The Shepherds Are Dense – Chapter 17

Chapter 17
Shepherd’s Secret Manual

Avalon Kingdom, Glass Island, White Queen District Inspection Bureau.

The Inspection Bureau was as bustling as ever that morning.

Men and women in light or leather armor strode purposefully, their demeanor sharp and heroic. On Director Kent’s office wall still hung a majestic, silvery-white dragon head portrait—the Silver Crown Dragon, forever gazing down upon them.

Director Kent, now in his forties but still robustly built, sat in his leather chair. His back was straight, his rounded shoulders and upper arms filling out his loose-fitting clothes. His tanned skin and the fleshy contours of his face gave him the impression of a fierce, hard man. A deep scar ran from above his left eye to his lip, and he wore a black eyepatch, giving him the look of a one-eyed pirate. As a matter of ritual and etiquette, even though Director Kent hadn’t participated in frontline combat for over a decade, he still wore armor while working. His posture had to be perfect, his bearing unwavering. His upper arms, abdomen, and calves, areas not bearing high impact, were protected by silvery-white metal armor. Other areas were adorned with gleaming plates.

If he weren’t an Extraordinary of considerable standing himself, simply sitting there all day would be exhausting.

Four hundred and twenty years ago, Lancelot I, the founding monarch of the Avalon Kingdom, established three major legal institutions. The Inspection Bureau, responsible for “inspecting and protecting the people”; the Inspection Department, for “supervising knights and officials”; and the Arbitration Hall, for “judging right and wrong.” In their initial establishment, these three legal bodies were of equal standing, with key responsibilities held by Knights of the Round Table who could enter the Senate.

The Avalon Kingdom’s emblem was a green eye nested within a silvery-white triangle symbolizing authority. The eye represented the royal family, signifying their current Old Queen, Sophia I, who, nearly eighty, was still in good health. The silver triangle protecting the royal family referred to the Inspection Bureau, the Inspection Department, and the Arbitration Hall.

However, as the times progressed, the Inspection Bureau’s responsibilities grew exponentially. Taxation, security, sanitation, fire prevention, public order, censorship, and imprisonment… Consequently, the Inspection Bureau gradually split into numerous sub-departments, establishing branches in various regions and recruiting a large number of trainee inspectors, inspectors, and chief inspectors to manage local affairs, thus diluting its power.

The Inspection Department and the Arbitration Hall, due to the more difficult and specific nature of their tasks, did not expand in scale. The former evolved into an organization akin to a secret service agency, responsible for vetting officials for loyalty, investigating hereditary Knight families for moral failings, examining grassroots inspections for breaches of discipline and regulations, and monitoring spies from other nations or gathering intelligence independently abroad. The latter, meanwhile, became the current judiciary.

The shared characteristic was that they were now both a rank above the Inspection Bureau. As a result, any talent within the Inspection Bureau who reached the Fourth Tier was transferred to the Inspection Department or the Arbitration Hall. The purported reason was: “You won’t be needing such talent anyway.” Even in core areas like the White Queen District, adjacent to the Glass Steps, Director Kent himself was only at the Third Tier. The young woman named Haina, recently transferred, was barely in her early twenties yet possessed strength comparable to Director Kent, who was now approaching fifty.

Director Kent didn’t need to think to know that the Inspection Department would soon come asking for her. This was an era that produced geniuses in abundance. Haina, Sherlock, and these new-generation talents were far superior to those like them, who had grown up in times of peace. This boded ill. Director Kent mused. This might be a sign of impending turmoil…

He picked up the telephone on his desk, dialing the rotary dial. 0—1—2, the call connected. “Tell Haina to come to my office,” Director Kent instructed. “And find someone to summon our consultant as well.”

He hung up, dropping the copy of the Glass Steps Herald onto his desk. He then walked over to the bookshelf. The front-page headline of this newspaper featured a photograph of Haina with the young master of the Moriarty family. The handsome young man with a gentle smile sat casually in an elven-art-designed wheelchair, a blanket draped over his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. He spoke with a gentle, naturally poised demeanor. Behind him, Haina stood rigidly, hand on the hilt of her sword, her muscles taut. As if noticing the photographer, or perhaps greeting someone familiar on the other side of the lens, the young man, mid-sentence, shifted his gaze from the reporter towards the camera. He offered a warm smile, as bright as the sun, and raised his hand slightly in a wave. Yet, it conveyed the feeling of him smiling and waving to the readers looking at the newspaper. The next moment, the scene rewound to the beginning, with Eivass continuing to speak earnestly to the reporter from his wheelchair.

—This was the “Magic Painting” ability from the Path of Beauty. Legally, the Path of Beauty was forbidden in Avalon, but Master Janis was an exception. Her “Glass Daily Newspaper Office,” established by the world-renowned elven painter, was the largest, and arguably the only official, newspaper in Avalon. The Glass Daily Newspaper Office was responsible for compiling the most important information of the Avalon Kingdom daily for the royal family and the ministers in the Round Table Hall. The three legal institutions also provided free copies of the Glass Steps Herald to their employees. Perhaps to follow suit, keep up with upper-level policies, or simply to express their concern for the kingdom’s affairs, some wealthy individuals who were neither politically involved nor employed by the government would excitedly buy the Glass Steps Herald. Subsequently, university students also purchased it as conversation fodder among their peers. Although each issue featured a “Magic Painting” lasting a cumulative fifteen seconds, and the material cost alone for each newspaper was one red coin, its price was not excessively high. Master Janis didn’t need to profit from it. The retail price of the Glass Steps Herald was only two red coins and five copper coins per issue—the five copper coins constituting profit for the distributors, and it was sometimes discounted. Even those of moderate means could afford it. This ability to watch animations in a newspaper was a novel experience. although it lacked sound and was in black and white. But at least the pictures moved—this was essentially the most affordable way for ordinary people to experience Extraordinary Power.

In this particular issue of the Glass Steps Herald, Eivass Moriarty alone occupied twelve seconds of the opening segment. Only three seconds remained for a bicycle courier. Director Kent highly suspected that Master Janis dedicated twelve seconds to Eivass because he was so handsome and his smile so charming. “Smiling so beautifully… he looks like trouble at first glance,” Director Kent muttered under his breath, his beast-like intuition kicking in. “I wonder whose daughter he intends to ruin…”

…However, he saw it clearly. One who could independently resolve such a major case at this age would undoubtedly become a far more significant figure than himself in the future. This time, they had stumbled upon a great merit for no reason, and substantial rewards must be given—this kind of major task should originally have gone to the Inspection Department, and it was by no means their usual affair. Furthermore, this presented an opportunity to connect with Professor Moriarty. Therefore, the chosen reward had to be substantial, otherwise, it would be akin to garbage for the Moriarty family. Presenting something they disdained would instead be a disgrace to the Inspection Bureau. …This is truly troublesome.

“A priest of the Path of Devotion… a student from the Seminary…” Director Kent murmured, rummaging through the bookshelf. Suddenly, his movements stopped as he looked towards a corner. There sat a book with a dark cover, its spine blank. The director picked it up with one hand, and lightly tapped the cover with the other. Sparks erupted from the pages, like a hammer striking an anvil. “This one might do,” he murmured, reading the title: “Shepherd’s Secret Manual… Judging by the name, it should be related to ‘Priests’.”

This entire bookshelf was filled with excellent items confiscated by his subordinates during their sweeps of forbidden literature. The Avalon Kingdom strictly prohibited the acceptance of bribes in any form, as it was an act that could shake “Authority.” Conversely, appropriate profit-making within the scope of one’s authority was tacitly permitted. This was also to prevent officials and ministers, when in financial need, from being bribed by foreign spies—especially those from the Star Antimony Kingdom—or from selling crucial information and internal resources to the public. This too could shake “Authority.” One tacitly permitted method of profit-making included selling confiscated forbidden books to Knight families—from this perspective, this bookshelf could be considered Director Kent’s personal property.

Kent was not a follower of the Path of Devotion, so he certainly wouldn’t be able to open this book. But based on its name and the sparks it emitted, it undeniably appeared to be a mystical tome belonging to the Path of Devotion. After an Extraordinary died, their soul would fall into the “Nine-Forked River” of the Dream Realm, flowing into the path they had most extensively followed. The power within would become the “Path Trait” acquired by subsequent followers during their Advancement Ritual, while their memories and knowledge would scatter across various locations, erratically falling into natural elements within the Dream Realm such as plants, fruits, clouds, and tides, becoming part of its building materials. Those Dream Traveling Monks of the Path of Wisdom could capture and collect these formless, fragmented secret knowledge from the Dream Realm. They would compile and organize them into books. These mystical tomes containing demonic knowledge were termed “Original Texts.”

The script of an “Original Text” was written in Gupta script, a long-extinct language incomprehensible to most people. It typically required a translator from the local Path of Wisdom to forcibly translate it using Mystical Arts before it could be understood. According to established conventions in the translation community, these Original Texts recorded in Gupta script that documented Dream Realm knowledge were uniformly translated as “Something’s Secret Manual.” The prefix depended mainly on the translator’s understanding of the Original Text’s content. Within a Secret Manual, one could typically acquire a complete Mystical Art—although it might have been recreated by others in later generations, there was also a good chance it would be a lost art. In other words, something unobtainable through normal means…

“Then it’s sufficiently impressive as a reward and a ‘gift’,” Director Kent mused to himself.

Finally reaching the recommendation list! Today’s update is over seven thousand characters, please continue reading! This book seems to be off to a smooth start, already having twelve thousand collections before even reaching the recommendation list! If this book performs well, I feel like I can write more!