Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 667 - 466: Song of the Deep Diver (I)

Chapter 667: 466: Song of the Deep Diver (I)

Mr. Tim, who had been clonked on the head, took a moment to realize that the object in front of him was a genuine World Tree Sapling, and he immediately curled up like a quail — it was well-known that the holders of World Tree Saplings were often powerful individuals, and these days, the only one with such a tender face and young age was Malin Gaiate from Carterburg.

And who might Malin Gaiate be?

For the elves, Malin was someone destined to become a Sage, his wisdom alone being enough to illuminate the beacon of civilization.

To the Dwarves, Malin was an incredible God of Craftsmen, and if possible, he would be one of them, and the Dwarves would be willing to elevate him to deity status someday in the future.

In the eyes of the Half-humans, Malin might be a bit impersonal, but like the Dwarves, they rejoiced in all the blueprints Malin provided, and if possible, they too were willing to lend a hand in this matter — a true God of Craftsmen, such a deity had never existed in this world.

As for his other identities, well, that’s a longer list, including the Mage Tower’s star of tomorrow, the favorite of both the Lord of Justice and some other unspeakably connected individual, a high-level Psychic, and even holding the rank of red-robed High Priest in the Church of the Harvest Goddess was more than Mr. Tim could afford to offend — wizards, in the eyes of the Church, were the kind who could have a bounty on their heads, deemed as someone to never be spared or mistaken.

If Malin spoke a word, plenty of Witch Hunters would likely scramble over themselves to slaughter Tim, this blinkered old fool.

And the likes of Mr. Tim, who could attend a wizards’ meeting, were usually cunning folks; even if they weren’t, after soaking in this atmosphere for a while, they ought to understand whether the one before them was a mere mortal or a specter.

Malin initially had no interest in playing up the mysterious aura — that was a tactic for protagonists whose strength didn’t match their status, a necessary evil. Although brimming with elements of pretentiousness, at its core, it could all be summed up in one word: survival. After all, there is a saying that fits perfectly: "a stealthy journey under cover of night."

These four words highlighted the most beloved elements in some stories — the art of bluffing.

Of course, for those habitual offenders filled with an overwhelming air of bluster, Malin could only acknowledge that to each their own, for the world won’t fail to accommodate a "King of Pretense."

As for the "King of Knowledge"... That kind of king is better off sent to the guillotine sooner rather than later — Louis XVI’s special edition.

Besides, Malin doesn’t need any mysterious aura right now. He just wanted to sit there and tell all the wizards that the wizard’s Heavenly Kingdom of Carterburg truly exists, he didn’t care whether they chose to be human or specters, but if they chose to be human, he had a bridge for them, and if they chose to be specters, he’d have a way to exorcise them in due course.

When the meeting ended, Malin gave all the newcomers a piece of fruit, then remained seated, graciously looking on as everyone departed from the venue.

"Your Excellency, Strength, why have you not left?"

"I feel like each meeting, Lord Malin, is like giving out money. It can’t help but make one wonder just how many fruits you still have in your pockets." The old man said this while looking at Malin and then, smiling, tipped his top hat: "Your Excellency, I am very grateful for your help to the Eastern Kingdom, and if possible, I would like to offer two free services in thanks."

"Then remember your promise, Strength, Your Excellency. Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, Lord Malin." The other departed through the passage, and with a snap of his fingers, Malin opened the teleportation channel back to Carterburg, dragging his family home with him.

There was still some time before evening, so Malin simply received the messenger from Regensburg — that His Majesty from the House of Mowish’s routine affair, inquiring several times a month about the progress of the new city. Malin thought this old man must have issues; whether he’s been sitting alone in the Regensburg hall for so long he’s developed dementia, if he’s that bored, why doesn’t he just use a teleportation channel to come over for a look himself? He found the constant sending of letters back and forth tedious and an enormous hassle for the messenger.

But to indulge the old man’s preference, Malin had to converse with the messenger amiably, check the letters, write a reply, and then boringly seal it with wax before asking Rewo to stamp it with the family seal of the House of Brice, then entrust the messenger to take the letter back.

Of course, payment upon letter delivery, given that the old man also played this game.

Nova was keenly aware of this and often sarcastically remarked after the fact that no one at her house could cause such a fuss for Malin, which puzzled Malin: "Didn’t you say your father and the father from the House of Mowish were good brothers?"

"Yes, but my father has been lying in the family graveyard for many years now." Nova fell silent for a moment and added, "I would actually like that a lot, seeing how jealous Faye is every time she receives a letter from her father."

Yes, you’re not only envious but also a bit jealous.

Malin ruffled the girl’s head: "Don’t worry, look, isn’t there still... me who likes you?"

He almost let slip about everyone and Nia.

Malin felt if this slipped out, the girl would probably start asking who Nia was — ah, Malin, words can bring disaster indeed.

Having warned himself, Malin took part in preparing dinner while occasionally feeding scraps of meat to Mrs. Spotty’s three little brats — after all, these three scamps had grown up; they had evolved from cute little things into little brats.

In other words, if Malin didn’t keep an eye on them, these little brats would tear the house apart.

Not like Ash, whose destructive tendencies were on a different level... If they were, the girls would have wielded the knife against them long ago.

One of the little brats recently took a liking to sharpening claws, demolishing a couch once a week — Jessica’s personally-crafted wooden couch, which left her fuming.

Malin had the World Tree Sapling transformed into a scratching post, but within an hour, the three little brats were hanging upside down, paws tied, in the living room by Fio and crew.

Malin had no choice but to have the blacksmith make several iron plates, thinking this would solve the problem, but the first iron plate lasted only eleven days, and the horrid noise they made while sharpening their claws was absolutely not a sound humans could enjoy.

In the end, Malin had no choice but to personally file the claws of these little troublemakers. Malin had someone else try this task before, a local beast tamer from Carterburg, who nearly became history after just one attempt to file the eldest cub’s claws.

Even the girls were no match. With teary eyes of a begging cat, the eldest displayed an aggressive stance while, due to the overwhelming physical strength of the girls, could only put on that "don’t come any closer" expression, which made Malin’s heart ache a bit—after all, these were the three cubs entrusted to him by Lady Spotty.

So Malin ended up doing everything himself, and the three little troublemakers recognized him as their own.

After cutting the meat and putting the trimmings in a basin, Malin sat in the living room to feed the three cubs.

The eldest guard his food, the middle one buried his head in eating, and the youngest ate quickly, occasionally getting beaten up by the eldest.

And every time, he never seemed to remember the beating.

Malin would always end up tugging at the eldest’s ear as a scolding, and each time the cub would whimper, then during the next mealtime, the squabbles would continue, never going easy on his younger brother.

All three were male leopards, and it seemed like they would eventually need to be separated. Malin started considering potential owners—send the eldest and the middle one away, and keep the youngest at home.

But after thinking about it for a while, Malin wondered... just who would be a good choice to "bless" with these in little Carterburg?

Logan? Forget it, give the eldest to this kid, and he might have to attend the unfortunate lad’s funeral anytime soon.

Shelton from the House of Brice? That’s actually not a bad option. But then, who to give? The eldest or the middle one?

The eldest has a volatile temperament. The Brice family is full of giants. They should be able to handle this big cat that is still growing.

The middle one is a glutton with a decent temperament, unlike the youngest, who is impatient. However, he is a bit timid, getting beaten by his older brother at every mealtime.

What about having Logan try the middle one, a glutton? Now Logan has plenty of money, and since the middle one has a better temperament, Malin thought there shouldn’t be a problem, and he would ask them later.

If that didn’t work out, Lager, the fellow giant, could also be a good choice—after all, he’s a giant too.

Giving them to other old friends, Malin didn’t think it was a good idea—not that there was an issue with their wallets, but rather their ability to handle themselves, a matter of life and death.

Having thought thus, Malin noticed the three troublemakers had finished their meat.

The middle one lay at Malin’s feet, the youngest was leaning on Malin’s foot, and the eldest had jumped onto the sofa, resting his head on Malin’s leg.

Malin rubbed the eldest’s head—ah, they say all good things must come to an end. Those three cubs left to him by the brave Lady Spotty, who risked her life jumping onto a train for her little ones, had grown up.

At this thought, Malin noticed Rewo adding logs to the fire.

A wave of irrepressible sleepiness swept over him.

.........

"Jessica, call Malin over. The guy’s slacking off again after feeding the cats," Lillim, who was in charge of cooking today, removed her apron and started instructing the equally idle werewolf sisters after she had prepared the food.

The latter nodded and trotted off from the big table.

"Eating again," Clovis shook her head. "By the way, where’s Matilda?"

"They have training at the Church today, they asked her to teach the apprentices how to shoot. Guess she’s standing out among the short ones," Faye said while she had her rat maids deliver the food to the long table.

"As one of the members of the canine family who’s least skilled with firearms in the house, letting Matilda teach the kids shooting might not be the best idea. She could teach them bad habits," Nova said, arms crossed, somewhat concerned.

"That shouldn’t be an issue. The Church of Justice usually favors shotguns, and Matilda is quite experienced with those," Maya said while bringing the grilled fish she made towards the long table.

"It’s probably the only thing she’s experienced with," Lillim chuckled, then noticed the werewolf girl returning alone.

"Where’s Malin?" she asked.

"Asleep," came the reply.

"...Malin’s been through a lot lately," sighed Nova.

They were all aware of just how busy their loved one had been.