Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 73

The reports from Shivers and Erica arrived almost simultaneously.

Hasting, who was temporarily taking over as the Knight Commander, stood outside the door in contemplation.

It was nearing midnight. Since each bedroom was equipped with a small bathroom, the corridor was unlit. The young knight stood in place for a full five minutes without deciding to act.

Until someone came into the corridor—

“Whoa!” Charlie was startled and raised his hand to steady his top hat.

Hasting watched him quietly.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper looked around suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

In the dead of night, standing in the corridor like a statue, suddenly startling someone.

Hasting said nothing, watching as Charlie clicked the light on the wall on.

The conditions here were much better than in Bonan Town or even Ropappas. One could use these lights that didn’t need to be lit with fire after registering. Places like Lemena, with better economic conditions, also used these kinds of lights. They contained a type of mineral that glowed upon contact with air. The airflow could be controlled by a valve to turn it on or off, with brightness similar to a candle.

In fact, Hasting didn’t need the light to see the rabbit-headed shopkeeper. His night vision was quite exceptional.

Seeing the shopkeeper’s gaze fall on his own chest, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper generously picked out a palm-sized bottle from his collection. “Want some?”

Hasting shook his head. Though Shivers was easygoing, he was strict with the knightly discipline, and drinking wasn’t allowed outside of vacations.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper, who had wandered out for a drink in the middle of the night, scratched his face and asked, “Are you on guard?”

If it was during work, he indeed shouldn’t drink.

Hasting shook his head.

“I have something to report to the Duke,” he said.

“I see.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper nodded. “Then I won’t bother you.”

He carried a bag of wine and jerky towards the stairs at the end of the corridor. As he turned to go upstairs, he saw from the corner of his eye that Hasting was still standing still.

Charlie: “???”

Hasting watched as the rabbit-headed shopkeeper came back the same way.

“Aren’t you going in?” Charlie gestured towards the duke’s door.

Hasting hesitated.

“The Duke has already gone to bed.” He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to wake the Duke at this time.

If it were Shivers or the old steward, they would definitely know what to do, but since both the Knight Commander and the Duke himself were still quite young and hadn’t thought about grooming a successor, Hasting, who was temporarily taking over, was somewhat at a loss.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s eyelids were heavy, but his naturally helpful nature made him curiously ask, “What do you need to see him for?”

“Erica’s letter.” Hasting replied subconsciously before realizing he might have been too honest.

In the next second, he watched, wide-eyed, as the rabbit-headed shopkeeper knocked on the door—an action so unexpected that Hasting didn’t even have time to stop him.

“If it’s about this, he’d want to know right away,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper added, seeing Hasting’s expression. “Don’t worry.”

Hasting: “…How much have you had to drink tonight?”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper tilted his head thoughtfully. “Just a little.”

So, he’s now apparently normal but actually a confused drunk… Hasting felt like a fool for seriously conversing with him.

Now, all he could do was pray that the Duke hadn’t been woken by the knock, but Hasting quickly stopped the rabbit-headed shopkeeper from knocking again. Before he could say anything, the door suddenly opened from the inside.

Dwight looked at them—Hasting was holding Charlie by both hands, while Charlie shook his head and tried to reach out his left hand to continue knocking at the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked coldly.

Hasting quickly released the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, only then realizing that the letter in his hand had been crumpled.

The Duke also saw the letters and noticed Charlie behind Hasting making faces, signaling him to pay attention to the letters.

“No one’s stopping you from speaking,” he said.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper said, “Hasting wouldn’t let me.”

Hasting cursed inwardly without showing any emotion on his face.

But as Charlie said, the Duke didn’t dwell on them disturbing him in the middle of the night. From his silent taking of the letters and walking back into his bedroom, it seemed the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s judgment was correct.

But why was his judgment correct?

Hasting was puzzled—he had been chosen for the Brandenburg Knights at fourteen and had always been the Duke’s close guard. Although not as inseparable as the Knight Commander, he certainly spent more years with the Duke than most.

Could he really be so obtuse that someone who had only been in contact with the Duke for half a year understood better than him?

The young knight was a bit shaken.

The next second, something even more shaking happened.

Hasting saw the rabbit-headed shopkeeper look around and then also step into the Duke’s room!

How could he just stroll into the Duke’s room in the middle of the night?

…Something was wrong. The Duke wasn’t a sheltered maiden, but the important point was, no matter the time, one shouldn’t just enter the Duke’s room without permission!

Dwight seemed not to have realized how his knightly values were almost shattered.

If they were still in Brandenburg, he could certainly recite three hundred articles of noble etiquette and respond immediately to any potentially offensive actions.

But please, he had left Lemena several months ago.

During these months, he had slept in wind-leaking churches in disrepair, stayed in greasy farmhouses, and lost count of the nights spent under the stars in a carriage. Even the most pampered princess of the empire, after such trials, would surely forget such outdated rules as “ensuring you haven’t eaten strongly flavored food, haven’t exercised vigorously within two hours, change out of your coat and soft shoes before entering, and wait for an indoor response before the maid opens the door”.

Hasting hesitated outside the door for a while, then followed Charlie inside.

The lights in the room were turned on, and Dwight sat in a hard armchair, reading the letters. His expression was just as tense while reading both letters.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper conscientiously sat on the sofa, even patting the space beside him, signaling Hasting to come over as well.

Hasting didn’t want to deal with this drunkard and walked directly behind the Duke, maintaining a distance where he could assist immediately without being able to clearly see the contents of the letters.

So young, yet so staid.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper shrugged and casually piled up the stuff he brought on the low table in front of the sofa.

Because the magic stones were with Shivers and Erica, their letters were carried by carrier pigeons. Dwight wasn’t the first to receive the letters, but the contents they reported were important enough.

“Priscilla is pregnant.” Dwight put down the letters, his face changing.

If time were rolled back a few months, he would have been pleased to hear this news sitting in Brandenburg, and he would have prepared the most novel gift for his nephew to be sent immediately to the southern territories. Given the long journey, the gift might just arrive in time for the child’s birth.

But it just had to be now.

At a time when he had learned there was a group of lunatics in Doran trying to create a “Holy Grail”, Priscilla got pregnant.

Once she had a child, the possibility of her and Dwight returning to Pennigra would become extremely slim.

The Duke couldn’t help but feel a headache.

He was reluctant to assume that his brother-in-law (though he was reluctant to call him that) was also a member of that group of lunatics, but the astrologer’s response hung over Priscilla like a sharp blade, unsure when it would fall—and he had watched, helpless to intervene.

“You needn’t worry too much,” Charlie said, taking a moment to organize his words because of the alcohol. “We’ve discussed this, and Lestrop isn’t a fool to do something stupid. He wouldn’t joke about his own offspring.”

He emphasized the word “offspring” to remind him of the difference between the woman who died in the King’s room and the Queen, who, despite suspicions, remained unharmed.

“He better be that smart,” Dwight said coldly. “If he dares to do so, and Priscilla dies, he won’t live either.”

“Calm down.” Charlie, understanding how important this only remaining relative was to the young Duke, couldn’t help but soothe. “Even if things go to the worst step, Miss Priscilla will also…”

Before he could finish, Dwight flicked a finger, and a folded letter slid across the table, striking Charlie’s hand.

Charlie, puzzled, opened it and skimmed through it rapidly.

—Greetings.

From February 27 to March 1, a total of seven female bodies were exhumed. Based on the extent of skeletal deformations and the bloodstains on the burial shrouds, all were women who had recently given birth.

Thorn Manor remains as isolated as ever, making it difficult to inspect through external channels, and secretly sneaking in yields limited information because, besides their strong defensiveness, the farmworkers at the manor start at dawn and stop at dusk, rarely interacting even with the mansion.

According to a water seller, for some unknown reason, since February, the farm has further increased its isolation from the outside world. Day and night, people patrol around the mansion; one time, I even nearly encountered them in the forest at 1 in the morning.

But that time, they weren’t disposing of bodies. It seemed more like they were ensuring that no one was investigating that area of the forest… I covered my tracks well. I believe I wasn’t discovered.

…Yitzfa has also appeared in the city, and I am certain his target is that manor.

He’s trying to contact the manor through local upper-class connections. It is still unknown what secrets he’s interested in, but he seems determined to find out.

The latter part of the letter was a list of the city’s notables for reference only, and the backside was a rough plan of the mountain city hand-drawn by the Knight Commander, along with maps of the city, the manor, and the rivers.

Shivers wasn’t part of the last conversation between Dwight and Charlie, but he sharply sensed the subtle connections between several bizarre incidents since entering the Kingdom of Mokwen and the manor, and so listed some of his suspicions.

In the view of the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, the most valued part of this report by the Duke were those suspicions.

The Knight Commander believed that regardless of the manor’s purpose in persecuting those innocent women, it undoubtedly failed, and since there were no other injuries or signs of poisoning on the women, he surmised that the only outcome of these failures was death.

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