Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 81

New kings.

These words made the Duke’s eyes suddenly narrow.

This could probably explain why Mokwen and the other kingdoms, despite having planted their royal flags across every inch of the Doran continent, still chased after the Holy Grail, which was like a reflection in water with such thirst.

Because the behemoth in the darkness was ready to pounce, and showing any sign of weakness could mean being devoured alive—an unbearable prospect for anyone who had ascended to a throne.

If a century ago someone had said that the Black Gold Families were tired of the shadows and wanted to overturn the existing order, nobles like Dwight would have laughed it off as a joke—no, even in the still stable empire of Pennigra, it would be hard to turn such a notion into reality.

But in Doran, it was a different story. After several generations, the Black Gold Families had become like sponges that constantly absorbed dirty water and impurities. To some, they might still seem soft, but it was undeniable that they had swollen to an unignorable size.

Dirty, yet a massive presence.

Charlie observed Dwight’s expression, which had completely changed from the conflicted and vacant look of ten minutes ago. His aura was even sharper than when they first met.

It was the look of a superior feeling offended and cautious towards a challenge from a subordinate.

Although they were two separate continents, they had always interacted. For Pennigra to ignore this momentum and stay out of it was unrealistic. Moreover, a neighbor who always fights brothers behind closed doors was better than a malevolent, depraved one that was inhumane.

The Duke’s tension wasn’t only from the anger of having his authority challenged but also from the alarms sounded by his background, position, and education.

No Black Gold Family should be allowed to spread into the sunlight. The means they used to sustain and develop were a confusingly toxic poison to all social strata, always accompanied by irreversible corruption behind extreme pleasure and excitement. Therefore, keeping them firmly in the dark was a tacit agreement among the existing power groups.

This was also why the most hedonistic noble groups had always clearly distinguished themselves from the Black Gold Families, despite having a few prodigal sons at home addicted to their corrupt games.

As long as the legitimate heirs and the workers who supported their lavish lifestyles didn’t touch those things that could corrode the will.

Every noble family that had successfully lasted through changes in power had an astute leader, and they understood this better than anyone.

Dwight was no exception.

Although it made him uncomfortable, he still allowed himself to imagine the worst possibility in the shaking carriage.

Once those jackals truly showed their heads, most ordinary people with weak wills would be unable to resist those originally illegal trades and corrupt lifestyles. Then weakness, outbursts, poverty, strife, and madness would sweep across the continent like a plague, devouring every living thing in sight.

At that time, the so-called new order would be no order at all.

“The ‘Holy Grail’ must not exist.” Having realized this, the Duke subconsciously caressed the gem on the top of his cane. “Whether its legend is true or false.”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper looked down at his interlaced fingers and said in a very calm tone, “The Holy Grail never existed. It’s just the crazy fantasy of insatiable humans about the divine realm.”

“Is that so?” Dwight stared at his face, expressionless.

Charlie’s heart suddenly trembled for no reason.

“Yes,” he said firmly, in a soft voice. “The gods wouldn’t allow such a thing to be born, and humans wouldn’t let it appear in this world. Don’t you think so?”

The atmosphere in the carriage suddenly turned cold. Dwight had many things to resolve urgently, including writing a letter to the Empire to report the ambitions secretly brewing on the Doran continent at this moment…

But he still sat without moving.

After a while, he counter-asked Charlie.

“What about you? What do you think?”

Charlie looked up, his large, round eyes filled with complex emotions.

“My thoughts don’t matter,” he said.

His expression made Dwight feel strange—he suddenly wished their conversation could go back a few minutes.

Dwight didn’t speak immediately but thought for a while.

“If—I mean, if—you happened to encounter the ‘Holy Grail,’ what would you do?”

Charlie looked at him, somewhat stunned.

Not getting an answer, Dwight stopped caressing his cane and leaned forward, the distance between them becoming very close due to his action—so close that they could clearly see their own reflections in each other’s eyes.

It wasn’t the first time they had been this close.

When separated from his companions, Charlie personally washed his hair, which wasn’t just once or twice.

But it was the first time Charlie had the thought of retreating to avoid answering.

But Dwight’s attitude became particularly strong at such times.

“What would you do?” he asked again.

[—What if the Holy Grail really appeared?

—Then of course, seize it.

Control it.

Kill it.

Bury it.

—But what if that fails?

—Then it would seek its own destruction.

—Are you sure?

—I promise.]

Charlie blinked hard.

“I would kill it,” he said softly. “—Probably.”

“You’re lying.” Dwight still stared into his eyes, his expression extremely focused, as if studying a profound scholarly paper.

He had occasionally glimpsed the real emotions hidden under Rabbit Head’s indifferent facade, but not often. Most of the time, the other really seemed to care about nothing.

Only this time, the Duke was very sure he had caught his false side.

But Charlie didn’t let him observe too long and somewhat helplessly raised his hand in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, I don’t like taking lives,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said. “Even if you tied up the Holy Grail and put it on the dining table, I probably wouldn’t be able to do it.”

The Duke’s eyelashes finally trembled, and he slowly sat back in his original position.

“You said life?” he repeated.

Dwight finally understood the vague discomfort he had been feeling in his heart.

Since learning of the existence of the Holy Grail, he had instinctively regarded it as a symbol of subversion and desecration—likely the same for the royal families and the Black Gold Families.

But the words of the rabbit-headed shopkeeper made him suddenly realize that if it was born through a human mother, regardless of its form or gender, the Holy Grail was actually a life.

Even a person.

Realizing this, he raised his head and stared straight at Charlie opposite him.

“You’ve been lying. The Holy Grail does exist, doesn’t it?” Dwight said softly.

Charlie’s long ears twitched, but he said nothing.

Dwight felt a mix of emotions—Rabbit Head’s long-standing evasion and concealment on this topic finally had a plausible explanation today. His attitude toward the Holy Grail conflicted with that of the various royal families, the Black Gold Families, and even Dwight himself.

The Holy Grail was like a sharp, long sword—some wanted to grasp its hilt for power, others wanted to break its blade to prevent harm, but Charlie stood in a protector’s stance in front of the blade.

“You…” Dwight hesitated, a rarity for him.

The reaction was enough to make him realize a lot. It was a secret action by a superior, yet why could Rabbit Head from a small town on another continent understand so much about the origins and circumstances of this matter, and the so-called grievances of Witch Elena were probably just this man’s excuse to deal with external inquiries.

He knew of the Holy Grail’s existence and might have even seen it—or come into contact with it.

Charlie poured himself a cup of tea but didn’t drink.

“You’ve always been hiding the truth. Do you think I would do something? Like those beasts without bottom lines, seeking power that isn’t theirs to change fate?” Dwight said expressionlessly. “Or would I find the Holy Grail before everyone else and cut off its head?”

Before Charlie could answer, he continued, “You don’t like taking lives, but you think I do?”

Charlie still said nothing.

Dwight pressed his brow, tired.

Once he realized this, he couldn’t help but continue to think… If the Holy Grail truly were born, aside from the issue of blood, it would be indistinguishable from an ordinary child—having a name, thoughts, temperament, dreams. Could such a being, when standing before people, truly be seen purely as a stepping stone for power or a volatile factor that needs elimination?

“There are ways to make it not exist other than erasure,” the Duke finally said, but he didn’t look at Charlie, as if talking to himself, and he didn’t voice the second half of his thoughts.

If ‘he’ had an independent will, one that didn’t engage in the struggle for power, then ‘his’ existence wasn’t original sin.

At least Dwight thought so.

Shiloh felt the atmosphere was a bit strange, as if he had just slept through a lot and missed a lot.

“What’s with them?” Shiloh whispered to Hasting. “Not talking to each other is one thing, but even their seats are so far apart. It’s really strange.”

Hasting grimaced and pushed his fluffy head away—never mind that he didn’t know what had happened, even if he did, he couldn’t casually discuss the Duke’s matters as common gossip.

It’s a wonder where Shiloh picked up this habit. He was clearly a knight but was acting like a nosy street loafer, poking around and sniffing for news.

Although Hasting was also secretly amazed.

The missing sense of distance between the Duke and the rabbit-headed shopkeeper would surprise anyone seeing it for the first time. Even the Knight Commander, who had followed the Duke for many years, could hardly achieve the kind of ease they had between them, largely thanks to the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s disregard for the Duke’s status and routine provocations, and the Duke’s unusually high tolerance in response.

That’s why, when they suddenly started giving each other the cold shoulder, the invisible barrier between them was glaringly obvious.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper sat by the fire, nonchalantly roasting an apple.

To save time, they had left the originally planned town at four in the afternoon, and tonight they could only spend the night in the suburbs.

Fortunately, they had several carriages, and although the temperature was still a bit low, with a campfire and wine, the mercenaries used to sleeping under the sky wouldn’t complain much.

Charlie knew Shiloh and Eugene had been whispering and speculating about what had happened between him and the Duke, but he didn’t want to satisfy their curiosity because, strictly speaking, nothing had actually happened.

This wasn’t the first time they’d discussed a serious topic, but because the Duke was too insistent on touching on thoughts he was reluctant to reveal, it made him somewhat uncomfortable.

But the rabbit-headed shopkeeper would never admit that he was sulking. He just didn’t feel like talking to the Duke for the time being.

On the other hand, he was somewhat worried that he might reveal more than should be public due to the Duke’s aggressive approach. It had been many years since he’d encountered a person or situation that could push him to that extent.

“He’s a dangerous man,” he muttered softly.

The Duke sat on a folding wooden chair far from the fire. His high collar and hood hid most of his face. After being shaken on the carriage all day, he finally couldn’t resist getting off to rest for a while.

The mercenaries had lit two other fires not far from them, and occasionally someone would curiously glance over, wanting to know what their rarely seen mysterious boss looked like, but there were always people by his side, perfectly blocking their view.

The mercenary captain knew that the lord didn’t like to be watched, but the two young men by his side were quite formidable, always guarding very strictly, so he didn’t specifically restrain their curiosity.

Because they were in the suburbs, to prevent wild animal attacks and other accidents, Hasting stayed within three steps of the Duke, while Shiloh took on the errand-running work, but because the usually trouble-making rabbit-headed shopkeeper suddenly stopped crowding around the Duke, their workload had suddenly decreased a lot. When Hasting signaled to Shiloh, the boy, who was secretly planning to also grab an apple to roast, looked up somewhat blankly.

Hasting suppressed the urge to hit him, sending him to fetch a letter—Hall, who had been secretly following them, had sent a message. There was a letter coming.

Perhaps because the distance was continuously closing, Erica’s messages came more frequently than Shivers’, and tonight was no different.

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