About how many people do the Gray Gloves have in this city?" Shard asked again, and Mr. Johnson laughed, shaking his head:

"I can't answer that question, and even the Gray Gloves themselves wouldn't be able to. However, MI6 has made estimates—probably somewhere between three and four digits."

"Even considering the large population of Tobesk and the diplomatic staff of the United Kingdom Consulate, that still shouldn't account for so many, should it?" Shard inquired with hesitation.

"Some people don't even know they're working for the Gray Gloves; the number includes those people, so that's why it sounds so terrifying."

"Then, are there any well-known spies locally?"

This was out of Shard's curiosity.

"Well-known spies are failed spies; unknown spies are the successful ones."

The middle-aged man thought for a moment, then added:

"However, we can be certain that there are Gray Gloves among those people at the Consulate, and surely amongst those brokers who shuttle between the politics of the two countries as well. Besides, two years ago, we received information that Carsonrick secretly dispatched two ace agents from the Gray Gloves Organization to infiltrate Tobesk. We caught one of them six months ago, but he committed suicide. From his letters, we learned that the other was the infamous 'Greyhawk' (Chapter 74)."

Mr. Johnson shook his head with a sense of regret:

"But we only know the name. The last time our agents clashed with him was three years ago in the City of Steel, Gondor City, located in the Eastern Kingdom. At that time, we knew he was a male who was extremely good at the Art of Disguise. Greyhawk, during that operation, stole a batch of smelting records for a special alloy for casting Steam Cannons, which caused losses that are still impacting Draleon's special metals smelting industry to this day. His Majesty was furious, and Director Anlos was almost demoted... There's also the Gold Heist ten years ago and the accident at the Coldwater Port Shipyard eight years ago..."

This kind of agent is a true "ace"; Shard couldn't compare with him at all.

In just a few sentences, Mr. Johnson made Shard imagine the complex and interesting stories of a secret spy active in the Steam Age, walking on the edge of light and shadow. If Dorothy used such a person as the protagonist, she would definitely be able to write a good story too.

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"Do we know the age and appearance of the other party?"

"Not that we're incompetent, it's just that the other side is too cunning."

Mr. Johnson said regretfully once again. Seeing Shard was very interested, he added another sentence,

"If anyone could catch him, as long as they're not of too lowly a background, I think it's even possible to be made a viscount directly. Alas, for two years 'Grey Head Eagle' lurking in Tobesk hasn't shown any signs of himself; I even doubt whether he really came here."

The middle-aged man sighed helplessly once again,

"Where could he be?"

"Tobesk is so big, it's really hard to say."

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Shard also felt quite emotional and hoped that the "ace agent" would never disturb his life.

After chatting with Mr. Johnson for a while longer, Shard left with the money and three books tucked under his arm.

The time had come to half past eleven in the morning. He caught a carriage at the street corner and hurried through the streets and alleys, brushing past numerous strangers. Following the clues provided by Iluna, Shard rushed to Lewis Street, also located in the western part of the city.

This street, which doesn't allow carriages and is a rarity in the city, wasn't called by this name twenty years ago. It was only after General Lewis of the Kingdom passed away here that the street was renamed.

According to information, Mrs. Swan, a 26-year-old woman who had been divorced once, starting from two weeks ago, had noticed every day except Sunday at noon while passing through this street that a man in black was peeking at her from the exit of Black Horn Alley on Lewis Street.

Lewis Street was the necessary path she took to go home; taking a detour would be quite troublesome.

This was a task commissioned by ordinary people to Blackstone Security Company, so the security company just did a preliminary investigation. After confirming there were no major problems, they postponed the task and signed a contract with the client to start the task next week.

Iluna specially picked out this mission because the client described the peeper as "even in the summer, he always wraps himself up tightly and even wears gloves. I've never dared to approach him, but from a distance, I saw the face hidden in the alley's shadow and under the brim of his hat, oh God, I simply can't describe what I've actually seen."

Such descriptions easily lead Circle Sorcerers to think of some unfavourable things; Shard thought of the ugly merman of Coldwater Port.

He arrived earlier than scheduled. Miss Swan worked as a typist not far from here at the Southern Cotton and Flax Trading Company and would leave her workplace and pass by around twelve-ten.

Before her appearance, Shard circled the nearby alleys, confirmed the surrounding roads, and tried to find the peeper, but it seemed he did not arrive that early.

He had not had lunch yet, so he began his task on an empty stomach. To appear more natural, Shard also deliberately bought an outdated morning paper from a passing newsboy and stood under a streetlamp pretending to wait for someone.

Fortunately, Tobesk was still shrouded in a thin fog today; otherwise, standing on the street hungry at midday in the summer, even Shard would find it unbearable.

At twelve-oh-eight, Miss Swan, who looked exactly like the lady in the photo provided by Iluna, finally appeared at the eastern end of Lewis Street. She was a tall and graceful woman, but her expression looked somewhat panicked. Despite being quite worried and clutching her handbag as she looked to both sides of the street, she bravely walked forward, as the street was still filled with other pedestrians.

Shard, who was "reading the newspaper" in the middle of the street, instantly became alert. The bustling pedestrians walked past him, and the noisy sounds made the city life atmosphere very intense. Experience tales with novelbuddy

His attention, however, was on the alley's entrance across the street. Indeed, with the appearance of Miss Swan, a person in a black jacket, black pants, black shoes, and a black hat leaned against the wall and poked his head out from the vast shadows of the alley wall.

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