Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 67
The young Duke still sat upright, strictly adhering to the current time by wearing a morning robe, even though he had stayed inside the carriage with no intention of going out.
This was one of the garments temporarily purchased in Ropappas—a bright silver satin coat over a matching shirt-style pajama. It was the most exquisite fabric Shivers and his team could find locally, hastily tailored by an old seamstress for a fee, but the rabbit-head shopkeeper thought the color didn’t suit the Duke, who was pale from long periods without sunlight.
Dwight was still in his growth phase. His bones were growing rapidly recently, but his fat storage couldn’t keep up, so he kept getting taller but looked even thinner than when they first met in Maplewood. His long, untrimmed, light golden hair fell to his shoulders, making his face appear even more pallid against the morning robe.
If his father were still alive, he would certainly have someone give him a mirror and sternly remind him that a Dwight shouldn’t show such a bewildered expression in front of others, as it made him seem vulnerable.
But the former Duke Dwight was long gone.
The only one who might have taught him this, Priscilla, was in a critical condition.
“I don’t know,” he repeated.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper didn’t speak immediately but looked around instead. Although this carriage was hastily prepared, like the magic book, the necessary preparations weren’t lacking.
Just from a brief glance, he could confirm that at least two magical items in the carriage had the ability to shield sounds.
After the Duke spoke, he fell silent, appearing a bit like he was daydreaming—something the rabbit-headed shopkeeper understood.
The premature death of the former Duke forced him to take up the family reins at a time when his foundations weren’t stable, followed by Priscilla bravely accepting a proposal from a nobleman on another continent to prevent her marriage from being used as a tool to manipulate her brother, thus clearing the last obstacle for him to wield power over Brandenburg.
Having grown up with a scepter, the word “helpless” should be extremely foreign to him.
He instinctively knew he wasn’t allowed to show his vulnerability, so even the most trusted confidants weren’t permitted inside this carriage.
But perhaps it was his confusion that made him call Charlie over. Maybe the ballad about 22 Paulownia Street ultimately left an impression on the Duke.
Human behavioral patterns had never changed.
Once they realized they might truly be out of options, they turned to seeking another form of psychological comfort—even things they would scoff at when in full possession of their faculties.
This kind of Dwight felt somewhat unfamiliar and uncomfortable to Charlie, who, despite the oddity, seemed more accustomed to seeing him assertive and determined.
In fact, the Duke didn’t ask him anything more after saying, “I don’t know,” and then fell into silence.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper sat expressionlessly across from the Duke, searching for the right words in his mind while inexplicably recalling the dream he just had.
That disturbing, heart-racing nightmare.
You’re a rabbit, Charlie.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper told himself this. With lions everywhere outside, how capable are you really? It’s extremely irrational and risky to stick your head out of the hole—
He thought this as he reached out his hand.
Dwight lowered his head to see him take his hand.
“It’s not as bad as all that.”
He heard the rabbit-headed shopkeeper say.
“Turn back the clock, to the Mokwen royal family—the King knew of the ‘Holy Grail’ at least before Tifa ascended the throne, when the former King Frederick was still alive. The old King was brave and good at warfare, not the type to seek illusory powers, but some people in their twilight years might crazily crave a return to their peak, though this remains unverified. With Frederick alive, that mage wouldn’t likely have bypassed the King to deal directly with Tifa, who was still one of the seven princes at that time. Therefore, it’s very likely that the secret of the Holy Grail was inherited by the surviving princes as part of the King’s legacy,” Charlie said, dipping his finger in some hot tea from a silver cup and drawing a decision tree on the wooden table.
“According to the Fox, Duke Baylor has an unusual obsession with art and isn’t keen on power struggles. Perhaps for this reason, Tifa excluded him early from the competitors and ‘generously’ granted him a title higher than that of Lestrop.”
“The room where the flying box is located, including the decorations and secret passages, couldn’t have been done in a day or two. Tifa must have been trying this for some time. But Queen Christine has never been pregnant, which might explain why, although they are both his children, the ‘Holy Grail’ and a royal heir mean different things to him. He’s the King, and his ideas to some extent also represent the Mokwen royal family’s views—his and Lestrop’s thoughts.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper drew an equal sign between the circles representing Tifa and Lestrop.
Dwight immediately understood his meaning.
Regardless of whether the entire Mokwen royal family was involved or prepared to join this mad plan, in their eyes, the instrumental value of the ‘Holy Grail’ outweighed its personal significance, and they likely didn’t acknowledge the child that might exist, born of their scheme, as their own progeny.
This was why Tifa used the flying box to deceive the girls of the flower garden.
Queen Christine was of noble birth, backed by another kingdom. If she were pregnant, the child would be a prince.
Not some key to wielding power.
If Lestrop’s thoughts were similar to Tifa’s, then even if he wanted to involve himself in this experiment, the subject wouldn’t be his own sister-in-law, the Duchess of Brandenburg.
The Duke pursed his lips.
He was beginning to regret—this emotion was equally foreign to him.
He regretted that his decision to come to the Doran continent was made too late.
Christine and Priscilla were different. Her motherland was right to the east of Mokwen, and the two countries were closely connected due to this marriage alliance, making it impossible for Tifa to easily harm her.
Wasting time on regret wasn’t the style of the Dwight family. Dwight stared at the half-dried water stain on the table for a while, then suddenly said, “The Thorn Estate.”
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper: “?”
“No matter whether what that doctor said is true, we have indeed seen the Lamp Bearers with our own eyes.” The Duke lifted his gaze. “‘They are ageless and immortal spirits, not to be commanded by outsiders.’ Such beings, even if it’s his own capital of Syriacochi, Tifa couldn’t hide them in the flying box to deceive the public. If the Lamp Bearers had appeared in the capital, even if the King ordered every citizen’s mouth sealed, it couldn’t be hidden from the Black Gold Families, which aren’t governed by any kingdom. But we haven’t heard any news of this sort, which means—”
Charlie’s brows twitched.
“This means that the progress at Thorn Manor is even more advanced than in the capital!”
Though distant, the Thorn Estate was located in the outskirts of Ropappas, far from the capital—but closer to the experimental origin, Mistress Daisy’s castle.
The power of an ordinary estate should never surpass the King’s. If Tifa was behind in progress compared to the Thorn Estate, it was very likely that another major noble stood behind this estate.
Dwight’s thoughts raced.
It didn’t take him long to determine that he needed a pair of eyes to scout the Thorn Estate, someone who could avoid direct conflict, sneak in quietly, and leave no trace behind—a top-class spy.
But his available resources were thin.
The Duke couldn’t help but think of Rabbit Head and Erica’s description of ‘Doctor Salman’. Regardless of whether he carried a curse or a blessing, that ability to transform into a bird was indeed very practical.
If there hadn’t been a direct confrontation, he would have done everything possible to recruit such a person to his side…
But that opportunity had now passed.
Erica was a trump card he didn’t want to expose too soon. The castle incident was an exception; he had already ordered that, aside from himself, Erica need not respond to anyone else’s call, to stay low and accumulate power.
Although several Brandenburg Knights were now in place, not all were suitable for such tasks.
For instance, Shiloh, too young and known for his strength, wasn’t skilled in stealth or ambush.
Eugene had good stealth capabilities, but his combat skills and experience were insufficient. There was no guarantee he could return unscathed if sent out alone. The other knights were strong in battle but lacking in other areas—the Duke counted his available men again, and only two were suitable for this mission.
Shivers and Rabbit Head.
Charlie’s slippery skills were unquestionable, and the Knight Commander was sharp enough, seeming upright most of the time, but if needed, he could perform as well as Eugene.
Shivers had been with him longer and was more obedient. His loyalty was beyond doubt. Keeping him close was the wisest choice.
But Dwight inexplicably remembered something—that night when the rabbit-headed shopkeeper handed him a bottle of invisibility potion, his fingertips were colder than the glass bottle.
“You don’t understand. They must not find me,” the other had said.
The Duke didn’t know why he recalled such an insignificant detail at this time.
It was gradually getting lighter outside, and both men in the carriage could feel the increased speed of travel.
Charlie inexplicably looked at Dwight, who had been staring unblinkingly at him since earlier in silence.
“Please call Shivers over,” the young Duke said tiredly. “This discussion ends here. I want to sleep.”
Just like that? Was this a roundabout way of telling him to leave? What about the Thorn Estate?
Halfway through the conversation, he wanted to sleep—what kind of spoiled behavior was this… Oh, he is the Duke, with a realm of subjects to indulge him.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper clicked his tongue inwardly, scrutinizing the other’s complexion. He did indeed look sleep-deprived now, but that initial rare vulnerability had vanished—the Duke of Brandenburg had miraculously reverted to that unapproachable, rigidly disagreeable person.
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