Is this considered a former residence?

Gawain didn't rush the group's pace, guessing that the reception staff would need time to prepare the Crown Street residence for its master's arrival. He didn't want to make things difficult for the staff who were just following orders. Even so, by the time they reached Crown Street after taking a leisurely half-circle around the city, they saw people in servant uniforms rushing in and out, sweating profusely.

Still, their preparations were almost complete.

A tall, thin, middle-aged man with a white wig and a black bow tie, resembling a butler, came out of the mansion and bowed before Gawain's horse. "My lord, your residence is ready. I am James Blaine, currently in charge of managing this property. It is my honor to serve as your butler during your stay in the capital."

"Blaine... that surname rings a bell," Gawain mused, searching his memory, and then said with a smile, "Ah, yes, Holly Blaine. He was a young attendant by Charles' side back then. Charles even gave him the surname Blaine."

The middle-aged man, who introduced himself as James Blaine, showed a hint of surprise. Anyone fortunate enough to interact with an ancient figure, especially one who knew their ancestor, would likely feel the same astonishment. "Yes... yes, Holly Blaine is indeed my ancestor. Our family has served as royal attendants for generations, and the royal family's direct properties in the capital have always been managed by members of the Blaine family..."

Gawain chuckled, "Indeed, my house is now a royal property."

James Blaine broke out in a cold sweat. The awkwardness of that topic was unmatched in the capital that day. It was like being tied to a chair and forced to read aloud your teenage angsty poetry written in your diary.

However, Gawain was just teasing him and quickly moved on. "No need to go to so much trouble. I won't be staying long."

James Blaine straightened up. "I have received my orders and will do my utmost to serve you. It is our responsibility to ensure the residence is properly prepared."

"Like clearing out the ticket sellers at the entrance and the tour guides inside?"

"...Huh?"

Communicating with people from other worlds is so troublesome; they don't get the jokes.

Gawain waved his hand dismissively, slightly bored. He dismounted, handed the reins to a waiting attendant, and then led his N+1th generation great-granddaughter and a large entourage into the ancient mansion, which was seven hundred years old.

It was true, as the court official had said earlier. The historic and meaningful residences on Crown Street had not only been preserved but also maintained their original appearance through continuous repairs. Seven hundred years is a long time; even with unscientific things like magic, many things should have decayed by now. Therefore, Gawain was almost certain that at least half of the items here were no longer original, merely resembling them. But he didn't care about such things himself—he wasn't the real Gawain Cecil.

They passed through a small garden and a front courtyard, then a short corridor, leading into the main hall. As the residence of the founding Grand Duke, Number 4 Crown Street was rather modest. Any family capable of owning property in the capital could build a house twice its size within the city. Thus, Amber muttered as soon as she entered, "This is it? It's much smaller than I expected..."

"This was built seven hundred years ago," Gawain glanced at the half-elf. "Even Silver Castle back then was only slightly larger than this."

"I think it's quite nice..." Rebecca said softly. "The castle I live in, apart from its massive foundation, isn't as good as this in other aspects..."

Amber rolled her eyes at her. "Of course, you're almost bankrupt."

"No fireballs allowed here," Gawain casually put his hands on Rebecca and Amber's heads. "And you, behave yourself. Don't get too cocky just because you're good at escaping. If you ever encounter a Shadow Master, you'll probably die on the spot."

After arranging for Knight Byron and the soldiers to settle down with the attendants, and assigning Betty to help prepare dinner in the kitchen (the young girl's frying pan would finally be put to good use), Gawain began pacing around the main hall.

"They really kept everything..."

After circling twice, Gawain murmured softly. Memories flooded his mind, correlating with everything he saw before him. Although many of the items were no longer original, the sense of familiarity from his memories made him sigh in wonder.

Rebecca followed Gawain, looking at the furnishings in the main hall with curiosity and a touch of complex emotion. The original pioneers all had descendants, and many of their children now lived on Crown Street. Yet, she, a descendant of the greatest among the pioneers and the current head of the Cecil family, only now knew what the house of her ancestor looked like.

She had only seen descriptions of many things here in the family books, such as an ancient battle axe hanging on the wall of the main hall.

"I won this from Charles during a sword-fighting match back then. It's not a divine weapon or anything, just an orcish battle axe," Gawain said, pointing to the axe on the wall while searching his memory. "I don't know how those shorties developed, they only reach my waist, but they have immense strength. Such a large axe would be heavy for human soldiers, but they could swing two at a time like the wind."

Rebecca, however, noticed the name Gawain mentioned. "Charles... you mean the founding monarch Charles?"

"Charles Moen, the one they call Charles I today. Who else would it be?" Gawain smiled. "He's the only Charles I mention."

Even though he was just inhabiting Gawain Cecil's body, this feeling of bragging in the first person was truly amazing.jpg.

However, Gawain wasn't just bragging; he genuinely needed to familiarize himself with his current identity in many situations. For a considerable time to come, the identity of Gawain Cecil would clearly be very useful.

Amber, on the other hand, was not interested in things like family history or kingdom secrets. After circling the hall and considering how badly Gawain would beat her if she stole anything, the professional but life-loving half-elf sat on the sofa, swinging her legs and looking around. "By the way, are you insisting on coming here to sort through and pack things up to take away? After all, your descendants have almost squandered the family fortune. Opportunities like today, where you find an excuse to move things, are rare..."

Gawain stared, dumbfounded. "Where did you get that idea?"

Amber said triumphantly, "Don't be shy. It's a normal train of thought. If you're worried about carrying too much, you can give it to me. I'll help you take it out, and no one will notice—with my skills, I could clear this place out in about three trips to the market..."

This kind of thief casually discussing how to steal things with the original owner was truly a rare breed. Miss Amber was not only the disgrace of the elves but had now become the disgrace of thieves...

Evolving from the disgrace of a race to the disgrace of a profession, it felt like an incredible achievement.

"Save it. If I really wanted to take anything, I wouldn't need your help," Gawain waved his hand, interrupting Amber's unrealistic thoughts. "Francis II, no matter how foolish he is, wouldn't haggle over such matters."

Amber blinked. "Well, that's true. Most of the things in this house aren't really valuable anyway; they're mostly replicas. Only that axe and the vase by the door are real... Oh, the vase is fake too."

My goodness, how long did this girl take to appraise everything here?!

If you had this ability, could you spare a little energy to manage your loose mouth and build up your courage?

Seeing that no one was paying attention to her, Amber swung her legs for a while before finding a new topic. "By the way, why did you drag me here? I'm not your family's knight, nor a soldier. I'm just a passing thief. How can I help you?"

"First, you dug up my grave. Although you claim you went in for shelter, according to kingdom law, it's still a crime punishable by hanging. As the victim, I've pardoned you. Don't you feel obligated and necessary to help me with something?" Gawain looked at Amber. "Second, I actually value your abilities—not your thieving skills, of course, but your talent as a stealth operative. This is the capital, and who knows how many people are watching this place with various intentions, watching every one of us. Byron is a knight who is only good at frontal combat, Rebecca only knows Fireball Spell, and I haven't fully recovered my strength yet. So, I do need you, a skilled Shadow Master. Are you satisfied with this answer, Miss Amber?"

Gawain's tone became serious in the latter half of his sentence, and Amber was also influenced by this serious tone, her expression momentarily dazed.

She really hadn't expected Gawain to speak to her so solemnly. As a petty thief, a rogue with a natural -1 reputation with all nobles, she would never have imagined being so solemnly requested by a noble.

And the person was that legendary Grand Duke Cecil.

She could brag about this for half a year later!

"You... since you've put it that way, I'll help," the half-elf said, turning her face away slightly, feeling a bit unnatural. "But praise me a few more times—especially the part about skilled Shadow Master. If you say it a couple more times, I won't ask for money..."

Gawain turned to look at Rebecca. "Can you control your Fireball Spell to the point where it just splatters on someone's face without killing them?"

Amber: "?!"

However, Amber did not get to experience the fireball facial treatment because the butler from the Blaine family appeared.

"My lord, a visitor," James bowed slightly, with proper etiquette. "Prince Edmund is here."