The dying rays of the setting sun dyed the relatively quiet residential district outside Carnford Tunbao's eastern gate a warm orange-red.
Carrying an old leather bag containing a few documents and that day's rationed bread, Albert strolled leisurely along the familiar gravel path toward his home. His steps were neither hurried nor slow, carrying the calm resignation of a man who had accepted his lot, along with a faint weariness.
It was a two-story stone-and-timber house with a small yard, plain in appearance but sturdy, one of the residences the Lord's Residence allocated to officials of a certain rank.
To Albert, this house was far narrower and humbler than his former residence in the Royal Capital. But after a string of upheavals and wandering before finally settling in Carnford, it had become a rare haven where he could catch his breath for a while.
He had tended the yard with care, planting a few cold-resistant shrubs. Though winter had left them with nothing but withered branches, one could still see the thought their owner had put into them.
He was no longer the royal chief steward he had once been, and even if he were, it would have been useless. After all, Karl was now beyond even the Empress Dowager's control, let alone that of a mere butler like him.
Karl had treated him fairly well, arranging a sinecure for him. Every day, he only had to sit around at his workplace, handle a few inconsequential matters, then go home to eat and sleep. It would be even better if he could bring his family over.
He took out a brass key and opened the heavy oak door. A familiar scent rushed over him—a blend of old books, wood wax, and the faint smell of food.
Albert casually hung his