The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 32 Reluctance
When Clayton arrived at the Public Security Department, he saw a familiar figure filling out a form at the counter.

Tall and thin, with straw-like messy hair.

It's Bruno.

Clayton hadn't heard of any cooperation between the detective and the sheriff,
Bruno finished filling out the form and turned to see him.

"I have to say bad news. The report you want may be late. The assistant you entrusted, Saunders, was reported yesterday for violating the "City Law and Order Regulations" and is still locked up."

"What happened to him?" Clayton asked.

"I don't know who recognized him as a detective and reported him for illegal possession of a gun. I have tried my best, but he will be locked up for at least three more days."

Bruno said this without much annoyance, being reported is a common thing in their industry.

The "City Police Ordinance" stipulates that people are strictly prohibited from carrying guns within the city unless they have a gun license.

But there is still a huge flow of guns from rural areas into the cities and into the hands of unauthorized people.

People who need guns don't lose their need because of an ordinance, and there aren't enough sheriffs to maintain a city of this size.

The detective industry is a gathering place for illegal gunmen.

Well-known detective agencies can of course get gun licenses, but small firms like Bruno are the majority in the industry. They often face dangerous people. If they don't have weapons to protect themselves, they may lose their lives.

At the same time, detectives who can get a gun are easy to be trusted by employers, because they have proven their ability-including the illegal part.

"Why don't you just pay the fine?"

"The fine is 5 pounds. After paying the fine, he has done nothing in the past few days, and he still owes 2 pounds."

Clayton touched the sheriff's silver star badge with his hand in his coat pocket, and decided to do what he could to help:
"I'll see if I can get him out quickly."

Although the Sheriff's Building in St. Alvin's parish had not yet been erected, his name was on the Sheriff's Roll, perhaps with such powers.

His main purpose today was to come to the General Security Department to pick up an ordinary weapon. The gun left at home was too long and eye-catching, and it had a special label that would easily reveal his experience, so it was not suitable to be brought out.

Bruno was gone in no time, and the detective business was alive and well as soon as winter came.

Clayton identified himself by placing his Silver Star badge on the counter.

"You have finally decided to become a sheriff, Mr. Bello, and it is a pleasure to work with you."

The familiar usher was warmer than ever, and he was so warm to each of the sheriffs.

As sheriffs, they were their own—or so he thought.

"Are you registered in the diocese of St. Mored? Because I haven't seen you in the past two days, I thought you forgot what you entrusted to me"

He was rambling, and Creighton had to stop him awkwardly: "I won't forget, so when does she decide to see me?"

They were talking about Clayton meeting with the survivors of the first person he had killed.

"Thursday afternoon, she can't tell the time, her work is not so precise."

Clayton lowered his head and pulled out a ten shilling note from his wallet: "Thank you, I will treat you as a treat."

Killing people is a very easy thing, and dealing with the follow-up makes people nervous.

"Are you all right?"

"fine."

"Then I'm relieved." The receptionist took the money: "It was a misunderstanding, don't take it to the bottom of your heart. Let me tell you, people who are insane really shouldn't go around, they are easy to hurt Others are also easy to be hurt by others. If they are all released, our sheriff will not have to worry about other things."

He said it well, but Clayton didn't like to hear it.

In order not to expose the existence of the monsters, he said that the deceased was a lunatic, otherwise he would not be able to explain the fact that the deceased appeared in his home and was killed by himself.

While the Grail Society was to blame for the deceased's death, it was the Lieutenant's responsibility to bear the stigma.

Whenever the incident was brought up, he remembered that his own invented excuse had given the dead man a bad name.

"You are right. I need a gun now. Where can I get it?"

"It's at the back of the first floor. I can write you an application to the warehouse, but the final statistics will still belong to Mr. Gellard. But if you want guns, you should ask the director of your parish branch over there." Come faster and go on patrol with your own guns."

"I've already come to the General Public Security Department, and I just picked up my own equipment by the way."

"Okay, I still have a newcomer manual and a map here, do you need it?"

"Yes, thank you."

Clayton flipped through the manual, and quickly understood the current situation of the sheriff.

The sheriff of Sasha City cannot control the entire city in terms of numbers.

The city center is dominated by private security, and the sheriff handles the remaining seven parishes, but they can hardly sort out the city overnight,
Because the economy of some dioceses is too poor, the council can't afford to buy equipment, so they have to ask other dioceses for help.

Sheriffs also have working hours. Part-time sheriffs have to work during the day, and if they spend a lot of time on the road to work at night, the places they can patrol are extremely limited, and because of the dangerous reputation of these parishes, their work Enthusiasm is not high.

This is also the reason why the Council of Elders can easily let their own people go in to serve.

The Council of Elders contributes money to the councils of poor parishes, and then they can stuff them in when it comes to determining the staff of the sheriff.

Putting away the brochure, Clayton wanted to ask Gaylid about the sheriff, but was told by the receptionist that he was on leave.

Without Gaylid's help, he had to go find Sanders himself.

In front of the Public Security Department, there is an execution ground that has never seen a dead person, which is a symbol of the law enforcement power of the public security officer.

Where there is an execution ground, there is a prison, but there is a distance between the prison and the office, and visitors cannot see it.

There are many prisons, corresponding to different crimes.

The most famous of these are the Tax Evasion Prison and the Debtor Prison.

If it is to disturb the public order of the city, the cells they live in are much simpler, and the prisoners inside will not be locked up for too long. They will be released after a few nights of sleep, at least for more than a week.

Clayton showed the silver star badge to the guards here, and got a reply that he could not be released without paying a fine.

He had no choice but to help pay the money.

Soon, a dark and solid man came out, his body completely covered by Clayton's shadow.

He has short curly copper-red hair and wears a white sweater that contrasts with his own. When he goes out, he can be seen to be less than half the height of the guard. The ratio of height to shoulder width is abnormal among humans.

"dwarf?"

Clayton raised an eyebrow, noticing the man's right hand with only three fingers.

Dwarves are a very special race,
There are many dwarves among thieves, as well as among armies, and both classes favor their easily overlooked diminutive stature and great strength.

"You are Bruno's employer, Clayton Bello?"

The dwarf Saunders glared at Clayton, without any gratitude that he should have after being rescued.

"I'm."

"Why did you pay the fine for me? Why do you think I am willing to sleep here?"

Clayton replied, "Because you don't have the money to pay the fine, I heard from Bruno."

"You know you still do it! Doesn't this make me owe you?!"

The dwarf clenched his fists angrily, with blue veins protruding from the back of his fleshy hands. His muscles swelled up, supporting the fluffy white sweater, like a pufferfish climbing onto the land.

"You don't need to pay it back."

"Fuck you, look down on me?!"

"I didn't mean it that way."

Clayton began to be thankful that he did not meet such a comrade in arms when he was a soldier, otherwise he would have suffered enough.

Fortunately, most of the stubborn dwarves went to work as artillerymen.

"Don't do anything not written in the contract, it's a waste of money, damn it!" Sanders spat on the ground, turned his head and ordered to the guard: "You give him back the money, and I'm going back to jail."

The guard showed a bewildered expression.

Clayton coughed twice: "I don't think it's anything. This amount of money is insignificant to me. I just want you to get into work as soon as possible."

In fact, 5 pounds is not that little,
The main reason is that he spent three hundred pounds in the poorhouse before, and until the next time the client sends money, he will have to live frugally this month.

The living budget of an antique dealer is not endless.

Sanders turned around: "You think I don't owe you anything, but you actually owe me a favor. Five pounds is not worth my favor."

"Our rules here do not allow refunds to go back to jail." The guard finally reacted.

The words were untimely, and the dwarf glared at him too.

Clayton cleared his mind: "Well, just treat it as you owe me a favor. When I come to this prison in the future, it will be your turn to help me pay a fine of 5 pounds. This will be absolutely equal."

Saunders looked him in the eyes, then looked at the guard, muttered curses, but reluctantly accepted the reality.

　I wrote a chapter yesterday, but there was a bug in the plot, so I deleted it and didn’t upload it
　　There may be another chapter in a while today, if not, I will make it up every day
　　
　
(End of this chapter)