Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 20
Lecia applied a mixture of honey and olive oil to her hair every night. This was a secret recipe taught by an old nurse from her hometown, which darkened her hair—not to a reddish-brown but to a golden hue.
At important occasions, her beautiful long hair always received many compliments—though noble lineage wasn’t distinguished by hair color, her sleek hair did indeed resemble that of noble ladies who could hardly lift a lace umbrella. However, tonight, the maid was preoccupied with playing marbles and forgot to prepare hot water for her, delaying her bath time significantly, which infuriated Lecia enough to scold her sharply and beat her several times. She was still very angry when she went to bed.
Perhaps due to her annoyance, Lecia had a restless sleep. In a state between sleep and wakefulness, she seemed to hear intermittent music, reminiscent of a rural folk song, nostalgic and familiar.
Lecia rarely dreamed about her childhood—her mother baking bread in the kitchen, she and her sister lying in bed, waiting for the scent of the bread to soothe their hungry bellies.
Lecia gradually fell asleep but soon woke up again. Uncomfortably, she moved and suddenly found she couldn’t stretch out her limbs—a definite anomaly since her bed was certainly spacious enough.
Opening her eyes, Lecia discovered she wasn’t in her bed but lying in a large box, curled up and wrapped in a soft blanket.
Was she dreaming? Lecia cautiously sat up, pushed open the lid of the box, and found it placed in a lavish bedroom, beside the foot of a large bed.
The bed was draped with expensive silk, smooth as water flowing down to the carpet, making one worry that one might accidentally slip off if they turned too much in their sleep. The exquisite canopy was embroidered with figs and laurel using gold thread, and the nightstand held beautiful fruits she had never seen before. The large windows were covered with long curtains, but the various gems embedded in the furniture still glittered brilliantly.
Climbing out of the box, Lecia saw an ivory-colored nightgown laid out on the bed, perfectly her size.
Realizing what had happened, Lecia understood that someone must secretly admire her, thus whisking her away under the cover of night for a clandestine rendezvous. Although she had many admirers, this novel and elaborate method of pursuit was new to her, and seeing the luxurious room, her suitor must be a high-ranking duke or king, which made her heart race.
As expected, after she donned the exquisite nightgown, all the lights in the room were blown out, and the voluptuous blonde lay on the bed, waiting in the darkness for her wealthy lover.
Everything proceeded in secret, and before dawn broke, Lecia crawled back into the large box, feeling extremely tired, though she wished to know which castle she had been brought to. But as the tinkling piano music started, she quickly fell asleep again.
Dwight was experiencing unprecedented sleep difficulties. He slightly lifted his chin. “I wouldn’t lie down on those sheets.”
“Your Lordship, if you continue to reject every inn we can find, I fear tonight we’ll have to sleep on straw in a corner,” Charlie said helplessly.
Shivers had probably grown accustomed to his master’s picky habits and casually led the carriage through the bustling central street of Mobley.
“I have reasonable suspicion there are lice in that inn’s sheets,” Dwight stated emphatically.
“You can’t say that just because the innkeeper doesn’t shave—”
“His beard surely has lice too,” Dwight declared disgustedly.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper held his tongue.
To him, the Duke was simply not cut out for long travels. From the bumpy roads to the inn’s linens, he had never seen Dwight satisfied with anything along the way. Even the most distinguished queen couldn’t find as many faults. The problem wasn’t just his fussiness. He forced everyone else to indulge his caprices, exhausting everyone (except Columbus).
Shivers felt guilty about it.
“If the butler were here, it wouldn’t be like this,” the Knight Commander said. “He always has a way.” He faced thieves and assassins without fear, but such daily trivialities were his weak point. After all, in Lemena, there were always attendants to handle everything for him.
Eugene said, “I don’t understand. That last inn charged three silver coins a night—probably even the king himself would stay in such an expensive room. What exactly didn’t satisfy you, Your Lordship?”
In Pennigra, even at his most affluent, Eugene had never possessed more than a silver coin at one time. By the gods, a single silver coin could allow him to drink in a tavern for ten days!
Shivers said, “We must stay in the best places.”
Eugene thought for a moment. “Give me a silver coin, and I’ll make arrangements.”
Not wanting to spend the whole day searching for accommodations in the city, Shivers gave Eugene a silver coin, and off he went with the tin soldier to inquire around.
Though Eugene had never been to the Doran Continent, everyday life was generally similar everywhere. In less than half an hour, they returned and indeed led everyone to an inn with just thirteen rooms. It was a respectable stone mansion, with each room furnished with a bathroom and a fireplace. If not for Eugene leading the way, they would have mistaken it for the residence of some city official.
Reportedly, the inn was the property of a noble who loved traveling, initially reserved for family use. But after the noble’s death, his prodigal heirs gradually gambled away the estate, and this mansion was bought by a merchant who converted it into a grand inn, hosting balls and salons for merchants and impoverished nobles during the social season.
As an exclusive villa or royal palace, it wouldn’t be impressive, but as an inn, it was unusually luxurious—each room came with its own servant. When they decided to stay, the proprietor even gifted them a basket of handmade cookies and soaps.
Seeing the gift basket probably played a part in the Duke of Brandenburg not being overly picky. However, by nine in the evening, after everyone had washed up and sat down to dinner at the long table, he started questioning Eugene on how he found this particular inn.
Although the tin soldier didn’t eat, he sat happily in his chair and said, “We just bought a newspaper. Eugene gave the newsboy a brand-new tinder box, and he directed us here!”
So throughout dinner, the Duke read the newspaper without uttering another word.
Only after the last pudding was served did he put the newspaper down with an unreadable expression.
“What’s in the newspaper?” Charlie asked.
“Nothing much,” Dwight responded dryly. “Some ads and sensational cases, a jeweler’s mistress had a burglary at her home, someone died in some place called Wilken…”
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper reached out for the newspaper, and both the tin soldier and Eugene crowded around. They couldn’t read, but their interest in salacious news seemed almost instinctual, and they eagerly asked the shopkeeper to read it aloud.
Dwight scoffed at their vulgar taste, but when Shivers asked the innkeeper to stoke the fire in the lobby and everyone gathered to listen to the newspaper, he didn’t isolate himself. Instead, he chose a corner away from everyone else to write letters.
This wasn’t a newspaper issued by Sapali of the central empire but a locally printed timesheet with coarse production quality. The date wasn’t the latest—probably because the newsboy, in gratitude for the new tinder box, had given Eugene all the copies he had.
Charlie briefly flipped through, reading some sensational headlines aloud, but the actual content wasn’t particularly provocative, just as Dwight had said. For instance, a high-class courtesan was found dead in her room, discovered only in the morning. However, Charlie did find an interesting piece of news: three small kingdoms in the east had started a war of attrition against a relatively wealthier opponent, but the well-fortified city had withstood a siege of a month without a clear outcome.
Shivers showed more interest in the war reports, meticulously reading every related article.
“Gongi, Lamia, Sessilia,” he mused. “I’ve never heard of these kingdoms before, but I recall the kingdom of Bataan being besieged.”
“Bataan has a famous fortress with cliffs on three sides and only a perilous entry,” Charlie noted. “The city has wells and sufficient farmland, likely a target for the neighboring lesser states needing to replenish their coffers this winter.”
Shivers took the newspaper and checked the date. “It seems they started the siege before the snow even melted.”
Columbus sat on the armrest of Shivers’s sofa, pleading for more news stories to be read out. Charlie glanced at the Duke, who was near the fireplace. From his angle, he could only see the long, slender ponytail of the other person’s light golden hair. He knew what he was looking for—there was nothing in the papers about the Mokwen kingdom, but he spent the duration of the dinner reading every detail due to their current lack of intelligence.
Compared to Pennigra, they knew too little about Doran, and a lack of intelligence could have unforeseen consequences if things didn’t go as planned. The title of Duke of Brandenburg was granted by the Modicon Empire of Pennigra, and though powerful on his home continent, in Doran, he was just a wealthy foreigner. The title of Duke only counted if one could set foot back on Pennigra soil.
Though not said aloud, both Shivers and the rabbit-headed shopkeeper could sense the Duke’s restlessness. Even a stay in an inn with a four-legged bathtub couldn’t fully relax him. Yet, this stop wasn’t entirely fruitless. They learned that Doran’s chaotic situation inevitably caused disparities in information among parties, fostering a burgeoning network of unofficial intelligence. Aside from established agencies like the Fox’s, street corner rumormongers and vibrant local tabloids thrived, making them a valuable resource once sensational false news and rural gossip were filtered out.
The author has something to say:
The fantastical element of Lecia’s flying box draws from Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales “The Tinderbox” and “The Flying Trunk“.
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