Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 202

“What do we do now?” A group of people sat around a round table made from a whole giant log, holding a meeting.

“Yanu and Dawn searched their residence after Alpha escaped, but the treasure was nowhere to be found. Atta and his group tracked them down to Lemena and beat him half to death, but they still couldn’t find it. He claimed the item was no longer in his possession.”

“Then where did it go?!” An impatient middle-aged man couldn’t help but pound the table.

“Don’t panic—he said it was offered to Duke Dwight.”

As soon as the words were spoken, the room buzzed with murmurs. The elder presiding over the meeting coughed several times to quiet them down, but eventually had to pound the table himself.

“We have already sent a letter to the capital, hoping the Emperor will seek justice for us. Although we live in seclusion in the deep forest, we are still citizens of the Empire,” the elder said.

“We are citizens of the Empire, and Dwight is also a Duke of the Empire,” a woman with a long ponytail tied behind her head said. “The Emperor and the Duke’s lineage split from the same family. They are close relatives.”

The crowd fell silent for a moment at these words, then someone suggested, “So, Atta and his group brought Dwight’s child here. Maybe he can be used as a bargaining chip.”

“Yes,” the elder sighed. “For his child’s sake, the Duke might swallow his pride for now. But once the Duke’s son returns, he could very well launch an attack on the forest—and we don’t have enough people or weapons to resist.”

“Then let’s tie up those reckless guys and present them to the Duke to be dealt with,” someone suggested. “Whether they become servants or laborers, it’s time they took responsibility for their rash actions.”

“You want to hand over your own people to be enslaved by a noble? What are you saying!”

“What if they are tortured…”

The meeting room descended into chaos again, but this time the exhausted elder didn’t try to maintain order. He sat quietly at the table, his eyes still sharp beneath drooping eyelids, watching his arguing kin.

The discussion yielded few useful conclusions, but one consensus was reached: until the situation became clearer, they should treat the Duke’s son well.

Despite this decision, Arnie, who was born and raised in the castle, didn’t feel particularly well-treated. Most of the food sent to them was bean paste and various fruits—not bad, but repetitive and quickly tiresome. Occasionally, Wind would bring roasted meat, but it was coated with a sweet and sour fruit sauce that Arnie didn’t like.

Charlie, on the other hand, had no special requirements for food. During his earlier travels, he had gone three or four days with nothing but water. He could see that the green-eyed ones put a lot of effort into varying the meals; there was milk, nuts, and enough meat to provide adequate nutrition for a child.

Arnie’s reluctance to eat was partly due to his picky nature but mostly a result of his resentment at being forcibly confined. Wind always appeared gentle and kind, speaking with a smile, but he never agreed to their requests to walk on the ground.

He told Arnie and Charlie that this treehouse was built on a very old bald cypress tree, far higher than a dozen clock towers stacked together. At such a height, it was impossible for them to climb down on their own. Even small birds and squirrels didn’t come this high to forage. Most of the time, Arnie could only look out from the windowsill. The occasional appearance of hawks or falcons in his view excited him for a while.

The rest of the time, Charlie would talk to him. Arnie, not yet at an age where he could control his words and actions, and with the treehouse being so isolated, spoke more in a day than he would in three days at Brandenburg. Charlie learned that Arnie always sensed others’ subtle emotions but didn’t know how to prove it, so people treated him as a difficult, capricious child, which troubled him greatly.

“My cousin Ginley always says, ‘Go get my ball. It’s stuck in the tree again!’ or ‘My hat fell into the water. Find a way to get it!’ His servants would agree immediately but actually hated such tasks, probably because they feared the alligators in the pond,” Arnie said slowly, sitting on a high-backed chair. “I’d say, ‘He doesn’t want to go, Ginley.’ Everyone would act very surprised, as if I were lying or joking.”

He looked up and said, “It’s always like this. I’m not the one lying.” Over time, Arnie realized his view of the world differed from others, so he spoke less to minimize the negative impact of being “different”, becoming more withdrawn.

“You shouldn’t punish yourself for others’ dishonesty,” Charlie said. “You might say it’s not punishment, just avoiding trouble by observing and speaking less. But isolating yourself from the world isn’t the only way.”

“I don’t want to be different from others,” Arnie said. “Including my appearance—I hate it when people stare at me, thinking I’m some exotic creature from a foreign land, and whisper about my unlikable personality.”

“Who says you’re unlikable? I think you’re very cute,” Charlie said shamelessly, as if he hadn’t cursed the Duke’s bad temper every day when they first met.

But he wasn’t lying. Charlie genuinely found the five-year-old Duke incredibly endearing. With loving parents, a tolerant sister, and a happy life, little Arnie was quite straightforward. He probably spoke less simply because there was no one to listen.

“There are no two leaves exactly alike in this world. You don’t need to be like anyone else,” Charlie told him. “If you hate being stared at, strive to become someone whose words people cannot ignore. Then you can rightfully say, ‘Stop staring at me!’ You will still be yourself, but there will be someone to handle those who treat you like an animal.”

“Do you mean when I become Dwight?” Arnie looked down, frowning as if calculating how many years he had to wait until he could inherit the title—his father was still in his prime.

Fortunately, he missed the expression on Charlie’s face. Arnie’s wait might be shorter than he expected. In a few years, the Duke and Duchess would die in an accident during a trip, leaving behind two young children.

Then Priscilla would push her brother in front of everyone, making him the youngest Dwight in history.

Later, even Priscilla would marry far away to the continent of Doran, leaving young Arnie to face the once warm and happy Brandenburg alone.

Looking at it this way, Arnie’s carefree childhood was pitifully short.

Suddenly, Charlie lifted Arnie from the chair and hugged him.

Arnie: “???”

Charlie said, “You are the most likable child in the world. Remember my words. If someone is impatient, unwilling, or dislikes you, the reason must lie with them.”

Arnie felt that Oscar’s words had a hint of Priscilla’s blind affection for her brother.

“That’s—exaggerated.” He was being hugged so tightly he could hardly breathe and struggled to get down.

“It’s true.” Charlie let him go, looking very serious. “And I hope you remember that.”

“Oh, okay.” Arnie brushed him off.

Charlie wanted to say more but heard the fruit shell bell ring softly, signaling that Wind was coming up, so they both fell silent.

Wind had expected that the difficult-to-please noble would destroy the treehouse (and everything in it) and shout at everyone every day, expressing his dissatisfaction and making all sorts of strange demands.

However, they had adapted well over the past couple of days, which left Wind, who had prepared himself mentally, feeling a bit disappointed.

Charlie always welcomed Wind’s visits. As long as the questions didn’t touch on taboo subjects for the entire tribe, Wind was usually willing to explain things to them.

“Others?” Wind paused, “You mean Atta? They are injured, severely, and can’t climb such high trees now.”

Charlie snorted, thinking those big guys probably received punishment.

……

Alfred rode through the night and finally found a bit of information the next day.

“They came after sunset. The light was dim, so I couldn’t see their features clearly. Three people, carrying a large box,” the innkeeper recalled, squinting.

“What about their horses and carriage?” Alfred asked.

“No horses, no carriage,” the innkeeper said confidently. Normally, as long as they paid, he wouldn’t notice guests’ features, but he remembered because they left with a very young, particularly beautiful child the next day.

Alfred frowned.

Based on the time provided by the innkeeper, the group, carrying the box with Arnie and Oscar, moved faster than he had while riding hard, yet they had no animals to care for when they stopped overnight. This didn’t make sense.

At least it confirmed they were heading in the right direction.

He exited the inn. A row of tall horses stood by the roadside, and several knights sat on them. The one closest to the inn’s door asked, “Is this the place?”

Alfred nodded and mounted his horse.

They had received the general direction from Lemena’s magic advisor, but the farther they went, the less stable the magic became. Thus, the knights still had to gather information from locals.

“After rounding the foot of the mountain, you’ll see the edge of the forest,” Alfred said. “The innkeeper could only provide so much—let’s go!”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 201

Arnie reached out and pushed the lid, but it was tightly secured and didn’t move at all.

The green-eyed ones no longer drugged them, but they separated Charlie and Arnie during “transport”. From the current sensation of weightlessness and swaying, Arnie felt like he was placed in a big basket carried by a giant bird—though the windproof cloth was too sturdy for him to hear any wind.

He had no choice but to sit cross-legged in boredom on several woven grass mats, with a few handfuls of brightly colored fruits and a wooden water jug by his feet. Perhaps because he was still a child, the jug had a crooked little dog painted on it.

However, it was pitch black all around, and Arnie couldn’t see anything.

This boring journey lasted for a long, long time. By the time the lid above his head was lifted, the small boy had curled up and fallen asleep.

“You…” A voice gasped, then lowered it as if afraid of waking the child. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?”

Atta—the one who had carried Arnie away in the maple forest—stood there with an expression like a dead pig, unafraid of boiling water, arms crossed, and mouth curved upward.

“This is ‘Dwight’s son,” he said. “He has a very high status in the Empire, lives in a luxurious house, and has many servants. His father will definitely take responsibility.”

“You’ll end up in solitary confinement!” One of the perimeter guards, knowing these young troublemakers were fearless and clueless about the mess they had caused, itched to punch Atta’s righteous face.

“‘Dwight’s’ son? Are you sure? He looks more like one of our people.” Another guard on duty leaned in to observe for a while, trying to reach into the wicker basket to pick up the child. But the change in light made the child move restlessly, so the guard retracted his hand and instead picked up the basket with the child inside.

He tilted his head towards Atta. “What about that one?”

Behind the troublemaking youths was a giant bird with gray-black feathers, as large as an elephant, with a ring of red feathers under its eyes. There was a large box strapped to its back, yet to be unloaded.

“A servant,” Atta said. “Noble children are delicate. I’m afraid we can’t take care of them properly.”

The guard almost laughed in exasperation, but seeing things had come to this, they could only ask, “You weren’t followed, right?”

Atta said, “We kept on the move. No horses could catch up with the sacred bird’s speed.”

“You dare say that? You kids have no right to use it—wait for Uncle Kang’s wrath. The last person who stole a bird couldn’t get out of bed after he was done.” The guard instructed them to unload the box while he turned with the wicker basket, walking over thick fallen leaves.

This was a bright pine forest, with conical tree crowns reaching high into the sky. The upper leaves glittered in the sunlight, but the lower it got, the darker it became. The air was very humid, with bright green moss everywhere.

The guard saw the child in the basket shrink, so he fully closed the lid.

“You shouldn’t have…” he mumbled something, but knowing Atta and the others were just noisy brats with no experience in taking care of children, he quickened his pace, realizing they hadn’t prepared any warm clothes for the child despite moving from a warm plain to a cold forest.

Charlie could feel himself being moved as the center of gravity of the box he was in shifted significantly, causing him to fall against the wall of the box—what were they doing? Hanging him in the air?

But the sensation of weightlessness didn’t last long. The box was heavily set down. Charlie squinted as the sudden light made his eyes water.

“Oscar.” Arnie clung to the edge of the box, but as he wasn’t tall enough, Charlie could only see his fingers and the top of his head.

The inside of the box was lined with fabric that blocked light and sound. When it was opened, Charlie regained his sight and hearing.

A tall man stood beside him, watching Charlie crawl out of the box.

Arnie watched eagerly from the side, and Charlie resisted the urge to ruffle his hair, instead bending down to pick him up—Arnie immediately wrapped his arms around Charlie’s neck.

If Priscilla and Alfred were here, they’d be shocked, as Arnie rarely showed such dependence on anyone except when he was sick and wanted his mother to hold him.

Charlie understood the reason. No matter how mature Arnie’s personality was, he was still an inexperienced child, suddenly taken from home and placed in a strange environment. Naturally, anyone would instinctively rely on the only familiar person.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in Arnie’s ear. “I’m here too. It’s okay.”

Arnie didn’t respond, his big eyes looking at the box where Oscar had been, now devoid of water and food.

“Dinner will be brought shortly,” a man who had been silently standing in the corner finally spoke. He had long, smooth brown hair braided into a long plait behind him. His features were somewhat androgynous, and his green eyes were smiling.

He looked at Arnie with evident fondness but didn’t press him when Arnie clung to Charlie without speaking. He nodded to them.

“The forest is dangerous. Please don’t wander around.” He pointed to a pull cord by the window, attached to a string of dried gourd shells as bells. “You can use it to summon me sometimes. My name is Wind.”

After saying this, he stepped forward, resealed the box Charlie had been in, and lifted it with one hand.

“Please rest well,” he said at the door, then suddenly vanished.

Charlie: “???”

He carried Arnie to the door, about to look out, but was startled by the half-suspended threshold and quickly pulled Arnie, who had leaned out too far, back inside.

Underfoot was an almost vertical giant tree trunk, with small platforms made from old vines and branches arranged at irregular intervals—not really steps, but tiny platforms that seemed usable only by squirrels.

Wind appeared to have jumped straight down?

Charlie closed the door and walked to the window, where a dense green view greeted him. This small house was built high in a large tree, and he couldn’t tell how far it was from the ground. Wind’s earlier remark, “Please don’t wander around,” seemed like a mere courtesy. Anyone placed here would be immobile unless they suddenly grew wings to fly away.

Remembering Wind’s delicate demeanor and how he had effortlessly lifted the large box with one hand, Charlie thought of something and looked down to ask Arnie, “Just now, there was only Wind in the room. How did I get up here? Did he carry me up such a high tree by himself?”

Arnie shook his head and kicked his legs, signaling for Charlie to put him down.

“It was us,” Arnie said. “He carried you and jumped up with me.”

That must have been quite thrilling. True to his name, Wind seemed barely affected by gravity, managing to leap to the top of the tree using the smallest of vine branches even while carrying weight, without even breaking a sweat.

“It looks like this is their prison. It’s much better than the castle dungeon,” Charlie said, grabbing a small bowl of raspberries from the table. “There are tables, chairs, and a bed, and the blankets are even laid out.”

Although the wooden walls were undecorated and the floor and furniture were simply assembled from raw wood, giving a somewhat crude appearance, the light scent of wood permeating the house made up for it.

Arnie pouted, “No carpets, the furniture isn’t varnished, and there are no decorations at all.”

There was an ugly straw doll on the bed that Arnie clearly disliked, avoiding looking at that area.

So this penchant for fussiness was innate, Charlie thought.

“They live in the forest, have green eyes, great strength, and are agile,” Arnie said, puzzled. “Just like the elves in books.”

“They’re not elves,” Charlie told him. “Maybe their ancestors had elven blood, and their physique has been optimized over generations, but they’re still human.”

“Books can easily fall into stereotypes when describing non-human races and aren’t entirely reliable.” He put Arnie on a chair and gave him a handful of raspberries.

“Elves have great craftsmanship and magical talents, and they emphasize pleasure. Their homes are more refined and comfortable than ordinary royal palaces. Although Wind and the others are unusual, if this were an elven territory, they wouldn’t allow such a purely functional wooden house to exist.”

“So you also think this house is ugly.”

“I didn’t say it’s ugly. I said its focus is on practicality, not aesthetics.”

“That’s a polite way of saying the house is ugly. I learned that in etiquette class.”

Charlie scooped him up, tucking Arnie under his arm. “My point is, even using these characteristics, they are different from true elves.”

“The book says…”

“The book also says there’s a fairy in every coin. Do you believe that?”

“No book says that—”

“Not grammar textbooks, of course. Only novels and travelogs do.”

“What’s a novel?” Arnie asked.

“Doesn’t Brandenburg have more than one large library, yet you’ve never read a novel?”

“I only have textbooks.”

Charlie sympathetically patted Arnie’s cheek. “Probably to make you study seriously. A novel is a story. If I tell you enough stories, I could write them into a novel.”

“When will it be finished?” Arnie asked. “Mrs. Cena definitely wouldn’t buy me any books other than textbooks.”

“Bookstores in town would have them. Have you ever been to a bookstore? Each bookstore has a warehouse full of books. The best-selling book, ‘The General’, always takes the prime spot on the first shelf, while less popular books are placed according to their rank. Every book’s goal is to be displayed in the center of the first shelf, so it catches the eye of every customer who walks in.”

Charlie’s knack for making up stories was unmatched. He told Arnie a tale of how the arrogant “General”, who used underhanded tactics to boost sales, was eventually overthrown by a coalition of lesser-selling books.

Arnie listened, unconsciously wriggling on the chair, silently calculating how many towns were closest to Brandenburg. He really wanted to see for himself if every bookstore had a copy of “The General”.

“You probably can’t go if your teacher is strict,” Charlie cautioned, worried Arnie might leave the castle to explore. “If you really want to see, ask a young person who doesn’t often stay in the castle to help.”

“If I don’t go, how will I know which book I want?” Arnie retorted.

“I’ll tell you,” Charlie said, happy to see Arnie’s attention shift from their current captivity. “I’ll tell you which books are interesting—have you heard the story of the Kingdom of Gold?”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 200

Charlie tried to explain that Duke Dwight wasn’t the type to instigate wrongdoing, but Green Eyes, despite his clever face, was stubborn and believed that Alger must have handed the item over to the Duke.

So they intended to use Dwight’s son to exchange for their treasure.

However, such an action was extremely dangerous. Although Duke Dwight was kind-hearted, this kindness likely wouldn’t extend to those who had kidnapped his young son. Lemena was known to possess a considerable amount of military power. Even if Green Eyes and his kind were physically exceptional and could fight ten men each, they were nothing in the face of the Imperial army.

Charlie looked at the stubborn Green Eyes, whose righteous and fearless expression reminded him of his own demeanor a decade ago. This filled him with a sense of foreboding.

“Pardon me,” he carefully asked. “I don’t mean to pry into your name. I’m just trying to be polite. I—”

He paused and lied. “I’m twenty-two years old. How old are you?”

Green Eyes gave him a curious look, seemingly puzzled by the relevance of age to politeness. But compared to revealing clan names and settlement locations, age was trivial information that wouldn’t leak any secrets. So he said, “I’m five years younger than you. So what?”

Charlie: “……”

He almost lost his composure and silently cursed.

Initially, seeing Green Eyes and his companions were all tall and sturdy, he wouldn’t have guessed this. But from their short conversation, Charlie realized their logical thinking was overly straightforward and somewhat naive—quite immature.

He was right. The kidnappers were just a bunch of teenage boys!

Probably seventeen-year-old Arnie’s steadiness and wisdom were quite exceptional. Charlie nearly forgot how troublesome teenage boys could be. Now, he didn’t dare speak rashly, guessing their next steps based on their behavior patterns—

Where to take the kidnapped son of a Duke?

To their territory, of course, to have the Duke come with the ransom.

But wouldn’t that expose their hiding place?

Uh-oh, didn’t think of that. Is it too late to kill the hostage and destroy the evidence?

Or…

Why not first try peacefully negotiating with the Duke?

What’s peaceful negotiation? Alger’s master must be a terrible person.

But what if Alger lied to you? What if Duke Dwight isn’t involved?

Then return the Duke’s son.

It’s not that simple. Kidnapping is illegal in the Empire and will implicate your clan.

Uh-oh, didn’t know that. Might as well kill the hostage and destroy the evidence?

No matter how he thought about it, Charlie felt explaining reason would only worsen things. Besides, these teenagers wouldn’t listen to just any adult—they needed someone who could command their respect.

Green Eyes didn’t realize Charlie was overthinking things. He stood up. “I’m going to blindfold and gag you. We’ll depart in a few hours.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Charlie quickly said. “What about the child? I won’t resist but let him stay with me. He’s a pampered noble and might fall ill if frightened. You don’t want extra trouble, right?”

“He’s Dwight’s son,” Green Eyes said, trying to sound cold. “He can’t leave our sight before arrival. As for you…”

He paused, considering whether to bring along another “servant”, but Charlie’s earlier mention of the child’s pampered nature convinced him. No one wanted to babysit a fussy child.

“You’ll see him again when we arrive,” he said.

……

Duke Dwight strode through the corridor. The morning sunlight filtered through the rose windows, casting beautiful colored patterns on the floor, but no one noticed as the Duke walked over them.

The people following him suspected that if they weren’t in the palace, the Duke might have broken into a run.

“The Emperor is waiting inside,” the attendant at the door said, opening it for him. Dwight nodded and allowed the attendant to keep the others outside.

The Emperor had slept only four hours last night. A large pot of stimulant beverage sat on the table, and he held a briefing in his hand—highly unusual since the briefing arrived only ten minutes before Dwight.

“What’s happened?” he asked directly.

“I need to return,” Duke Dwight’s expression was grim. “Elves have gone to Lemena.”

The Emperor’s face grew serious. The Duke handed him an envelope marked with the Dwight family seal, but both the envelope and the ink were black—a sign of extreme urgency.

After scanning the letter quickly, the Emperor was at a loss for words—a letter from the capital while simultaneously kidnapping a child was unlike elven behavior.

“Emma cried so hard she couldn’t speak and couldn’t come to the palace to bid farewell.” Duke Dwight took a deep breath. “The carriage is ready.”

“I’ll have Olivier arrange your departure without needing my signature… but please stay calm.” The Emperor left his seat, squeezing the duke’s shoulder. “They have demands and won’t harm Arnie.”

Even he found such reassurance to be weak. Indeed, the probability that Arnie wouldn’t be harmed was high, but what father would want to gamble his child’s safety on probabilities? Besides, Arnie was only five years old. At that age, even being carefully protected during an outing could lead to illness from a cold wind. It wasn’t necessary to be deliberately mistreated—being handled roughly could be enough to cause harm.

“Alfred has taken people to pursue them. Priscilla was terrified.” Duke Dwight, always standing straight, now seemed slightly hunched, his face tired and helpless. “I just hope Arnie is okay. As long as he’s okay.”

The capital dispatched two great mages and a small team of trackers to return to Lemena with the Duke’s carriage. Pennigra had enjoyed over two hundred years of peace. People relied more on the conveniences brought by mages than on auxiliary combat power, and Brandenburg was no exception.

The Emperor’s sealing of the news of Arnie’s kidnapping didn’t mean he didn’t take it seriously. The Empire only had three great mages, and two were sent to assist the Duke. Applying speed magic to horses’ hooves might have been overkill, but given the urgency, no one objected and just hurried along in silence.

Besides mages, the empire also had a very old astrologer, but he was too old to have the energy to help.

The gentle Duchess was rarely this serious. Though she nearly broke down crying when she got the news, she hadn’t once asked to rest after setting off. Even when the Duke worried that the accelerated journey might be too bumpy for her, she ignored it completely.

“Priscilla must be very frightened. What if you also fall ill?” Duke Dwight was anxious but also worried about his wife.

The Duchess shook her head. Usually, traveling by carriage was burdensome for her, often causing dizziness and nausea. But this time, she strangely felt none of those symptoms.

“My heart is not here. It’s with Arnie,” she pleaded. “Please don’t stop. Go faster. Until I see my son safe by my side, I won’t feel hunger or heat, let alone fatigue.”

She had read and re-read the urgent dispatch from Brandenburg countless times, missing no detail. Alger… Emma had never felt such anger toward anyone.

She remembered her opportunistic cousin, but they only saw each other once or twice a year during childhood. Boys and girls usually played separately, and she couldn’t even recall what he looked like now.

Since becoming the Duchess, many had tried to exploit their familial connection for personal gain. But this time, it crossed her bottom line. If Arnie was harmed because of this, she would make Alger’s family pay dearly.

“Don’t worry too much.” The Duke tried to comfort her, struggling to keep his own spirits up. “Elves rarely harm children. Arnie is smart. I’ve taught him how to protect himself.”

“I know Alfred. He believes this is entirely his fault. If he can’t bring Arnie back, he’d rather die.”

The Duchess’s eyelashes trembled. She wanted to say that it wasn’t entirely Alfred’s responsibility but didn’t voice it.

“Arnie has never traveled alone,” she said, her voice almost breaking from grief. “He’s still so young… Priscilla must be very scared too. She’ll probably blame herself.”

“We all have a responsibility,” the Duke said solemnly. “Once this is resolved, we must start training knights for Arnie earlier.”

The long peace had made them complacent. They never imagined anyone would be bold enough to kidnap their child. This incident revealed a security gap in Brandenburg: the castle had resident mages, but they usually didn’t accompany the children when they went out. Perhaps he should train one or two magical knights to stay with Arnie at all times.

However, Arnie’s independent nature made him dislike being constantly followed. He always wandered off alone, and there were few people he would accept as his companions.

The Duke didn’t want to sigh in front of his wife, so he turned his head to look out the window. With fast horses paving the way and the great mage’s speed spells, the carriage was moving unusually fast. For safety, the windows were closed.

If Arnie had been taken by carriage, it would have been better. But if he was being carried on horseback, such a young child couldn’t endure long periods of riding. The Duke’s worries grew.

……

“You weren’t riding horses,” Arnie said confidently.

“What does it matter?” the man in front of him said impatiently. “Are you going to eat or not?”

Arnie looked at the bowl of oatmeal in front of him, his face full of refusal.

He didn’t like the mushy texture of oatmeal.

“I’ll eat if you tell me what you’re using for transportation,” he bargained. “The swaying frequency is odd. It must be some kind of animal, but not a horse—cows are too slow, so it’s not that either.”

“Hey.” Another person entered the room, seeing the untouched oatmeal and frowning. “What’s the delay?”

“He won’t eat,” said the one arguing with Arnie, quickly complaining. “I’ve never seen such a troublesome kid. Are all nobles like this?”

Arnie thought, “You should meet my cousins in the capital. They would probably dismantle your house if they were here.”

“Maybe we should just let him skip a meal,” the newcomer suggested.

The first man assessed Arnie’s thin arms and legs. “No, that’s not an option.”

None of their children were this skinny at his age. No wonder the other guy said noble children needed special care. So skinny and still picky about food—if this kid skipped a meal, he might not survive till morning.

“Fine, fine,” the first man relented, glaring at Arnie. “We used birds to transport you. Satisfied?”

The author has something to say:

You can see personality traits from childhood; the Duke has always been meticulous and sensitive.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 199

Charlie woke up from the jolting movements.

He instinctively shifted his body and felt the warmth beside him, which reassured him.

Arnie was curled up tightly next to him, a position that showed he felt very unsafe.

He might be terrified—perhaps this was the future little Duke’s first kidnapping?

Charlie’s vision was pitch black, and his hands were bound. He could only use his shoulders and feet to probe around, feeling that they were both inside a large box that was moving, swaying and rocking, which had woken him up.

He recalled a similar situation before—like when he was inside that mysterious box in the secret room of the Mokwen Palace. Despite the inopportune timing, he found it somewhat amusing.

Charlie tried to call Arnie softly, but he remained still and unresponsive, likely still in a drugged sleep.

Those strangers had used a powder to knock them out, but maybe due to Arnie’s young age, the dosage was lighter, allowing Charlie to wake up first.

He lay quietly in the darkness for a long time, trying to discern any sounds he could hear. The jolting never stopped, but the frequency and intensity didn’t seem like a carriage ride… it felt more like they were being carried on horseback.

Whether due to good soundproofing or a very quiet environment, Charlie could hardly hear anything. If it weren’t for the rustling of his clothes as he moved, he might have thought he had gone deaf.

His movements seemed to have woken Arnie, who slowly stretched his limbs.

Then he froze completely.

Charlie could feel Arnie’s tension, but with his hands bound, he could only speak. “Don’t be afraid.”

A small hand felt around in the dark and covered his mouth.

“Don’t talk,” Arnie whispered.

Charlie blinked.

Arnie fumbled around in the dark for a while, ensuring there was no one else in the narrow space, then said, “Alfred will come to find us.”

He tried to untie Charlie’s hands, but the knot was too tight, and he couldn’t budge it.

“Don’t rush,” Charlie said softly. “Check my coat pockets…”

Some of his personal items were lost when he fell into the river, but the remaining ones might still be useful.

Arnie started to search the pockets and found they were very deep and filled with odd things.

“What’s this? A test tube?” Arnie had seen similar items in the castle doctor’s office, although he hadn’t yet learned pharmacology.

“Oh, that’s a container. Don’t open it lightly.” Charlie chuckled softly in the dark. “There’s a little thing inside that would knock us around if released. Luckily, they didn’t search me thoroughly. In the left upper pocket, there’s a pen. The cap can be used as a small knife—use it to cut the rope.”

Arnie, though small, managed to saw through the tight rope with considerable effort. Charlie’s hands were numb and swollen from being bound for so long, but he ignored it and held onto the rope.

“This isn’t rope.” Arnie curiously touched the cut end, finding some sap seeping out. “It feels like a vine.”

“They communicated in Elvish,” Charlie noted. As his hands slowly regained feeling, he softly chanted something, and a small flame appeared at his fingertips, about the size of a candle flame but very bright in the darkness.

“You’re a mage?” Arnie’s pale eyes gleamed in the firelight.

“Not officially, but I studied for a few years,” Charlie said, examining Arnie’s face in the light. “Do you feel unwell? Feverish? Itchy? Do you want to cough?”

He worried about the quality of the drug used on them. Poor-quality drugs could easily harm someone with a weak constitution.

But Arnie ignored his questions and persisted in asking, “Why didn’t you join the association? If you don’t have a title, your magic isn’t recognized.”

He knew that both academics and skills required certifications, as all family tutors at Brandenburg held the highest imperial professional titles. Their teachers emphasized that this was the proper path to learning.

“Because I only need to be responsible for myself. Getting recognition from irrelevant people doesn’t mean much to me,” Charlie replied naturally.

At Monterey Academy, Charlie had taken all required exams because of the school’s requirements. After graduation, he no longer participated in any qualifying tests, believing it unnecessary to seek approval from people unrelated to him. Additionally, his unique identity meant he needed to minimize traceable social activities.

However, as soon as he said this, Charlie regretted it. The Duke’s heir had a different standing than him. He quickly added, “My passion is writing novels, not magic. If there were an authors’ guild, I’d definitely take their certification exams. Official recognition still…”

Before he could finish, they jolted heavily, as if the horse carrying their box had jumped over an obstacle.

Then the jolting stopped.

Charlie quickly extinguished the flame at his fingertips and covered Arnie’s face with his hand. The smart child understood immediately, closing his eyes to pretend he was still asleep.

The timing was just right for Charlie to put his hands back and rewrap the vine around his wrists. With his eyes tightly shut, he sensed light through his eyelids, and felt a breeze on their faces as something was lifted.

“Still asleep?”

He heard one of the two strangers from the forest speak.

But his companion didn’t answer. Instead, he silently lifted Charlie. It was very quiet, and Charlie heard the sound of a door opening before he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. Though the floor was carpeted, the fall from that height still hurt.

Charlie grunted internally, but his limbs remained limp as he fell, not even frowning.

“Mm?” Another person stepped forward, a bit surprised, and lifted Charlie’s eyelid.

“No reason,” he said in Elvish. “The little one is already awake.”

“Maybe he has a special constitution,” the first person said. “Nobles are prone to indulgence and often weak.”

They stopped talking, and Charlie couldn’t hear their footsteps leaving. To be cautious, he counted to thirty in his mind before opening his eyes.

And he found himself staring directly into a pair of green eyes.

Charlie: “……”

He lost this round.

The person didn’t seem sure whether Charlie was pretending to sleep or had just woken up but didn’t care. Seeing Charlie’s eyes open, he straightforwardly asked in the common tongue, “Are you also ‘Dwight’?”

Charlie: “Who are you?”

“Your life is in my hands,” the other person said coldly, not falling for it. “I ask questions, you don’t.”

Although the pronunciation was standard, the person’s grammar was a bit off, suggesting they rarely used this language.

Charlie remained lying on the ground and said, “There’s only one Dwight. Neither the child nor I are him. Didn’t you know?”

The person’s expression shifted slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Strictly speaking, there’s only one Dwight in the Empire, and that’s His Majesty the Emperor’s cousin, Duke Dwight,” Charlie replied in Elvish. “And the Duke is currently in the capital. You’ve probably got the wrong people.”

“You speak Elvish?”

“Yes.”

Charlie calmly accepted the other person’s scrutiny. With the disappearance of the elves, the Elvish language had fallen from a common communication language to a purely academic one over the past century. Learning a language that might never be useful in one’s lifetime meant the person either had a great fondness for the elves or was a serious scholar.

After a moment, this obscure skill earned Charlie some leeway and respect. The person helped him up from the floor.

“Are you elves?” Charlie tentatively asked.

“We’re not elves, but we’ve received their grace,” Green Eyes said.

“Is it because you have elvish blood?”

Seeing Green Eyes’s face tighten again at this question, Charlie said, “It’s not hard to guess. Your physical features differ from ordinary people.”

“That’s precisely why we don’t interact much with the outside world,” Green Eyes said. “Alger said everything he did was because of ‘Dwight’. Even if that child isn’t Dwight, he’s Dwight’s son. To Dwight, his son is definitely more important than Alger.”

He observed Charlie for a while. “What are you to Dwight?”

“I’m just an employee of the castle, responsible for looking after the child,” Charlie half-truthfully said. “You said you don’t interact much with the outside world, so you must live in a remote and uninhabited place. What exactly did Alger do to make you travel so far… for revenge?”

Green Eyes scrutinized Charlie again, seemingly judging whether his current ignorance was an act. Finally, Charlie passed the test. The person indicated for him to look at his hand.

Charlie glanced back and saw that the rope binding his wrists was indeed a green vine. The vine Arnie had broken earlier had somehow repaired itself; the broken ends had disappeared in the dark, and it looked as if it had never been cut.

“Your rope, my clothes, and weapons,” Green Eyes said, “are all made from plants. These plants, which only grow in elvish territories, carry incredible magic from the moment they sprout. Thanks to them, we can live comfortably even if we distance ourselves from human settlements.”

He pulled a cherry-sized white fruit from his sleeve. The fruit still had a long stem attached and emitted a faint glow even in daylight.

“But these plants usually only grow in elvish territories. Even if the elves generously granted us the right to use them, those who aren’t pure elves struggle to cultivate them properly. So, along with these magical plants, the elves gave us a small portion of their power.”

“Alger sent people to steal the source of the elves’ gift,” Green Eyes said, his face filled with anger and disdain. “Purely out of greed—without those powers, our normal life becomes unsustainable.”

Charlie now understood. For those like Green Eyes, because of their partial elvish blood, they received special care from the elves. According to his description, this mysterious group’s lifestyle probably resembled that of the elves: clothing, furniture, lighting, and weapons were mostly derived from plants. Some plants (or all plants) had special abilities that allowed them to live like ordinary people.

But because they weren’t true elves, they needed a medium containing elvish power to grow those magical plants. Alger happened to have stolen that very item.

However…

“Why involve Dwight for what Alger stole?” Charlie asked.

“Alger claimed he was working for Dwight. The source of power is no longer in his possession. We searched him ourselves.”

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