Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 193
Arnie was dying to know who that person was—he had talked with Elaby all night but hadn’t even mentioned his own name.
But he didn’t want to ask, because if he asked Elaby today, it would be like admitting to everyone that he had been eavesdropping all night.
“Arnie?” Priscilla waved her hand in front of his face. Her brother had been sitting still since the morning, looking like a daydreaming doll.
Adorably so.
But Priscilla knew Arnie wasn’t actually daydreaming. This child’s mind worked astonishingly fast, so he often got lost in his own world, with his expressions and movements unable to keep up with the speed of his thoughts.
At these times, Arnie was easily managed. Priscilla, who had come to see her brother early in the morning, exchanged a glance with her maid and started trying various clothes on him. By the time Arnie snapped out of it, they were already heating up the curling iron, which made him jump off the stool and move far away.
Priscilla coaxed him, “It won’t burn.”
Arnie flatly refused, “No.”
“Alright.” Priscilla was a bit disappointed. Arnie had such beautiful hair color, and she had always wanted to try giving him cute angelic curls, but he was very wary of the curling iron, calling it a torture device.
Although the curling plan failed, Priscilla still managed to dress him in a meticulously crafted vintage-style suit while he was distracted. Arnie didn’t like wearing such formal attire on informal occasions, but it was too late to change now.
“Elaby has prepared some interesting activities today,” Priscilla told him. “They found a clean patch of grass where we can have lunch—don’t pout like that. I promise there will be no bugs crawling on the plates today.”
The convoy, originally camped by the edge of the small forest, moved twenty miles eastward to an open depression with a shallow stream. The stream likely fed into one of the Lake of Sighs tributaries, but it was so shallow that even Arnie and Priscilla could dip their feet in it.
Alfred conducted thorough checks on the hired entertainers, almost wanting to strip their underwear to check for hidden charms. The birdkeeper and others had minor complaints, but Brandenburg’s payment was so generous that they greeted Arnie and Priscilla with genuine smiles.
Alai, the birdkeeper, had a large, colorful bird perched on his shoulder, the leader of his bird troupe, which could lead the other birds in various tricks like low-altitude flight formations, fetching small items on command, and conversing with Alai—only two birds could speak, though their voices were hoarse and not very pleasant, and one had a tendency to swear, which Alai quickly stifled, making Priscilla giggle.
The Duchess had once kept birds in the castle, but those beautiful yet delicate birds were very picky about their environment and could easily fall ill if not cared for properly. They were gentle, though, and would nuzzle people’s hands affectionately.
In contrast, Alai’s birds were more like street urchins. Rather than being spectacular performers, their vitality and human-like behavior were more impressive.
Arnie watched their performance intently, then asked Alai, “What species are these birds? I’ve never seen them before.” He wanted to keep some too.
“I don’t know their species either, Young Master,” Alai replied cautiously. “I collected them gradually during my travels.”
Having performed all over the continent, Alai could tell this pretty, noble child was interested in his birds, and wealthy nobles never had to suppress their desires.
The colorful bird on Alai’s shoulder tilted its head to meet Arnie’s gaze, while the knight beside Arnie kept a close watch on its sharp beak.
But the expected request (or command) didn’t come. The little boy stared at the bird for a while, then turned to Priscilla and shook his head.
“It doesn’t want to live in the castle,” Arnie told Priscilla. “Never mind.”
Priscilla couldn’t understand the silent exchange of looks between her brother and the bird, nor could she discern any expression of will on the bird’s face. But Arnie had a unique ability; he could easily sense the emotions of people and animals. If he said the bird didn’t want to, then it certainly didn’t want to.
Hearing that a noble child of this age knew what “restraint” was, Alai hid his surprised expression and respectfully took the water basin handed to him, leading the birds away to rest and drink.
Actually, he wasn’t too worried about wealthy people forcefully taking his birds because…
“If you forcefully capture them, they’ll escape from the cage after you pay,” Arnie continued to Priscilla.
Alai, who had not yet walked far, was startled by this and almost spilled the water on the grass.
Priscilla glanced at the back of the birdkeeper with the corner of her eye, then touched the back of her brother’s neck to make sure he wasn’t sweating and asked, “It’s not lunchtime yet. Do you want to see the magic show?”
“No.” Arnie looked around, slid off the chair, and pushed away the hands that tried to help him. “I want to go back to the tent to rest.”
“Then I…”
“I’ll go by myself,” Arnie emphasized.
Priscilla raised an eyebrow but didn’t insist.
They had set up camp with Priscilla and Arnie’s tents at the center. As long as he didn’t leave the Brandenburg Knights’ guard circle, it was fine for Arnie to walk around on his own.
Elaby probably knew what Young Master Arnie wanted to do. He smiled and whispered to Priscilla about what happened last night.
“The storyteller?” Priscilla tilted her head. “Arnie wants to find him to finish last night’s story?”
She knew her brother well.
Arnie walked back to his tent with his hands behind his back, then started picking through the drinks and biscuits in the tent, sending the attendants off to prepare new snacks. Then, thinking he was being sneaky, he slipped out of the tent.
There was no need to ask Elaby to know where the entertainers would be. They would certainly be with the musicians, as the Dwight family arranged everything by function. He had just seen Elaby take the bird keeper and magician over, but their voices were different from the one he heard last night.
So Elaby must not have arranged for that person to serve today. Arnie only remembered falling asleep to the story of the strange creature claiming to be a dragon and was eager to know what happened next.
Charlie was sleeping in his tent.
It wasn’t that he was lazy, sleeping until midday. His tent was closest to the Brandenburg’s musicians’ tents. Last night, those idle artists, inspired, gathered to write songs and sing, and despite not having rabbit ears anymore, Charlie’s sensitive hearing was subjected to their entire performance until dawn.
Arnie didn’t know this. He just thought the man was incredibly sloppy. Even beggars wouldn’t sleep in broad daylight like this.
He walked to Charlie’s bed and observed. This man’s skin wasn’t particularly dark or fair, his nose neither flat nor high, his face full of freckles, his hair dull, and his skin showed few signs of labor.
He looked extremely ordinary.
Could such a person really travel alone across the continent and witness many strange and wonderful things?
He had sent the attendants away to come here, so there was no time to wait for the man to wake up naturally. Arnie leaned over and poked Charlie’s face.
Charlie woke up as soon as Arnie touched him—but he didn’t immediately open his eyes.
No assassin would easily sneak into the Brandenburg Knights’ domain.
Seeing no reaction, Arnie poked him again.
Still no movement.
Arnie thought for a moment, then stood on tiptoe, half climbing onto the bed, and reached out to shake him. Suddenly, Charlie opened his eyes, staring directly at Arnie.
This gave Arnie quite a scare. He instinctively wanted to run, but his feet were still off the ground, so he could only flail ineffectively.
Charlie sat up, watching with interest as Arnie tried to use his belly to push himself backward until his feet touched the ground, then stood up with a startled expression on his face.
“Who are you?” Charlie asked knowingly after Arnie had steadied himself.
Arnie was stunned.
This voice was definitely the one from last night’s story. But he had never met someone who didn’t know who he was—ordinary people didn’t have the chance to interact with him, and those who could stand before the Duke’s youngest son would definitely recognize him.
However, last night he had kept himself covered with a blanket, so it made sense this person didn’t recognize him.
“I’m Arnie, the eldest son of Duke Dwight. What’s your name?” Arnie asked, his head held high.
Charlie feigned a look of subtle surprise.
“Ah, Young Master Arnie. I’m Oscar,” Charlie replied, barely suppressing a smile.
So even thirteen years ago, Dwight was already carrying such a heavy burden. No matter the situation, he didn’t forget to put on airs. But as a five-year-old, his maturity had its limits. Arnie didn’t even notice that his shirt and jacket had become disheveled, yet he still spoke grandly.
“Sorry for my rude appearance,” Charlie said, getting out of bed and bringing over the only chair in the tent. Before Arnie could react, he picked him up by the ribs and placed him on the chair.
Charlie’s movements were so smooth that Arnie didn’t realize not everyone could touch him freely—then, without a word, Charlie began to wash his face.
This attitude left Arnie a bit bewildered. What surprised him more was that the man seemed to genuinely see no difference between him and a neighbor’s child who had wandered into his bedroom.
He almost forgot why he was there. Watching Oscar tidying himself up, Arnie instinctively looked down at himself and realized his clothes were now a mess, very unbecoming.
Taking advantage of Oscar bending over to get some mint water from his suitcase, Arnie tucked his shirt into his trousers and tried to straighten his slightly crooked tie.
But today’s outfit wasn’t done by his usual attendants but by the stern maid from Priscilla’s side, and the suit wasn’t even from his own luggage. Who knew why Priscilla had packed this formal suit for her brother.
Arnie knew how to tie the most common types of ties, but today’s was unfamiliar. He kept tugging at it, making it worse.
Charlie, fastening his last button, saw the little Dwight struggling with the tie and couldn’t help but laugh.
“May I help you?” Charlie asked, kneeling in front of the chair to seek his permission.
Arnie was strangely pleased—no one had ever so earnestly asked for his opinion. Most people saw taking care of him as a given duty, without offering him a choice, while inquiries from Priscilla and his parents were mostly indulgent.
So he let go of the tie.
It hadn’t been completely untied, but Charlie looked at it and smiled. “Good thing I happen to know this style—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
Arnie noticed his change in mood and tilted his head to look at him.
Charlie stood up slowly, moved behind Arnie, and untied the mostly undone tie.
“This style isn’t common,” Charlie said softly, moving slowly to let Arnie see each step. “It’s specifically designed to match the vintage shirt you’re wearing, but since it only matches specific designs, fewer people use it.”
The author has something to say:
Although he often wears formal attire, the collar style of this shirt is quite peculiar, and he couldn’t find the right way to tie it after several attempts.
Dwight glanced at it, then stood up to look at it in the light.
“This is an old vintage style that’s rarely used now.”
—Chapter 135
The story of the chubby dragon Gino and the mage comes from a short story I wrote many years ago, “The Emerald Valley”. It’s available in my profile, and those interested can read it for free.
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