Chapter 871: Act 49 – Two Letters IV
The two remained silent, as if they were both pondering the same proposition within their hearts.
After a moment, Brendel spoke up, “Antinna, do you know what your father did before?”
The aide shook her head gently, “I’m not sure. Ever since I came to understand things, life has been relatively peaceful and affluent, just like other families in our class. In Bruglas, my father owned several businesses, and our livelihood was stable until he disappeared during his last days. I only know that he struggled financially during his youth, but neither he nor my mother ever told me exactly how he managed.”
Brendel pressed his lips together.
He contemplated several things: What was the “truth and fragmented riddles that gradually formed a picture,” as mentioned in the letter? What had they and their grandfather experienced? And who was the princess referred to in the letter—he was certain it could not be Princess Grifian, as she and Haruz hadn’t been born yet at that time. Lastly, why did these insignificant cultists possess such a letter? The Everything Returns Society acted meticulously; Magisk and Test were unlikely to hand over such important information to a bunch of lackeys.
These desperate people had carefully sealed the letter within the cover of the Codex of All Things, clearly aware of its value.
“Antinna,” Brendel raised the letter, “do you think there’s any possibility they might find a way to see its contents?”
He was referring, of course, to those cultists. Antinna glanced over in that direction and firmly shook her head, “They can’t see it. The method to reveal the contents of this letter is a unique technique of my father’s family.”
“By the way,” Brendel suddenly remembered, “how did you recognize this letter?”
Antinna paused for a moment before replying, “Because my father’s letters bear a special seal. It might have fooled them, but it can’t fool me.”
“But you hadn’t seen this parchment before, had you?” Brendel asked, somewhat puzzled.
Antinna opened her mouth, stunned for a moment before answering, “My lord, Dian told me earlier that these people had broken into my home and even found my father’s old residence in the Juan district. I was already suspicious then. I think they likely obtained information about my father’s inheritance through certain channels, and that letter may have come into their hands the same way, but they probably can’t understand it; otherwise, they wouldn’t be wasting their efforts.”
Brendel placed his hand on the parchment, intrigued by Antinna’s words, “You said they’re wasting their efforts. You knew your father’s inheritance wasn’t there all along. Right, what did you say about where your parents lived initially?”
“In the old town, on Rat Street—”
As Brendel and Antinna discussed, Freya monitored the restless cultists alongside Little Finnis, and after a night’s commotion, the eastern sky began to pale. As Tardisha sank below the horizon, a new day had arrived.
Before dawn, the patrol cavalry cleared out the hunters’ camp. When Eugen left, he repeatedly thanked Brendel. The patrol captain was excessively flattering, as if establishing a relationship with this nobleman was more important than the small contribution he had made.
Brendel didn’t expose him but sincerely expressed his gratitude. The two parties parted outside the forest, and the young patrol cavalrymen had a good impression of this unassuming nobleman. They insisted he must visit during the execution of these desperate men; Brendel didn’t understand their fascination with the gallows, as if it were not killing but some form of entertainment. Eugen also promised to persuade the noble assembly to award him a bronze Starflame Medal, but such medals had proliferated since the Anson era and were not as precious as the Candlelight Medals, which only royalty and the Temple of Fire could issue.
…
The old Rat Street area had been completely transformed after the Howling Year, incorporated into the public cemetery’s range. It was not far from Antinna’s residence on Gravedigger Street, but they had to cross that cold, deserted street facing the underground mausoleum. The cemetery was located behind a temple dedicated to the god of death, quietly situated at the junction of Rat Street and Gravedigger Street. Brendel had to bribe the monks in the temple to allow them to enter the public cemetery, and an elderly monk in a brown robe led them through a myriad of arches supporting numerous corridors. They passed through a small door to the back of the temple, entering the cemetery after crossing a thicket of trees.
This was a quiet place surrounded by trees, with many unnamed and named tombstones rising in the clearing, and several stone pathways wound around them, leading into the misty, unknown depths of the woods.
“Isn’t he worried about us?” Freya asked in surprise as she saw the old monk return to the temple and close the door.
“He’s likely timid. I’ve heard various legends about this cemetery, claiming that strange things wander in the woods, and people get killed around here every year,” Little Finnis replied disdainfully.
“It’s not so frightening; that’s just to deceive outsiders. Some people want to engage in illegal activities here—murders and secret trades, whispers in the forest are all schemes and poison plots. Those old monks are the ones who understand the situation best,” Dian said with a laugh in response to Little Finnis’s remark, “As long as someone pays, he doesn’t care about what we’re doing.”
“But aren’t they afraid…?” Despite having seen much, Freya still found it hard to believe.
“These are public secrets—grave robbing and body trafficking—there are even necromancers who secretly buy corpses from the monks for research materials. There’s a massive underground black market. How could those monks not know?”
Freya let out a soft breath, somewhat disgusted, “Such blasphemy.”
“Necromancers also worship Martha, don’t they?” Dian replied nonchalantly.
Freya frowned at him, and the young man realized he might have said something wrong, quickly adding, “Those monks have intricate connections with the Temple of Fire; even nobles wouldn’t want to provoke them. Besides, nobles have their family mausoleums, which they prefer to keep away from. We can’t do anything about it. Most of those necromancers are part of the gray domain; ordinary people wouldn’t dare to offend them.”
Freya understood that he spoke the truth. Though she didn’t want to hear it, she merely frowned and remained silent, biting her teeth tightly, worrying that if that old monk appeared before her again, she would have to draw her sword and stab him for a chill deep within.
Brendel’s expression revealed nothing; Dian’s words were commonplace for him. Yet to say that this cemetery was entirely without danger was not entirely accurate. What normal places would be so shrouded in mist and gloom even in broad daylight, with visibility of no more than ten meters? The surrounding woods were so dense that it seemed the sun couldn’t penetrate, and though it was barely past noon, the cemetery felt like it was early evening—and a cloudy one at that. The supernatural mystery emanated from underground; there lay a larger cemetery, Bruglas’s underground public mausoleum, fraught with threats, filled with corpse demons and active bones. Since the Howling Year, few dared to venture down there.
But that was not their aim today. He turned to Antinna beside him and asked, “Antinna, are you sure it’s here?”
The temperature in the cemetery dropped several degrees, and Antinna’s face turned slightly pale from the cold. She clutched her shawl and quietly replied, “The nearby residential area was demolished twenty years ago and designated as a cemetery. However, I heard my parents had managed to rent that house and managed to keep it; a grave keeper lives there.”
“There’s even a grave keeper here?” Freya said, slightly surprised, as she thought this place was utterly lawless.
“At least in name,” Antinna, being a local, had heard bits and pieces of what Dian said but was unwilling to voice them. She furrowed her brow and said, “I’ve heard he helps those grave robbers transport the corpses and conducts this nefarious business.”
“Business.” Freya nearly fainted from anger.
Brendel heard her teeth grinding near him.
Not long after, they found the house where the grave keeper lived. Antinna remembered the direction from her memory, and Dian could find the place as well—they passed through lush woods and towering tombstones, seeing a two-story wooden house appear in the mist, standing alone in the depths of the forest. Dian had already contacted the grave keeper. The grave keeper, unaware of Brendel’s identity, thought a noble had arrived for a big deal, and was already waiting respectfully.
The grave keeper was called Old Slick; his real name was long forgotten, like the bones buried underground. He looked precisely like the image of someone in such a profession in Brendel’s eyes, making him feel as if he had encountered a living corpse demon—stooped and hunchbacked, resembling something like the bell ringer Quasimodo from Notre Dame, only with the latter possessing a noble heart, while Old Slick harbored nothing but malice. His age was hard to determine; his face was covered in wrinkles, but his eyes remained lively, as if constantly rotating with sinister thoughts. His head was balding, with only a few sparse hairs standing lazily, as if they were the reduced and replicated trees from this misty woodland.
Freya coldly stared at this guy, but Brendel couldn’t be bothered to make things difficult for such a minor character. Sometimes, such unsavory businesses were not necessarily what these people wanted to do. He understood that in an age where everyone had lost something, faults should not be placed on a single person; otherwise, it would just be pure venting. However, this did not mean he was willing to engage with such people. He glanced at the grave keeper, having no desire for small talk, directly asking, “You know what we want, right?”
The grave keeper hurriedly nodded and respectfully handed a set of keys to Brendel; this was something Dian had arranged earlier. Though he didn’t know what this young noble wanted to use his house for, he at least recognized Dian, who had given him a large sum of money—that money, of course, could not possibly belong to Dian. He was well aware that in this place, one mustn’t ask too many questions; who knew what this noble intended to do? The more one knew, the more dangerous it became, not to mention that nobles often had peculiar tastes. He glanced at the two beautiful young ladies behind Brendel, his mind turning with unspeakable thoughts, yet he showed nothing on the surface.
For him, as long as he got the money, it was enough.
Freya watched the grave keeper leave, disappearing into the mist. She gripped her hands, tightening and then loosening several times. The greedy and filthy gaze he had cast upon her had thought she hadn’t seen it. Several times, she nearly burst out in anger, but she was no longer that young girl just out of Buche and unaware of the world; she managed to hold it in. Brendel shot her and Antinna an apologetic glance, and the anger in the hearts of the two ladies naturally dissipated.
The three entered the house—Dian and Little Finnis had self-consciously stood guard outside. While Brendel didn’t need to hide from Little Finnis, the latter understood he needed to stay and watch this young man. That was something Brendel had instructed him beforehand. Antinna entered each room first to inspect, trying to find traces of her parents’ past lives within this ancient dwelling, but she was destined to be disappointed. The rooms were filled with coffins and reeked of a nauseating odor. The aide moved from downstairs to upstairs and then back to the living room, her face looking incredibly pale, nearly retching.
“Is this the place?” Brendel noticed her expression and couldn’t help but ask with concern.
Antinna silently nodded.
“Can you confirm where it is?”
“Behind the house, there’s a black pine tree. If I’m not mistaken, it should be directly under that tree. There’s a small pond, so it shouldn’t have been designated as part of the cemetery. I remember my father telling me once that he met my mother at a ball in Baden, and their first date was at this place…” She looked around with disgust, “Of course, back then it was still a residential area, and not far away was the Buche River.”
“Then let’s hurry to the yard,” Freya replied, frowning, “I don’t want to stay here a second longer. This is disgusting; this guy turned the place where Antinna’s parents used to live into this—filthy!”
Brendel couldn’t help but smile wryly at this; this was probably what they called hatred toward things associated with their master. To him, this house didn’t seem that bad—after all, it was the grave keeper’s house, wasn’t it? That foul smell was merely the stench of decay and corpses. While the grave keeper might not be someone one could wish for, blaming this situation on him felt like an unjust punishment. But he wouldn’t dare say this in front of the two ladies, as he saw Antinna clearly express her gratitude with a glance at Freya.
It seemed that since they had cried in front of their mother, their relationship had grown closer.
Like the traditional structure in the Bruglas region, the kitchen led to the back door. Antinna led them to the backyard, and there indeed stood a tall black pine tree behind the house, but the pond from her memory had dried up. Luckily, the grave keeper had no intention of turning his backyard into a cemetery. The yard was still untouched. However, Antinna couldn’t determine the exact location where her father’s inheritance was buried under the black pine, so Brendel and Freya could only dig around the base of the tree. Fortunately, the grave keeper’s house had shovels, and the two of them had plenty of strength.
After one or two hours of digging, they found nothing at all. Antinna’s father seemed to have buried the items quite deep—either that or they guessed incorrectly, and the items simply weren’t there—or perhaps they had already been dug up. Regardless, the pit only got deeper, but the anticipated items were nowhere to be found. However, when Freya dug approximately two or three meters in a particular direction, suddenly, with a clang, her shovel struck something hard. She immediately realized she might have found something, stopped, and began to clear the soil from that spot. Indeed, buried beneath the soil was a rusted iron box.
The box wasn’t very large, about the size of a small suitcase. Freya quickly called Brendel and Antinna over, and the three of them worked together to dig the box out from the soil. After clearing the dirt from the box, they revealed a relief on the front of the box, showing a shield-shaped emblem divided into four quadrants. Two of the interlaced quadrants each contained a crescent moon. Upon seeing this emblem, Brendel couldn’t help but let out a quiet gasp. The crescent moon was the symbol of Erluin, and the royal emblem of Siphai bore a crescent moon set within a full moon on the shield. The Corvado family’s emblem was derived from the royal emblem of Siphai, featuring three crescent moons arranged diagonally on the shield. Essentially, any family crest with a crescent moon had some deep-rooted connection to the royal bloodline.
Brendel couldn’t help but glance at Antinna, surprised that her family had at least some distant connection to the royal family. However, his knowledge of heraldry was insufficient to recognize that this belonged to a royal relative.
“My father was from a noble family in Siphai, my lord…” Antinna had to explain quietly.
Brendel suddenly understood; it wasn’t surprising that the nobles of Siphai had some connection to the royal family. But this doubt flitted in and out of his mind. He quickly discarded the thought and looked at Antinna. At the moment, she was undoubtedly the most suitable person to open this box.
…
(PS: Two chapters are presented this weekend, hoping everyone enjoys reading. By the way, a request for monthly votes.)
