These words caused an uproar among the attendees of the morial service, though not among the club mbers. This conclusion had already been reached at a eting (the one Pascal had missed).
Maxim held his hands out, gesturing for quiet. He had the air of a natural-born leader, his resolute eyes conveying a sincere, convincing Magic Power. The simple gesture silenced the entire crowd. Even those who didn’t know him fell completely silent, waiting for the deceased’s distinguished colleague to continue.
"Our conversation from earlier this month is still fresh in my mind. Ladies and gentlen, when a champion of the weak wins a great victory against the powerful, how does he act? There was no gloating. I saw only Mr. ixie’s composure and wisdom as he confided in his deep worries for the Kingdom.
"His mind was sharp, his diet moderate, his body healthy, his complexion warm and ruddy. This was a man any doctor would praise, a man who should be our role model in both body and Spirit, yet he was declared to have died suddenly! Do they think Mr. ixie was so bloated, debauched noble?"
Pascal learned from the conversations around him that ixie was only forty-two years old. For a healthy, well-off man, that age was certainly the latter part of his pri, and his sudden passing was bound to arouse suspicion.
"He took pride in being a man useful to his countryn;
"He used his talent for studying the law and upholding justice to its fullest;
"He dared to tell the powers of this world, ’You have committed a cri,’ and then stepped forward without fear. Facing dangerous and despicable foes, he must have known that vengeance and hatred, fueled by envy, would strike him down.
"Such has always been the fate of great n."
Maxim’s gaze swept over the attendees, from the silent cetery to its silent walls, piercing through the city streets and into the Royal Palace.
He was a lawyer, but in that mont, he beca a judge, delivering the above ’verdict’ to his future self and all who would follow in his footsteps.
"In the case where Mr. ixie defended the farrs, we saw in the original verdict the barbaric prejudice of those who call themselves civilized and noble. We saw how our laws are always exceptionally cruel to the wretched and unfortunate.
"This is an enormous, undeniable reality: when the gavel falls, it is always the poor, the unfortunate, and the naless who are crushed, and yet this is ignored by their fellow citizens! Weakness is not a cri, yet the weak are condemned again and again, both in life and in the courtroom."
His speech struck a deep chord. At first, ixie’s friends and family had been dissatisfied, feeling his eulogy said too little about the deceased and lacked sincere praise. But they soon understood. The energetic, passionate, and righteous lawyer before them was ixie’s successor—and perhaps even surpassed the man himself.
"My friends, why are there so many poor?" Maxim’s speech was reaching its climax, his thunderous question echoing among the tombstones:
"Because the hands of the greedy are held higher than the hands of the diligent, and have taken all the wealth.
"Why are fathers, mothers, and children exposed to the bitter cold, with no solid roof to shelter them from the wind and rain? Because others are tirelessly building mansions, castles, and palaces.
"The power and money of those on high have attracted everything that plunges Valois and our nation into weakness and ignorance. Every day of their luxury devours what thousands need to survive."
To emphasize his point, he produced a pamphlet everyone recognized: *Financial Report to His Majesty the King*. It brazenly exposed how the Nobility and the King carved up the nation’s wealth.
The audience burst into thunderous applause, a sound that honored both the deceased and the speaker.
Pascal, too, felt his heart stir. His Enchanted Speedwriting Pen was working at full speed. Ever since the club mbers had discovered his talent for shorthand, Thor’s role had officially evolved into that of eting scribe.
Just as everyone was lost in a mix of sorrow and fervor, two incongruous figures burst into the cetery. They hadn’t co to pay their respects; their faces were twisted with malice.
"You two citizens, what is your business here!" From his position at the impromptu podium, Maxim had a clear view of the cetery entrance and was the first to spot the suspicious visitors. Though it was sumr, they wore wide-brimd hats and gray trench coats.
The two intruders didn’t answer. Their gazes also fell on Maxim, who stood a head taller than the others in the center of the crowd. From beneath their trench coats, each man produced a hunting rifle, raised it, and took aim.
The flintlocks were already loaded. The triggers were pulled. An ominous BANG and a cloud of gunpowder smoke instantly filled the resting place.
"No!" The crowd scread. The projectiles were aid straight at Maxim, but the instant the n had raised their guns, Pascal had already begun his Casting. Before the lead balls could reach their target, they slamd into a field of stasis.
When the gunpowder smoke cleared, the would-be assassins saw that their attempt had failed. No one was hurt.
Maxim coolly assessed the situation. He leaped from his dangerous ’podium’ while simultaneously directing the panicked crowd, "Citizens, remain calm! It takes ti to reload those weapons! Spread out and take cover behind the tombstones, but watch your step!"
Once the won and the elderly had taken cover, Maxim was gratified to see that most of the club mbers had not been cowed by the attack. From behind the tombstones, they stared down the enemy, clutching their walking sticks and swords.
The attackers froze for a second. Seeing the lead balls hanging in mid-air, they instantly realized there was a Caster among their targets.
"Damn it, nobody said there’d be a hard target!"
"There’s a damned Mage! Let’s get out of here!" After a quick exchange, the two turned to flee.
Acting entirely out of good intentions, Floran tackled Pascal, successfully pinning him to the ground and restricting his movent.
’Magic mutt!’ The enemy’s voice hadn’t been loud, but the Mage had heard it clearly. Pascal gritted his teeth, rolled over, and pushed the panicked Floran away.
Maxim also noticed the gunn were escaping. "Brave n of the club, the enemy is fleeing! Those of you who are confident in your abilities, give chase! The rest of you, organize the ladies and other gentlen and leave this place."
Fortunately, our righteous lawyer wasn’t the type to just send others into the fray. Leading by example, he leaped out from behind ixie’s tombstone, drew a Rapier from his walking stick, and charged the enemy.
Pascal scrambled up from the muddy grass. Ignoring the filth on his clothes, he quietly cast the Spirit Armor Skill on himself and Maxim. Then, using Magic Power to stimulate his thigh muscles, he shot past Maxim in pursuit.
"Thor, the enemy might have... finished reloading by now... be careful," Maxim managed to say, not forgetting to warn Pascal even as they ran.
"It’s fine. I’m no longer an ’Apprentice’."
However, their opponents seed to be more than ordinary n. They were fleet-footed, and the distance between them was gradually widening. It looked like they were about to use the city’s winding streets and buildings to shake their pursuers.
Pascal clearly lacked the talent for first-person shooters; several of his attempts at Casting failed to hit their targets.
...
"Oh, so this is Andre’s new place? Isn’t it a bit too close to the cetery...?" Rorschach said, standing with Andre downstairs from his new ho. The decor and the security were certainly an improvent, but there was a rather old public cetery nearby.
’But there were plenty of skeletons underground in Valuva, so it wasn’t a major flaw.’
Andre replied with a laugh, "Well, it does make the rent cheaper. Mr. Rorschach, thank you for walking here. Goodbye!"
"Goodbye!"
Rorschach had only taken a few steps before he was almost run down by two guys rushing as if to get reincarnated. Before he had a chance to curse them out, he heard his senior brother’s shout:
"Ror... Heisenberg! Stop those two n up ahead!"
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