Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 131
Dwight and Shivers were in a circular theater, watching an opera called “My Alderley”.
In his view, the script was lackluster. It was a favorite of all minstrels and wandering singers, themed around courtly love. Alderley was a beautiful castle’s mistress, living a life of delicate luxury, almost changing suitors (and husbands present) every act, with all plot and scenery serving the mistress, whose attire and jewelry indeed warranted all the praise.
The theater’s deep circular dome was draped with dark curtains, and the lavish lighting illuminated everything on stage—this was the real purpose of this opera: All the jewelry and some of the scenery on stage were genuine and up for auction, allowing the audience to admire the pins, necklaces, earrings, and swords as they sparkled with the actors’ movements on stage.
If one listened closely to the suitors’ exaggerated arias, it would make sense to interpret these as advertisements for the antique jewelry.
The opera was cliché, but this commercial format was novel. Many female spectators were entranced. Dwight would bet that at least half of them had already imagined themselves in the beautiful protagonist’s place, wearing those expensive and sparkling jewels.
While men might not be engrossed in the love story plot, Dwight and Shivers did watch the performance seriously and even bid on a few pieces of jewelry.
Their targets weren’t the most dazzling pearl robes and necklaces on stage but a few crowns and rings. Despite the dazzling lights, Dwight could still discern the highest quality items in the play.
Shivers handed a leather pad with price tags to an attendant, sighing inwardly.
He really didn’t want to do this—the Duke was asking him to sell his charms again.
Ironically, the plot of “My Alderley”, though exaggerated, did somewhat resonate with his experiences: A young knight, wounded after battle, passed through vast lands and was kept by a kind Lady of the Castle, surrounded by fountains, forests, harps, and swans. The subtle and lingering romance between the beautiful noblewoman and the knight was a story that seemed clichéd yet continuously unfolded across various lands. As they say, art imitates life, which was why it spread widely. Richly imaginative poets or knights often drew on their experiences to create these tales, which were then performed by artists.
Previously, in a romantic atmosphere, Shivers didn’t see any issue with this, but at some point—he guessed it was after facing Yitzfa’s direct use of these acts as bargaining chips—the knight began to feel there was something off about this behavior.
However, he maintained that he was different from Yitzfa. A knight’s interactions with each lady were faithful and sincere, but he couldn’t refute Yitzfa’s argument: The knight couldn’t guarantee that each romantic gesture was purely out of love and joy, even the gentlest whisper couldn’t mask his ulterior motives.
This argument was hard for Shivers to accept, so instinctively, he retorted, saying something he still somewhat regretted. “Don’t treat me like a Fox!”
He didn’t regret his words because they were wrong—after all, for centuries, the Foxes had indeed relied on the allure of soft whispers to achieve various ends openly and straightforwardly. What he regretted was the brief silence from Yitzfa afterward.
So their last collaboration ended unpleasantly. Eugene might have sensed something odd about the atmosphere, but adult disputes of propriety weren’t displayed in front of unrelated parties, just that—
“Sir?” The attendant’s query brought him back to reality. Shivers looked down to find that, due to his prolonged pause, ink had dripped from the glass pen tip, forming a large purple stain where he was supposed to sign his name on the paper.
He smiled apologetically, reinserted the pen into the inkwell with minimal movement, and shook his head slightly.
This was a gesture to cancel the bid.
The attendant understood, retreated with the tray, and less than ten minutes later, returned with a scented note.
“Miss Ruby thanks you for your generosity,” the young attendant said softly, seemingly accustomed to this back-and-forth.
Shivers stared at the note for a few seconds, as if the delicate piece of paper might bite off his fingers.
The Duke always had an excellent eye, accurately capturing the most valuable crown in the auction, raising the price to attract attention, then gracefully stepping back—a simple tactic, but it successfully hooked their target: likewise discerning, tasteful, and wealthy women.
Such characters had broader perspectives in White Bridge than they did, making it easier to enter core venues with their connections, but it made Shivers feel truly like a Fox.
“Sir?” The repeatedly distracted Shivers made the attendant softly call out again, prompting him to extend his hand and pick up the note.
Dwight didn’t watch the entire opera but left midway. This act was somewhat impolite, but the theater staff were well-trained, and the process didn’t disturb or affect other audience members. Once Dwight followed the guide out through a hidden passage, a completely black carriage was already waiting there.
There was a saying, wasn’t there? Being too understated was, in itself, a form of ostentation.
Dwight had seen this type of unadorned carriage before. He didn’t hesitate much before stepping onto the footboard, finding the interior more spacious than it appeared from the outside. A tall young man was already seated inside, waiting for him.
The door was closed from the outside, and the young man turned his face towards him and nodded.
“Apologies for not standing to greet you, Duke Dwight, due to the confined space of the carriage,” he said. “I’m Louis, and it’s an honor to meet you.”
…That’s how it should be. Dwight thought emotionlessly, considering that the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had been presumptuous in front of him before, and even his previous attempts at acting didn’t achieve this level of formality. He nodded and took a seat across from him, not knowing how the coachman outside could tell that all passengers were seated, but the next moment, he felt the carriage wheels begin to slowly turn.
“This carriage is protected with charms from roof to yoke, such that even a great mage couldn’t hear a single syllable if they pressed their ear against the window,” Louis said. “Even Charlie and I can talk here without concern.”
Hearing this, Dwight glanced at him. Louis was suggesting that there were no secrets in this carriage and also indicating… that he knew everything Charlie had told him. This slightly eased his mind. Yet, he broached a topic unrelated to their current discussion. “How is Priscilla doing?”
“Her mood is quite unstable. The doctors say it could affect the baby, but she refuses to use sedatives, fearing irreversible damage,” Louis explained. “Before the Azalea docked, I had arranged for the best doctors, but the recent situation in Mokwen is unclear, and I believe it’s the unrest that’s causing her anxiety.”
Dwight believed him as he looked into his eyes—Priscilla evidently preferred to show her more vulnerable side to the father of her child.
“I will take Priscilla’s child away.” He observed Louis’s expression. “Doran isn’t suitable for him—or her—not at the moment, at least.”
Louis nodded calmly. “I agree with that. Regardless of whether Lestrop is dead or alive, Priscilla would never want her child to call him ‘father’. She has discussed this with me.”
Dwight was silent for a moment, still unable to restrain himself. “Do you love Priscilla?”
If Priscilla were present, she might be surprised at her brother’s focus on her love life at such a time and place, but he still posed the question after some thought.
Louis also appeared slightly surprised.
He didn’t answer immediately, seemingly choosing his words carefully.
“I admire her,” Louis finally said. “Priscilla is both intelligent and strong. I never imagined myself having offspring, but if I did, she would be the ideal mother of my child.”
“So you don’t love her,” Dwight stated.
Louis was silent, uncertain if he should apologize for this, as few nobles who concern themselves with the link between feelings and marriage exist. After all, the other party was Priscilla’s brother, and it wouldn’t be strange if he thought of him as a scoundrel who toyed with women’s feelings and punched him right there.
He had thought Dwight to be a rare romantic type, but the next question immediately dispelled this impression.
“Did you discuss the pregnancy with her beforehand?” Dwight asked.
Louis: “……”
He really didn’t want to discuss such matters, even if the other party was Priscilla’s brother.
But his silence was also an answer. Dwight sighed deeply, confirming his suspicion that this child was a calculated accident: calculated for Priscilla, accidental for Louis.
Given the identities of the brothers Charlie and Louis, they weren’t the type to deliberately leave descendants to continue their bloodline, but Priscilla likely didn’t know this. She wanted a child, but it couldn’t come from the mad Lestrop, so she acted accordingly—Dwight knew his sister’s character too well. She might appear fragile, but she occasionally made rash decisions.
Of course, he wouldn’t criticize his sister in front of others. Having received the answers he sought, he shifted comfortably.
“My questions are answered,” he said. “Now it’s your turn—did you come to me because Charlie finally decided what he wants to do?”
The author has something to say:
Dwight’s last statement means that the most capricious character among the protagonists is actually Charlie. Once Rabbit Head makes a decision, those who value him have little choice but to assist. On this point, the Duke and Louis agree.
Kinky Thoughts:
That’s just hypocrisy, Shivers. You can call it “chivalry” due to your position as a knight, but at the end of the day, it’s still laced with ulterior motives. At least Yitzfa is straightforward about it.
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