88 Valen Street was just a few hundred yards down from where Elyon currently resided. At three in the afternoon, Elyon, accompanied by Bell, was ready to visit the Go-Answer Agency to see if there was indeed something fishy going on.
"Do you know how to shoot, Bell?" Elyon asked at 2:30 p.m. in the records room.
"A bit. Patrol officers have a day of professional training annually, and although we're not regularly issued firearms, we can apply to the captain if needed." Bell seemed somewhat excited at the prospect.
"Ah, is that so? Now go and apply to the captain for a temporary firearm permit, and while you're at it, ask him when my revolver will be fixed. We're going out on an investigation this afternoon."
"What kind of weapon should I request? Can I get a rifle? Or a shotgun?" Bell seemed to have a fondness for firearms, but his status limited his access to weapons.
"We're just going to check out the Go-Answer Agency, not entering a war zone, so a handgun will do."
Bell deflated slightly at this, "Alright, Mr. Elyon, I'll apply now."
"And don't forget about my gun repair."
"Of course."
Bell left and returned about ten minutes later with a form in hand. He reported, "The captain said to write up a repair request for your revolver, then pay Comms five shillings to get a spare old revolver to use in the meantime. When yours is fixed, just return the spare to get yours back."
"So I have to pay to fix a gun damaged in the line of duty?" Elyon sighed at the policy.
"The captain says it's to prevent officers from carelessly damaging their weapons," it seemed Captain Kappa anticipated Elyon's complaint and prepared a response in advance.
"Let's go see what Comms has in terms of weapons."
Weapon Officer Comms was leisurely enjoying his tea in the basement when Elyon and Bell handed him the form. After a cursory glance, Comms held out his hand; Elyon reluctantly fetched five silver shillings along with his broken revolver and handed them over. Comms smiled and said, "Be more careful next time. A gun is your second life. Your new revolver will need to be sent to headquarters for repairs—take a week if it's quick, half a month if it's slow. Use this experimental handgun in the meantime. Bell, you take the training-used .44 caliber revolver."
Comms handed Bell a small revolver and counted out six bullets for him.
"Can I have a few more bullets?"
"Why do you need so many bullets for an investigation task with Elyon? Let me find the new prototype they mentioned from the armory last week."
Comms rummaged through a wooden box and produced a strange-looking handgun. Unlike the typical revolver with its exposed chamber, this one had a long barrel with a sliding sleeve featuring an ejection port on top and a magazine loading area underneath the grip. It appeared to be an early semi-automatic pistol, distinguishable by the sleeve not fully covering the barrel, probably because smokeless powder hadn't yet been widely adopted on this planet, necessitating longer barrels for range.
"The armory claimed this thing could hold 12 bullets and packs more firepower and a higher rate of fire than a revolver—planned to issue five thousand to officers. The colonel rejected it at inspection, so it got dumped on us. Otherwise, when would we ever get new weapons?"
"The designer probably forgot one very important thing, leading to the officers' refusal to use it," Elyon half-seriously joked.
"And what might that be?" Comms asked earnestly.
"Most officers here come from formal military academies; they're either nobility or merchant's sons. For them, a handgun is often just decorative. This semi-automatic might be powerful, but the lack of a fully covered sleeve makes it too ugly."
Comms studied the handgun carefully, then shook his head and counted out 24 bullets to give to Elyon.
"Can I just keep using this one instead? When the revolver is fixed, just leave it here, and I'll keep this as a replacement," Elyon said, loading the bullets one by one into the magazine.
"You don't mind that it's ugly?" Comms seemed puzzled.
"I'd complain, but I'm not an officer hiding behind the lines. Double the bullets, I'd definitely choose this one. Imagine the scene: after firing six shots, the bad guys think you're out of bullets and come at you, then you surprise them with another six. Wouldn't that be a shock?"
"You're not playing fair."
"I've never been a gentleman. Besides, being a gentleman to an enemy could lead to an early grave."
At precisely three, Elyon and Bell departed the station by public coach, heading for 88 Valen Street.
Contrary to the expectation of a closed door and a deserted office, Go-Answer Agency looked like any ordinary small company, with a worn sign hanging at the entrance and dusty windows. Peering through the glass revealed four or five customers filling out forms, assisted by two female clerks behind desks.
Elyon pushed open the door to find mostly men in their thirties and forties, dressed in the typical dark uniforms of dockworkers, with the exception of a few in shirts—one of whom was faded and missing a button.
"Excuse me, I have some matters to handle first," Elyon said to the people waiting to submit their forms.
The queued individuals turned, ready to scold the impolite newcomer, but upon seeing Elyon's uniform, they closed their mouths and made way. Elyon and Bell walked up to the busy clerks. Without looking up, one of the clerks spoke.
"Age, education—has your form been filled out? What kind of work are you looking for? Office clerk positions start at three pounds weekly but require formal higher education. Next week, a company specializing in North Continent shipping is hiring experienced sailors at 2.8 pounds weekly. Interested? Pay a two-pound deposit to start, and the rest of the fee will be collected or refunded after you sign the work contract and complete a week of work."
"Miss, we're not here for jobs. Please call your manager or boss, we need to speak with them," Elyon said, showing his badge.
Upon examining the credentials, the previously indifferent clerk's demeanor became obsequiously sweet.