Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 35
Christine and Lestrop’s past relationship indeed provided Tifa with a perfect reason to be wary of them, but Yitzfa also provided them with a more secretive detail.
“The woman who died was pregnant,” Shivers said gravely.
This was highly confidential, unknown even to members of the Mokwen Senate, but Tifa was definitely aware of it. Precisely for this reason, Shivers felt something was very suspicious, and he didn’t hesitate to offend Lady Holly in order to report this to Dwight immediately.
As expected, this caught Dwight’s attention right away.
“Interesting.” The Duke of Brandenburg chuckled lowly, though no one present would think he was genuinely pleased.
“What’s Tifa planning?” Dwight seemed to be asking Shivers, but it was more like he was pondering to himself.
It wasn’t strange for a King to have a mistress, nor for a mistress to be assassinated, and even for a mistress to be pregnant.
But it was very unusual for a prostitute mistress to be pregnant.
Even the most foolish monarch wouldn’t want an heir born to a woman of such low status. Under any circumstances, the legitimate children from the official wife were considered of the highest status, even if the wife was one’s enemy. If the wife was infertile, considering Tifa’s status, if he wanted a child, he should have chosen from among Mokwen’s noblewomen, not allowed a prostitute to carry the royal heir—no matter how deranged Tifa might be, the Senate would never approve, especially when Tifa thought his position on the throne was unstable. If he wanted to garner power support, he should have sought an alliance with a woman whose family power could rival Christine’s.
“Yitzfa said his information stops here,” Shivers responded. “But he didn’t deny the suggestion that Tifa had ulterior motives. I proposed increasing the price, but he refused.”
Whatever Tifa was actually doing, one thing was certain—and something all those in power do: he was trying to consolidate his kingship. The question is, what means was he planning to use? The dead woman’s identity had been confirmed, so a political marriage was impossible, and so was grooming an heir. While methods of consolidating power were often shady, secret midnight meetings, mysterious flying box, prostitutes and blood, and an aborted fetus—nearly every element leaned towards sinister black magic—Mokwen, a martial kingdom, was supposed to reject magic.
Yitzfa clearly knew more but chose to withhold it. Normally, as long as the price was right, the Fox family could sell any secret. But within the Black Gold Family’s hierarchical system, the sale of information also involved issues of access.
For someone at the bottom like Martina, five gold coins would get you Lady Holly’s secret predilections, but at the higher echelons like Yitzfa, rare elven plants could be exchanged for royal secrets unknown even to the Senate.
Therefore, if Yitzfa explicitly stated that even for a large sum he could no longer sell information, there was only one reason: at his level, he could reveal only so much, and any further inquiry would likely require someone above Yitzfa to answer their questions.
Yitzfa appearing in Mokwen was already a low-probability event. They couldn’t expect to meet another significant Fox family member in a short time.
What significant secret could Tifa possess that even the Fox family had to be cautious about? Keep in mind, this kingdom, neither vast in territory nor economy, couldn’t even compete in the first tier of empires.
Dwight sat back on the sofa, exhaling deeply. His worst-case scenario had been that Priscilla had contracted an incurable severe illness, but upon seeing his sister in robust health, he instead uncovered a conspiracy more unpredictable than any disease.
Was Lestrop at the center of the conspiracy? More importantly, where had he placed his own wife?
Charlie sat on the terrace, looking down. It was now fully daylight, and their hotel was at the junction of the residential and commercial districts. Many people were already out the door for the morning market. The calls of vendors and the smell of baking bread mingling together sounded unbelievably peaceful.
The bloody incident in the palace had nothing to do with them. The people were actually more concerned about whether the price of milk had gone up.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper had his high-quality top hat dusted spotless, probably because the hunt for the “beautiful elven woman” had naturally fizzled out due to the urgency of catching the murderer. This also allowed the naturally beautiful Duke to breathe a little easier—though he hardly went out, spending his days sitting in the room, brooding with a face full of woes, and then snapping at everyone.
Charlie had no doubts about Dwight’s capabilities. The Duke’s mind was actually more aggressive than his appearance, forcing Charlie to tread carefully and strategically throughout his journey. However, much like running in the rain, no matter how cautious, it was impossible to completely avoid the fine raindrops. No matter how fast one ran, raindrops inevitably would leave mottled traces on your hat.
The shopkeeper sighed, unable to even muster the energy to smoke.
The little tin soldier sat beside him, also looking down, imitating his example.
“Things are different here than in Maplewood. Everyone is always in a hurry.” Columbus clung to the fence, too short to do anything but squeeze his head between the bars, likely startling anyone who looked up from below.
Charlie remained silent.
The little tin soldier withdrew his head, looking at him worriedly.
“I really like Maplewood,” Columbus blurted out suddenly. “I wish I hadn’t come here.”
Charlie smiled faintly, reaching out to touch the little tin soldier’s hat. Although the weather was warming up, the morning dew still left his bright head damp.
“Don’t talk nonsense. This is your hometown,” Charlie said vaguely. “It’s not just because of you that I left Maplewood. Anyway… I had to come back.”
“No,” the little tin soldier said earnestly. “You and I are different. Your soul is whole.”
A whole soul… The rabbit-headed shopkeeper looked down at his hands and sighed. “Who knows about such things?”
Even during the days they lived on 23 Paulownia Street, they rarely spoke seriously about this. Being far from the Doran continent allowed Columbus to lead a seemingly free life, but his soul continued to be eroded by an evil curse, his body becoming increasingly stiff.
The shopkeeper could keep replacing his tin body, but he couldn’t repair his soul. Even if the soul could be restored to new, Columbus would forever live as a tin soldier, watching those around him being taken away by the long years, left behind alone. Whether this was enough happiness for a once diligent, lively young man who loved sunshine and friends, Charlie never asked.
“Your soul is also whole,” Charlie said softly.
If not for Columbus’ miraculous ability to maintain his sanity under the curse, he couldn’t have taken him from that group of puppet-like tin soldiers.
Columbus didn’t contradict him. His melancholic expression was comical on his adorable tin soldier face. “But I’m gradually forgetting many things.”
“That’s probably because you’ve grown old.” Charlie laughed. “It’s the same for everyone who ages. Someone once told me that memory is the luggage of life, constantly accumulating from the moment of birth and gradually discarded as we grow old, until death.”
Columbus pondered. “I don’t want to forget everything. I hope that when I die, I can still remember you, my family’s wheat fields, and my sister. I have a sister, right?”
“Yes, your little Balda,” the shopkeeper said. “Elena’s domain isn’t far east of Mokwen. Before that, do you want to go back home to see if Balda is still there?”
It was an overly optimistic thought. A village as impoverished as theirs, losing more than half its labor force in one fell swoop due to offending a witch, would face catastrophic impacts, especially for families left with only women and children. Decades later, Columbus’s parents were likely gone, and if Balda hadn’t tragically died as an orphan, it was unlikely for a girl to remain living alone at home. She probably had left to marry.
After so many years apart, even Charlie’s magic for finding people would struggle to reunite Columbus with her.
Columbus understood this too.
“What about you, Charlie?” the little tin soldier asked him. “Will you see Elena?”
Although he didn’t know the reason, he knew Charlie didn’t mind continuing to live with a rabbit head.
The shopkeeper blinked. “You know, sometimes I feel like I was a rabbit in a past life.”
“Did I hear that wrong, or are you actually quite proud of this?”
A familiar tone of mockery rose behind them. Charlie and Columbus turned to see the Duke, who had appeared in the living room without their notice. He didn’t approach the balcony, instead frowning and avoiding the sunlight streaming through the windows.
Sleeplessness made his complexion even paler than usual, making him look like a sleep-deprived vampire.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said, tipping his hat to him.
“You’re discussing Elena,” Dwight said without moving forward.
“The curse on Columbus is growing stronger. We think it’s best to deal with it sooner rather than later,” Charlie said, noticing the Duke’s pale face and adding, “If you agree, that is.”
“Do you have a way out of the city?” Dwight asked, not responding immediately.
Before today, the magical flight box was undoubtedly a good way to freely enter and exit Syriacochi, avoiding guards and walls. But setting aside the method of operation, the device had lost its magic after crashing, and even bringing it back for repairs was futile.
Now the royal city was under martial law. All the nobles couldn’t return to their domains for the time being, and the city gates were tightly guarded. Among their group was a ‘beautiful elf who seemed to walk in the morning light’ (as described by Viscount William), a person with a rabbit’s head, and a talking, walking tin soldier toy—getting out of the city undetected would be miraculous.
“Of course, there’s a way. Shopkeeper Charlie can do anything,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said proudly.
“Ah, you’re right. I remember rabbits can dig holes,” the Duke said expressionlessly. “So, you’re planning to dig a tunnel under the wall to get out?”
Even the adaptable Duke felt this was too much.
Charlie sighed. “Of course not! Allow me to remind you, I am a graduate of Monterey Academy—”
“Top of your class, yes,” the Duke said. “So, you can make a flight box to take us out?”
“‘Us’? You’re leaving too?” Charlie was taken aback.
Dwight didn’t answer but glared at him with a “what nonsense are you talking about” look.
“Lady Priscilla is still in the city. I thought you would stay first,” the shopkeeper said honestly, thinking the Duke would stay to contend with the chaotic plots of the Mokwen royal family for his sister.
“Priscilla should be fine for now,” Dwight said tiredly. “She assured me that her health is fine.”
The situation in Syriacochi, and indeed the entire Kingdom of Mokwen, was unclear and not a place to linger. Priscilla also strongly demanded that he leave—not only out of concern for her brother but also because staying as a Duke in such a place of contention was indeed unwise.
Dwight’s mind was clear. Only if he was safe could he support Priscilla, no matter what she was facing now.
He didn’t plan to return to Pennigra immediately, but he also couldn’t recklessly put himself in danger, especially without an heir to inherit his name and power. This would be irresponsible to the Dwight family and all of Lemena.
After seeing Priscilla, Dwight’s purpose in sneaking into the Doran continent was temporarily concluded. Priscilla’s rose had withered to only one-third of its petals, still barely surviving, and the Duke needed to redefine his goals and plans.
“We can sign a new contract,” Dwight said, his light-colored pupils fixed on the rabbit-headed shopkeeper. “Our employment relationship won’t end until I return to Pennigra, and as for compensation, you can make two requests within my power.”
Charlie thought for a moment before speaking. “For me, compensation isn’t the priority, as you know. Columbus and I have things to do in Doran.”
“Our goals won’t conflict,” Dwight said calmly. He knew that the curse on Columbus and Charlie was the main reason the rabbit-headed shopkeeper came to Doran, and now they were likely to head straight for Elena, but that was fine.
After all, he still needed time to clarify some things… Before that, he had no fixed itinerary.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper looked at him, and the Duke met his gaze. They stared silently at each other for a while before the shopkeeper compromised.
“Then I might need to replan,” Charlie said honestly. “But before that, a little survey. Your Grace, which can you tolerate more, darkness or cold?”
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