Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 118

Amber’s eyes widened as he looked at the two neatly dressed attendants bowing to greet them, with a bright green lawn behind them—not large but meticulously trimmed and vividly colored, which made the somewhat gloomy sky appear gray.

In the middle was a neat pathway wide enough for a double carriage, leading to a compact but fully functional summer villa.

Every five steps along the outer circular colonnade stood a slender column, carved with intricate rose vine patterns similar to those on the main door, topped with a gas lamp that was lit even though it was still afternoon (Eugene suspected these lamps were on day and night).

Although there were no marble pools or fountains, there was a delicate tower and a back garden, making it seem like the most complete and comfortable place they had come across after their journey.

This was just one of the guest houses in the inner city of White Bridge, featuring six bedrooms and seven bathrooms, adorned with finely sculpted relief columns and gilded furniture inlaid with gems. However, there were no emblems or tapestries that could indicate status, making it seem like an opulently empty jewelry box.

Each house was staffed with a cook, laundress, gardener, coachman, and four general laborers, while the security mercenaries were housed in a separate wooden cabin next to the storage room, behind which stood a pointed-roof stable filled with hay reaching the roof.

This was the first time both Amber and Eugene had seen such a refined house, and they felt somewhat uneasy about stepping forward. Nearly the entire reception hall was covered with a huge carpet, brown with blue borders, featuring patterns with an exotic flair. Having traveled through many cities with the Duke, Eugene could guess that such a large handmade carpet must be quite valuable, and his sheepskin boots were no longer as pristine as they had been at the start of their journey—they still bore the marks of accidentally stepping into a muddy puddle at the foot of the Royfoy Mountains.

Hasting and Shivers had different concerns. They quickly inspected the house from top to bottom, opening every cupboard and paying particular attention to all the exits of the house.

The Duke stood by a large stained-glass window overlooking the back garden, frowning slightly at the spotless glass.

After descending the stairs, Shivers saw where he was standing and immediately understood that he had also noticed something of concern.

“Indeed, there are no blessing charms,” the Knight Commander said. “We’ve checked the doors, window frames, stairs, eaves, and vents, and found nothing.”

Amber stood at the edge of the carpet. Hearing their conversation, he raised his head and asked Eugene, “What’s a blessing charm? Like an amulet?”

Eugene replied, surprised, “How do you not know that—it’s a charm used to prevent witches or evil spirits from entering a house. Even the simplest houses are equipped with them. As the saying goes: even a broken house should have a stove and a daisy wreath.”

Amber remained silent.

He had been sold before he was five years old and retained little memory of “home”. Since then, he had been passed from hand to hand, never sleeping in a decent bed, let alone a proper house.

Hearing their conversation, Shivers waved Amber over.

“Blessing charms are a customary practice across the continent. It’s not specific in form, but any that can repel evil and protect against malevolent spirits. Long ago, when black magic was rampant and the fresh bones from graveyards and swamps weren’t enough to satisfy their needs, people would compel extremely evil things to squeeze into houses through door cracks or window gaps; thus, various protective measures were developed. The daisy wreath Eugene mentioned is a common one. It’s inexpensive and just requires a daisy wreath carved into a brick on each of the four walls during construction to confuse evil beings.”

He added softly, “There are also wooden exorcism charms hung behind doors and silver-coated glass pieces embedded in the windows. The methods vary, but it’s customary to have some, and houses completely without these protections are rare.”

Eugene dipped his finger in water and drew several circles within circles on the wall to show him, “See, this is a daisy wreath. When I was in Dogus, I often slept in animal sheds, and if the homeowner didn’t place a blessing charm, we would draw this with the ashes on the walls—do you need me to draw one outside? It’s simple, just give me five minutes…”

Shivers shook his head. “I’ve sent Hall and Shiloh to check if the nearby houses are the same, but actually, the comforting effect of blessing charms is greater than their actual function. Now, witches and black magic are strictly prohibited, especially in populous cities, and evil spirits hardly dare to show themselves.”

And they had Hasting, a walking humanoid blessing charm stronger than any other.

“Interesting,” Dwight muttered quietly, taking his cane and heading upstairs, followed by Shivers.

Their luggage had already been placed in the bedrooms, with the Duke naturally occupying the largest one. As guests concealing their real identities, they maintained a low profile after entering White Bridge and didn’t rent the best house, thus receiving little special treatment, but the conditions here were still surprisingly good.

“These families… at least the Wolves and Monkeys, indeed have substantial wealth,” Shivers remarked, looking at the fur on the bed.

Due to its fragmented kingdom, Doran lacked strict consumer laws, allowing wealthy commoners considerable freedom. The soft, white rabbit fur on the bed was a testament to high-quality goods, usually stored with spices in the innermost cargo holds of ships and sold at high prices.

In Pennigra, only those of knight rank and above could wear silk, and only barons and above could wear fur coats or trimmed robes.

“They do just that,” Dwight said. “For the biennial auction, countless ships carrying honey, beverages, spices, and silk converge here. The Golden Waterway is well-deserved.”

“In such a place, without strong measures, it’s easy for theft, robbery, and conflicts to arise,” Shivers analyzed. “But so far, the environment seems peaceful, and even the houses don’t set up blessing charms. What gives the Wolves such confidence?”

“Personnel stratification,” Dwight responded without hesitation. “Here, there are no nobles, only coins. They classify by wealth.”

Upon entering White Bridge, they had rented a villa in a section that likely housed guests of similar stature. If someone as wealthy as Priscilla were to visit, she would probably stay somewhere even more upscale, but likely just like this place, devoid of any emblems or ornaments to display one’s status.

“But there is no pure utopia of pleasure. There must be another part of the city, a breeding ground for theft and robbery… concentrated there.” Dwight speculated, lowering his eyes. “As long as the boundaries are clear, major conflicts won’t occur, and individual conflicts on ‘this side’ are manageable.”

“We haven’t seen such a place,” Shivers said.

They had been met by carriages upon disembarking, but due to not having female companions, chose a brighter, airier, windowless model. The scenery they saw along the way looked like a compact royal city, vibrant and ripe like a juicy, enticing peach, emitting a rotting, sweet smell.

“There’s more than one entrance,” Dwight said thoughtfully.

For the Wolves and Monkeys to demarcate and govern here appeared quite incredible and contradictory to Dwight. It was strange to see two equally powerful forces coexist peacefully within the same area.

Either they had leverage over each other, or this balance existed only superficially, being quite delicate in reality.

Unfortunately, just as nobles collectively refuse to intermarry with the Black Gold Families, the Black Gold Families are also tightly knit, making it difficult for outsiders to penetrate easily.

Even in Pennigra, Lemena was a relatively independent peninsula and had no contact with White Bridge beyond commercial activities before this, leaving him with a very limited understanding of the area.

But there were potential breakthroughs, such as Louis.

However, Dwight still didn’t know his actual stance, and considering his and Charlie’s sensitive identities, coupled with Priscilla’s impending childbirth, the Duke pondered for a moment and decided to switch perspectives.

In such a prosperous and orderly inner city, the Wolves and Monkeys likely dominated as local powers, controlling key resources.

The commoners or those of lower status probably concentrated in inferior districts or suburbs. Both families might manage those areas, but they wouldn’t be a major part of that population.

……

Eugene walked down the street, shoulders hunched, as drizzle fell from the sky. Despite wearing a waterproof cloak, the fine raindrops were blown slantwise onto his face by the wind, soon forming tiny beads of water on his eyebrows and hair.

White Bridge was a city that never slept.

He had deliberately left home at eleven at night and spent an hour walking to the bustling commercial district’s edge. Although the air no longer carried the scents of ladies’ perfume and sweet cream, it was still enticing—replaced by the strong aromas of roasted meats. Half-open or open-air stalls were everywhere, with bright lights illuminating the area as if it were daytime. People built huge roasters right there, continuously removing stacks of pancakes filled with pork, beef, and eggs. Beside these were various grills, skewering beef legs and small lambs, constantly dripping fat and juices into bowls below, then used to make another famous dish—gravy onions.

Eugene stood at a street corner, like a customer lured by the aromas and indecisive about which shop to sit down in. The bustling or dining people took no special notice of him, as the scene was quite ordinary to them.

But he was actually observing something else.

For these bustling districts, the night was just beginning. Gourmets tired of the inner city’s center, close to various auction houses and exclusive restaurants, would come here to eat, often in groups, with two servants following behind. Occasionally, some courtesans would pass by, casting flirtatious glances at the seated diners.

Eugene bypassed these brightly lit shops, stepping through puddles deeper into the area. The layout of the streets here was similar, with shiny shops typically backed by messy drainage ditches. Old oil lamps hung on bamboo poles, and a few raggedly dressed women washed dishes under the lamps while two men squatted on the ground, their fronts lined with buckets filled with heaps of chili peppers and onions, quickly chopping tuberous plants into small pieces.

People came and went from the front, picking up peeled potatoes. Those squatting or sitting didn’t raise their heads or speak, treating each other as if they were air.

The lighting was too dim, but Eugene could just make out their dark faces and tattered robes. Sometimes, multi-legged insects scurried out from the shadows, even crawling over the corners of their robes that touched the ground, causing only a numb shift in their bodies, their hands never stopping their task.

The Duke was right. Behind such opulence in White Bridge was a backbone of cheap labor. Especially in that “outsider” villa area, massive daily demands were generated: laundry, exquisite food, tedious and cumbersome household chores, and routine house maintenance—all of which couldn’t be managed by just a few assigned servants.

This was particularly evident in the streets and shops, especially in the food industry, which generated a lot of tedious and dirty work…

Eugene was familiar with these scenes. Indeed, he had been a scoundrel since childhood, rarely as engrossed in work as these people. But Eugene, the thief, and his ragamuffin friends had parents and siblings who performed these low-wage jobs day in and day out, barely making enough to scrape by.

That’s why, unlike the loud drunks in the taverns, they were very cautious, unlikely to say more than a few words to a stranger like Eugene.

After some thought, Eugene didn’t approach rashly but walked away—he ended up ordering a roasted chicken, golden-brown, and drank wine until late into the night.

Only when it grew dark and the guests gradually left, as most shops began cleaning tables and chairs, did he tighten his sleeves, stagger to his feet, and tossed a handful of coins on the table before leaving.

A faint snicker followed him from behind. He knew he was seen as a penniless gambler, but he didn’t care.

Like all incoherently drunk people, he first staggered under a streetlamp, then shuffled forward. The streets were nearly empty, and he was almost relying on luck not to lose track of the two men he had seen peeling potatoes in the back alley earlier.

Luckily, they were either completely off guard or so sure of their poverty that they attracted no covetous attention, oblivious to someone following them through several blocks back to “home”.

Eugene stood in a shadow where the streetlight couldn’t reach, watching one of the men crawl directly into a tent propped up by a stick on the roadside, seemingly flipping over to lie down inside, his feet sticking out freely.

His companion walked around the tent and entered—what Eugene could only describe as…

A jumbled mass of shanties, tents, and wooden houses crowded together, a myriad of materials and colors with seemingly no gaps between the oddly shaped windows and corners that stood out more starkly against the night sky. From his distance, it looked like a colossal, multicolored mountain of garbage.

And the ragged vegetable cutter, like a nimble rat, slipped in without needing streetlights or moonlight, familiarly navigating the maze.

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