Gawain did not have the group move too quickly. He could guess that the reception staff would need to scramble to prepare Number 4 Crown Street for its owner's arrival, and he had no intention of making things overly difficult for employees who were merely following orders. Yet even after leading the group on a leisurely half-circle around the streets, he still found several servants in uniform running in and out of the residence, drenched in sweat, when they arrived at Number 4 Crown Street.
Still, their preparations were more or less complete.
A tall, thin, middle-aged man who looked like a butler emerged from the manor, wearing a white wig and a black bow tie. He bowed before Gawain's horse. "My lord, your residence is ready. I am James Blaine, currently responsible for managing this property. During your stay in the royal capital, it will be my honor to serve as your butler."
"Blaine... I remember that surname," Gawain said with a smile after thinking for a moment and searching his memories. "Ah, right. Holly Blaine, Charlie's young attendant back then. Charlie was the one who gave him the surname Blaine."
The middle-aged man calling himself James Blaine looked somewhat astonished. Anyone fortunate enough to deal with an ancient figure—especially one who had known their ancestor—would probably feel the same surprise. "Y-yes, Holly Blaine was indeed my ancestor. Our family has served as royal attendants for generations, and the royal family's directly managed properties in the capital have always been cared for by members of the Blaine family..."
Gawain chuckled. "Yes, this house of mine is royal property now."
James Blaine immediately broke into a cold sweat. The awkwardness of that topic was surely unmatched anywhere in the capital today. It was like being tied to a chair while someone recited, right in front of you, the angsty adolescent writing you had posted online at fourteen...
But Gawain was only joking, and he soon let the matter drop. "Tell everyone not to go through so much trouble. I won't be staying long."
James Blaine straightened his back. "I was ordered to serve you with all my heart. It is our responsibility to have the residence properly prepared."
"Such as clearing out the ticket sellers at the entrance and the tour guides inside first?"
"...Pardon?"
Communicating with people from another world was such a pain. None of them got his references.
Somewhat deflated, Gawain waved a hand, dismounted, and handed the reins to the servant who had long been waiting nearby. Then he led his N-plus-one-times-great-granddaughter and the rest of the group into the ancient residence, which had already stood for seven hundred years.
It was indeed as the court official had said before: these historic and significant residences on Crown Street had not only been preserved, but continuously repaired to maintain their original appearance. Over seven hundred years, even with something as unscientific as magic, many things should have long since rotted away. Gawain could therefore be almost certain that at least half the objects here were no longer the originals from back then, merely similar replacements. But he did not care much about that anyway—he was not the real Gawain Cecil.
They crossed a small garden and front courtyard, passed through a short corridor, and entered the main hall. For the residence of a Founding Grand Duke, Number 4 Crown Street was truly rather shabby. Almost any family capable of owning property in the royal capital could build a house within the city twice as large as this one. The moment Amber stepped inside, she muttered, "This is it? It's way worse than I imagined..."
"This was built seven hundred years ago," Gawain said, glancing at the Half-elf. "Back then, Silver Castle was only a little bigger than this."
"I think it's quite nice..." Rebecca said softly. "Aside from having a huge foundation, the castle I live in seems worse than this in every other respect..."
Amber shot her a look. "Of course. You people have nearly squandered your entire family fortune."
"Don't throw Fireball Spells in here." Gawain casually pressed down on both Rebecca's and Amber's heads. "And you, behave yourself. Don't keep acting up just because you're so good at escaping. One day, if you really run into a Shadow Master, you'll probably die on the spot."
After having Knight Byron and the soldiers settle down to rest under the servants' guidance, he arranged for Betty to help prepare dinner in the kitchen—the young girl's frying pan could finally be put to use. Then Gawain began pacing around the main hall.
"They really did preserve all of it..."
After making two rounds, Gawain sighed softly. Memories continued to surface in his mind, matching each object before his eyes. Although many things were no longer their original counterparts from back then, the familiarity born of those memories still made him sigh.
Rebecca followed Gawain as he walked in circles, gazing curiously and with a trace of complicated emotion at the furnishings in the hall. The first generation of pioneers had all left descendants, and many of those descendants now even lived on Crown Street. Yet she, the descendant of the greatest among the pioneers and the current head of the Cecil Family, had not known until today what the house her ancestor once lived in looked like.
Many of the things here she had only ever seen described in family records, such as the ancient battle axe hanging on the wall of the main hall.
"I won this from Charlie when we competed in swordsmanship. It wasn't some divine weapon, really, just a dwarven battle axe," Gawain said casually, pointing at the axe on the wall while searching through his memories. "I have no idea how those little stumps grew up. Every one of them only came up to my waist, yet they had absurd strength. An axe that large would feel heavy even to a human soldier, but they could wield one in each hand as though they were wind."
But Rebecca noticed the name Gawain had mentioned. "Charlie... Could that be Founding Ancestor Charlie?"
"Charlie Moen, the man called Charles I today. Who else could it be?" Gawain smiled. "The only Charlie I ever mention is him."
Even though he was only wearing Gawain Cecil's shell, this feeling of bragging in the first person was really damn satisfying.jpg.
But Gawain was not acting that way merely for the sake of first-person bragging. He truly needed to get used to inhabiting this identity in many situations—over what was certain to be a long period of time, the identity of Gawain Cecil would clearly be extremely useful.
Amber, on the other hand, had no interest in matters such as family history or kingdom secrets. After making a circuit of the hall and weighing what kind of beating Gawain would give her if she stole something here, the professionally minded but life-loving Half-elf lady sat down on the sofa. She swung her feet and looked around. "Say, did you insist on coming here because you wanted to pack up the stuff here and take it away? Your descendants have nearly squandered the family fortune, after all. Opportunities to use an excuse like today's to move things out don't come often..."
Gawain stared at her in astonishment. "Where did that line of thought come from?"
Amber looked smug. "Don't be embarrassed. It's perfectly normal thinking. If you're worried there's too much stuff to sneak out, leave it to me. I can get it out without anyone noticing. With my skills, give me three trips out to buy groceries and I could practically clear this whole place out..."
A thief who openly discussed how to steal things out with the original owner really was a rare breed. Amber was no longer merely the Disgrace of Elves. She had even become the disgrace of thieves...
Going from the disgrace of a race to the disgrace of a profession felt like quite the remarkable achievement.
"Save it. If I really wanted to take something away, I wouldn't need your help," Gawain said, waving a hand to interrupt Amber's impractical thoughts. "No matter how muddleheaded Francis II is, he wouldn't haggle over something like this."
Amber blinked. "All right, fair enough. Most of the things in this house really aren't worth much anyway. They're mostly replicas. Only that axe and the vase by the entrance are real... Oh, the vase is fake too."
Good lord, how long had it been? This girl had already appraised everything in the place?!
Couldn't you spare a little of that talent to manage that loose mouth of yours, and maybe build up some courage while you were at it?
Seeing that no one was willing to pay attention to her, Amber swung her legs for a while before finding another topic. "Say, why did you insist on dragging me here? I'm not one of your family's knights, and I'm not a soldier either. I'm just a passing little thief. What can I do for you?"
"First, you dug up my grave. You said you entered it to take shelter, but under kingdom law, that is still a hanging offense. As the person involved, I pardoned you. Don't you think you have both the duty and the need to do something for me?" Gawain looked at Amber. "Second, I truly value your abilities—not your talent for stealing things, but your gift as a Stealth Expert. This is the royal capital. Who knows how many people are watching this place, watching every one of us, for all kinds of reasons. Byron is a knight who only excels at fighting head-on, Rebecca only knows Fireball Spells, and I have yet to fully recover my strength. So I do need you, a highly skilled Shadow Master. Are you satisfied with that answer, Miss Amber?"
The tone of the latter half of Gawain's words had become serious, and Amber was affected by that seriousness. Her expression went blank for a moment.
She had never expected Gawain to speak to her so solemnly. As a petty thief, a rogue with an innate reputation penalty of minus one with every noble, she could never have imagined that a noble would earnestly ask for her help like this.
And he was the legendary Grand Duke Cecil.
She could brag about this for half a year!
"Y-you put it that way, so I'll help," the Half-elf lady said, turning her face aside somewhat awkwardly. "But praise me a few more times, will you? The part about Shadow Master and highly skilled. Say it two more times, and I won't ask you for money..."
Gawain turned to Rebecca. "Can you control a Fireball Spell precisely enough to plaster it onto someone's face without killing them?"
Amber: "?!"
But Amber did not receive the treatment of having a Fireball Spell plastered onto her face, because the butler from the Blaine family appeared.
"My lord, you have a visitor." James gave a polite, slight bow. "Prince Edmund has come to call."
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