Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 89

“Who is the owner of the manor?” This was the most crucial point for Shivers—Thorn Manor wasn’t registered at the town hall, indicating that it was a private property of a noble at least of viscount rank, yet there were no family crests of any Mokwen nobles around the manor’s perimeter. Few who had entered or left the manor had any clues or were tight-lipped about it. In this situation, Yitzfa claimed that the manor’s owner was coming back.

Shivers had already learned from the Duke that Thorn Manor belonged to the southern lord Lestrop and knew that he had left his wife to return to his homeland alone, but Yitzfa seemed to know more details.

Yitzfa was reclining on a low couch with a fleece blanket over his knees, leisurely blowing the steam off the cup of tea in his hand.

This wasn’t pretending. He genuinely felt cold.

Although it was already spring, the persistent drizzle still made one feel bone-chillingly cold, especially as most buildings in the mountain town were made of stone, with the cold clinging tightly to walls, floors, and roofs, making one shiver at a glance.

The Peters’ house had a lady of the house and plenty of maids, with fireplaces burning from winter into spring, not only keeping the interior dry and warm but also covered with carpets everywhere. Even the tabletops adorned with lace tablecloths were meticulously embroidered by the maids.

Not so here.

But considering it was only Shivers staying here, it was normal for a single man to overlook these details.

After taking a sip of tea, Yitzfa said, “It’s on record that Earl Lestrop secretly visits the manor twice every year, and this year is the fifth year. However, one time he was followed, and the follower left spies in town… From last winter to now, the capital of Syriacochi has received at least two reports, more frequent than before.”

He wasn’t playing coy but freely shared information that was nearly the same as what the Duke’s party had gathered. The spies lingering in town because of the manor were far more than just Shivers and Yitzfa. Yitzfa’s hints were clear.

Shivers quietly calculated in his mind. Including the suspicious Priscilla and the father of the child she met because of her suspicions, there were at least five groups focusing their attention on this small town—it was truly chaotic.

This was probably why Yitzfa had so quickly abandoned local forces to seek cooperation with Shivers. If multiple powers were to intervene directly, then not only the likes of the Peters couple but even the town officials probably wouldn’t have much right or say in the matter, making it pointless to waste effort there.

It was hard to say whether the Fox family was aware that the Countess was also shadowing her husband. If they only caught the king’s movements, the Black Gold Families would definitely not cooperate directly with the reigning monarchy… Yitzfa’s proposal, besides seeking assistance, was also a means to probe Shivers’s position.

As the Knight Commander watched Yitzfa start to sip his tea again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

The way he drank tea looked a bit awkward. It lacked the Duke’s elegance and the knights’ utilitarian guzzling. Instead, he sipped continuously, small sip after small sip, neither graceful nor efficient.

It seemed to be purely for warmth.

But it wasn’t Shivers’s place to manage him since he wasn’t a knight of Brandenburg.

Shivers looked away.

“So, you mean Lestrop will head straight for the manor after returning to the country?” he asked. “Then, the ‘opportunity’ you mentioned, is it before or after his arrival?”

Yitzfa thought for a moment. “I think we should try to enter the manor with the Earl.”

Shivers waited for him to explain.

“The King hasn’t put forth a full effort to rescue him in Lababata, and the conflict between the royal brothers has been brought to the public, leading to possible armed conflicts. I believe the Earl rushed back, not to his own domain but directly to the manor, because he thinks it’s more crucial than his territory.”

In reality, the reason why the southern lord’s title was more prominent than that of an Earl was that his lands weren’t only rich in resources but also because the sugar production developed from beet farming monopolized the national market, affecting neighboring countries. This was probably a concession made during his ennoblement to slightly balance the lowly title.

But all of this seemed less important to Lestrop than this secluded manor, which was intriguing.

“So if a dispute is indeed going to break out, it’s likely to happen here?” Shivers immediately understood. “In front of armed forces, closed doors and silent farmers holding pitchforks are negligible. The mansion is likely to be chaotic and out of control before a victor emerges.”

However, that didn’t mean those who watched the fight could rest easy. How to navigate through sword flashes and avoid horse hooves without being seen as an enemy by those blinded by conflict also required skill.

Yitzfa felt he couldn’t do it alone and needed someone to lead.

But the Knight Commander thought he was joking.

If a localized war really broke out, being in the center of the conflict meant even those clad in full armor could hardly guarantee safe exit, let alone Yitzfa, who wouldn’t be able to move under the weight of regular chainmail.

Not to mention, aside from agility, a certain level of combat skills was necessary for self-defense. Did this person, who could spend half an hour on a cup of tea, even know the correct way to hold a sword?

Listening to Yitzfa’s so-called plan of “they fight, we slip in through the cracks unnoticed and pick up the leftovers”, Shivers felt suffocated.

Indeed, different professions had different expertise. If it were someone from the Lion family, they would never say such a thing so brazenly.

Up to this point, Yitzfa had given him the impression of being too shrewd, willful, cunning, manipulative, and hard to coax… Only at this moment did this beautifully furred fox show the recklessness and naivety characteristic of his simple brother, Cici.

Seeing that silly, unaware look, there was no doubt they were biological brothers.

He then had to explain in detail how indiscriminate a battlefield is and that current local wars are primarily offensive and defensive. Not even one Shivers, let alone two, could intervene in the melee of two forces while also pulling Yitzfa in.

Yitzfa acknowledged this but didn’t accept his evasion.

“So tell me, what’s a better way?” Yitzfa pulled the blanket up. “As long as it’s feasible, I will pay a suitable reward—at that time, even Tifa might be jealous of you.”

Shivers was slightly moved.

The dispute between Tifa and Lestrop over the throne undoubtedly involved the “Holy Grail”. By mentioning this, was Yitzfa implying that the Foxes had more information on this than even the Mokwen king?

“If a conflict truly erupts, appearing rashly would be like entering a herd of out-of-control buffalo unarmed. The consequences are unpredictable,” Shivers said rationally. “Either we enter the manor before Lestrop to await the outbreak, or we look for breaches among the ruins after the battle—both options carry risks.”

Pre-battle defenses were usually the most stringent, and the movements of outsiders could likely be exposed during checks and scheduling unless a relatively safe blind spot for hiding was found; post-battle, fatigue and reduced vigilance may decrease, but inventorying spoils was always a priority. If they wait until the main forces withdraw, there might be very little value left.

Yitzfa listened quietly, then thought for a while. “Then we’ll get ahead of Lestrop.”

This aligned exactly with Shivers’s analysis. Risk always coexisted with opportunity. Being overly cautious might lead to missing out entirely.

Yitzfa’s quick acceptance of his suggestion was somewhat surprising. Shivers had thought he would be more willful, as many accustomed to high positions were stubborn.

But Shivers wasn’t swayed by the congenial atmosphere of the discussion.

He leaned back comfortably in his chair, hands crossed, his tone even. “Assuming I agree to cooperate, for safety’s sake, it’s best we are both open and honest.”

Yitzfa looked at him innocently. “What do you mean?”

“I need the secrets and evidence concerning Thorn Manor,” Shivers said first. “What about you?”

Testing each other might be an amusing emotional game at other times, but it was inappropriate in serious work. No matter how brief, Shivers wouldn’t expose his back to someone untrustworthy, no matter how handsome.

Yitzfa lowered his eyes. He wanted to drink more tea but found his cup empty, so he poured himself some, quickly calculating during the brief interval.

Just like his first impression, this man was far more troublesome than his appearance suggested.

Polite, considerate, skilled, and quick to react.

Although he had never directly seduced the other party, the various charms that had previously been irresistible in front of Yitzfa were like stones dropped into a deep pond, eliciting no response at all, leaving him unsure of how best to interact with him for his own advantage.

He likely came from a good background, with negotiation tactics that revealed no flaws, a resolute character, never led astray, but also never harshly rejected, always keeping his options open.

His way of interacting with others depended on who stood before him, reflecting a mirror-like personality.

Yitzfa held the cup in his hand, staring directly at him. “My goal is the same as yours, but I aim to go further.”

“If the dispute between Tifa and Lestrop ends in victory for one side, I want to seize or destroy what they fought over before the victor regains their senses.”

At that moment, Yitzfa’s expression and tone were colder than any Shivers had ever seen before.

Shivers lightly pressed his own palm, reminding himself to control his expression.

“What is that?” he asked quietly.

Yitzfa looked at him with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile. After the matter of Tifa, the fact that Shivers could find this place meant he wasn’t completely ignorant of the source—although it was hardly a secret at some level.

“Have you heard of the ‘Holy Grail’?” Yitzfa asked.

As he expected, Shivers nodded.

“The legend of the Holy Grail has always existed, but most who pursue it don’t know its true origins.” Yitzfa’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Some speculate that the Grail itself possesses divine power, capable of changing the heavens and the earth. Others believe the Grail isn’t human, but a great demon sealed for centuries, using human lineage to return to the world, but neither is true.”

“The Grail is a person. Just like you and me, possessing no supernatural powers, needing meals daily, and careful nurturing to grow.”

Shivers frowned but didn’t interrupt.

If it held no supernatural powers, why then would Tifa and several powerful families be in such endless dispute over it?

Yitzfa didn’t need to see to know what Shivers was thinking.

“The Grail itself has no power, but it can indeed awaken certain forces. This concept comes from an old legend where someone made a deal with a demon, tricked it into consuming its flesh and blood, causing it to weaken and fall into slumber, while that person’s blood gained incredible power: such blood could not only awaken the demon from the abyss but also exorcize it in exchange for blood.”

“At the cost of blood?” Shivers couldn’t help but ask. “What does that mean?”

“It means that the blood of the Holy Grail isn’t only the key to unlocking forbidden powers but also the nourishment. Every fifteen days, a cup of fresh blood can ‘nurture’ a demon through the Grail,” Yitzfa explained. “That is the true meaning of the Holy Grail—not power itself, but a sacrifice.”

There was silence for a while.

After a long moment, Shivers found his voice again. “How can you be so certain?”

If royal families like Mokwen had to rely on vague legends to grope their way, how did Yitzfa come to know such secrets? Was it due to the powerful intelligence network of the Fox family?

The temperature of the cup in Yitzfa’s hand had gradually diminished, becoming somewhat cold, but he didn’t let go.

“I told you. If Tifa knew what I’ve told you, he would be jealous of you,” Yitzfa said with a mocking smile. “The earliest Holy Grail came from a certain Black Gold Family.”

The noble royal families, holding the scepters of light, crazed for imagined mighty powers, were unaware that the bloodline passed down through generations meant that if the Holy Grail were to be reborn, it would inevitably come from a Black Gold Family.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>