The Dungeon

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

After returning home, Paul recounted the events of the banquet to the stay-behind Cecil and the female advisor.

Cecil rubbed his chin and clicked his tongue, "Now the drunks in the tavern will have new topics to discuss. My lord, I guarantee that within three days, countless versions of the story about the Duke's succession will be circulating in the streets."

"Is it that exaggerated?"

"People have always enjoyed stories with a strong scent of conspiracy. Even if there's no real conspiracy or complexity, they'll add embellishments."

"Cecil, we need to strengthen our intelligence gathering on the Kent family in the future. They've shown hostility towards us before. Even if they don't trouble us in the future, we must remain vigilant. Once Maltz Kent becomes the Duke, his power will only grow."

"I understand, my lord."

Paul said, "If there's nothing else, let's head back tomorrow."

"Huh? My lord, there will be several days of martial arts tournaments in Sent City. Aren't you going to stay and watch?"

"I'm not interested in those things at all. Compared to the tournament, I'm more concerned about the expansion of the ironworks."

The female advisor was very supportive of Paul's decision. Perhaps due to her secret identity, once Ladia left Alden, she had felt a sense of insecurity.

Before dinner, Malon and Victor returned.

"It's strange!"

The Earl of Ganard spread his hands and said somewhat inexplicably, "At first, I was quite excited, but during one of the matches, I suddenly thought about how the knights strutting around the arena could be taken down with a single shot from an ordinary person's musket. The martial arts tournament immediately lost its appeal."

"Alright, Malon, let's head back together tomorrow!"

Everyone reached a consensus.

...

The dungeon in the Duke's mansion was a dark, cold, and damp place.

Especially in the deepest part of the dungeon, the air was foul, and a musty smell filled the air.

Only a few torches inserted into the walls emitted a little light and warmth.

Over the years, countless criminals and enemies of the Fraule family had been imprisoned here. Many had spent their final, miserable moments of life in this place.

Among them were innocent victims. If you listened carefully in the dungeon, you could hear murmurs, as if the souls of the wronged dead were wandering around, lamenting their misfortunes.

In this place, so quiet it could cause hallucinations, footsteps suddenly echoed.

A guard led an old man to the deepest cell door.

A figure lay behind the iron bars. Hearing someone approaching, he immediately sat up and peered outside.

The guard glanced at the figure in the cell and saluted him, "Viscount, your butler has come to see you."

The person imprisoned here was Viscount Henry, who had angered his brother, Duke Fraule, over the succession of the title. Although he was locked in the deepest part of the dungeon on the Duke's orders, the guards did not dare treat him as an ordinary prisoner.

After all, Henry was a member of the Fraule family, a viscount, and the Duke's brother. Though the Duke was currently furious and had imprisoned his brother, the guards dared not be disrespectful to Henry. If the brothers reconciled, they would certainly face severe consequences.

"Butler, you finally came~"

Inside, Henry wore a mournful expression, as if bearing immense grievances and resentment.

"Waaah, how can my brother treat me like this? I'm his own brother!"

As he spoke, Henry began to cry, tears and snot running down his face.

The butler sighed and comforted him, "Viscount, please don't be like this. I've already pleaded with the Duke on your behalf. Surely, he won't truly make things difficult for you."

"Really? You've seen my brother? What did he say?"

"The Duke said you still need to be locked up for two more days..."

Before the butler could finish, a series of urgent footsteps echoed from outside.

A stern-faced officer, dressed in military attire, stormed in, followed by two more guards. The guard who had brought the butler in immediately sensed trouble upon seeing his fellow guards' expressions.

Sure enough, the officer walked up to him and slapped him hard across the face.

A red handprint appeared on the guard's face as he covered it, lowering his head, waiting for his superior's reprimand.

The guard wasn't very familiar with this superior; the previous officer in charge of the dungeon had been transferred a few days ago, and this new officer had taken over. Rumor had it that he was closely connected with Earl Kent.

The officer yelled at the guard, "I just stepped out to relieve myself, and you guys can't even let me have a moment's peace. How dare you bring an outsider into the cell without my permission!"

The guard, feeling wronged, replied, "But sir, he's Viscount Henry's butler!"

The officer, his mustache bristling with anger, shouted, "That doesn't matter! No one is allowed in without my permission."

Although he was shouting at the guard, it was clear he was addressing everyone present.

The elderly butler quickly stepped forward to apologize, "Sir, please forgive me. I didn't know the rules here."

Viscount Henry, locked inside, looked bewildered and frightened.

The officer turned to the butler and said, "Mr. Butler, I'm not an unreasonable man, but rules are rules. You see..."

He glanced at the wooden box the butler was holding.

The butler immediately presented the box with both hands, "Oh, this is food for the Viscount. I was afraid he wouldn't be able to stomach the prison food. Please, check it."

"Well, excuse me then."

The officer wasted no time and opened the box, meticulously inspecting each item.

The box indeed contained only food, so he handed it back to the butler.

"Deliver the items, say a few words, and leave. Visits are time-limited, and the Viscount is no exception."

"Yes, yes. I'll leave right away."

The butler agreed wholeheartedly, handed the box to Viscount Henry through the bars, gave a few words of advice about taking care of his health, and then prepared to leave.

Before leaving, he took out a small bag and handed it to the officer who had been watching them.

"Sir, please take good care of Viscount Henry in the future."

The officer weighed the bag, which made a pleasant jingling sound, and a slight smile appeared on his previously stern face.

"Of course, I'll take good care of the Duke's brother."

Then he escorted the butler out.

From behind, Viscount Henry's tearful voice called out, "Butler, you must persuade my brother again! He was cared for by you when he was young, he will listen to you."

The footsteps grew fainter until they disappeared completely.

Viscount Henry opened the wooden box but didn't start eating immediately. Instead, he broke open each piece of bread.

In the third piece of bread, he found a small rolled-up piece of paper.

"Just as I thought..."

The Viscount muttered to himself as he took out the small piece of paper.

His previously pitiful expression vanished.

"Hmph, my dear brother. I thought you had forgotten what the deepest part of this dungeon was used for. But it seems you remember."

(End of the Chapter)