Chapter 859: Act 37 – Two Letters II
The corridor was as dilapidated, narrow, and dim as he remembered, with dust-filled gaps between the wooden planks. Brendel, relying on his memory, stopped in front of a door and asked, “Is this the one?”
“Hmm,” a voice behind him softly answered; it was the voice of the aide.
Freya followed them, frowning as she surveyed the place. They stood in the hallway where the wooden planks creaked underfoot, and the air was thick with a choking dustiness. She thought to herself that even the stables in Buche were slightly cleaner than this, and she could hardly imagine anyone living in such a place.
“It seems to be locked,” Brendel said, fiddling with the doorknob.
“I locked it before I left,” Antinna replied softly.
“Do you have the key?”
“Hmm, I’ve kept it with me.” Antinna fumbled a bit and pulled out a brass key. Brendel’s memory was quite good, and he recognized the keychain as her original necklace. He remembered seeing her wear it once or twice, and it should have had a pretty crystal pendant, but that pendant had long since disappeared. He took the key, weighing it in his hand, somewhat surprised. “How did you bring this with you?”
“I thought I might need it at some point,” the aide answered with her usual seriousness.
“It indeed seems like it came in handy,” Brendel smiled and glanced at her. The aide also returned a faint smile.
He turned the key and opened the door. Behind the wooden door appeared a dark, gaping mouth like that of a monster, waiting for prey to enter its jaws. The three of them stood at the threshold for a moment, adjusting to the sudden darkness inside. The room was as small as he remembered and filled with dust, but it was tidily arranged; clearly, its owner had taken care to set it up before leaving. “Antinna, did you live here before?” Freya asked, looking around the room in surprise. Back in Buche, even the old militia warehouse was much more spacious and brighter than this. She always thought that the aide came from a noble background, but she hadn’t expected her to have lived in a place like this before following Brendel.
“Hmm.”
“But I heard Brendel say you were the daughter of a noble…”
“The Lord didn’t misspeak; I used to be, I suppose,” Antinna replied. “But after my father went missing, the creditors came knocking, and to pay off the debts, I had to sell off the family estate. I remember that not long after, my mother also passed away from grief, and life became quite difficult. To cut costs, this was the only option I had.”
“I’m sorry, Antinna. I didn’t realize you had such a past; I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Freya responded awkwardly.
Antinna smiled lightly, seemingly unbothered.
Brendel walked over to the desk, lighting the remaining candle. The flickering candlelight barely illuminated the room, which was filled with dust. Antinna went to the bed and pulled back a layer of cloth, revealing a clean wooden bed, although slightly musty. Brendel looked at her with surprise, admiration in his gaze. Freya, who also came from humble beginnings, didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable in the small, shabby space. Seeing their actions, she quietly joined in the tidying up of the room. The three of them worked without speaking; it seemed they hadn’t shared such a time since leaving Bruglas. The room grew quiet, filled only with soft sounds as they quickly managed to clean up.
Antinna opened the window facing the desk and looked outside, frowning before gently closing it. She then opened a drawer and suddenly said, “Someone’s been in this room.”
Brendel paused, slightly startled. “What do you mean?”
“Someone entered this room after I left.”
Brendel’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”
“There should have been more than one person; they came in through the window. After entering, they first checked the drawers,” she walked to the side and opened the cabinet. “They must have checked my cupboard, too; the books inside were rummaged through. It seems they were looking for something.”
“Are you sure, Antinna?” Brendel asked, now feeling alert.
“Hmm, I would never forget what I’ve arranged myself. Clearly, someone has moved them.”
“Should we ask the people around?” Freya asked softly.
“No need; they probably wouldn’t know anything,” the aide shook her head. “Whether it was a thief or an unexpected guest, they surely wouldn’t have wanted to be discovered.”
“Do you have any clues?”
“It’s strange; it seems these people came quite early. We didn’t notice any footprints or anything else when we were cleaning up earlier. The dust accumulation is quite natural, meaning they hadn’t been there at least in the past few months.”
“A year ago?” Brendel pondered. It seemed they had just recently left Bruglas at that time, and their notorious status couldn’t have attracted anyone’s attention. After thinking for a moment, he said, “If it was that long ago, it could only have been thieves.”
Antinna smiled slightly. “Then those thieves must surely be disappointed to return empty-handed.”
This remark sparked doubt in Brendel’s mind. The people living on Grave Digger Street were mostly the poorest in the city, and those mingling in that gray area likely knew this well. In fact, thieves rarely frequented such places as they mostly understood there was no profit to be made. He hesitated for a moment until Freya spoke: “There’s only one bed here, Brendel.”
Brendel was taken aback and quickly realized the awkwardness; he had nearly forgotten that this room had been occupied solely by Antinna, and there was only one bed.
Antinna paused, clearly realizing this as well; after all, the only furniture in the room consisted of a desk, a short cabinet, two chairs, and a single bed, making it hard to avoid the question of how they would rest in such humble surroundings. “You two can share the bed; with my current strength, it won’t affect me whether I sleep at night or not,” Brendel suggested after a moment’s thought.
“That will not do,” Antinna shook her head. “You are the Lord, and how can a vassal allow their lord to suffer? Moreover, it’s my fault for not considering this.”
Antinna disagreed, and Freya naturally wouldn’t accept it either; she wasn’t bold enough to selfishly enjoy such a situation alone.
Brendel seemed to have anticipated this. He looked at the two of them and sighed. “We can talk about it later. I’ll go get you something to eat first.”
Antinna nodded gently.
In a big city like Bruglas, there were plenty of places selling food; as long as one had the money, food could be bought from street-side workshops. However, here, finding something to eat would likely require a visit to an inn or tavern, or perhaps the bread workshop in town, and beyond that, it would necessitate going to a mill estate outside the city. The inns and taverns were crowded, and it was uncertain if they had planted spies, so Brendel naturally did not want to venture there lightly. Besides, there were no bread workshops along the main roads near Grave Digger Street. Yet this little trouble was not beyond him. This kind of impoverished area was full of idle people. He casually spent a few Torls to find a boy willing to run errands for him. He even carved a nightingale symbol on the wall with his sword to ensure the lad dared not pocket the money without doing the job.
Of course, given his current status, he wasn’t lacking that little bit of money. However, he couldn’t let the aide and Erluin’s future Valkyrie go hungry. After all, he was a noble of the kingdom; how could he show himself so incompetent in front of the ladies beside him?
The boy, seeing the deep mark he had carved on the stone wall, revealed a look of uncertainty. Brendel knew the boy was not afraid of his swordsmanship but rather of the symbol he had inscribed. People raised in such places often mingled with those in the gray areas of the city, and some were even spies for them. Thus, the boy would certainly recognize the mark as a communication method used among the Golan-Elsen thieves’ guild. He had learned a little about the Nightingales in the game, although only superficially. Nonetheless, it was more than enough to intimidate this boy with limited experience.
The boy, startled by him, handed over the money and stood there somewhat hesitantly, looking at him cautiously and asking, “Sir, is there anything else you need?”
“Do you live nearby?” Brendel asked.
The boy nodded.
“Do you know who lives in that room?” Brendel pointed to the window of the second room next to Antinna’s.
“I know. An old man lives there; others call him the Night Owl. He used to be a loan shark, but nobody knows who he offended, so he came to hide here,” the boy replied straightforwardly.
Brendel raised an eyebrow, surprised that he had randomly grabbed someone so well-informed. But then he relaxed; these young people from the lower classes had nothing to do but wander the streets. Except for a few who could endure hardship, most were unwilling to become apprentices and submit to authority. Given the crude information flow of the era, it was perfectly normal for them to be well-informed. It was just that most of the rumors they knew were half-truths. Asking them about local customs, however, would yield good results.
“What about this room?” he pointed to the room beside Antinna.
“That one’s been empty for a long time, sir.”
“What about the one next to it?” Brendel asked, his interest piqued. The boy hesitated, seemingly thinking for a moment before answering, “The owner of this room seems to be a fallen noble lady, but I haven’t seen her in a long time. I heard her health was poor, so she probably died.”
“Dead, indeed.” Brendel thought unamused, but seeing the boy talking about it as if it were casual conversation, he knew that in such places, life and death were all too common. Every year, many people froze or starved to death in places like Grave Digger Street. Everyone understood these happenings, and nobles turned a blind eye, as if it was only natural. Brendel sighed, thinking at least the boy wasn’t lying; he clearly knew the area well.
He asked some more random questions, then suddenly inquired, “Is it common for people to ‘visit’ here?”
By “visit,” he naturally meant those thieves. The boy understood this right away and couldn’t help but look at this rather imposing gentleman with a hint of awe, now convinced he was indeed a legendary Nightingale. After all, how could he carve a symbol that even the boy barely recognized—a symbol that was undoubtedly associated with thieves but was far more complex than what he knew? The boy was now even more certain in his belief based on Brendel’s current dialogue.
“Of course not, sir,” the boy hurriedly replied. “There’s nothing to gain here; they wouldn’t likely be interested in a place like this. Besides, who would want to live in such a spot other than the impoverished mercenaries and decrepit old whores?”
“There are always some blind fellows.”
The boy thought for a moment, as if finally grasping Brendel’s meaning, and then recalled something: “Sir, a year ago, some cavalry patrol came through here. Right! They seemed to be looking for that noble lady.”
Brendel remembered how they had interacted with those men back then; could it have been related to this? He frowned and asked more contextual questions, but the boy could provide no more clarity. As Antinna had said, both thieves and uninvited guests probably wouldn’t want anyone noticing their presence. He finally shook his head and tossed a silver coin to the boy. “Alright, go on. The sooner you go and return, the better. I’m still hungry.”
“Rest assured, sir; I promise not to spend a single coin wastefully.” The boy responded, looking anxious.
“That’s not necessary; just buy enough food for three. Anything extra is yours; I’m not short on money, but I’d prefer you not to bring me trouble,” Brendel replied, deliberately cooling his tone.
He asked for the boy’s name, and after the boy gave it, he hurriedly dashed away, seemingly eager to avoid lingering any longer. Brendel couldn’t help but exhale, thankful that some old tricks from the game hadn’t completely slipped his mind. In this world for a year, living as a noble had made him far too comfortable, and aside from swordsmanship, all other skills were on the verge of rusting. In the past, these tasks were mostly handled impeccably by Antinna, Flour, or Carglis, so it was a rare occasion for him to step in himself, but he felt he had regained a semblance of the past.
He paused, gazing at the view of Bruglas before the evening set in. The western sky seemed ablaze, awash with golden hues below the clouds, and this scene wasn’t much different from the year before. Yet at that moment, he heard a cold laugh. “It seems the Lord Earl is quite well-versed and not unfamiliar with these lower tiers.”
Brendel suddenly looked up. The house where Antinna lived was situated along the Buche River, which traversed Bruglas. Behind the house was a small yard, next to which flowed the river. There had originally been stairs leading down to the waters, equivalent to a small dock. Anyone with some assets would tie a small boat at the stair’s side as another means of travel. However, the current tenants were not so luxurious, and the stairs outside the yard had long since fallen into disrepair. Weeds now grew nearly as tall as a person in the cracks of the stone steps, and at that moment, a figure was nestled in the grass.
He squinted and immediately recognized the person. “Test?” It was indeed Viscount Test, a man he had seen once at an auction in Bruglas. Although Test’s appearance had significantly changed, with his once golden hair now white and wrinkles on his face as if he had aged decades overnight, Brendel recognized him by his unique facial features and distinctive gaze.
“I didn’t expect that the Lord Earl could still recognize me,” Test said, standing on the stone steps with some emotion. He had once crossed paths with Brendel in the underground auction house and had nearly killed him, but now, a single year later, Brendel’s strength had already reached that level. He had once considered himself a genius, but now he understood what true genius looked like. However, none of that mattered to him at this point; he had come here merely seeking release.
Brendel, hearing Test’s raspy voice, asked curiously, “What happened to you?”
“Long story; that period for me was just a nightmare,” Test replied. “But it does involve you, Lord Earl.”
“What does it have to do with me?” Brendel frowned. His only interaction with Test had been their scuffle in the underground auction house, after which there had been no further ties between them. He previously thought Test had come seeking revenge for that time.
“If you have the time to listen to my nonsense, then I can slowly tell you the story. In return, I’ll divulge some secrets from that time,” Test answered with his hoarse voice.
Brendel was exceedingly puzzled, thinking Test sought him merely to recite some tales. Could he be going mad? However, given Test’s current state, it was quite possible he was crazy, but Brendel was intrigued by the so-called secrets that might be connected to the Everything Returns Society. The only significant threat to him now was that damned organization. He nodded and asked, “Here?”
“Right here; no one else around. Every moment I delay is torment for me, and I truly have no heart to find another location,” Test answered.
Brendel looked at him, curious about what experiences had led to his current condition, and after a moment of silence, Test suddenly said, “It’s because of the Lionheart Sword.”
“The Lionheart Sword?”
Test nodded and began recounting the story of his search for the Lionheart Sword on behalf of the Everything Returns Society, slowly unfolding his narrative.
