Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 47

Although called a city, Ropappas couldn’t compare at all with Maplewood or any other towns near the royal city. The local officials seemed to follow a policy of seclusion and self-sufficiency, with the main city of Ropappas heavily guarded and even the population flow between its satellite towns considerably sluggish.

However, for the Duke and the shopkeeper, slipping past a few guards and entering the city was relatively easy. But in such rural areas, both the furry rabbit head and the Duke of Brandenburg’s hereditary good looks tended to attract attention and potentially cause a sensation, forcing them to don long gray cloaks again—probably because the cloaks were unattractive. Unless necessary, Dwight was reluctant to even step out of the inn room.

Isolation most often directly indicated poverty.

Without the flow of goods, money, and people, the whole city-state was like a sluggish puddle, lacking any vitality. Apart from the upper city area, most houses along the main streets were low and old. The oxen and horses pulling carts were skinny, and the cries of the street vendors sounded lethargic.

Charlie had his own way of dealing with people. Even with his head tightly wrapped, it didn’t stop him from operating effectively. He casually spent a few copper coins on a small handmade pottery jug, chatting with the owner while observing the passersby.

High taxes and isolation made the faces of ordinary people in Ropappas look gray and gloomy. The shepherds in Lemena seemed much happier by comparison.

This explained why Thorn Manor could easily recruit so many young girls. Let alone the surrounding towns, even Ropappas was in such a state. Who could refuse a job that offers a solution to hunger in such times?

If one could eat coarse bread without twigs and stones, who would care whether the employer was suspicious and dangerous?

Charlie left the main road, buying some towels, change of clothes, flint, and tobacco (on the Duke’s expense), and deliberately took a few extra turns, using his experience to navigate to the lower city area teeming with a mix of characters, targeting a vendor selling black magic items.

If it were Eugene, he would have a better way to quickly blend into the local environment, but dealing with a down-and-out vendor was also something the rabbit-headed shopkeeper was confident in.

The vendor by the wall had dirty, tangled hair, and his old, long coat was adorned with a jumble of necklaces and trinkets. He also held some grimy items, haphazardly trying to sell his cursed ingredients to the passersby.

It was just the beginning of spring, and after a long winter, most people didn’t have extra food or money to trade. Given his filthy appearance, no one stopped to give him a second look for a long while.

So when Charlie stopped in front of him, the vendor immediately straightened up with delight.

“Good day, sir,” he said in a gruff voice. “No troubles bothering you, I hope?”

Charlie lowered his voice. “What good items do you have?” He spoke in Mokwen’s common language, but somewhat awkwardly.

The vendor, hearing the foreign accent, shifted his eyes and led him into a deeper, sunless part of the alley, ready to fleece this unfamiliar rich man.

But after only a few sentences, he sensed something was off. This man was no novice to magic. Not only did he see through the fakes the vendor wore, but he also caught several mistakes about curse magic.

Good heavens, he was just an ordinary second-hand dealer. Although he claimed he had the most powerful black magic items, he knew nothing about magic—people without money or power couldn’t even learn to write, let alone study magic. Even low-level black magic required strong backing and finances to research, which wasn’t something he could access.

If this man was a mage, then he wasn’t someone the vendor could afford to provoke. The vendor regretted a bit, but after he slipped up, the stranger seemed to lose interest and turned to leave.

Normally, the vendor wouldn’t have said another word, but he hadn’t had bread for two days now, and he had no wood to heat water that night. The desperate hunger made him hoarsely shout, “Please wait!”

Charlie stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I can take you to ‘Crazy Kyle’,” the vendor said quickly. “He’s my boss… He has real stuff—truly magical, good stuff. If even he doesn’t have what you need, I guarantee, the whole of Ropappas won’t satisfy you.”

The fish had bitten the hook. Although no one could see, Charlie restrained a pleased expression and slightly turned his head. “I only want the best.”

“Can a witch who disappeared for years still be considered ‘the best’?” Dwight frowned, looking at a raven skull on the table, and said with disgust.

“That at least shows my journey is in the right direction,” Charlie said. “So far.”

He had just visited that “shop” selling black magic items and seen for himself. There weren’t many items genuinely imbued with magic, but this raven skull was one, with a trace of magic residue that was indeed Elena’s aura.

Like autonomous nobles, mages also had their territories.

White mages under the church who worshiped the God of Light usually controlled the power structures; thus, they received support in wealth and influence. The academy where Charlie and Elena studied in their youth was part of this power branch.

This system effectively spreads their influence to major cities but also subjects them to royal constraints.

Black magic, actually freer in magical study, could delve into various taboos strictly prohibited by the church but also got branded as evil, easily provoking persecution, thus avoiding the church for self-preservation.

Black magic was like the shadow of white magic. They didn’t intersect directly, but they coexisted in the dark. Unlike white mages, black mages operated independently, rarely banding together, were very territorial, though covert, and also left various traces to warn peers not to encroach on their activity area.

In a royal city like Syriacochi, it was difficult to find traces of black magic, but in Ropappas, it was quite straightforward, and this raven skull proved it.

Dwight wasn’t interested in witches, but Ropappas was part of Mokwen, and though Mokwen didn’t ban magic, it didn’t revere the church like other magic-embracing countries. Even the large royal palace couldn’t find two decent mages, let alone nobles below the King.

In this environment, secretly connecting with mages for some underhanded business wasn’t difficult. If any royal family member—even secretly—had connections with the church, Elena, a witch, wouldn’t have so brazenly left one of her totems in Ropappas.

To common folk, the royal city seemed distant, needing several days of fast riding, but to those who knew magic, it wasn’t an impossible distance for a quick response. Recalling the bizarre murder in the palace, Dwight frowned, suddenly feeling uneasy.

Whether it was the distance between southern lord Lestrop and his brother Tifa or Priscilla’s distance from the Mokwen monarchy, it all felt too close, giving him a sense of foreboding.

He knew his sister. Priscilla wasn’t the kind of woman who merely managed her castle and manor with maids. The Dwight family had an innate grasp for power, especially Priscilla, who’d seen downturns and rock bottoms. She would never be blind to her surroundings, following her husband without question.

Lemena and Mokwen were far apart, but regular messengers connected them. Yet he had never received any help or even hints from his sister. If it weren’t for the wilting of Priscilla’s rose, he wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong.

Even though he had come all this way, Priscilla still wouldn’t say anything, merely asking him to leave immediately.

Immediately.

That was highly unusual. While Dwight’s unauthorized entry into Doran wasn’t something to make public, it wasn’t entirely without room for maneuvering.

To suddenly see her brother after several years, the expected reaction from Priscilla would have been surprise, then a slight rebuke, followed by taking him back to her domain, exchanging stories, letting him rest, and then sending him back to Pennigra with extra people to ensure safety. Instead, she hurriedly sent him away.

Her response only indicated one thing: Priscilla currently lacked power, so her quick judgment to have her brother immediately return to the Dwight family’s territory was the safest option—when she was struggling to manage on her own, her brother’s unexpected arrival would only make matters more chaotic.

Though their meeting was brief, Dwight wasn’t really questioning the words of Astrologer Kurt—it was just his excuse to lash out at Charlie.

He and Priscilla were full siblings and had always been close. Just as Priscilla quickly decided her brother should leave Mokwen, Dwight immediately sensed that Priscilla’s situation wasn’t as relaxed as she let on.

Out of caution, he wouldn’t approach Syriacochi or his brother-in-law Lestrop’s domain soon, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take any action.

Dwight leaned back in his chair, unconsciously twisting the silver ring on his middle finger.

Before leaving Pennigra, he had made arrangements. Besides Shivers, another group from his order of knights and household staff had covertly infiltrated Doran to provide backup.

If all went well, Shivers had already delivered his message, and although the two were temporarily separated, Charlie could somewhat fill in for Shivers, making life not too unbearable.

Thinking of this, Dwight looked over at the desk. Charlie was carefully wrapping the raven skull, intending to throw it into a corner where stray dogs gathered after dark. He unintentionally looked up to see the young Duke staring at him, causing the fur on the back of his head to stand on end.

With their close interaction over time, the perceptive shopkeeper gradually deciphered the Duke of Brandenburg’s expression code. This look was all too familiar; it meant the Duke was inexplicably annoyed again, plotting to mess with him.

Heaven knows, he’d never seen the Duke in a good mood!

Before, Shivers had acted as a buffer, and the friction wasn’t so apparent. But after spending more time with the Duke, Charlie realized he was even more difficult to serve than he appeared.

Dwight could tell from Charlie’s rabbit face that he was silently mocking him. He snorted, but before he could speak, there was a knock at the door.

The affluent Duke had reserved two large suites on the inn’s top floor to avoid being disturbed by other guests, so it could only be a servant knocking.

Charlie silently breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed his cloak, walked through the sitting room, and opened the door. A boy, about thirteen or fourteen, stood in the hallway. He was a little sweaty and nervous, suggesting he had run quite a bit.

Charlie didn’t open the door entirely, blocking half his body behind it. He spoke quietly with the boy for a moment, then shut the door and returned to the study—though it was more like a sitting area between the living room and bedroom with half a corridor and half a bay window. The inn utilized space well, placing a relatively elegant desk, a single chair, and a small, low bookcase in the area with a large, bright window. The Duke sat at the desk without looking up.

“The kid says he’s registered the advertisement per your instructions and thanks you for your generosity,” Charlie said thoughtfully.

Any city of considerable size had a hall, cathedral, or square. The Duke had instructed a young employee from the inn to run an errand, posting a notice on the public square’s bulletin board in Ropappas (the content was just a regular missing person ad or obituary). Only Shivers or people from Brandenburg could understand the coded message indicating the Duke’s location.

After sending the boy away, Charlie thought that since he already had his cloak on, he might as well leave to deal with the raven skull and keep his distance from the grumpy young Duke.

Ever since he made that joke about long-haired dogs, the Duke had become like a snarling pup, always finding a moment to nip at him. This time, he seemed genuinely angry. No matter what he said, the Duke wouldn’t make peace.

Charlie was deep in thought as he went downstairs. Before leaving, he reflexively tried to tip his hat to an unfamiliar gentleman entering the lobby, but then realized he was wearing a thick cloak and sighed inwardly, pretending nothing had happened as he walked out the inn’s front door into the sunny, bustling street.

If possible, he preferred not to confront Elena face-to-face.

That witch’s hatred toward him was hard to dissolve. Even after all these years, Charlie didn’t believe her rage would be dampened by time, and she certainly wouldn’t be eager to break the curse for Columbus.

The best approach would be to sneak into her home without alerting her. If he could obtain her notes or potion formulas, he could decipher her magical properties…

Charlie kept thinking while quickly stepping into a dark and damp alleyway, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the paper bag with the raven skull, intending to burn it.

If his occult teacher saw this, he’d likely be furious and scold him for disregarding the “Three Principles of Holch” when dealing with magical items to avoid any accidents.

But Charlie was never a well-behaved student. He always came up with random ideas during experiments, ruining his teacher’s patience. Thinking of this, he smiled slightly and extended his right hand to snap his fingers. A small, bright blue flame flickered from his knuckles.

“I won’t recite your name,” Charlie said in a low voice, playfully flicking the flame with his finger, allowing it to catch the paper bag and slowly spread. “So you’ll never find me—” Before he could finish, the flame suddenly roared up to half a person’s height, changing from blue to purple, reflecting a startled face.

Charlie instinctively took a step back but stumbled on thick moss. Before he could regain his footing, the flame rushed at him, engulfing him in less than a second before quickly dying out, leaving the alleyway dark again. The half-burnt paper bag rolled into a corner.

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