My esoteric uncle Jules

Chapter 165 "Writing History"

Seeing the Prince of Wales mention the bottle of blue silver ink again, Jules couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and say:
"What exactly is the purpose of this bottle of ink?"

The Prince of Wales did not answer, but only said:
Do you still have the letter I wrote with you?

Jules was a little confused, but he still took out the envelope and handed it over.

The Prince of Wales took the envelope, gazed at the emblem on it, and after a long pause said:

"In fact, when I wrote this letter, Her Majesty the Queen still had not determined the future direction of the Empire."

But shortly after sending that letter, she underwent a dramatic change. I suspect she may have come into contact with some kind of being, which caused her attitude to become so radical.

Jules was silent for a moment, then said:
"Perhaps she has never really changed."

The Irish ceremony was clearly not something that could be accomplished overnight, but rather something that had been planned for many years.

The Prince of Wales was taken aback, then sighed:
"In any case, at least she didn't express any explicit opposition to my actions, so we still have room to maneuver."

He stopped hesitating and said in a deep voice:
"Getting back to the main topic, let me first talk about this bottle of Blue Silver Ink. It is actually a replica of a sacred ink called 'Final Ink'."

I don't know much about the Final Ink, but there is a legend that the history it writes will become reality.

Blue Silver Ink is a replica made based on this principle—text written with it also possesses many magical effects, and can even be considered a weakened version of Final Engraving Ink.

Jules paused slightly after hearing the Prince of Wales' words.

Previously, the priest only said that it would make it easier for Sichen to hear their voices during the ritual, and the effect description in the information introduction directly stated that "there is no special effect".

However, according to the Prince of Wales, this does not seem to be the case.

【Blue Silver Ink】

[Quality: Tier 4 Rare Item]

[Effect: Can be used for drawing and writing; no special effects.]

[Introduction: Sometimes, people can see gyrfalcons blooming on the cliff edge. But those in the know understand that power never resides within them.]

It even explicitly stated "no special effects"—in the past, this information had never been wrong, not even when it was directly related to Si Chen.

So, is there something wrong with my understanding?

He couldn't help but fall into thought, his gaze gradually falling on the introduction.

Power never resides within it...

After a moment of contemplation, Jules looked up and asked:
"Does Blue Silver Ink itself possess no power?"

The Prince of Wales glanced at Jules with some surprise:
"Hmm? How did you discover that?" He seemed quite surprised.

“I tried using this product myself before, but it didn’t have any special effect, so I gave up,” Jules said casually.

The Prince of Wales did not press further, but simply stated:

"It requires a specific ritual to be used, and I happen to be familiar with that."

It cannot directly bestow power, but it can temporarily materialize the written content, influencing specific people or events. The ritual is not complex, but it requires precise preparation and timing.

Jules frowned:

"How exactly does it work?"

The Prince of Wales took a yellowed parchment from his desk drawer. It was covered with intricate geometric patterns and had a few lines of scrawled text along the edges.

It looks like Latin.

"At midnight, write down the desired result on it and light an oil lamp fueled by 'Dawn Elixir'."

After the ritual is completed, the power of the ink will be in effect temporarily, but the effect will not last more than an hour.

Jules took the parchment, examined it carefully, and confirmed that there was nothing obscure or difficult to understand.

Although he could only partially understand the written characters, he could still recognize these mystical symbols.

Are there any hidden risks associated with this ritual?

“Yes,” the Prince of Wales said calmly, “the power of Blue Silver Ink is not entirely controllable. After all, it borrows the power of the Divine Star and even the Historians. If the content written is too vague or exceeds the limits of the ritual, it may cause accidents or even backfire on the user.”

"Therefore, the goal must be clearly defined, such as 'to make someone temporarily lose consciousness' or 'to unlock a certain door,' and the process and reasons must be logical. You must never write a wish that is too powerful and abrupt, such as 'to kill someone.'"

Jules folded the parchment and put it into his pocket.

"I understand. Do you know exactly where the centipede is being held?"

The Prince of Wales pondered for a moment and said:
"It should be in the Tower of London, a former palace, now a prison—but that's not the point. The point is that it has now been transformed by the Steam Church."

I've visited it before, and it... I find it hard to describe.

Yule frowned and said:

“I’ve heard others say that it’s like it doesn’t exist in the waking world.”

“You could say that,” the Prince of Wales said definitively, “or rather, they took a portion of ‘Mansour’.”

Jules' pupils contracted:
"Intercepting the drifting essence? Even immortals would find that difficult, wouldn't they?"

You should know that Mansu is the true destination of mysticism, the abode of Sichen!

Even in the world of the living, immortals cannot run rampant, let alone directly attack Mansu.

The Prince of Wales shook his head and said:
"I don't know either. That place is now the most solid cage in the waking world. It can be said that even beings close to immortality would find it difficult to forcibly open from the outside."

Yule's eyes flickered:

"Then you mean..."

The Prince of Wales's lips curled slightly:
"The people of the Steam Church are too presumptuous—everything they have comes from the furnace, how could they so easily escape its influence?"
They probably never imagined that one day, the mechanical cage would develop a machine spirit and open its doors itself.

Let the cage give birth to a machine spirit on its own, and then let the machine spirit open the door on its own?
Jules had to admit that the method was imaginative and practical!

The only problem is that there must be a vessel capable of giving birth to the machine soul.

"So, the Tower of London has been transformed into a mechanical structure by the steam church?"

“Yes, Your Highness can rest assured about that,” the Prince of Wales said after rummaging through the lamps for a while, then handed another lamp to Jules. “This is the oil lamp needed for the ceremony, please take it with you.”

Jules, holding an oil lamp in one hand and ink in the other, waited for a long time. Seeing the Prince of Wales staring at him blankly, he couldn't help but ask:
"that's it?"

He had assumed the Prince of Wales had more plans in store.

The Prince of Wales smiled helplessly:
"I'm sorry, the Steam Church is a reorganization of the Controlled Fire, which is directly under Her Majesty the Queen's control, so I can't interfere too much in the Tower of London."

"If you need any further assistance, please feel free to ask. I will do my best to help within my capabilities."

Everyone would take action… Jules asked casually:
"Do you have any worm remnants here? Deteriorated ones are fine too."

To everyone's surprise, the Prince of Wales fell into an unusual silence, his face twitching slightly, and said:

"Perhaps the anti-suppression bureau has some."

Jules shook his head helplessly, but wasn't too disappointed, and instead said:

"Could you then assign two tasks to the current Anti-Suppression Bureau?"

The Prince of Wales raised an eyebrow:
"Why?"

"It has its own ingenious uses."

After saying goodbye to Holmes and Ram, Jules did not go directly to the Tower of London to plan the rescue of the centipede, but instead headed to Baker Street.

He wasn't going back to the detective agency, of course; he was going to visit another old friend who lived on this street—"Iron" Rutos.

Although Jules was still nominally a member of the Anti-Suppression Bureau, he felt that he was no different from someone who had been dismissed.

Although Rutos was ostracized, he still stayed in London for a long time, and it was more convenient for him to handle some things.

Stepping out of the manor, it was already noon. Sunlight filtered through the thin mist onto the streets of London, and the air was filled with the smell of coal smoke and freshly baked bread.

Jules was wearing an old gray overcoat with a slightly worn collar, and a black round hat pulled low over his head, which covered most of his face.

His boots were also covered in mud, making him look like an unremarkable office worker.

This attire was inconspicuous on the bustling streets of London, perfectly suited to his low-key lifestyle.

He waited patiently at the public horse station, and soon a two-horse carriage creaked into view.

The driver, wrapped in a coarse cloth coat, chewed on tobacco and looked impatient.

Jules paid a few pennies, squeezed onto the train, and found a corner seat by the window.

Unlike the carriages he usually rode in, this public carriage was much larger and already packed to the brim.

The carriage was noisy with voices. Several workers complained that the factory's steam engine had broken down again, two women whispered about the price of fish at the market, and a thin newsboy carried a stack of newspapers with ink smeared on his face.

Outside the window, street vendors push their carts, hawking hot meat pies, while children chase each other along the roadside. The sounds of horses' hooves and wheels mingle, creating a vibrant and lively atmosphere on Baker Street.

Jules leaned against the car window, his gaze falling into a long-lost tranquility.

These days, things are changing too fast.

From Ireland, no, from London at the very beginning, he had already been drawn into one vortex after another.

Beneath the seemingly calm surface of London, undercurrents surged, enough to upend the entirety of England.

The empire was already teetering on the brink of collapse, yet the people in the carriages continued to toil for their daily necessities, completely oblivious to the dark clouds hanging over their heads.

He sighed softly, his heart heavy.

The carriage stopped on Baker Street, and Jules alighted and blended into the crowd.

Perhaps it was a good time, the streets were still bustling, not much different from what I remembered, and it seemed that the lockdown in London had not affected them much.

The aroma of wheat wafted from the bakery, several workers chatted and laughed loudly at the entrance of the tavern, and the intermittent strains of a street musician's piano drifted from afar.

Jules lowered his head to avoid the gaze of the surrounding pedestrians and walked towards Rutos's apartment.

At the same time, he glanced at their former detective agency twice—it looked like it had been ransacked.

This made him feel fortunate that he had run fast; if he had run slower, he probably would have had to face off against Prince Dorr's men.

No matter what, the other party is still a powerful prince of England, and a direct confrontation would be unwise.

Moreover, he had to feign compliance with the other party in order to better devise a way to rescue Lolita.

"Rutos, are you there? It's Jules." After a while, Jules gently knocked on the familiar door.

No response.

He wasn't in a hurry, but continued knocking.

The same thing happened last time; it took ages to get a response.

However, this time seems different—

Jules felt his hands were getting tired from knocking, but there was still no response.

He frowned slightly, sensing something was amiss.

Was Rutos on a mission? But logically speaking, given his current marginalization by the Anti-Corruption Bureau, there shouldn't be any reason for him to participate in a mission.

Or rather, did they send Rutos to his death?

Jules pondered for a while, then realized it wasn't that simple.

Since he couldn't get in from the front, he simply went around to the side window of the apartment and looked inside through the glass.

The room was a mess, with clutter scattered on the table, chairs overturned, and clumps of ash and burnt marks remaining on the floor.

Jules' heart sank. He pushed the window open and was surprised to find it unlocked.

He carefully climbed in, and when he landed, his boots hit a piece of broken glass, making a slight cracking sound.

He crouched down and carefully examined the ground.

There were several drag marks on the floor, and as he had seen before, there were also several puddles of ashes scattered about.

The ashes emitted a faint burnt smell, like the residue left after some kind of high-temperature burning, and it hadn't been long since then.

He rubbed his fingers together, his brows furrowing even more.

There were several burn marks inside the house, concentrated on the wooden items.

Even if there was a fire, there shouldn't be only these few traces.

Could it be... the ability to forge? Jules couldn't help but wonder.

He stood up, looked around, and noticed more details.

Rutos's whiskey bottle rolled off the table, its cap undone, the liquor spilled all over the floor. But judging from the glasses on the table, Rutos seemed to have been drinking at least a moment before the bottle rolled to the ground.

There were no obvious signs of a struggle inside the house—no bloodstains, no knife marks, no bullet casings, only a few burn marks.

"It looks like the ability of the casting was briefly activated, but it ended before a battle could take place."

Jules inspected the house and gradually came to a conclusion.

Rutos was probably forcibly taken away, but for some reason, he didn't resist much.

Or perhaps it was merely a symbolic act of resistance—the ashes and burn marks are proof of that.

"It's truly a case of misfortunes never coming singly..."

Jules was a bit annoyed. He was just about to rescue the centipede when this happened.
At the same time, he was also a little puzzled. Rutos had been fine before, so how could he have been arrested for no reason?
Could it be that they were implicated by their behavior at the detective agency last night?
Jules thought about it more and more and it seemed possible.

"Looks like I'll have to go to the Anti-Suppression Bureau's office building then..."

He felt that this matter was most likely related to the Anti-Suppression Bureau.

……

"Rutos, do you plead guilty?"

Inside the interrogation room, Rutos was not bound, but he made no unnecessary movements, simply sitting quietly in his chair without uttering a word.

The person in front of him was an obese middle-aged man wearing a top hat, whose small mustache jiggled as he moved his body.

“Sir Vistis, why bother?” Rutos said calmly.

The obese man was none other than Sir Vesty, who had previously confronted the centipede.

Sir Vestergaard said with a smile:

"Prince Dorr demands an explanation from the organization, which puts the organization in a difficult position. Someone has to be sacrificed, doesn't it?"

(End of this chapter)