Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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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.”

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 198

Unfortunately, Arnie’s frantic dash and fall onto the pile of leaves had made quite a noise, which was conspicuous in the otherwise silent woods. Charlie picked him up, trying to leave the area as quickly as possible, but after running a few steps, he abruptly stopped. The inertia caused both of them to fall to the ground.

A deep pit had appeared without warning right in front of them. If Charlie hadn’t stopped in time, they would have fallen right in. But what caught his eye first wasn’t the pit—it was the sudden burst of magical light characteristic of elf magic. It was a deep green, distinctly different from the toad-like green of certain dark magics.

Charlie felt this situation was very troublesome. If their opponent was truly an elf, their chances of winning were slim. Elves lived much longer than humans, so even a young-looking elf could have been practicing magic for longer than any elderly human grandmages. Moreover, elves were naturally superior in physical abilities, with almost all of them being born warriors. If Charlie were alone, he might take a chance, but with Arnie here…

He heard a small noise behind him. Charlie got up, seeing three people swiftly approaching through the leaves, their footsteps nearly silent. One of them was being dragged, seemingly unconscious, and it was his feet scraping the ground that made the sound.

Charlie pursed his lips and tightened his grip on Arnie’s hand. Sensing his nervousness, Arnie remained silent, hiding half his body behind Charlie.

The approaching figures were tall, with fair skin and striking green eyes, but no pointed ears.

“Who?” One of them spoke, addressing his companions rather than Charlie and Arnie.

Charlie felt a twinge in his head. The newcomers were speaking Southern Elvish. Arnie’s eyes widened as he recognized the unconscious man being dragged—it was his “uncle” Alger.

Alger looked nothing like the confident man from the day before. His shirt was dirty and wrinkled, and his pants were covered in mud, as if he’d spent the past half hour rolling on the ground. His limbs were limp, but his eyes were open, and he was somewhat conscious.

Seeing Arnie, Alger instinctively struggled. Charlie realized this was bad. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop Alger from shouting out to Arnie, who responded with disdain.

The man holding Alger shook him, making him cry out. Another man stepped forward, staring at Arnie.

“Dwight?” he asked in Common.

Charlie assessed the situation. Alfred was nowhere in sight, and shouting for him was more likely to provoke these men than to call for help. He spread one hand, palm up, to show he was unarmed, while keeping a tight grip on Arnie with the other.

“We’re just passing through, sirs,” Charlie said humbly. “We mean no trouble.”

“That’s Dwight’s son!” Alger, eager to clear himself, said quickly. “My nephew, Arnie. Arnie, come to your uncle…”

Arnie wasn’t stupid. He hid further behind Charlie, avoiding eye contact with Alger.

“Dwight emblem,” the closer man said to his companion, noticing the emblem on Arnie’s clothes.

“Take them.” The man holding Alger dropped him and advanced towards Charlie and Arnie.

Alger, now free, immediately ran in the opposite direction, despite the pain from his minor wounds. He was confident that the presence of a Dwight would keep the attention off him, allowing him to escape.

Feeling no one chasing him, Alger ran faster, relieved. This forest wasn’t very large. He would soon be out—

A clod of dirt hit Alger on the head with surprising force. Already panicked, the blow made him stumble, almost falling over as dizziness set in.

Is someone chasing me? He clutched his head, trying to shake off the ringing in his ears.

“Hmm?”

Alfred approached quickly, taking a moment to recognize Alger.

Alfred was a knight of rank. Although Alger was a noble by birth, he had no title himself. Unlike Elaby, Alfred didn’t feel obliged to be overly polite to these relatives, even out of respect for the Duchess.

He walked up, appearing casual. “What’s going on?”

Alfred had heard the commotion from a distance, initially thinking it was something suspicious. But upon closer inspection, it was just someone running wildly through the forest, looking quite deranged.

Alger, realizing it was a Brandenburg Knight, felt guilty and stammered, unable to speak coherently.

Alfred scrutinized him. At first, he thought Alger had been chased by a wild animal, explaining his disheveled state. But the small, precise wounds on Alger’s body weren’t from rolling on the ground. Remembering why he had come into the forest, Alfred’s expression darkened. “What happened?”

“Ah… nothing, nothing happened,” Alger pleaded. “Can we just go back? Please?”

Alfred squinted, looking in the direction Alger had come from. “Who did you meet?”

Alger’s panicked expression confirmed Alfred’s suspicions: there were intruders in the forest. Oscar and he had sensed something wrong, and it wasn’t Alger who posed no real threat but someone or something else.

“Really, no one,” Alger insisted, knowing Alfred would be furious if he found out he had tried to use Arnie as a distraction to escape. “I’m feeling unwell. If you don’t go, I’ll go back myself.”

“No.” Alfred grabbed Alger by the collar and effortlessly dragged him along. “You’re coming with me to see.”

“No!” Alger struggled violently. “You can’t fight the elves!”

“Elves? What elves?” Alfred stopped, suspicious. “Those things have been extinct for ages.”

“They’re very vengeful! They’ll take me with them too!” Alger shouted in despair.

The next second, Alfred’s hand gripped his throat like a vise.

“You said ‘take with them’.” The usually smiling knight’s expression turned especially cold. “Who else did they take?”

Alger was no match for Alfred—naturally stubborn and weak-willed, he wasn’t a person of strong resolve. When his life was threatened, Alger would do anything, including betraying others and himself.

“I didn’t know they’d follow me here.” Dragged around twice in one day, Alger felt like his insides were going to be squeezed out of his mouth. He mumbled, “They’re elves, incredibly fast. They might already be out of Lemena by now… Ah!”

Alfred’s punch landed squarely on Alger’s face. Alger let out a short cry and collapsed like a noodle.

The area was deserted. Alfred meticulously inspected the surroundings, even turning over fallen leaves on the ground. Finally, near a pine tree, he found what he was looking for: two pieces of handmade candy.

These were the snacks prepared for Arnie by the maids at the pavilion. Even before his birth, the Duke and Duchess had hired a special confectioner for him, and even the candy wrappers were unique to Brandenburg. Just half an hour ago, Alfred himself had eaten a piece.

He put the candy in his pocket and looked around. The soil and leaves in several places were messy, as if someone had fallen there, but there was no trace of blood.

Whether Alger’s talk of elves was true or not, at least for now, Arnie’s life wasn’t in immediate danger. Although the elves were warlike, they weren’t bloodthirsty, and they had a high tolerance for innocent younglings, even human ones—after all, younglings were younglings.

Although the Young Master rarely showed an innocent side, given his intelligence and noble upbringing, he should be capable of using cuteness to save his life.

But why elves?

Alfred turned to look at the unconscious Alger, his anger barely contained.

……

“What did you say?” Priscilla stood up abruptly from the sofa, the sudden movement causing a bout of dizziness. Ignoring it, she took two steps forward, nearly losing her composure. “What do you mean, Arnie is missing?”

Her aunt, who was sitting opposite her, turned pale when she saw Alger being dragged in by Alfred, the pallor breaking through her makeup.

Her lips trembled as she wanted to check on her husband’s condition, but Alfred’s intimidating presence kept her frozen in place.

“Get Albert and Gray to interrogate this guy,” Alfred said to the shocked Elaby. “It’s probably their mess.”

Elaby, snapping back to his senses, looked at the trembling woman on the sofa. Without needing a word, two young footmen stepped forward to escort her away.

“Lock them all in the tower,” Elaby ordered sternly. “Seal the windows, and no one is to approach them until the Duke returns.”

Priscilla hadn’t noticed Elaby’s commands. She ran to Alfred, hoping that her little brother would suddenly appear from behind him. Alfred supported her, noticing her whole body trembling. It had only been a minute since he entered, and Priscilla was already in tears.

“Where is Arnie?” she shouted at Alfred. “Where is my brother? I told you to watch him! Alfred! I told you to watch him!”

Alfred knelt on one knee on the carpet, quickly explaining the situation while wiping her tears.

“Elven magic is more potent in natural environments. It’s hard to detect immediately in the woods. Young Master Arnie left two pieces of candy. I think he meant that Oscar was taken with him.”

Priscilla became more distressed. “He’s just a novelist! If—if he could protect Arnie, how could he be taken too?”

What she didn’t say was that Oscar was just someone hired by Elaby with a generous payment to accompany the children. His loyalty and sense of responsibility couldn’t compare to others. She could trust anyone else to protect her brother with their life, but for heaven’s sake, Oscar hadn’t even received his first paycheck yet!

Alfred thought that Oscar wasn’t as simple as he seemed, but seeing Priscilla crying so hard, he didn’t want to upset her further.

“This is my fault,” he assured her. “They left less than an hour ago. We still have a chance to catch up. We need to identify the intruders and their purpose. You know Albert’s skills. He will extract the truth quickly.”

“Once we find Arnie, I will accept any punishment. But until then, he may be waiting for us to rescue him. Please, hold back your tears, and let’s think of a plan. He must be very scared now.”

Priscilla took several deep breaths but couldn’t stop crying. She gulped down a glass of water and said, “Elaby, write a letter immediately. Have the butler send it to the capital. They need to know what happened.”

Even if her parents blamed her, Priscilla had no other choice but to seek their help.

Elaby left quickly. Two maids held Priscilla, comforting her and fearing that her body wouldn’t withstand the shock.

But Alfred’s words reminded her that without their parents, if even the elder sister panicked, Arnie would have no one to rely on. Priscilla forced herself to drink another glass of water and said, “Get another person to interrogate my good aunt. Make sure Alger tells the truth. From her reaction, she’s clearly involved.”

“You said there’s elven magic in the forest,” Priscilla, still hiccuping from crying, said to Alfred. “But this race disappeared long ago. If the stories of their retreat to Paradise are false, they wouldn’t easily leave their seclusion to contact humans.”

For a child, Priscilla was strong. Alfred himself hadn’t recovered as quickly in the forest. He handed the two pieces of candy Arnie had left behind to her.

“Elven magic isn’t exclusive to elves. Some mages who are naturally attuned to nature can also learn their spells,” Alfred explained. “If it is truly elves, that’s good. Elves rarely harm children or pregnant women, as it goes against their beliefs. Moreover, Arnie is innocent. Revenge and anger aren’t typical elven behaviors.”

Priscilla, well-versed in history, knew Alfred wasn’t just making this up to comfort her.

“What if they’re pretending to be elves?” Priscilla couldn’t hide her worry.

“Those who are cruel and bloodthirsty can’t learn elven magic,” Alfred reassured. “Because it’s a power of healing.”

He lifted Priscilla into the carriage, staying behind to await the interrogation results. Elaby, meanwhile, hurried back to Brandenburg on horseback to use the communication point in the Duke’s study. If they acted quickly, the capital would receive news of the heir’s disappearance by morning.

---

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

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.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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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.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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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.”

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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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