Gun of Ashes

Chapter 3: Chapter 1: Second-Rate Detective

Lorenzo Holmes, who arrived in Old Dunling six years ago, now mingles in this city of steel and steam as a private detective.

Another person has died.

This was the topic of conversation this morning.

According to the Queen’s Daily, a man was shot dead at the border of the East City District and the Inner City District. Because it was close to the affluent Inner City District, the patrolling officers responded quickly, but, as with many times before, they found nothing.

According to the Suyalan Hall’s autopsy, the man was hit at close range by a shotgun, with the scattered pellets turning the front of his body into an indistinguishable mess of flesh and blood. However, based on the tanned skin and faint fishy smell, Suyalan Hall speculates that he was a sailor. They are uncertain why this sailor would be there that day, as it is very far from the harbor, and he had no reason to be there.

Another unsolved case, at least that’s what the public believes.

No one is surprised by this outcome, nor is there any panic. After all, people have long become accustomed to it.

This is Old Dunling, the heart of all Ingwig, the heart of the entire world, where the first steam engine in human history originated.

Every day, countless outsiders come here, some for wealth, some for knowledge, some for power.

The excessive human traffic has led to deteriorating security. To maintain order, Old Dunling was divided into four districts, each surrounding the other.

At the very center lies the power center of all Ingwig, where the Platinum Palace, residence of Queen Victoria, is located. The Royal Third Mobile Corps is also stationed there. Outside this is the Inner City District, where Old Dunling’s rich and noble reside, enjoying 24-hour protection from patrolling officers. Beyond that is the Outer City District, divided into four smaller areas where most residents live, forming the largest part of Old Dunling, and lastly, the Lower City District.

According to the visitor’s documents, Old Dunling’s demarcated areas open to them one by one. If you’re dressed in rags, you can’t even enter the Outer City District, at most you can loiter in the Lower City District, which, in a sense, doesn’t even count as a district.

Initially, it was a slum, but as more people flocked here, the Lower City District grew, eventually reaching a scale that the authorities could no longer ignore.

Thus, a chaotic and unruly district emerged, hosting the largest black market transactions in all of Old Dunling, the final incinerator of all secret information. It’s only a step away from the world everyone desires.

The slain sailor was from the Lower City District. To the residents of Ingwig, people from the Lower City District scarcely count as people; they are merely a stain on this beautiful city.

The sailor’s death became a talking point for everyone, though no one truly cared, except for one person—the one who killed him.

Lorenzo walked at the edge of the Lower City District. The infrastructure was non-existent, his boots sinking into the muddy ground. If not for making a living, Lorenzo would never set foot here.

Wearing a deer hunter hat dyed black, his light golden short hair pressed down, a dark red tie on his chest, the wide gray-black overcoat perfectly concealed the firearms beneath. He occasionally checked the pocket watch in his hand, looking like a businessman in a hurry.

Lorenzo’s attire was just right, no different from ordinary passersby, but now he found himself in the Lower City District. To the people here, he appeared like a lost sheep ready for the fleecing.

People from different countries and regions lurked in the corners, eyeing this sheep. This place was outside the police’s jurisdiction, and even if someone died here, there would be little accountability, given the massive influx of people arriving daily by ship.

Among them were all kinds of people, and they knew exactly whom to target and whom to avoid.

A few newly arrived outsiders took an interest in Lorenzo, whispering among themselves about dividing his belongings. Some wanted his overcoat, others his pocket watch.

The rest merely ignored it. After becoming Old Dunling’s black market, a new black industry chain formed in the Lower City District. Those daring enough to rob were mostly gang members, and getting involved would only entangle them further.

On the filthy streets, these people surrounded Lorenzo, their gazes menacing.

”Nice clothes, friend,”

said the leader, looking at Lorenzo with a smile. It wasn’t genuine goodwill; he merely noticed that Lorenzo’s pocket watch was worth much more than it seemed.

”If I were you, I wouldn’t do this.”

There was a hint of resignation in the voice, as if he was accustomed to it. Lorenzo didn’t seem to care about what was happening to him.

That’s how it is in the Lower City District. Previously, he killed a few reckless ones in front of dozens of onlookers, thinking he would establish some reputation, but every time he came, it was the same. Lorenzo thought someone was targeting him, but later realized it was just that those people weren’t around anymore.

This is the Lower City District, a temporary abode for those outsiders. According to the laws of Ingwig, this place isn’t protected by the kingdom, and its inhabitants aren’t considered citizens. Outside is the estuary of the Thames River, home to Ingwig’s largest harbor. People loitering in the Lower City District may be here today, but could set sail with the fishing boats to other seas tomorrow.