Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 19

“Lestrop, Lord of the South.” Charlie’s finger trailed lightly over the finely detailed map. “Twenty years ago, he wasn’t the lord here.”

It was just him and the Duke in the carriage. Dwight glanced at him and asked bluntly, “Just how old are you, exactly?”

Talking about twenty years ago and being a schoolmate of the already famous Witch Elena, Dwight felt justified in suspecting that this rabbit-head might actually be fifty years old.

“Elena is barely in her twenties.” Charlie shrugged. “How old do you think I am?”

“Who knows,” Dwight said suspiciously. “A rabbit’s fur doesn’t turn white with age, after all.”

The shopkeeper felt insulted.

“I’m twenty-six,” the shopkeeper said seriously. “Even by Doran’s average lifespan of a hundred years, I am still quite young.” This average was lowered by Doran’s unstable conditions; in Pennigra’s most habitable places, it wasn’t uncommon for people to live to a hundred and fifty. Of course, they couldn’t compare to the elves and fairies, but it wasn’t impossible for a highly accomplished great mage to live two hundred years.

“Twenty-six.” Dwight, who had just turned eighteen this summer, scoffed, unusually generous in deciding not to argue further about the “young” comment. He tapped his fingers on the carriage table. “Lestrop.”

“Although he hadn’t ascended to his title when I was studying in Doran, this lord was never a nobody. If my memory serves me right, he should be a brother to one of the kings—”

“One of the princes of the Kingdom of Mokwen,” Dwight said solemnly. “That was his status when he sought to marry Priscilla.”

Charlie smiled and didn’t delve deeper into what Dwight said.

“The current king wasn’t the first in line back then. The old king had eleven sons, favoring the fifth, Larmo, but several accidents that took place before his death took Larmo and seven other sons, leaving only the current King Tifah, Duke Baylor, and Earl Lestrop. Interestingly, Lestrop’s title is less than Barlor’s, but his lands and autonomous rights exceed those of Barlor.” Charlie pondered, “Unless it’s a large-scale war or disaster, it doesn’t make sense that eight princes died within just two years, but that’s as far as Cici’s information goes.”

“Royal secrets aren’t easily sold,” Dwight remarked as he elegantly played with his wine glass. “But this is sufficient.”

To think that out of eleven, eight died at once—no one would believe the remaining three were innocent even if they tattooed the word “innocent” on their foreheads. But it didn’t matter. Being born into royalty meant ruthlessly vying for power, and if Priscilla had married a naïve noble, Dwight would have been even more worried—three out of eleven were still better than one out of eight. Otherwise, suddenly becoming a widow one day would be even more troubling.

“Your power is indeed formidable, but it is predicated on the strength of the Pennigra Empire—yet this power doesn’t extend to the continent of Doran. Have you considered what you would do if, after finding your sister, her life is less than ideal?” Charlie asked.

“I’ll take her back to Pennigra,” Dwight said without hesitation.

“She is Lestrop’s lawful wife. Even if you don’t act, just saying that gives him a valid reason to kill you outright,” the shopkeeper said. “Don’t forget under whose land you stand.”

“I’m not a fool,” Dwight said impatiently. “If I were like a country butcher who only knows brute force, why do you think I only brought Shivers and you to Loren?”

Charlie paused. “…Remember, my employment with you has ended. Strictly speaking, you still owe me one payment. On this journey, all you can take with you are—”

He gestured towards Shivers, who was driving the carriage, and Eugene, who was following behind with the tin soldier in the cargo truck.

“Those two. Columbus and I are not included.”

“I can hire you once, I can hire you again,” the Duke said matter-of-factly. “I notice Elena’s influence is also in the south. Geographically, our destinations coincide.”

“I will confirm Priscilla’s situation as soon as possible. If she is well, then I will do my best to achieve your goal,” he stated with a business-like demeanor. “You have been away from Doran for so long. It’s hard to make an accurate assessment of Elena’s current power. Even you wouldn’t think you could take on the southern witch alone, would you?”

“Columbus is with me as well,” Charlie corrected him.

“He’s just a tin soldier. What exactly are you planning to do with him? Use him as a lead ball to knock her unconscious when Elena tries to burn you with fire?”

…So sarcastic.

Charlie admitted, “Alright, assuming I need help, you can’t guarantee you’ll be able to assist me. I remember the astrological results.” To spare the Duke’s feelings, the shopkeeper hadn’t commented on that ominous result, but deep down, he believed the chances of Priscilla being “all well” were about as likely as them growing wings and flying to their destination.

Dwight realized it wasn’t easy to take advantage of a shopkeeper who was rarely off his game.

“At least we can agree to a mutual assistance pact,” the Duke proposed. “If Priscilla needs help, then the more hands available, the better for both of us.”

“Elena’s castle is close to Lestrop’s territory,” the shopkeeper noted. “Where possible, I will help you. But Columbus doesn’t have much time left. If Miss Priscilla’s troubles can’t be resolved quickly…”

“You prioritize him,” Dwight said without hesitation. “I can still spare people to assist you.”

Charlie gave him a look.

“People”, at the moment, only included Shivers and Eugene.

Unless the young Duke had other arrangements in Doran. If so, then perhaps the young Duke was smarter than he appeared. And by disclosing this information, he was also showing a willingness to cooperate.

It would be a bit excessive to try to press him further at this time.

“Either way, I’ll be passing through Lestrop’s territory, and I’ll do my best to help you within my capabilities. But I can’t stay there too long.”

“I understand.” Dwight nodded. “Your purpose for coming to Loren is to lift the curse of the witch from the tin soldier.”

“Exactly,” Charlie said. “Actually, it’s not easy—Elena may not always be in the castle.”

“Isn’t that what you hope for?” Dwight raised an eyebrow. “The curse on the tin soldier doesn’t come entirely from Elena. If I’m not mistaken, the castle itself is the key to the curse.”

Duke Dwight again demonstrated his keen deductive skills and his unpleasantly blunt manner.

Charlie, who had tried to maintain a high stance but failed, secretly hoped to sneak in while Elena was unguarded, perhaps even finding something useful, but such intentions were somewhat clandestine.

However, having lived a few years longer than the Duke of Brandenburg, Charlie, once exposed, serenely nodded with a smile. “Exactly. Strictly speaking, Columbus’s curse is a relic left by Lady Eve. If I’m not wrong, for a curse to persist many years after her death, it must be preserved through some medium, which I suspect is in the castle.”

“If you find that thing, can you break the curse?” Dwight raised an eyebrow. His expression was somewhat disdainful and skeptical, but thanks to his excessively clear eyes, the rudeness was greatly diminished, instead creating an almost naive curiosity.

That was truly a face one could not hate.

Charlie sighed internally.

“I simply never took the mage’s certification exam, but that doesn’t mean all I learned in school has melted away like snow in spring.” He pointed to his head. “I started studying there two years before Elena did.”

The Duke scrutinized him up and down, skepticism clear in his gaze.

“In that case,” the Duke slowly said, “why don’t you resolve your own issues first?”

“What issues?” Charlie retorted.

Dwight stroked his cane and looked up, eyeing Charlie’s conspicuous long ears.

“Surely your head isn’t the handiwork of Lady Eve?” Dwight stated.

“Ah, that would be Elena’s doing. Frankly, her work isn’t neat, all sloppy and dragging. If it were efficient, I’d probably have to walk on all fours most of the time.”

“Even so, you have a way to revert to your original form?”

“Even so, I have a way to revert to my original form.”

The carriage fell silent suddenly. The Duke watched the scenery rolling backwards outside the window, where early spring was beginning to revive the various flora. Occasionally, a mouse or rabbit could be seen foraging behind clumps of earth, but mostly, the ground was still a dry brown or yellow. If it was quiet enough, the light, cheerful sound of ice breaking in nearby streams could be heard.

For a while, neither spoke, quietly watching scenes of early spring countryside fly past the window. After a long while, Dwight finally said, “Then why not resolve it?”

His question seemed out of the blue, but Charlie was always strangely able to pick up on the whimsical Duke’s line of thought.

The shopkeeper stretched languidly in his seat, smiling softly.

“Because I’ve never seen it as a problem,” he said softly.

From the age of eight, the old Duke had brought his son to various noble social events. By twelve, portraits of ladies from all over had nearly filled several rooms in Brandenburg. Dwight considered himself well-versed in various aesthetic forms, but he had to admit that a character like Charlie, who was proud of a rabbit head, was a rarity in his life.

He suspected that Charlie must have been an extraordinarily ugly freak when he had a human head—the kind that even looked better as a rabbit.

But what did that ugliness look like, really?

Naturally handsome, with hair that had been the subject of several odes, the Duke of Brandenburg pondered deeply.

Charlie knew without guessing what the Duke was thinking and said discontentedly, “I didn’t keep the curse because I used to look bad. I just think this way isn’t too bad either.”

Dwight remarked, “I’d say only someone with a mouse head would think a rabbit head is fine.”

“I’ve told you, I was handsome and charming, graceful and elegant. In fact, I was voted ‘the male student most wanted to stay up with to watch the stars’ for three consecutive years at Monterey Academy.” The shopkeeper elegantly adjusted his collar. “But this rabbit head hasn’t obscured the light of my intelligence. Without the limitations of appearance, my personal charm has become even more prominent. As a man of substance, I’ve decided to maintain the status quo.”

Hearing this, Dwight gave him a proper look, seemingly pondering whether it was the “light of intelligence” or “personal charm” in his statement that was harder to tolerate. When he saw the proud expression on that big, furry face, the Duke, who wasn’t fond of animals, chose to remain silent.

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