Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 197

The Duchess sat up straight. “How could that be?”

“The letter and envelope indeed carry the scent of the forest, but His Majesty summoned us because of the letter’s contents.” Duke Dwight looked tired.

Emperor Zoltar had received the letter in the middle of the night.

His palace and its surroundings were protected against magic, but this letter wasn’t delivered by ordinary means—a long-beaked white crane had carried the envelope, gracefully landing on his study’s terrace. The scene had nearly made Zoltar think he was dreaming from overworking.

The letter’s content was even more bizarre. The sender claimed to be the gatekeeper of the elves, who were hidden in the forest. Last month, an important elven artifact was stolen by humans, and they were seeking an explanation from the ruler of Pennigra.

The letter specifically mentioned that the thieves were associated with “Dwight”.

In the empire, there was only one Dwight, the Emperor’s brother, residing in the southeastern part of the continent—Duke Dwight. The Emperor found it unbelievable yet remembered that the Duchess hailed from the south, close to the ancient elven forests.

He had the letter and envelope examined by a mage, confirming they shared the same aura as existing elven artifacts. If the letter had been from anyone else, the Emperor might have laughed it off. But if it was from the elves…

Few people knew that the elves were actually a warlike race. Contrary to their serene appearance, they were proud and protective, never tolerating any provocation. In the days before they withdrew from the continent’s conflicts, they were involved in many large-scale wars.

Therefore, Zoltar treated the matter cautiously.

He didn’t make it public but summoned Duke Dwight to the capital for questioning. However, Duke Dwight knew nothing about it.

The Duchess pondered for a moment and said, “If they didn’t have evidence, they wouldn’t write your name with such certainty.”

No one knew her husband better than she did. Dwight had barely left Lemena in the past six months, partly due to the inconvenience of winter travel and partly because she and their daughter Priscilla had been unwell. Since their marriage, Duke Dwight rarely left home for long periods.

“I also believe someone has been using the Dwight name for nefarious purposes,” Duke Dwight said. “There are too many items bearing the Dwight crest—letters, gifts, furniture, carriages. Tracing everything that has left would be a massive undertaking. But the Emperor and I agree that as long as we can prove we’re not involved, a simple clarification will suffice.”

The Duchess sharply asked, “Does His Majesty think this is related to my family?”

Besides the capital, the Duchess’s maternal family communicated most frequently with Brandenburg. Given their location, it was an easy association.

Duke Dwight smiled. “The Emperor and I are certain you know nothing about it.”

Realizing he had inadvertently used political tactics on his wife, he quickly added, “We will continue to investigate, including identifying the sender. However, the Emperor plans to write back to clarify. If the forest needs the Empire’s cooperation, we will, as friends of the elves, oblige.”

The Duchess frowned slightly. “So, we can’t return to Lemena yet? If I had known, I would have brought the children.”

Duke Dwight knew she didn’t like being away from the children for long. Holding her hand, he reassured her. “I will visit the palace again tomorrow. If we need to stay longer in the capital, we can arrange for the children to come. Alfred will take good care of them on the journey.”

……

“To Green City?” Priscilla raised her teacup, looking surprised.

“You haven’t been to your grandmother’s house yet,” her uncle’s wife said warmly. “Emma always said you were too young—but you’re big children now. My son had traveled all over the south at your age. Myra Valley’s climate is better than here. It’s not cold in winter or hot in summer. There are vast lakes and endless fields, and wildflowers are as numerous as the stars in the sky, blooming right now.”

She continued eagerly, “Although your grandmother has passed, Aunt Anya is still there. Did you know she had another child last year?”

“Mother wrote about it, a little sister,” Priscilla said, splitting her attention to Arnie, who was daydreaming beside her.

Arnie disliked these relatives but didn’t want to leave Priscilla alone with them, so he had come along despite his distaste.

Priscilla also disliked them. With both parents away, they were enthusiastically inviting them to leave the castle. Whether it was polite conversation or not, it was inappropriate.

Seeing her brother was bored, Priscilla put down her cup and gently touched his ear. “Arnie, would you like to go to the garden? Father had a swing set up there last year, but winter came early, and he didn’t get a chance to take us. Go see if the swing is still there.”

Arnie shook his head. The woman’s wandering eyes while talking to Priscilla made him feel he needed to protect his sister.

Priscilla understood his thoughts and whispered in his ear, “I’ll talk to her. You take the chance to investigate what they’re up to.”

This worked. Arnie blinked, slid off the sofa, nodded slightly at the woman across from him, and left the sitting room. Elaby quickly followed.

The guest house was one of the Dwight family’s ancestral properties. Though not large, it was well-structured and elegantly furnished. Behind the house was a small maple grove. Duke Dwight liked to stay there in autumn, using it as a hunting lodge.

Arnie had visited a few times with his parents. With his hands behind his back, Elaby followed him from room to room. After searching for a long time, they didn’t find any scenes of evil plotting but managed to work up a sweat.

“Young Master, how about we have a drink in the shade?” Elaby suggested. “It’s too hot today. You might get heatstroke.”

Arnie pouted.

Elaby said, “I was afraid you might get bored, so I brought Oscar along before we set off.”

Hm?

Arnie turned his head, still not speaking, but his slightly raised face clearly expressed, “I’m interested, keep talking.”

Last night, Oscar had told him another story—not strictly a story, but more like a biography of his personal idol, the alchemy master Karachi’s youth.

Oscar had a magical ability to make any story captivating. Arnie enjoyed listening to Oscar speak and deeply suspected that even the driest ancient texts would become interesting if Oscar taught them, more so than the “renowned” scholar of ancient literature at the castle.

“He and the others are in the outer pavilion. I’ve asked Maria to bring iced drinks and cookies. How about we invite Oscar over for a chat?”

Arnie forgot about his scouting mission and let Elaby lead him to the back garden. At the edge of the woods was a small gazebo, and indeed, a double swing had been set up. However, the sun was too hot, and no one wanted to use it.

Oscar arrived with Alfred. Elaby returned to accompany Priscilla, leaving them to entertain Arnie.

Alfred, who was unmarried and had watched Arnie grow up, almost considered him his own son. He naturally switched from a roguish young man to a doting father figure, trying to make Arnie eat. Arnie wasn’t amused by his antics, but Charlie found it hilarious.

“Not eating will stunt your growth,” Alfred said, pretending to be stern. “You didn’t finish your lunch, did you? You always do this in hot weather—do you know the kids in the reserves your age are already up to my chest?”

“Only children who are six years old and have their parents’ consent can participate in the selection. I am five,” Arnie calmly replied.

Alfred: “…Sometimes we aren’t that strict with age limits. Eating more will help you grow faster, so have another cookie.”

Charlie couldn’t tell the worried Alfred that he was overthinking it. Little Arnie might be small now, but he would start growing rapidly during puberty and continue until he was eighteen, needing new sleeves and pants almost every month.

Arnie wasn’t interested in snacks. He turned to Charlie and said, “Tell me another story about the flying man.”

Charlie withdrew his gaze and teased him, “If I tell you now, there won’t be any stories left for tonight.”

Arnie was hearing this for the first time. “Why?”

“Because…” Charlie was about to lie that it was Priscilla’s rule, but he paused. Alfred almost immediately noticed his change in expression and looked around.

The two adults exchanged a quick glance. Charlie seriously told Arnie, “Because I only have a hundred stories. If I tell you one a day, you can listen for three months. If I tell you three a day, you’ll only have stories for a month. Which do you choose?”

Arnie didn’t answer but instead curiously tilted his head to look past Charlie at the maple forest behind him.

When Charlie spoke just now, Arnie had felt as if he was being watched.

Alfred was one of the few who knew about Arnie’s keen senses. He stood up and said, “I’ll go check it out. I haven’t been here in months. There might be some wild animals.”

He looked meaningfully at Charlie. “Can you take care of the Young Master for a while?”

Anyone who passed Elaby’s inspection and questioning to enter Brandenburg was at least clear of background and physical checks—they had ways to screen out people with bad intentions, so Oscar was “theoretically” trustworthy.

But Oscar had detected something amiss in the surroundings even faster than Alfred, a seasoned warrior. Alfred felt that this man wasn’t simple.

Charlie didn’t hesitate. “I swear his safety is more important than my life.”

Alfred nodded, said no more, and quickly walked along the path into the woods.

Sitting on the bench, Arnie suspiciously asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Alfred temporarily handed over his guard duty to me, Young Master,” Charlie said with a smile. “I’m not as good at fighting as he is, so for our safety, let’s head back inside.”

“You think there’s something in the woods.” Arnie suddenly remembered Priscilla’s scouting mission and perked up. “There are guards all around the guest house. It’s hard for outsiders to sneak in—it must be Alger.”

“Uncle Alger,” Charlie reminded him.

Arnie rolled his eyes at him, climbed down from the bench, grabbed a handful of candies from the table, and stuffed them into his pocket. “We’re going too.”

Charlie tried to persuade him. “Alfred is just worried about wild animals. If we follow, we’ll only get in the way.”

Actually, the feeling Charlie had earlier was very faint, almost a fleeting sensation. He had sensed an unusual magical fluctuation, like a dragonfly skimming the water, creating ripples that were barely noticeable.

Arnie’s large, beautiful eyes stared at him for a moment before he declared, “You’re lying.”

…So this near-mind-reading ability was innate.

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. He thought that the future Duke Dwight he met years later had restrained himself somewhat, at least not being as straightforward and terrifying as he was at five.

Arnie’s decisive action also hadn’t changed. He didn’t wait for Charlie’s response, simply announcing his decision and walking into the woods.

Charlie rubbed his hands behind him.

Whether or not there was something in the woods, the magical fluctuation had come from that direction. He couldn’t let Arnie rush in recklessly.

Unlike those who obeyed the Young Master’s every whim, Charlie quickly caught up, intending to carry him back.

But just as he reached out, Arnie suddenly sprinted—despite his short legs, he moved quickly.

Does he have eyes on the back of his head?

Caught off guard, Charlie watched the defiant child run into the woods. He had no choice but to follow.

“Young Master!” Charlie had long legs, but Arnie was smart, avoiding the forest paths and darting around like a squirrel, making it hard for Charlie to catch him. He tried to persuade him, “Don’t run so fast. I’ll go with you.”

Arnie didn’t look back.

Charlie continued the chase, pulling out a glass vial from his pocket. Popping the cork with a “pop,” an invisible shadow flew out, carried by the wind, making a slicing sound as it chased after Arnie.

The boy turned, seeing nothing. Kids this age struggled to multitask. Distracted, he tripped and fell.

Fortunately, the ground was covered in thick leaves. Charlie caught up, picking him up.

Arnie was a bit angry, kicking his legs, but then saw Oscar making a “shush” gesture.

“There’s someone nearby,” he whispered, covering Arnie’s mouth. “But it’s not Alfred.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 196

Although the steward said they didn’t have to pay attention to it temporarily, Priscilla heard that those distant relatives were quite unruly at the guest house. They were particularly arrogant towards the servants, being picky and even making her friend, the maid Nana, cry.

Nana was three years older than Priscilla. Her family had served Brandenburg for generations. Priscilla had a good relationship with the young maids around her age who helped in the castle. The Duke and Duchess always taught that a lady shouldn’t treat others harshly. These young girls rarely faced such mistreatment and couldn’t help but cry secretly, which made Priscilla quite unhappy.

Moreover, out of courtesy, she did need to formally meet the elders, who had come from afar. Priscilla finally decided to visit the guest house.

Arnie just felt it was troublesome. He didn’t know these so-called relatives at all.

“What are they here for?” he asked Priscilla on the way.

Priscilla straightened his collar and sighed like a little adult upon hearing this.

“I don’t know either. They refused to tell the steward their purpose (saying that servants have no right to inquire about their master’s business) and insisted on meeting us.”

Priscilla and Arnie were still young, and the Duke and Duchess hadn’t involved them in family affairs. The siblings’ clearest understanding of “relatives” came from the princess and princes of the capital.

So, when they actually met the so-called uncle and the other distant “relatives”, they were almost overwhelmed—two overly enthusiastic women nearly smothered them in their embrace. If Elaby hadn’t stepped in to rescue them, Arnie would have exploded.

Even their mother wouldn’t hug him so tightly! And this woman kept touching him!

Fortunately, the steward had sent several people along, who promptly separated the frightened siblings from the guests. However, the initial meeting still left a psychological shadow on them. When they finally settled on the living room sofa, Priscilla pulled Arnie to the farthest spot from them.

“Priscilla, you’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady.” The woman, who introduced herself as their aunt, wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. Priscilla watched her as she carefully avoided smudging her makeup and didn’t respond.

“And this must be Arnie—Emma’s precious baby,” their uncle said, smiling at Arnie. “The future Duke Dwight.”

Arnie squeezed closer to Priscilla. He didn’t like this uncle because his expression was complicated and hard to read, but Arnie could tell the smile wasn’t sincere.

His actions were interpreted as shyness, and given his young age, the attention shifted back to Priscilla.

“Why are your sister and brother-in-law traveling in such weather? The children are still so young, and leaving them to the servants must be worrying—how have you been lately?” She asked concernedly, leaning toward Priscilla.

…What a statement. It was as if the Duke and Duchess’s absence meant the people of Brandenburg would take the opportunity to mistreat the young masters, Elaby thought.

Priscilla nodded while holding her tea. “We are fine.”

She deliberately refrained from asking about their purpose for coming, and as expected, seeing Priscilla remain silent, the distant uncle coughed a few times and began reminiscing about the joyful times when the Duchess and her siblings were young, especially emphasizing his very close relationship with Emma and Priscilla’s two aunts.

“I plan to invest in two vineyards and a winery in Vernay,” he said proudly. “I came here for an on-site inspection. After settling the deal, I realized Lemena isn’t far from Vernay—this is, after all, Emma’s territory. If I just wrote letters from home, it would be understandable. But being so close and not visiting Brandenburg, people would call me an ungrateful and rude person. And I, Alger, am certainly not that.”

“Father and Mother will return in a few days. In the meantime, please excuse us for any lack of hospitality,” Priscilla said softly. “Arnie and I are still young and inexperienced. Brandenburg is currently managed entirely by Steward Buck.”

Meaning they didn’t plan to host their uncle at Brandenburg—instead, Priscilla had returned to find the steward had tactfully refused these guests’ request to stay.

Alger’s expression changed. “Brandenburg is the Dwight family’s property. How can a servant have the final say?”

Priscilla lowered her eyes. “Steward Buck grew up with Father. Their relationship is different. We trust Father, and we trust the steward.”

Alger was taken aback, regaining his composure only after his wife pinched him secretly. He felt that his earlier statement wasn’t just polite. Priscilla truly missed her mother, Emma. Her words were always gentle but often carried hidden meanings, making them difficult to refute.

What she had just said meant that if they continued to argue about the steward’s authority, it would shift from questioning a servant to questioning Duke Dwight, which was entirely different in nature.

“Alger, they are still young. It’s just a precaution,” his wife said with a smile. “We’ll wait for their parents to return. But I wonder, what could have summoned the nobles to the capital when it’s not even a holiday?”

“I don’t know either,” Priscilla said innocently. “We are still young. The adults don’t discuss these things with us.”

With Priscilla blocking all their questions, Arnie sat there daydreaming, not even noticing the looks his “aunt” was giving him.

Elaby, however, did notice. But since Arnie was very cute, first-time visitors often couldn’t help but look at him closely (especially women), so he didn’t pay much attention. It was only when Miss Priscilla showed impatience that he tactfully “reminded” them it was time to rest.

“We’ll visit again. In the meantime, please make yourselves at home and don’t feel restricted,” Priscilla said as they left, giving Alger’s wife a hug. But as she turned around, the smile immediately vanished from her face.

Holding Arnie’s hand, Priscilla walked toward the carriage. Arnie looked back—immediately, the few people standing there forced smiles that appeared mechanical and strange.

Priscilla didn’t look back. Their carriage traveled along the stone road. When the guest house was no longer in sight, she hugged her brother and called out, “Elaby.”

Elaby, who was sitting with the coachman in the front compartment of the carriage, immediately opened the door and entered the cabin.

“I need to write a letter,” Priscilla said. “How long does it take for a letter to travel from Brandenburg to 21 Royal Square?”

21 Royal Square was Duke Dwight’s residence in the capital, where their parents should currently be.

“One and a half days at the fastest, Miss. If it’s not sent as an urgent report, this is the normal communication speed,” Elaby replied.

There were faster magical communication methods available, but unauthorized paths couldn’t enter the capital. Duke Dwight’s residence used the same line as the palace, which was already quite fast under controlled and secure conditions.

Priscilla knew that urgent reports were usually reserved for military affairs. She had no authority to use them and thought for a moment. “Then one and a half days. I’ll write the letter when we get back. Please prepare for that.”

After meeting with Alger and his group, Priscilla had a feeling that she needed to inform her parents about this matter as soon as possible.

……

At the same time, at 21 Royal Square, Duke Dwight had just arrived at the front hall after leaving the palace. The Duchess was waiting for him.

“I thought you had gone out,” the Duke said, surprised. He quickly changed into his home clothes and sat down with his wife.

“It’s too hot,” the Duchess said softly. “Without Priscilla and Arnie, I don’t feel like having fun… Especially Arnie, he wasn’t very happy this time.”

The Duke couldn’t help but smile when he thought of his youngest son’s sullen face before he left. “His brothers kept asking why Arnie didn’t come and wanted me to bring gifts back for him.”

“He is indeed livelier when he’s with the princes. I’ve been thinking about selecting a group of children to bring to the castle earlier than planned. Although it’s a bit early, Arnie always plays by himself,” the Duchess said, worried. “He doesn’t get along well with Erica… Priscilla, on the other hand, gets along well with everyone.”

The children she mentioned were the future members of the next Duke Dwight’s knight order. The Brandenburg Knights had a tradition of being passed down from generation to generation, selecting a few promising youths each year as reserves. From these reserves, three to five would be chosen to join the heir earlier, forming the core of the next generation’s knight order. The leader would emerge from this group.

The Duke had met his young knights when he was nine. Alfred, who had stayed behind at the castle, was one of those chosen children and one of his most trusted people.

Arnie was only five, and choosing knights now seemed a bit early—he was the designated heir, but the children in the knight reserves were still young, with many potential changes ahead.

“It’s not impossible,” the Duke considered. “We can look for some older children to accompany him when we return. Both Arnie and Priscilla are more mature than their peers.”

“Speaking of which, what did His Majesty the Emperor discuss with you?” the Duchess asked. “I had a bad feeling when he summoned you so urgently.”

The Duke reassured her by patting her hand and glanced around. The others understood that their conversation wasn’t meant for others to hear and quietly withdrew.

“Emma.” The Duke’s tone became more serious. “Do you think elves still exist?”

He asked this because the Duchess came from the southernmost part of Pennigra, near the edge of the continent, an area once inhabited by elves, but that was a long time ago.

“When I was a child, I believed the elves still existed, just not wanting to be discovered by humans. Perhaps they retreated deeper into the forest where humans cannot enter, or maybe they moved to even more secluded places,” the Duchess recalled. “But from the time I can remember, adults told me stories of the elves abandoning their hidden realms and collectively migrating to an ideal land. If we must say, the elves abandoned the continent even earlier than the dragons.”

Though the elves had left, humans still enjoyed their legacy. The places once inhabited by elves still had various precious plants, and the exquisite items crafted by elves still shone brightly—seemingly, they took nothing with them. Brandenburg still had many jewels made by elves, and their greenhouse even contained herbs cultivated by them.

From a certain perspective, leaving everything behind demonstrated their determination to leave.

“History books say the same. But His Majesty summoned me to talk about the elves,” the Duke said. “He received a letter from them.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 195

“I don’t know what kind of luck you had to get such an opportunity,” said one of the accompanying musicians.

Becoming a resident musician at Brandenburg was never easy. Most of them were born into families with a strong tradition in music and etiquette, receiving excellent education and training from birth. Yet, even with these advantages, they still had to work harder than others—excelling in Lemena wasn’t enough. They had to be outstanding throughout the entire empire.

Although Arnie and Priscilla couldn’t fully appreciate the professional artistry of the musicians, these musicians were indeed the best in their field.

Years of practice combined with innate talent had earned them a place at Brandenburg. Meanwhile, Oscar, a wandering novelist whom Elaby had picked up by the roadside, had effortlessly gained entry to the castle just because Young Master Arnie liked him. This left the musicians feeling somewhat unbalanced, leading to some sour remarks.

“I don’t know what misfortune you had to be taken away by the nobles,” said Alai, the birdkeeper.

Brandenburg’s camp was preparing for the return journey. Alai’s temporary job was done, and Priscilla had given him and the magician a very satisfying reward. Since last night, they had been smiling uncontrollably. The only slight disappointment was that Oscar was specifically asked to join them. The three had hit it off immediately, and Alai and the magician genuinely felt sorry that Oscar was losing his freedom.

Charlie just smiled. He had come for the young Duke, so joining them was exactly what he wanted. However, standing in the cracks of history often left him feeling constrained, afraid that one wrong step could negatively impact the future.

So far, Charlie had been very cautious, disguising his true appearance more meticulously than he had while evading Elena. Besides that…

“This is only temporary,” Charlie told Alai and the magician. “Children always grow up, and their childhood enthusiasm usually doesn’t last long. Young Master Arnie is still very young.”

“That makes sense,” the magician said as he stuffed his props into a suitcase. A spring-loaded frog popped out, fell to the ground, and he quickly bent down to pick it up, carefully brushing off the dirt.

“Going to Brandenburg is a good job. They pay very generously. This job gets me closer to my goal of buying a circus tent. I wish they would take me too,” the magician added, snapping the suitcase shut. “But I can’t stay there for too long. Once I’ve earned enough money, I want to travel the continent and show my performances to more people.”

Charlie and Alai supported his grand ambition. Charlie gave his top hat to the magician, and Alai gave him two bird eggs, each slightly larger than a chicken egg, as a sponsorship for the future circus, although he didn’t know what kind of birds would hatch from them.

The three parted ways with reluctance. Charlie, carrying all his belongings in a suitcase, boarded a Dwight family carriage—not the one Arnie or Priscilla rode in, but one shared with two servants responsible for traveling furniture.

The carriage lacked any temperature-regulating magical items. The two men sharing the carriage weren’t talkative, and the bumpy journey was far from comfortable but still much better than walking. As they entered Lemena territory, the pace noticeably slowed. Charlie leaned against the window, looking outside. The orchards in the countryside were starting to bear fruit, and farmers were working under the hot sun. Everyone seemed to recognize Duke Dwight’s carriage, but only those close by would doff their hats in greeting, while those farther away continued their work without much fuss.

It seemed Arnie’s father, the current Duke, was a benevolent man—Charlie had seen people tied to city gates in similar weather, their bodies sunburned beyond recognition, for the crime of wearing tattered clothes that “offended the lord’s eyes”.

Comparatively, the environment in Lemena was much more relaxed. The Brandenburg Knights were as popular as ever, with children shouting and running after the convoy. Some brave ones even asked the knights to show them how to draw swords and fight on horseback.

Priscilla felt very tired after the trip and longed for a bath and a good night’s sleep back at the castle. Ever since she got heatstroke, everyone around her had been very nervous. Elaby had insisted on ending the trip early and returning to Brandenburg due to her poor health. Although Arnie hadn’t had his fill of fun, he didn’t object.

But with the Duke and Duchess absent, some matters required their presence.

“Uncle?” Priscilla tilted her head. “My father is an only child, and my mother has only two sisters.”

The messenger from the castle spoke cautiously in a low voice. “The steward verified that he is your mother’s sister’s husband’s cousin. He has no title and lives on family funds. They insist on seeing you and Young Master Arnie. The steward has temporarily placed them in a guest house, but they are dissatisfied.”

They even threatened to go to the capital to find the Duke and Duchess if they were blocked from seeing the children.

“What do they want?” Priscilla straightened slightly, and the maid immediately placed a soft cushion behind her.

“They didn’t specify, but the steward suspects they mean no good and sent me ahead to inform you.”

Priscilla thought for a moment, certain that her aunts’ letters over the years had never mentioned this relative.

She didn’t immediately tell her brother about this. The two returned home as planned.

The moment they arrived, Brandenburg, which had been quiet for several days, bustled with activity. Laundresses hurried back and forth, washing all the accumulated linens, and the stewards meticulously checked off lists, ensuring all the small pieces of furniture and decorations temporarily removed from the castle were put back in place or stored in the warehouse.

Charlie was assigned to the southwest tower. The ground floor had a high-ceilinged hall, with a dome covered in silver-blue felt printed with the Dwight family crest. In the center was a fireplace, and the stone floor was covered with a huge carpet. Besides a row of knight armors along the walls, there was nothing else.

Up the stairs, the lower floors were communal dormitories, while the third floor had many single rooms, each uniformly furnished with a canopy bed, a writing desk, a small wardrobe, and two high-backed armchairs.

This floor was for non-laboring residents, reserved for the castle’s “technical staff”, such as the musicians on the trip, the embroiderers who designed the masters’ clothing—and Charlie.

Charlie spread a sheet of paper on the desk by the stone window, unscrewed an ink bottle, and began to write and draw on the paper.

He didn’t belong to this time and space. At this moment, the Charlie from thirteen years ago was still in school, possibly just finishing his third class, discussing the lunch menu with friends.

The pen tip wrote today’s date on the paper. He thought for a moment. At this time, young Charlie was far away on the Doran continent, and according to his memories, he had safely spent several years of his student life there. To avoid any complications, he hadn’t left the continent, let alone the city where his school was located. Even during holidays, he mostly stayed in the school library.

As long as he didn’t recklessly travel to Doran, the probability of him encountering his younger self was nearly zero. This was crucial. Charlie now leaned towards the theory that Khalif’s magic gate exploited a loophole in the laws of nature, as natural laws would never change for the insignificant will of a human being.

If this loophole were detected by the laws, it would likely be fixed—or rather, the error would be eliminated. Charlie was this error.

The possibilities of being discovered included: 1. Meeting oneself in the same time and space 2. Using memories to drastically change an important piece of history.

Both of these scenarios could be actively avoided.

Charlie started a new line.

Ways to return: 

1. Expose myself through the above two methods and bet that the laws will correct the error by sending me back to my original time—but the risk is too great, and it’s much more convenient and quicker to just kill me.
2. Reconstruct a time magic similar to Khalif’s approach, using the same principle to reverse time. This method is theoretically feasible, but Khalif spared no expense in his magical research, even using live subjects for experiments, which Charlie certainly couldn’t do. This means many cautious and minimally effective preliminary experiments and adjustments, which could take three to five years if he’s lucky.

Three to five years… Charlie’s gaze wandered, thinking it was too long.

He and Dwight had just started to open up to each other, only to be overwhelmed by a series of issues. He was sent back to the past by Khalif’s magic, and their few kisses were stolen in the midst of busyness. It was romantic, but it also left him somewhat unsatisfied.

Starting a long-distance relationship right after feelings had begun to develop was detrimental to future progress. What if Dwight thought he was dead? Would he return to Pennigra in sorrow? There were plenty of people in the Empire eager to comfort the despondent Duke of Brandenburg. A slew of attractive young people would be lining up.

That wouldn’t do.

Perhaps he should seek help from the big shots of this era? He remembered his teacher had a friend researching time magic, but due to the sensitive nature of the subject, he couldn’t get financial support. He then turned to developing an automatic heating water pipe system, becoming famous and making a fortune, which he used to continue his time magic research. For a while, several major newspapers took turns condemning him, leaving a deep impression even on those uninterested in the field.

Charlie wrote the remembered name on the paper and circled it. He was trying to recall where he last heard the master was residing when there was a knock on his door.

It was a boy wearing knee-high socks who stood at the door, no older than thirteen—an apprentice to the senior servants of the castle, often running errands.

“Mr. Oscar, Lord Elaby asked me to inform you that the scheduled arrangement for afternoon tea has been canceled. Miss Priscilla and Young Master Arnie have other important matters. You don’t need to go,” he said formally.

Charlie blinked and smiled at him. “Thank you for informing me. What’s your name?”

“Tom, sir.”

“Tom, do you know why the afternoon tea was canceled?”

Many in the castle knew, and it wasn’t a secret worth hiding.

Tom said, “Some relatives have come from afar, and they’re a bit—” He initially wanted to say noisy but realized that even if Miss Priscilla and Young Master Arnie didn’t like these unexpected guests, they weren’t people he could casually ridicule. He quickly corrected himself, “A bit enthusiastic.”

That was the most tactful term Tom could think of, knowing that the guests had been eagerly waiting for Miss Priscilla and Young Master Arnie to return. However, neither sibling had given them any attention. As soon as they got back to Brandenburg, they went to rest. Hearing this, the “guests” had brought their entire family into the castle, making a fuss and subtly accusing the siblings of being rude, ignoring their relatives, and so on.

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Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 194

Arnie was a child with a bit of a cleanliness obsession. Apart from his family, he rarely allowed others to get close to him because he could sense all sorts of smells and breaths on people—the smell of laundry that hadn’t been fully dried, the residual scent of anise cookies eaten in the morning, and even the smell of sweat after activity and breath during speech, all of which made him uncomfortable.

Others weren’t as sensitive as he was. They either said, “I don’t smell anything special, Arnie,” or “Add a little more perfume. This is the latest from the capital”—Arnie wasn’t old enough to appreciate perfume and only felt that the artificial scents made him sneeze.

So, when Oscar first lifted him onto the chair, Arnie stiffened for a moment and then discreetly sniffed. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. Oscar didn’t seem to be the type who sweated easily. Even up close, there was no smell of skin oils.

Slightly more relaxed, Arnie watched curiously as Oscar tied his bow tie. The man’s appearance was quite ordinary, but his fingers were beautifully shaped, and the way the fabric moved between them was like playing a string instrument.

“All done.” Charlie gave the small bow tie a final adjustment, then sat on the bed, tilting his head to look at Arnie. “Young Master Arnie, did you come to see me for something?”

Arnie glanced at the tent entrance. It was empty and quiet outside.

“Elaby said you tell stories.” Arnie leaned his hands on his knees and looked at him. “Where do your stories come from?”

“They come from time,” Charlie said. “For instance, the story I told you last night is my real experience.”

Arnie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but Charlie didn’t let him remain awkward for long. He began the story again, recounting the adventure in the lush forest. Gino was a very spirited young dragon, full of energy and constantly talking.

Whether the mage was as bad as described was debatable, but his magical power was real. Gino became more and more animated, even describing how the mage used feathered birds as dusters for his books—a form of mistreatment. While passing an old fir tree, the trunk shook strangely, and countless colorful caterpillars fell from the canopy, all landing on the little dragon Gino.

Arnie shuddered at the thought. He hated soft-bodied creatures without spines, and…

“The stings of caterpillars are very painful. Especially the brightly colored ones, which can cause sleepless nights,” Charlie said. “But strangely, although I was close to Gino, not a single caterpillar landed on me. I guessed the mage had heard Gino’s complaints and was punishing him.”

“The dragon might have been lying,” Arnie said fairly. “If the caterpillars didn’t approach you, it means the mage was quite reasonable.”

“I thought so too,” Charlie said with a smile. “Gino has a big mouth but a good heart. After I spent an hour helping him remove all the caterpillars, he did lead me out of the forest.”

“Where is that forest?” Arnie asked.

“That’s the strange part—I tried to find it again later but couldn’t. The area was sparsely populated, and finding a guide was difficult. I couldn’t stay there long and had to leave disappointed.”

Arnie said seriously, “My history teacher says dragons abandoned the continent three hundred years ago and migrated overseas, becoming legendary creatures. If you saw a real dragon, you could—”

He thought for a moment, seeming to flip through a book in his mind. “You could apply to the Empire for an expedition. If confirmed, discovering such a valuable creature could earn you a cultural medal or even a title.”

Charlie struggled to suppress a laugh because Arnie’s demeanor was too formal. It was amusing to hear a child speak seriously about “expeditions” and “titles”. The contrast was delightful.

Even more amusing was knowing that thirteen years later, Arnie would still have this tone, though more mature and confident, with a more imposing presence. The posture would seem fitting for Duke Dwight in the future, but not just yet.

“I’m just a novelist. I don’t need a title,” Charlie said. “You see, neither wealth nor land would let me see dragons, legendary trees, and rare beasts, or experience thrilling, deadly adventures.”

That made sense. Arnie was stunned, leaning forward a bit.

“What are rare beasts?” he asked. Arnie wasn’t an inexperienced child. Though young, his father, Duke Dwight, wasn’t one to keep his children sheltered in a castle. Arnie had already been to the capital, the eastern port cities, and the large border city built in the canyon that bordered the Doran continent.

But those bustling cities had everything except forests and dragons.

“What are rare beasts?” Arnie repeated.

“Well…” Charlie began, but then someone lifted the tent flap—it was Elaby.

Arnie turned and saw Elaby, remembering he had sneaked out. He felt uneasy.

Hiding his whereabouts was irresponsible—Duke Dwight had taught Arnie that his actions, as the son of an Imperial Duke, could affect many lives.

He wasn’t clear on the responsibilities of being the Duke’s eldest son, but he knew he had done something wrong. Elaby was usually gentle, but when the old steward wasn’t around, Elaby, as his assistant, represented the steward’s authority and could be strict.

“Young Master.” Elaby called to him without a smile, and Arnie slid off the chair and walked toward him.

Elaby looked down at him. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Arnie pouted but nodded.

“Miss Priscilla is waiting for you.” When the parents were away, the sister took on the teaching responsibility.

Charlie stood up as well. Arnie was too short and kept his head down, so he couldn’t see Elaby’s expression—although his tone was cold, his expression was calm. There was no sign of panic about the Young Master’s disappearance. With knights guarding the camp, Charlie didn’t believe no one saw Arnie enter his tent.

To him, it seemed Elaby had only come because it was lunchtime and had always known where Arnie was.

Unfortunately, young Arnie didn’t understand this subtlety. Knowing he was in the wrong, he didn’t resist much as Elaby led him away. Charlie watched the small figure with the beautiful light blond hair that now looked rather downcast and felt a bit sorry for him.

But he knew that in a few years, the current Duke and Duchess Dwight would both die in an accident. Arnie had a lot to learn to become a Dwight, but there wasn’t much time.

Knowing that Dwight’s upbringing was more arduous than joyful was one thing; witnessing it firsthand was another. Although Charlie liked Dwight, he often found him very reserved and self-satisfied, always demanding too much of others. Seeing young Arnie now, Charlie felt it wasn’t easy for him to grow up safely.

……

“I won’t do anything to Oscar,” Elaby said, noticing how Arnie kept looking back. He thought Oscar seemed like the Pied Piper from fairy tales, as if he had a natural magic that made children easily like him.

“You are the Duke’s son. Oscar cannot refuse your request, and it’s not like he encouraged you to sneak away… Did he?”

Arnie shook his head.

Elaby genuinely cared for him. Asking Priscilla to educate and punish him was merely symbolic—only requiring Arnie to copy a few ancient poems after dinner. Everyone at Brandenburg knew that the siblings were out to relax because they missed their parents, and they all wanted to make them as happy as possible.

Perhaps because the punishment was so mild, Arnie’s mood quickly improved. He sat next to Priscilla on a bench, telling his sister the stories he had heard from Oscar.

Priscilla also found it interesting. “Is he a novelist or a storyteller? Elaby said he gathered half the town’s children to listen to his stories. Could it be that his books don’t sell well, and he makes a living by telling stories?”

“He said he’s only published one book called “Grapevine”, which tells the life story of a weaver living under a grapevine. But the weaver has a very short lifespan, so the book is very thin.”

Priscilla blinked, feeling that this book sounded quite unreliable.

But Arnie seemed very happy, which was rare.

It wasn’t that her little brother lacked emotions and couldn’t be happy, but the things that usually made Arnie happy were rarely “people”. He would get excited over particularly intricate toys or very rare animals, but he rarely found the same joy in interacting with people. The Duchess had once confided in her daughter, worrying that Arnie’s overly aloof nature might lead him astray—the so-called wrong path being serving God personally and living in a church for life.

It was rare for him to be interested in someone, even if it was just a brief enthusiasm. It was remarkable progress.

Priscilla said, “He said he has traveled to many places on the continent, so he must have many more stories. But we have to return tomorrow. What should we do then?”

With their parents absent, they couldn’t stay outside the castle for too long. It wasn’t safe.

Arnie understood this too, so he held Priscilla’s hand and insisted, “I want to bring him back to the castle to tell stories every day.”

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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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