Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 14
Dwight rode ahead on Araceae with a straight face, remaining silent.
Charlie cast a sympathetic glance at the person securely tied and laid across the white horse.
“What’s your name?” asked the always-amiable rabbit-headed shopkeeper.
“Cici,” the other replied listlessly. “Why is he so angry? Is it because I stole his stuff, or because I’m bigger?”
The red-cloaked girl—now properly called a boy—Cici, no longer looked pitiful at all. Probably realizing there was no escape, he started to provoke deliberately.
Charlie thought about it seriously, and from what he knew, he figured Dwight was angry because he felt fooled by Cici.
As for the matter of size, he didn’t think the Duke’s attention would have been on “who’s bigger” under those circumstances.
Moreover, appearances could be deceiving about certain features, and Cici was living proof of that.
“When did you start targeting us?” Charlie cleverly shifted the topic away from Dwight’s issues. “Was it in Kamal City?”
“Stonewall Inn,” Cici said. “Your magic pot is quite famous. I knew many were after it, but none succeeded.”
“So you figured out a way to blend in with the group.” Charlie understood.
They would be wary of strangers in the store, wary of thieves on the road, but probably not a distressed girl they met by chance, especially one who appeared beautiful and delicate—Cici was right, this was a common weakness among most men.
In fact, he had almost succeeded if not for one among them who, disliking the hardness of the bench, chose to stay awake all night rather than sleep—an aristocrat with the temperament of a princess.
Cici’s failed theft and unsuccessful escape shocked everyone when they woke up the next morning, most of all Columbus and Eugene, who, even after breakfast and hitting the road, hadn’t recovered, occasionally glancing back at Cici with long sighs.
“How much is that pot worth? I’ll pay double to compensate,” Cici negotiated with what seemed to be the most approachable rabbit-headed shopkeeper. “Let me go.”
Charlie replied cheerily, “Genuine female coquetry might work on me.”
Cici’s expression turned serious. “Let me go.”
“If you have money to compensate, why turn to thievery?” the shopkeeper asked. “Your cloak is exquisite, not typical of a common thief.”
What he didn’t say out loud was, even without considering the clothes, this young man didn’t look like a starving thief. His fair, delicate cheeks, bright blue eyes, smooth skin like a girl’s, and thick, glossy golden hair all spoke of a nurtured life, visible in his appearance just as it was in the arrogant Duke leading the way.
Of course, the kind of “angelic appearance” Dwight required was a foundation and daily maintenance even more upscale than Cici’s.
“I just thought the pot was interesting,” Cici confessed. “And since you declared in Kamal that the magic pot was absolutely not for sale, I decided—” to use my looks to my advantage.
He sneakily glanced at the Duke, whose silhouette even exuded, “I am not pleased”.
Though not for sale, no one really cared about that pot. Charlie felt even more sympathetic towards the young man. If not for his own meddling, Cici would already be happily home with the pot—after all, the Duke had watched him take it without even planning to budge.
So, the gears of fate were precise, inexorable.
In any case, a severe lack of sleep somewhat soured Dwight’s mood, the most direct consequence being his displeasure with everyone, Cici most of all.
Thus, Cici, who had been well-attended by gentlemen the day before, spent the entire day strapped to a donkey’s back (according to the Duke, even his horse was suspect and couldn’t be allowed to collude), with his wrists bound uncomfortably tight. If not for Charlie’s insistence on padding the ropes with a towel, just the day’s journey would have been enough to make his fair wrists swell from congestion, or at least chafe the skin raw.
Eugene, however, quickly recovered from his shattered worldview. He finally mounted the high-headed great horse he had longed for and, all along the way, chatted affectionately with Cici’s white horse, fancifully feeling ever closer to the image of a prince on a white horse. By the time they reached the next town, he was sure to meet a heart-fluttering, naive girl who would ask him to slow down by her low wall to have a glass of lemonade she made, her cheeks blushing with shyness, her eyes pleading for him to stay…
Walking beside him, Shivers said, “Ah, that’s not very likely. Country girls are so shy they hardly dare speak up, while city women are more forward. I’ve encountered women who throw things out of windows, then send a maid to invite you to bring it back up.”
Eugene snapped out of his daydream and gave Shivers a wary look. The tall, handsome Knight Commander inexplicably met his gaze.
“Things like that do happen sometimes.” The first half of Eugene’s life was a struggle for survival, barely fitting into the popular gentlemen’s circle. “They also craft cute lies, like brushing their hair by the window and accidentally letting their comb fall down…”
“A comb?” Shivers echoed blankly.
“Or a handkerchief, a fan, something like that,” Eugene hurriedly added.
Charlie chuckled lightly but didn’t join in the conversation, while Cici made an odd “Oh—” sound.
Walking ahead, the Duke suddenly said coolly, “None of those. It’s garters. Do you think women invite him upstairs to discuss the latest hairstyles?”
Eugene: “!”
Shivers said gently, “When I encounter such situations, I’m usually busy, so it’s hard to choose between accepting the invitation and excusing myself, but you’re right, they are all quite charming.”
Eugene looked around.
Shivers: Women fall for me at first sight, shamelessly dropping their garters as an excuse to invite me into their bedrooms. It’s nothing, quite common.
Duke: Only virgins would guess ridiculous answers like combs or handkerchiefs. Of course, it’s garters. Real men understand. It’s nothing, quite common.
Charlie: Smiles silently. It’s nothing, quite common.
He was clearly the oldest and most experienced man present, but why was he treated like a greenhorn by those around him?
Charlie noticed Eugene’s dissatisfaction and comforted him, saying, “Actually, it’s quite normal. Knights are always the closest to love stories, especially handsome knights. Wherever they are, even a monastery can become a place of romance.”
This was a minor social class rule. From top to bottom, kings, dukes, and other high nobles were in positions that certainly didn’t lack exciting nightlife, but these often came with various scheming and multifaceted negotiations of interests. Ordinary civilian merchants, more focused on making a living and limited by their cultural level, were unlikely to have famous love letters or poems circulating, essentially lacking dissemination. Only knights, usually not high-ranking but at least part of the carefree noble class, also carried the aura of a wartime background. Women of any class were happy to engage in a brief, secret romance with knights—this wasn’t even considered a moral issue. So, in this regard, let alone Knight Shivers, even the youngest knight in Brandenburg, Shiloh, who barely looked like an adult and still had freckles, probably got more opportunities than the Duke.
Whether to accept these kinds of love stories entirely depends on the individual. Shivers was a man with high standards and great self-discipline, so his team had almost no precedents of getting into trouble over romantic escapades, and he also strictly prohibited young lads, in the age where hormones exceeded reason, from misbehaving with women. Compared with knights from other domains, the Brandenburg Knights were considered as pure as the Duke they served, earning a reputation for integrity even abroad.
Eugene, with his thief background and previously unkempt hair and beard, probably didn’t even have the chance to glance at a noblewoman—let alone the prostitutes in the alleyways, who probably required a settled price before they would smile at him.
“It’s not entirely about status,” Cici, hanging like a prey carcass, swayed with the donkey’s steps but that didn’t stop his eagerness for gossip.
“A handsome coachman always attracts women more than a corpulent lord. My brother often didn’t have a penny to his name, yet nearly every day he woke up in a different woman’s bedroom. They were willing to spend a lot of money to make clothes for him and flaunt him on their arms when going out to see plays.”
Such was the way of purely male gatherings; the conversation easily drifted towards amorous subjects. What’s most surprising was that Cici, only fifteen, could describe various romantic tales vividly, not limited to Kamal City. He knew well the famous amorous tales of major city socialites and even obscure stories from various noble families. Shivers and Dwight weren’t gossipy by nature, but when the conversation involved people they both knew and frequently interacted with, they couldn’t help but listen closely.
Eugene, on the other hand, was more interested in some crude urban jokes and quickly became engrossed, urging Cici to continue the story about a ‘beautiful woman with a voluptuous figure renowned for her secret manor filled only with young farmhands, where no women were allowed. After the social season, several carriages discreetly entered the manor, rumored to be filled with noblewomen going for a vacation there.’ The story continued.
Cici lowered his voice mysteriously. “The manor is surrounded by roses. Only a horse that knows the path can avoid the thorns and enter smoothly. The lady has a secret large room filled with various toys crafted by skilled artisans, described by the ladies who have been there as a ‘museum that makes one linger and forget to return’.”
“What kind of toys?” Eugene asked with a lewd expression.
At that moment, Cici clammed up. “It’s very uncomfortable hanging here. I don’t have the energy to tell stories anymore.”
Charlie timely intervened. “Cici, do you know any of the ladies who have been to that manor?”
Cici responded without thinking, “I don’t know any, but my…”
He suddenly stopped, his beautiful blue eyes blinked. “I won’t tell you.”
It was then that the Duke, who had been treating him like air, slowed down to walk beside him, thoughtfully asking, “Are you, by any chance, from the Fox family?”
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