Saint Denis.
Arthur was wandering the streets, calling it an investigation for lack of a better word.
Most of the gang members were busy with their own tasks—Dutch was looking into the tram system, while Bill and Hosea were investigating the Lemoyne Bank.
Strauss and Trelawny were planning their move regarding the casino ship docked at the Saint Denis harbor.
As one of the gang's core members, Arthur felt he ought to be doing something as well.
So he came to Saint Denis, hoping he might stumble onto something useful.
"Excuse me, sir, I'm collecting donations for the poor."
"Hey, kind gentleman, would you be willing to help those in need?"
Arthur stopped when he heard the voice beside him. It was a monk dressed in simple, worn clothing.
"I'm not a good man, sir," Arthur said.
He found it a little amusing—dressed like a cowboy, how had he ended up being singled out?
"No, you are a good man, sir," the monk replied.
"I can feel the kindness in your heart."
The monk spoke with complete sincerity.
"I'm a pretty unpleasant fellow, monk," Arthur said, his tone tinged with self-mockery, thoughts of Mary surfacing in his mind.
"You're mistaken on two points, sir," the monk said calmly.
"I'm only a humble confessor, not a priest."
"Second, you are a truly remarkable man."
"You may have made some wrong choices, but who among us hasn't?"
Arthur let out a short, humorless laugh.
"You really don't understand."
The monk continued evenly.
"But you understand. And God understands. That's enough for me."
"And it's enough for God as well."
The monk's words stirred something in Arthur, though he still replied stubbornly,
"We'll see."
"You will, sir," the monk answered gently.
"But why not make a small preparation and give a little to the poor?"
"Tonight, many souls will go hungry."
Arthur hesitated for a moment, then pulled a few one-dollar coins from his pocket and dropped them into the monk's bowl.
"God bless you, sir," the monk said.
Arthur's view of the monk shifted slightly. Maybe he wasn't begging for himself after all.
"By the way," Arthur said, "how have things been for you lately?"
"Unfortunately, the world's grown rather cold."
Arthur thought for a moment before replying,
"My… uh… my mentor says the United States has a way of numbing the despair in people's hearts, even drawing it out."
The monk, who had been about to leave, stopped and said with admiration,
"That's a wonderful insight."
"Your mentor must be a very wise man."
Arthur thought of Dutch and couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, sometimes he's a complete fool. But most of the time, he's one of the smartest people I know."
As he said that, Davey's face briefly crossed his mind.
"That's truly remarkable," the monk said.
"The truth is, I… we can never truly escape poverty."
"Slavery—I thought it had already been abolished."
"But Saint Denis is being used as a transit point, sending slaves to certain islands."
Arthur frowned.
"I don't believe it. It's 1899."
"Then perhaps you should see it for yourself," the monk replied.
"I've heard the pawnbroker down that street—the green pawnshop on the corner—"
"People say he sells far more than trinkets and jewelry."
Hearing this, Arthur immediately decided to pay the pawnshop a visit.
Sure enough, once inside, he noticed something was off. There was a basement.
The shop clerk tried to talk him out of it, but Arthur ignored him completely.
Realizing the secret was about to be exposed, the clerk hurried out to report it.
In the basement, Arthur found two slaves chained up. After freeing them, he brought them back to the monk.
The monk thanked him profusely and prepared to take them somewhere safe.
"Hey, you forgot this," Arthur said, picking up the bowl from the ground along with the dollar he had just given.
"Oh—yes, thank you," the monk said, taking it.
But after looking at the dollar in the bowl, he held it out again.
"I… I'll give this to you… as a reward, to show my gratitude," he said.
"I couldn't have saved them on my own."
Arthur glanced at the money and shook his head.
"Give it to the poor," he said.
The monk didn't hesitate any longer. They needed to leave quickly.
"Thank you, sir," the monk said earnestly. "Just as I said—you're remarkable."
Arthur watched them leave, feeling that, at the very least, he had done one good thing today.
At that moment,
the pawnshop clerk had already passed the message along.
Human trafficking had always been an enormously profitable business, one with staggering returns.
In the past, it had been legal. But in 1865, President Lincoln of the United States issued the Emancipation Proclamation, declaring enslaved Black people free.
This move fundamentally weakened the rebellious Southern states and turned the tide of the Civil War, bringing it to an end.
Still, there were always people unwilling to give up such a lucrative trade.
And in Saint Denis, the one operating the slave trade was Bronte.
Or rather—Martelli.
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on p-@-treon.
p-@-treon/GhostParser (40 Chapters Ahead)
You can also follow as a free member to read a few advanced chapters.