Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic

Chapter 54 Prophet's Society

Mia stayed at home to look after the house, while Shard set out around eight-thirty to head directly to the "Prophet's Society Tobesk Branch" located in the city center.

The Tobesk City Prophet's Society is an important branch of the Prophet's Society across the entire continent.

Apart from the headquarters established in the capital city of the Duchy of Lagerson in the central part of the United Kingdom of Carsonrick to the south, the Tobesk City Association is the most important institution within the entire society and also manages all other branches within the Northern Kingdom.

It sits together with the Yordle Palace on the Silver Cross Avenue in Tobesk City, and together with the towering buildings in the city center, they form the most bustling streetscape of Tobesk City, the "City of Steam" in the mist-enshrouded Northern Kingdom of Draleon.

There were many pedestrians and carriages on Silver Cross Avenue. Although it was still early, newsboys, coachmen, nobles, merchants, clerks, police officers, and various kinds of pedestrians filled the street, and the association had already opened its doors.

Standing on the streets in the early morning, ducking through the flow of people in the hazy morning mist, he looked up at the three-story building of the society, its walls recently repainted, with steam and gas pipes crawling all over the exterior.

Even though it was just past eight-thirty, the association's main entrance still had a crowd coming and going. Most of them were decently dressed, so no one would disbelieve if you said this place was a club for nobles.

Therefore, Shard took special care to tidy up his clothes before heading inside. Fortunately, no one would stop a guest from entering because of how they were dressed.

Upon entering the lobby, he looked up to see a series of Roder Card oil paintings hanging on the wall, alternating with brass gas lamps to decorate the walls. One of the paintings was a side profile supporting Silver Moon, the "Genesis: Silver Moon" card, which startled Shard.

He realized after checking the inscription that these thirteen oil paintings were the original Genesis series of Roder Cards, and the society had hung these paintings as a commemoration.

Because of the knowledge of the "Thirteen Ancient Gods" last night, Shard suspected some connection between the Ancient Gods and the thirteen Genesis Roder Cards, so he carefully memorized the facade of each of the thirteen paintings, and had more speculations about the Prophet's Society in his heart.

He brushed past an old gentleman who was counting cards in his hands and nearly bumped into a worried young man wearing boots and a brown vest. Turning to look at the notice board located inside the entrance, it was covered with various notices; most of them were posted privately, attempting to purchase some special cards.

The largest and most central notice was handwritten, announcing the "Big City Player" Roder Card competition to be held in the city this fall, which would gather Roder Card players and enthusiasts from the entire Old Continent.

"Only in an advanced civilization like the Steam Age could so many idle people have time for such entertainment activities."

"Hmm?"

This was something Shard did not know. Dr. Schneider and Miss Luisa probably didn't mention it, not because they purposely withheld the information, but because they were likely unaware as well. The association's policy was similar to a bank destroying counterfeit money, which was understandable.

Had Shard not heard the divination from the previous night, he might have been quite hesitant. But he trusted the divination level of the chief of the Astronomy College at Saint Byrons Integrated Academy, who was probably the most formidable diviner within the Academy:

"Yes, if it's a counterfeit Roder Card, of course it should be destroyed, but I'm willing to have it authenticated."

Although he said this, there was still an inevitable nervousness within him. Shard thought this was normal; anyone cashing in a "big winning ticket" they found would feel the same.

The receptionist, having seen such scenes many times before, handled the situation with practiced ease, her smile never wavering. She was probably not a local of Tobesk City, that southern accent making it all the easier to believe in her professionalism.

Shard noticed the brass-colored insignia on her chest, the Ouroboros, the symbol of the Prophet's Society:

"Then if you would, sir, please proceed to the waiting room number 13 on the first floor. There aren't many customers ahead of you."

Authenticating a Roder Card can't take place outside the owner's line of sight. Otherwise, if the card was deemed a forgery, it could lead to unnecessary misunderstandings. But naturally, it couldn't be done right there either, so the association had a specialized authentication room.

Shard, holding the card with the number written on it, went to a room in the east corridor on the first floor. On opening the door, he found that the room wasn't a private meeting chamber but a crowded reception room filled with coffee tables and sofas, lacking even the offer of a cup of tea.

Aside from the door connecting to the corridor, there was another door on the side wall that led to the neighboring room. Like the others there, Shard had received a number written on a stiff piece of paper. Every few minutes, someone was called into the neighboring authentication room.

As the largest branch of the Prophet's Society in the north of the Old Continent, the Tobesk Branch had numerous staff members, and it wouldn't take more than half an hour for Shard's number, 29, to be called.

Even though it was early morning, the reception room was still crowded with people there for authentication, waiting for their turn. Groups of men holding number cards gathered to chat about Roder Cards and current political affairs, occasionally discussing amusing stories about the royal family and nobility.

A few individuals unfolded newspapers, leisurely enjoying the atmosphere as if they were in a private club. No one paid much attention to the young stranger who walked in.