Chapter 8: Chapter 6: Westminster Bank
An intricately patterned box carriage raced across the tops of dark clouds, drawn by three magnificent Griffins with blue-gray wings, eagle heads, and lion bodies.
Lawrence sat on the coachman’s box, watching the Thunderbolt below plow through the clouds and wring out the rain. He asked nonchalantly:
"When did you steal the prison guard’s keys?"
Holding the reins of the Griffins, Baron eyed them with fascination, taking in the sight of creatures he had only ever seen in movies, novels, and comics.
They were at an altitude of nearly ten thousand meters, where the wind should have been fierce. Yet, aside from the fact that they were standing on clouds, it wasn’t much different from riding an electric scooter on the ground—except they didn’t have to wear helmets.
He answered Lawrence’s question in a similarly nonchalant tone: "Back in the courtroom, when I recognized the bailiff was the same guard who’d been watching us."
Lawrence nodded. "So you had the prison keys all along. Was everything you said to me before just a test?"
Baron shrugged. "I had to see if you were trustworthy. Besides, I didn’t know the way out of the prison."
"These Griffins seem to be afraid of you. They have an innate fear of those with powerful souls and bloodlines."
Lawrence stroked the Griffin’s back, which was as smooth as silk. "Even though your Spiritual Sense failed, judging by your bloodline, your family must have been quite something. Otherwise, these Griffins wouldn’t have just carried us off like this."
The Griffin he was stroking snorted, turning its head to shoot Lawrence a sideways glance as hot air puffed from its nostrils.
Lawrence sheepishly pulled back his hand, flashing a harmless smile. But given his disheveled appearance, he looked more like a vagrant trying to suck up to his employer.
"Constantine. My name is Baron Constantin."
"Constantine," Lawrence mused, rubbing his chin, then offered his assessment. "Sounds like the surname of some bastard who’d go through hell and back for a woman."
Baron hadn’t expected to get anything useful out of Lawrence. In fact, ever since Lawrence had opened the prison door, aside from an initial startlement at his brawny physique, shaggy golden hair, and grimy beard, Baron had been completely sure of one thing.
He understood perfectly that Lawrence’s Madness was no act, but genuine insanity.
While they were hiding in the sewers, if Baron hadn’t kept hitting him to prevent him from getting out the name "Adel," the prison guards would have found them long ago.
Baron got his bearings, found the direction of Birmingham, and gestured for the Griffins to head that way.
"Are you sure this Alchemist, Bagins, can get rid of the [Time Death Judgment] on me?"
Through further conversation with Lawrence and his own deductions, he had gained a deeper understanding of the world.
The world has two sides: the Inner Side and the Outer Side.
The Outer Side is the world of technology and humans; the Inner Side is the world of Demons and the Old Races.
The two worlds are connected by something called the [Golden Law], through which they intertwine and separate.
On the Outer Side, in 1987, Elizabeth II was still grappling with how to handle the negative press for the royal family following the death of Rudolf Hess.
On the Inner Side, Demon Hunters were busy dealing with the Demon Fiends and Beasts that had appeared in [Inner London] with the great fog.
While the elites of London Financial Street were racking their brains on how to recover from "Black Monday"...
On the Inner Side, Westminster Bank—an institution with a certain "business overlap" with its Outer Side counterparts—was busy dealing with the deflation caused by the London Tower’s new decree for Wizards: "Regarding the Prohibition of the Sale of the Dragon Crystal Staff."
Lawrence said the world was ruled by something called the [Golden Law]. They are absolute rules—or rather, an existence even older than the word "rule" itself.
There are also Tiers among these "rules":
The First Law is for concepts like [Nature], [War], [Time], and [Death]...
These represent some component of the world itself, refracted into concepts so magnificent, so sublime.
Then there is the Second Law, extending from the First, for Destinies like [Sorrow], [Forgetfulness], [Elf], [Giant], and [Dwarf]...
These are concepts too small when compared to the world, yet vast when compared to any single thing.
As for the Old Races... or rather, the Law Enforcers, they wield the Laws derived from the rules of the "Rules."
In other words, the Third Law, also known as the "Professional Law," "Artificial Law," or "Gift of Destiny."
The Professional Laws Baron knew of so far included: [Wizard], [Knight], [Demon Hunter], [Saint]...
Members of the Old Races who have signed a Lawbook, completed their Spiritual Sense, and been acknowledged by a Professional Law are known as Law Enforcers.
Each Law Enforcer profession is further divided into different factions and categories.
For example, the Knight Profession is divided into Contract Knights and Faith Knights, while the Demon Hunter profession has a schism between the Silver Faction and the Beast Faction.
Different organizations each control one of three fragments of their respective Professional Law, a fragment which allows them to possess at least one Gold.
According to Lawrence, the ranks went from Black Iron, to Bronze, to Silver, with Gold being the apex of this professional system.
Lawrence went on to say that this Alchemist named Bagins lived in [Inner London], on a street primarily occupied by Dwarves, Goblins, and Turks.
"It’s better than just waiting to die," Lawrence said with a sigh.
Baron was noncommittal. "So how am I supposed to convince this Bagins to risk breaking the law to remove my [Time Death Judgment]?"
"That’s where these come in."
Lawrence chuckled, lifting the curtain behind him to reveal several briefcases piled inside.
"What are these?"
Baron had noticed them when he’d first boarded the carriage, but things had been too rushed to ask about them.
Lawrence didn’t answer. He simply opened a briefcase, took out a Pipe, and took a drag. Fire shot from his nostrils, scorching his beard:
