Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 68

Two plump gray sparrows landed on the balcony, huddled close together. Their mung bean-sized eyes were unblinkingly fixed on two tall men a few steps below.

One of them was a gray-haired man with hair so short that his scalp was almost visible, a dagger at his waist, and a face that children would steer clear of. A long scar stretched from his neck to his shoulder, hidden beneath the collar of his loose coat.

He had been standing here all morning. His tense features were only slightly relaxed during the brief conversations when his companion came to switch shifts—only slightly.

“Old Chuck has gone back.” His companion handed him a wooden flask about the size of a palm, filled with high-concentration fire ant liquor.

In fact, this liquor has nothing to do with ants. It was a high-concentration beer mixed with several kinds of mildly toxic animal bones. Each sip felt like a fire ant crawling from the mouth to the stomach, hence the name.

Locals weren’t used to this intensely stimulating liquor. Only those with numbed nerves like drunks and mercenaries like them from the north enjoy it—it quickly warmed the body and was very invigorating.

The gray-haired man had been on guard all night, and the early spring night was still very cold, making this drink just right for him.

He uncorked the flask and took a sip, feeling his somewhat stiff organs slowly awakening.

“He should have gone back already. That leg of his becomes useless in winter,” he said nonchalantly. “How old is he? Forty? Forty-five?”

In their line of work, physical fitness was fundamental. Once someone was injured beyond full recovery or got too old, they were no longer suitable to stay in the team.

“I don’t know. At least forty,” the relieving companion said. “Actually, he’s not old. It’s just that his leg isn’t good. If he was still here, he might have fallen behind during this journey.”

Their current employer, although generous, also emphasized discipline. The boss tested the waters twice; he wasn’t a naive sucker, so there wouldn’t be any special treatment for Old Chuck.

It just so happened that some of them were heading back north, and Old Chuck went along with them.

Having worked together for years, both felt somewhat melancholic about their companion’s retirement and unusually engaged in a longer chat—but they were cautious, never using the common language for private conversations, especially since it was still dark and there were few people around.

Gray-hair nodded. “Xina will be happy.”

His companion laughed. “Bullshit. Xina is going to shove him out the door with a shovel—what can he do when he gets back? Help Xina plant potatoes? Bol has grown up and can help Xina with the work. And how much can you earn from planting potatoes? It’s not even enough for him to drink well for a year here.”

“Then let him work for Xina, and Bol can come out and follow us,” Gray-hair said nonchalantly. “Bol is seventeen now, right?”

He himself had done just that—after his father died in battle, he filled the gap and never returned home.

There was a saying in their squad: either drink with joy or be carried home dead—Old Chuck retired without dying, but in the eyes of mercenaries, retiring due to injury or illness was as good as dead. Only those with families made such a choice.

Like Gray-hair, those who ventured out as young bachelors often ended up dead in battle or drunk.

But they were still young. It was too early to think about such things.

His companion scoffed. “Bol won’t do, Old Chuck has complained many times that his eldest son is too timid to see blood. But I did hear something funny last time.”

He leaned a bit closer to Gray-hair and lowered his voice. “Bol’s first love was a disaster because he fell in love with a Lioness.”

Gray-hair was slightly startled. “What about him?”

His companion shrugged. “That’s why I say he’s a stupid kid… They all have extreme tastes. They either like the strong or the very good-looking, and Bol is neither. No one even takes him seriously. I also heard there’s a new recruit coming out soon. Maybe Bol’s first love is one of them. That naive village boy shouldn’t be dreaming.”

Though theoretically they all belong to the Lion family, only the management cadres could bear the Lion’s name.

As famous as the fierce reputation of the Lion family’s mercenary group was their all-female leadership—unlike the matriarchal society structure of the lion prides on the savannah, the Lion family didn’t have a “male lion”. All rulers had been women, and thus, men comprised less than 10% of the middle and upper management.

In their north, girls entitled to bear the Lion’s name were cadet officers. Such people would never marry a simple potato farmer, and Lionesses weren’t the type to just lie in their dens and control remotely. They prefer to take action and patrol their territories.

This spring just coincided with a coming-of-age ceremony for the young Lions, where eligible and qualified young women from the family were set loose on the continent to hunt for power and mates.

The family provided little support during this stage, but once the trial was passed, one could secure a place in the family hierarchy—the current family head, Adeline, became a regiment commander immediately after her adulthood trial and took over the highest family authority ten years later, a record still unbroken.

“Is the boss going to ‘White Bridge’ also because of the new recruit?” Gray-hair couldn’t help but associate it with something the boss had mentioned.

“Probably not. That’s the territory of the Wolves. They wouldn’t place a new recruit’s trial there. Must be some other important matter.” His companion finished the last sip of fire ant liquor and handed the flask back to Gray-hair. “Probably some messy big event. They love doing that, but it’s none of our business—return the flask to Old D for me. He was reluctant to lend it to me…”

After drinking a small bottle of liquor, both men felt warmed up. Gray-hair moved his stiff body from the night watch, pinching the flask as he walked away.

Their current employer was quite wealthy and loved pomp, even arranging people to stand guard at the door of the house. Privately, they all found such behavior ridiculous. Did they think they were kings in a palace needing guards at the door!

But no matter what they thought internally, having taken the money, they had to do the job, and outwardly, no one showed much complaint. After all, they usually had to guard merchandise 24/7 when protecting caravans, so this was no different, just a bit boring.

Dwight didn’t care what his employees thought.

After dispatching the Knight Commander, he continued to keep a low profile, so much so that even the rabbit-headed shopkeeper was a bit fed up.

“Even the shyest girls are willing to go out for picnics with friends. There’s really no need for you to be so modest,” Charlie said. “Is it because Shivers isn’t here that you feel insecure?”

The young Duke glanced at him, then returned his gaze to the newspaper.

This habit had continued, only now the duo buying his newspapers had changed from Columbus and Eugene to Shiloh and Eugene.

Shivers was his personal bodyguard, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do without Shivers. Besides, the Knight Commander had already made proper arrangements for a few Brandenburg knights, ensuring that the Duke was never left unprotected.

Like the young man now standing three steps behind the Duke on his left, saying nothing.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper found this quite interesting.

He had once thought that the Brandenburg Knights were selected for their looks, but after getting to know a few of them, he realized that although these young men indeed had handsome features, their distinct personalities were far more interesting than their appearances.

“Firstly, my sense of security doesn’t come from anyone but myself, and secondly, Hasting is as excellent as any other Brandenburg Knight, including Shivers.” Dwight slowly turned a page of the newspaper. “I don’t go out because there’s no need to burrow everywhere like a rabbit preparing escape routes.”

Having failed in his attempt to sow discord, Charlie simply sat down in front of the Duke, naturally pulling a newspaper from his hands. This action caused Hasting’s brow to twitch, but seeing that the Duke was indifferent, he remained silent.

Completely unaware that his single gesture had offended a Brandenburg Knight, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper continued to chatter as he read. “Come on, even vampires venture out at night. Since you entered this house, you haven’t stepped outside once. Don’t you feel suffocated? It’s lively near the capital here, going out for half a day won’t delay any news from Miss Priscilla… Hmm?”

He straightened up, quickly scanning a small section of the newspaper. “‘This year’s March Rabbit Market will commence on the third Friday. First market: Farm tools and seeds; Second market: Herbs and groceries; Third market: Grains and spices; Fourth market: Antiques and jewelry. Each market will have an inquiry and notary station… The third Friday—that’s tomorrow!'”

Dwight noticed his ears had comically perked up—clearly, this guy was genuinely interested in that rambunctious trade market.

Strictly speaking, he was interested in the herbs and groceries section, perhaps reluctantly including the antiques and jewelry.

He had long noticed that Rabbit Head had an unusual fervor and collecting hobby for all sorts of obscure items, not just for the rare magical items like the “Book of Seasons” he typically used, but for all sorts of oddities that seemed peculiar and useless to ordinary people.

Since leaving Pennigra, he had been compulsively buying things in every town they settled, even purchasing a hat in Hilly City that could temporarily change hair color (which the Duke thought was just a hat with an ugly wig attached)—then turned around and cried poor to him, adamantly refusing to spend on food, lodging, or anything else.

However, this proved that the rabbit-headed shopkeeper did indeed possess some good stuff, as evidenced by his many purchases without his luggage visibly increasing. Space magic for storage was extremely expensive, and ordinary nobility could rarely afford it.

“I’m not going,” Dwight said heartlessly. “If you want to go, go by yourself.”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper blinked. “But I wanted to invite you to go together.”

He glanced sideways behind the Duke, and sure enough, the always expressionless young man’s brow twitched again.

Too funny.

“Have Eugene go.” The Duke was unimpressed. He turned another page of the newspaper, then irritably discovered he had finished reading everything. The only unread page being in Rabbit Head’s hands.

“Eugene took Shiloh shopping,” Charlie said. “Apparently, it’s a reward for learning swordsmanship… Shiloh dares not go out alone. Erica threatened to shave his head if he gets lost by himself again.”

“Then take two mercenaries.”

“Don’t you know what a free market means? Free—dom—. Those terrifying guys showing up would ruin a whole day’s business!”

“I’m not going anyway.” Dwight abruptly dropped the newspaper. “Hasting, have the kitchen prepare tea. I want to write another letter before my nap.”

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