Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 29

Although the Mokwen royal palace was practically a semi-open venue for nobles to celebrate the King’s birthday, the Senate’s focus was initially on identifying the victim’s identity and the channels through which one could enter the palace.

But the paradox lay in the fact that unlike the banquet hall, the King’s bedroom, unless Tifa was inside, was usually left unattended, and roughly every hour, a maid would enter to tidy the bed, change the incense, and adjust the decorations. The King himself stated that there was no one in the room the last time he left it.

The deceased woman, though nobody could recall her name, could be identified by her freckles under her makeup and high cheekbones as not a native of Mokwen. Testimonies from ladies-in-waiting and guards also confirmed that no one had seen her before.

She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in the King’s room, then handed a sharp dagger, which ended up in her own chest, to the furious Queen (who firmly denied this).

Priscilla wasn’t very concerned about Christine’s predicament. She was preoccupied with another thought.

If it weren’t for Dwight, would she have been the one confined to a room right now? This thought made her restless, and she knew she had to find a way to verify it.

So, risking suspicion, she didn’t return to her husband after leaving Christine’s room but instead took a detour.

“My Lady?!” A lady-in-waiting hurried out, almost bumping into Priscilla. “My Lady, please leave quickly. Intruders have been spotted in the palace, and the guards are on their way!”

Priscilla instinctively thought she meant Dwight. Her face turned pale as she grabbed the lady-in-waiting’s wrist. “What—what intruder?”

“They found an unidentified man. Please leave quickly… Ah!” The lady-in-waiting suddenly stumbled as a man ran out from behind her, his elbow nearly knocking her to the ground. Priscilla looked up just in time to see the man helping the lady-in-waiting to her feet, a bit of dark hair peeking out from under his cloak—it wasn’t her brother. Priscilla had barely caught her breath when she met the man’s eyes, which were narrow and curved subtly, like those of a half-closed-eye cat.

Priscilla gasped. “…Ceylon?!”

The man didn’t respond to the name she blurted out, but he stopped running when he saw her expression. His movement was so abrupt that the hood he was half-wearing finally slipped down, revealing copper-colored hair that shone exceptionally bright under the palace’s ornate wall lamps.

The guards chasing him caught up at that moment, with the leading soldier raising his sword. “Let go of those ladies! You—”

The soldier suddenly saw the man’s face and hesitated.

“…Oscar?!”

The man, known by his mother’s surname Green and formally the captain of the Brandenburg Knights of Lemena, was now dressed as a member of the Ninth Squadron of the Mokwen’s palace guards under the alias Tommy. He hadn’t expected to encounter a friend with whom he had shared drinks and fought a few thieves in a tavern on another continent. As he stood dumbfounded, other members of the guard squad also arrived.

“There! I saw them!”

“Stop!”

“Where are the archers?”

“Don’t use arrows! The Countess is with them—”

Before he could make sense of the situation, Shivers, bewilderingly, became the leader of the escape, followed by ‘hostage’ Countess Priscilla, with Oscar, wearing a woman’s cloak, bringing up the rear.

Strictly speaking, only Oscar was seen as suspicious by the pursuing guards.

Fortunately, though brief, Shivers’ time with the Ninth Squadron wasn’t wasted, and with Priscilla’s deliberate cooperation, by the time they met up with the hidden Dwight, they had temporarily eluded their pursuers.

“So,” the Duke slowly sized up Oscar, “now the entire palace’s attention is on you.”

Being a suspicious character illegally present in the palace during sensitive times and having ‘kidnapped’ the Countess was tantamount to confessing to the Senate “the murderer is me”.

“It’s ‘our’ attention that the entire palace is on now,” Oscar replied nonchalantly, seemingly unaffected by his sarcastic tone. “The main gates are definitely closed by now, and soon no one will be allowed out. If they carry out a thorough search within the palace, we’ll be found in no more than three days.”

Dwight frowned slightly.

Priscilla’s reaction was much more significant. She suddenly pulled off Oscar’s cloak, staring intently at him.

Even if the person was a beautifully groomed noblewoman, being stared at like this for an extended period would make any well-mannered young man uncomfortable. Oscar, unable to maintain eye contact, had to look away. “Uh… My Lady?”

Priscilla, oblivious, seemed almost to be searching for clues from his pores, and it took a long while before she withdrew her gaze.

“You probably mistook me for someone else,” Oscar said softly, subtly straightening the cloak that had been pulled askew.

Everyone could see the Countess’ disappointment, but now wasn’t the time to delve into it.

“In two more hours, it will be fully light,” Shiver said practically. “We’d better think of something quickly, especially since…” especially since Priscilla is here.

Regardless of the truth, as far as the palace was concerned, their identity as kidnappers was a fait accompli, unless Dwight revealed his true identity—but sneaking into a foreign royal palace as a Duke from another continent wasn’t much better than kidnapping a Countess.

Priscilla took a deep breath and glanced at Shivers and Oscar.

Shivers had practically grown up with these siblings, and though Priscilla had been married away for years, the understanding they had developed from childhood had never faded. He immediately understood the noble lady’s intention and pulled Oscar back a few steps to give them some space.

Though the space was very limited.

Dwight approached his sister. He was only thirteen when Priscilla was married. His features, inherited from their mother, made them look almost like siblings when standing together. Now meeting again after years, the still-growing Duke appeared somewhat frail—but conversely, his height had shot up like bamboo after rain, making it impossible for Priscilla to reach his head as she used to.

Dwight leaned down, allowing Priscilla to gently kiss his forehead.

Priscilla wrapped her arms around her brother’s neck, whispering almost inaudibly in his ear, “I’ll be fine. You need to find a way to escape as soon as possible. You must promise me, never leave Pennigra lightly again.”

Dwight hummed lowly. He actually had no way to safely leave the palace under lockdown and search, but he didn’t show his anxiety, at least not in front of Priscilla.

Priscilla didn’t look up but seemed to guess his thoughts.

“You will leave safely. That’s what matters most to me,” she whispered a few more words into her brother’s ear, after which the young Duke’s expression finally changed.

But the loss of control was only momentary. From Shivers and Oscar’s perspective, they could only see Dwight straightening up, holding Priscilla tightly—so tightly that within three breaths, the slender Countess had collapsed into his arms.

Dwight looked up; his expression now composed.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Shiver’s assessment of the situation was quite accurate. Mokwen was an ancient kingdom spanning over four generations. The royal palace, having undergone several renovations and expansions, resembled a large, old house with frequently used and well-maintained living quarters and kitchens, but also attics frequented only by rats and bugs. This time, the murder and the Countess’ abduction had occurred abruptly, and even with the urgent recruitment of personnel from outside the palace, organizing and deploying command took time—this interval was brief, so Dwight and Priscilla made a decisive move, taking advantage of the night to move quickly through the dark garden. Choosing an opportune moment, they allowed a squad to spot their trail before laying down the unconscious Priscilla.

The soldiers couldn’t directly touch the Countess, so they had to temporarily abandon the chase and call for a lady-in-waiting. All three were quite agile, and ultimately, without much danger, they managed to pry open a locked, decorative stained-glass window that was broken and re-entered Tifa’s bedchamber.

Though it’s said that the most dangerous places can be the safest, this time they undoubtedly walked into a dead end.

“No way,” Shivers leaned against the door, listening carefully. “There are too many guards outside.”

Dwight’s brow furrowed.

Barely sneaking into the bedchamber was their limit, and they were still some distance from Tifa’s own bedroom—by custom, this room wasn’t safe either, as guards could enter at any time for inspection.

Now, they were trapped, unable to move.

“You go out,” He nodded towards Oscar, who had been silent. “Lead the soldiers away.”

Shivers: “……”

His master always seemed to fall ill at the most opportune times.

Oscar turned his head. “Excuse me? Do I look like a fool? Why should I go out and die for you?”

The Duke scoffed. “Then why have you been following us all this way?”

Because the Countess only told you about the secret exit, and she spoke so softly, no matter how much you strain your ears, you can’t hear it—obviously, this brutal truth couldn’t be spoken now.

Oscar gave a nervous laugh. “We could think of something else.”

Dwight remained silent, and just when Oscar thought he was weighing the pros and cons, the Duke suddenly stepped forward and grabbed him by the throat forcefully.

Shivers’ eyelid twitched, but he made no move.

Actually, as Dwight advanced, Oscar had already reacted, even reaching out to block, but he hadn’t expected the lean young man to possess a brute strength completely at odds with his refined appearance. It was merely a grabbing motion, yet like a tiger released from its cage, it was an irresistible force that pinned down the antelope before him.

The Duke of Brandenburg often used arrogance and grandeur to mask his inherent brutality. Now, it seemed he was finally abandoning the noble principle that “a gentleman’s fiercest protest is silence”. He nearly folded Oscar in half, pressing him against an enamel and silver-inlaid circular table, the edges embedded with mother-of-pearl harshly hitting Oscar’s lower back.

“Rather than that, I want to know who you are.” Dwight’s voice was even, only the veins on the back of his hand revealing the force he exerted.

He didn’t believe Oscar’s appearance was accidental—maybe it was the first time they met, but such coincidences didn’t occur easily across continents. Shivers must have noticed something odd about Oscar, but given his good upbringing and Oscar’s past help, as long as this man didn’t show a hostile stance, Shivers wouldn’t treat him as an enemy.

But the Duke of Brandenburg didn’t think he needed such manners.

Oscar took a deep breath, then unexpectedly laughed.

“I’m a junior mage.” His voice was strained under the Duke’s grip, making it almost hard to hear. “I have a way out.”

Being a mage was an interesting profession. The effectiveness of magic depended entirely on talent. If the career ceiling for a junior mage was that of a firework technician at a traveling circus, an intermediate mage could already hold their own in a regular army.

The gap was that big.

A junior mage…

No anger showed on the Duke’s face. Given his status and position, even a senior mage wouldn’t necessarily have the privilege of speaking to him, let alone a junior mage comparable to a clown in status.

But in the current situation, even being able to cast a few minor illusions could indeed slightly solve their urgent problem.

The hand clutching his neck finally loosened, and Oscar’s face, which had turned red, quickly paled, instinctively gasping for air. His normally fair complexion turned an unhealthy shade of blue.

“I must leave here as soon as possible.” Even nearly being strangled didn’t provoke anger in Oscar. Instead, he negotiated rationally: “Take me with you, and I can divert the soldiers’ attention.”

As suspected, Tifa’s bedchamber was one of the main places under scrutiny. Guards patrolled back and forth along every corridor by squad, while others specifically checked every room, ensuring no potential hiding spot was overlooked.

With such thorough inspection, everyone believed the intruders would soon be caught—even if they could fly. The mages previously invited into the palace were already prepared to monitor the sky.

But no one expected the fire to start so silently.

Almost simultaneously, the commander received multiple reports of fires—dressing rooms, corridor carpets, floor-to-ceiling drapes… The flames seemed to erupt under everyone’s watch. By the time people scrambled to extinguish them, they realized how easily these numerous, small fires had completely divided their manpower.

The search net was unexpectedly burned through.

“What is that?” Only after they had finally dragged a few isolated guards into the room, changed into their uniforms, and sneaked into Tifa’s room with the rushing crowd, Shivers couldn’t help but ask.

“My masterpiece, a portable little fire chicken,” Oscar said proudly. “Fireproof eggshell. It won’t burn a hole in your pocket—just break the eggshell when needed, and the flame chick will run to wherever you want it to go. It can burn effectively for up to three minutes.”

The Knight Commander and the Duke of Brandenburg both looked at him.

Oscar still seemed pleased with himself. “It’s the perfect little helper for outdoor trips or home cooking.”

Shivers politely chimed in, “Sounds interesting.”

Oscar seemed suddenly energized. “Would you like to buy one? I have a few more.”

The Knight Commander coughed.

Because Dwight was looking at them both with a look of infinite disgust, as if he were looking at two humanoid slugs.

“Find the secret chamber,” he commanded succinctly.

“You don’t know where the secret chamber is?” Oscar retorted.

Dwight didn’t even deign to give him a glance.

Priscilla had told him that in the entire Mokwen royal palace, there was only one secret passage that could be used without surveillance, hidden in the King’s room.

But this was also the kingdom’s top secret, and the entrance was sure to be very well concealed, not even noticeable by the King’s closest confidants.

Oscar, who hadn’t panicked even when choked, finally showed a hint of anxiety. He pulled out a pocket watch, checked the time, and turned to them to announce, “We have five minutes.”

He said, “If we don’t find it within five minutes, it’s over.”

Dwight’s eyes narrowed.

Shiver frowned. “Why? Will the passage close on a schedule?”

Oscar gave a dry laugh. “I’m not sure, but roughly.”

He knew the Duke was staring at him from behind and that every additional word he spoke only increased the suspicion Dwight held against him.

But he had no choice.

The fire chicken’s capability was limited. It couldn’t create a real conflagration. They were merely relying on quantity for a temporary advantage, and according to his calculations, the secret in Tifa’s room was indeed time-bound.

The King’s room was, of course, the epitome of luxury, and it was a bit of a stretch for three people to try to open all the drawers there within five minutes. Fine beads of sweat broke out on Oscar’s nose.

Four minutes.

“Nothing.” Shivers put down the last candlestick and began to feel the carpet with his hands.

Three minutes.

Oscar, frantic like an ant on a hot pan, started lifting every painting on the walls without any system.

Two minutes.

Dwight’s slender fingers brushed over the wallpaper by the bed, suddenly stopping.

“Stop,” the Duke said.

Shivers, who was lying against the wall, and Oscar, who was reaching for a wall painting, both turned to look at him.

“Shh.” The Duke of Brandenburg turned his face to the wall.

In the eerie silence, several intermittent, low syllables came from the other side of the wall.

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