Chapter 106: Act 39 – Antinna (First Update After Discharge)
News of Borg Nesson’s wife’s passing surprised Brendel a bit. He had been hoping that the will this minor noble left behind would bring him an unexpected income—after all, Erluin had a long history of noble families, and if Borg Nesson’s ancestor was once prominent, it was entirely possible that the left-behind estate could be quite a fortune.
Besides, Brendel thought, if it weren’t the case, there wouldn’t be any special mention in the will.
However, as Lohn, the Lame Man, had said, the only hope now relied on the fact that the nobleman’s daughter was still alive.
Lohn informed them that the minor noble’s daughter was named Antinna and that there were rumors she lived alone on Grey Rat Street in the St. Anthony district, next to Black Pepper Alley. For years, she had secluded herself, rarely appearing before outsiders. Although it was somewhat strange for a frail woman to live alone in seclusion, as a daughter of nobility in the hierarchical society of Erluin, ordinary people would likely not dare to disrespect her.
Moreover, such a noble girl was not particularly special in Bruglas; especially for someone like Lohn, who made a living selling information, most hearsay was at least eighty percent credible.
Brendel analyzed the situation and agreed that Lohn could be telling the truth—
Of course, it was said that more people had fallen for Lohn the Lame’s schemes than rats in Black Pepper Alley, to the point where rumors often circulated in the taverns that Lohn dared to deceive even dragons and wizards, proving that he was quite lawless. The young man understood this all too well, which is why he simply thrust his glimmering sword toward the bald fellow’s neck, forcing the cunning old fox to lead the way.
It was only after Lohn’s young idlers received a good lesson from the red-bearded Balthom that they finally realized the two were not ordinary characters, and they obediently let the three leave Lohn’s lair without obstruction.
*
By the time the three arrived at Grey Rat Street, it was almost evening.
The bronze sunlight had crossed to one side of this ancient street and cast deep shadows across the rows of wooden buildings on the other. With no one to light the oil lamps by the roadside, the entire street languished in a lonely and silent darkness. As Brendel walked along the desolate street, his cloak swept up a breeze that scattered the fallen leaves.
He couldn’t help but look back.
Balthom, seeing the ghostly scene, frowned and tugged at his fiery red beard, cursing, “It wasn’t like this when I came here a few years ago.”
Grey Rat Street today lay near Cavalry Avenue, situated in the St. Anthony district where the former Noble Council once stood. This area belonged to Bruglas’s once-prosperous old city, which had previously been a wealthy enclave for nobles, but it had long grown quiet since the city’s last planning, now as deserted as Black Pepper Alley, both hiding in seclusion, even more desolate.
For compared to the latter, there were even fewer hirelings, adventurers, and medusas here.
Still, it wasn’t entirely devoid of life.
Brendel breathed in the dust-laden air and suddenly recalled something, answering, “It must be due to the underground cemetery.”
“Exactly,” Lohn stammered a bit from the sword’s pressure on his neck. “My lord, you may not understand as well as we locals do. Two years ago, something bizarre happened at the underground cemetery. A group of monks and saints from the Javier sect, who traditionally went in to clean the tombs, mysteriously vanished inside, involving two high-ranking monks and a priest. This incident caused quite a stir in Bruglas at the time.”
“And then? The Temple didn’t give that old man Nakin trouble? I can’t believe that,” Balthom asked.
“Of course not. The Lord Earl, pressed by the Temple, urged the Silverwing Cavalry to dispatch a platoon to search, but they suffered an attack by a monster, and in the end, only one person came out, driven insane,” Lohn replied.
“Good grief,” Balthom muttered.
The three continued their conversation while following Lohn down a dark staircase into an old apartment. The three-story wooden structure wheezed like it had severe asthma, creaking whenever anyone stepped on the floorboards, as if the entire hallway was shivering in a cold sweat, at any moment ready to collapse.
Seeing this, Brendel couldn’t help but stop, prodding the spiderweb-covered ceiling with the Azure Light Piercer, and asked, “Lohn, what is this place? If I’m recalling correctly, Borg Nesson has been missing for many years, but given his family’s background, it shouldn’t have fallen so low, right?” He coughed as he spoke.
“His daughter moved out over a year ago, apparently because she got tricked,” Lohn replied.
“Noble girl,” Balthom muttered.
Brendel glanced at his neck but remained silent.
Eventually, the three stopped in front of a door at the very end of the corridor. Brendel sheathed his sword and knocked. He almost doubted whether the cunning old fox was deceiving him again, but not long after, a strong cough erupted from behind the door, followed by a soft voice asking, “Who is it?”
Brendel paused, turning back to ask, “Is she unwell?”
“Unclear,” Lohn shook his head.
Brendel thought for a moment and responded from outside, “Miss Antinna? I’m a friend of your father, Mr. Nesson. I have something of his to give to you.”
After a moment of silence behind the door, the soft voice responded, “What is it?”
Brendel took out the letter.
“His letter.”
There was a faint sound of a chair being dragged back, followed by a long pause. After more footsteps and light coughing, the voice approached the door. The girl whispered, slightly hopeful, “I’m sorry, but could you please pass the letter in from the bottom?”
Brendel glanced at the gap under the door, thinking how alert this young girl was. But considering her years of solitary living, his understanding deepened. He nodded and replied, “I understand—”
“Thank you.”
The letter was passed through the gap under the door, prompting a rustling noise as the girl opened the paper. Then came another long silence. Just when Brendel began to worry that she might be plotting something, the door creaked open.
Standing behind it was a girl in pale blue nightwear.
Her slender hands held onto the door; she was slightly breathless but maintained a relatively calm expression, standing just at Brendel’s chest height. The girl had a beautiful cascade of black hair that gleamed like gold under the dim candlelight, falling to her waist. She looked out with warm black eyes at the three outside, a bit tense.
“My father—?” Her gaze finally settled on Brendel.
Brendel nodded.
The girl’s thick eyelashes fluttered down.
She thought for a moment and replied, “I should have anticipated this. But still, at least now father and mother are together; thinking of that perhaps makes me feel a bit more at ease.”
Antinna’s composure surprised Brendel; he had expected her to be a fragile noble lady without much capability to handle affairs. He looked beyond her to the cramped living space, which hardly qualified as comfortable—an dimly lit room furnished with an old bed and a desk, where the faint candlelight had already burned down considerably, illuminating scattered papers on the ground.
This was almost all of her possessions.
The conditions looked poor, just as he had imagined. Yet, this little girl seemed to be a scholar? Brendel noted the thick volumes on the desk.
“My condolences, Miss Antinna,” Brendel offered after a moment’s consideration.
Antinna looked up at him, coughed twice, and asked, “Are you inquiring about the property mentioned in my father’s will, sir?”
Balthom and Lohn were left perplexed.
“Indeed,” Brendel hesitated a bit, then chose to be candid—completing a task felt as natural to him as completing a transaction, or vice versa; he did not feel ashamed to ask. Moreover, he believed acquiring this sum of money would benefit both him and the young lady.
However, Antinna folded the letter and frowned slightly at its pretty edges, “But I have never heard my mother mention such a place.”
“It seems it’s a debt—” Lohn appeared to catch on, his energy renewed at the mention of the old business. “Brendel, leave this matter to me.”
He spoke in a high-pitched tone while stealing glances at Brendel’s expression. He had realized by now that this formerly rash young man had grown into quite a character, especially with the tall mercenary at his side, displaying remarkable skills. In his limited understanding, Lohn couldn’t find many people capable of such feats—he couldn’t help but compare Brendel to noble guards he knew, concluding that the former was still superior.
He wondered why such a person would willingly serve Brendel, and Lohn grew increasingly cautious.
“No need, Lohn,” Brendel waved his hand, declining the offer.
“Debts should be repaid, it’s common sense,” Lohn insisted, but when he noticed Brendel’s finger brush the sword hilt, he immediately retracted his neck and swallowed the rest of his sentence. He still muttered quietly, “There are rules in every profession…”
Brendel studied the girl’s clear, bright eyes, as if searching for signs of deception—there was worry in her gaze, but she didn’t look away; it didn’t seem she was intentionally lying. Yet leaving like this left Brendel feeling unsatisfied, and he couldn’t help but frown. After much thought, he could only smile: “Forget it, it’s no trouble.”
Brendel ultimately could not subscribe to Lohn’s perspective, believing one shouldn’t push someone into a corner for some petty gain. Antinna had already lost her parents, and now her life was difficult enough to evoke pity; what more could he ask of her? Of course, Lohn could think of ways; still, if he did so, the young Romain would be sure to bite him back, and knowing Freya would be worse.
But the girl started coughing, though she soon bore up and shook her head, “Sir, I don’t need your charity.”
Brendel was taken aback.
(PS: I’ve been discharged after losing six days of fluids, 4000 dongs. Then the doctor kicked me out, saying they have to take a holiday for the Spring Festival and there’s no bed available; I’ll have to come back for surgery in March. Damn… The terrible systemic issues, folks, take care of your health, watch your diet, and maintain regular sleep schedules. It’s tragic, I used to ignore the advice of the elders, and now I’m suffering. When it hurt, it hurt terribly, and I can’t eat meat for the next month or two, just porridge and vegetables. God…)(To be continued. To know what happens next, please visit, for more chapters, support the author, and support legitimate reading!)
