That night, under Jinnie's knife-sharp gaze and merciless scolding, Tales struggled to finish a highly regimented dinner, along with a dull but unavoidable etiquette lesson—after all, etiquette, as a code of conduct, was also one of the standards by which social classes were divided. At least he could now use his knife and fork according to the rules, even if his hands were trembling.
But Tales could feel the anger and dissatisfaction hidden beneath Jinnie's beautiful eyes. He faintly sensed that it was related to the history of the Star Kingdom Gilbert had recounted that afternoon.
If the Star Kingdom endured, the Empire would last forever.
Even to someone like Tales, who knew little of Tomond I's legendary founding of the kingdom, this weighty oath still made his heart race and his blood boil.
Gilbert and the guards filling the hall—Tales learned later that they were all descendants of the remnants of the Final Empire—were representatives of that belief.
Yet Tales keenly sensed Jinnie's disgust toward those words, and even toward the meaning behind them.
But he did not dare ask.
He did not know what attitude this Female Official, who claimed to be his father's lover, held toward him.
In Jinnie's gaze, Tales had seen fleeting disgust, reluctant endurance, and repeated hesitation whenever she approached him. What he had never seen was a sincere smile.
Thus, the entire etiquette lesson was exceptionally dreary.
Only when Jinnie, her eyes burning into him, unexpectedly broke the silence first:
"You don't like these rules and etiquette, do you?" Watching Tales struggle to bend his wrist so it would not cross the standard line for arm movement during meals, Jinnie suddenly said coldly, "Your expression looks worse than a horse that has just been bridled."
Tales was startled by the sudden question. Flustered, he did his best to answer properly. "Uh, Lady Jinnie, I know these things are necessary. I'm still trying to adapt..."
But Jinnie interrupted him again.
"Of course you must learn this etiquette." Her tone was cold, filled with disdain that bordered on mockery.
"But you'd better not become its prisoner... Walking, sitting, and lying down with so-called noble bearing doesn't mean you're truly noble."
"Likewise, bearing those glorious and proud histories doesn't mean you really..."
Jinnie did not continue. She subconsciously bit down on the rest of her sentence.
Tales's heart tightened.
It seemed this lady had a different opinion of Gilbert's teachings?
"Lady Jinnie," he carefully probed, "Gilbert's history lesson this afternoon... You... you seemed not... not..."
"Hmph. What a joke. That was their great and ancient kingdom... How would I dare have any opinion?" Jinnie snorted and denied what Tales had said, but he clearly read the mockery and sarcasm in the Female Official's eyes.
Tales stared at Jinnie, his father's lover.
"Lady Jinnie," he said softly and cautiously, "you weren't a court Female Official in my father's—"
Jinnie raised her brows, and the beauty mark beside her lips trembled slightly.
"And you... don't like this etiquette, these rules, or even..." Tales hesitated, but after glancing at the knife and fork in his hands, he asked anyway, "You don't like this country?"
The words fell.
Jinnie stared blankly at Tales.
This child.
He's truly sensitive.
Jinnie turned her head and looked at the Gold and Silver Nine-Pointed Star above the fireplace in the study. For a long time, she said nothing.
Just as Tales stuck out his tongue, thinking he had asked the wrong question and preparing to lower his head and resume battling his knife and fork as if nothing had happened, Jinnie sighed. Gazing absently at the utensils in his hands, she spoke softly:
"I was born in Buckweir City, Shude County. It was a small coastal city in the eastern part of the kingdom. It wasn't some prosperous trading port, but it could sustain itself through fishing. It was considered a decent place in the Star Kingdom."
"The city lord was my father, and he had some renown in the eastern counties. He had always strictly trained us to follow the rules, observe etiquette, and become ladies. He hoped that one day our family could also become an old and distinguished house with a long heritage."
Tales's expression grew solemn. Taking advantage of Jinnie's inattention, he quietly moved his stiff wrist.
"But I happened to be a rebellious daughter who refused to obey. I had hated these rules and this etiquette since childhood."
"By the time I was sixteen and nearly an adult, I couldn't even dance the court ballroom dances. I ate crudely and spoke without restraint. I was a wild girl." Beneath the lamplight, Jinnie smiled bitterly and looked at the moon outside the window, but her voice was full of nostalgia:
"My father naturally wouldn't let me run wild—anyway, that memory wasn't pleasant. Things became rather ugly. The family intended to strip me of my status and inheritance rights and send me to a temple to become a priestess."
Tales stuck out his tongue where she could not see it. He knew that priests and priestesses in ordinary temples swore never to marry and served the Gods for life.
If matters had reached that point, things had probably been more than "rather ugly."
Jinnie lowered her head slightly, her gaze dimming, but then she lifted it and revealed a delighted smile.
"But just then, a Prince came to visit our castle."
"What?"
Tales, who had been exercising his wrist, stopped.
A Prince?
This isn't going to be one of those melodramatic stories I'm thinking of, is it?
Jinnie continued:
"He heard my story, but merely threw his head back and laughed."
"His Highness pardoned my crimes in public and promised that I would not have to follow the rules and etiquette that ordinary noble girls were required to observe. But on the condition that, after reaching adulthood, I had to find a way to support myself apart from my identity as a nobleman's daughter."
This really is melodramatic, isn't it?
But Tales was also puzzled. Wasn't the Prince's way of thinking a little too advanced—too progressive, if one put it that way?
Jinnie seemed to be speaking to herself. The corners of her lips curved up slightly, and she paid no attention to Tales's reaction.
"Thus, I left my family's castle and followed that Prince to the Royal Capital."
"From reading the court newspapers to His Highness every day, to becoming an overworked clerk in the document archives, to a copyist earning one copper coin per page, to a secretary at Vigilant Hall, and finally passing the examination to become a Fifth-Level Alert Officer... My life was completely changed because of him."
Tales froze for a moment. In his impression, Jinnie was a standard court noblewoman. He had never imagined that she had such a rich and colorful past.
"Yet after wandering for years, I ultimately still became a court Female Official." Jinnie shook her head with self-mockery.
"Look at me—a disgrace to the nobility who hates etiquette and rules—and now I stand here teaching the heir to the kingdom, teaching him the etiquette I hated most back then."
After Jinnie finished speaking, her gaze returned directly to the dining table, fixing on Tales—his knife had fallen again.
Tales gave an embarrassed chuckle.
Then he asked a question that even he found somewhat melodramatic:
"That kind Prince... was Kay—was he my father?"
Your father?
Jinnie's gaze grew somewhat blurred in an instant.
But Tales did not receive the answer he had expected.
The court Female Official merely turned her head toward him, her face deep and complex, impossible to read.
"No, it wasn't him." Jinnie spoke softly.
"I still remember the smile on His Highness's face when he pardoned me—a girl in shackles, filthy from head to toe, crying and making a scene."
"That warm, tolerant, sunny smile. It was as if he felt every beautiful thing in the world at every moment. No ugliness or filth could move him."
"Your father, Kessel, was still a spoiled Prince notorious for his arrogance and insolence back then. His face was always twisted in a wicked smile that made young ladies panic—not a reassuring smile like that."
Tales stared at Jinnie in astonishment.
King Kessel—arrogant, insolent, a spoiled Prince?
He saw Jinnie's eyes flicker, as though they held boundless gratitude and wistfulness. Then she slowly spoke each word:
"That day, the person who came to our castle was the Former King's eldest son."
"His Majesty Kessel's elder brother, Midir the Brightstar—the former Prince Imperial."
"So, the so-called three experts we thought had come to help us because the Corleone Family was honoring its agreement..." Duke Jann frowned, set down a letter sealed with a black fang emblem, and folded his hands beneath the Tricolor Iris.
"They were nothing more than losers in an internal clan struggle."
"They used the Corleone Family's name, our invitation, our long-distance vessel, and our customs clearance permits to treat the Cavendil Family like fools. They crossed the Ending Sea, escaped the Hill of Suffering, hid in Everstar City, stayed in our manor for so long, and even took quite a lot of blood..."
"Is that so?"
The Extreme Realm Knight standing before his desk, Lord Cassian and Lord Seychelles, said nothing. They merely looked at the sweating, kneeling, middle-aged bald man between them with complicated expressions.
Cassian remembered that the bald middle-aged man had come under the Old Duke at the same time as him, serving the Cavendil Family's Tricolor Iris.
Unfortunately, the man's skills had been inadequate. After being severely wounded in battle, he could only handle clerical affairs. Even so, the Old Duke had pitied his circumstances and entrusted him with the management of the family's long-distance voyages.
What was his name again? Cassian searched his memory desperately, but could not recall it.
"Yes... yes... They displayed the Holy Blood Emblem that only direct descendants of the Corleone Family possess. The blond one also threatened us in an extremely hostile manner..." The kneeling middle-aged man nearly pressed his head to the floor as he stammered his explanation.
"They also had that letter of yours... your own handwritten letter..."
"Enough." Duke Jann sighed and rubbed his brow. Beside him, his butler Ashford immediately and knowingly poured a cup of fine wine produced in the Serra Duchy.
Jann forced an apologetic smile. "This wasn't your fault. Leave, and remember to be more cautious next time."
The bald middle-aged man was overjoyed as if pardoned from death. He kept nodding and apologizing, and only withdrew from the study trembling after Seychelles urged him on.
"He used to be talented, but he's useless now." Jann spoke with regret as he lifted his wineglass. "Send him to the Eastern Continent once more. Dispose of him on the high seas."
"Don't do it within the kingdom or its territorial waters. I have no desire to commit murder."
Cassian's heart stirred when he heard this.
"Your Grace," he spoke up reluctantly, "if you kept him, surely he would devote himself even more wholeheartedly afterward..."
Cassian did not notice the signal Seychelles was giving him from the side.
"Ordinary affairs can be overlooked, but I don't want mistakes in matters involving critical secrets." Duke Jann sighed. "He has already made one mistake. It has left a grudge and a shadow in his heart. In particular, his doubts about his future will only deepen with time."
"And he knows about our contact with the Corleone Family. That concerns the plan."
"You all know how important that plan is."
Cassian finally noticed Seychelles's signal. He lowered his head and said no more.
"Find someone new for the next voyage." Duke Jann took a disappointed sip of wine. "When Father was still alive, they handled matters far less carelessly."
Ashford answered calmly, "Loyalty and caution both require time to mature."
Jann shook his head and sighed. "Unfortunately, time is exactly what we lack. That matter will take place within a month, and our people cannot participate. We must avoid any accidents."
Seychelles nodded slightly. "Rest assured, Your Grace. The Mercenaries hired at such a great price will have a sufficient chance even if they are assassinating His Majesty."
Lord Cassian trembled slightly, not understanding why his colleague dared to make such a reckless statement.
Jann paused. Only after a moment did he turn his gaze to Seychelles.
"Don't speak carelessly," the Young Duke said coldly.
Seychelles lowered his head in apology, but secretly sneered.
It seems the Duke isn't displeased at all.
"You should depart. The Kulen Family and the South Trist Family will both send people. At this juncture, don't come into conflict with them."
Jann's gaze was icy as he cautiously addressed Cassian and Seychelles. "Once those Mercenaries succeed, dispose of the people who carry it out."
Cassian jolted violently and raised his head in disbelief. "Your Grace! Dispose of them? Didn't we hire them under another name? They... some of them are my—at Terminus Tower..."
Jann suddenly looked toward him.
His gaze was like a sword.
Cassian's throat spasmed. This Extreme Realm Knight could not utter the rest of his words.
"Then persuade your friends to withdraw," Jann said calmly. But Ashford knew that this was the true sign of his displeasure. "Send someone who isn't your friend instead."
Seychelles abruptly tugged the back of Cassian's clothes, forcing the rest of his words back down his throat.
"As you wish, Your Grace." The shrewd Seychelles nodded, pulled the grim-faced Cassian along, and departed with his orders.
Jann slowly exhaled, calming himself as he looked toward the Old Duke's portrait in the distance.
"Cassian is old."
He spoke indifferently.
"After this matter is over, send him back to Emerald City, or to his own territory."
Ashford remained calm and nodded slightly.
"As for the Corleone refugees, Ashford, handle it personally. Start with the cavalry that suddenly broke into Weed Manor that night." Jann poured out the red wine remaining in his glass, his eyes cold. "Contact the Corleone Family—write directly to the Nightveil Queen herself—and tell Kotrina what happened here. Increase our leverage when the opportunity arises."
Ashford nodded. "As you wish."
"The probe at Mindis Hall was assigned to the Blood Bottle Gang, wasn't it? Have they still not found Nekla?" Jann narrowed his eyes as he looked at Ashford.
"No, Your Grace." Ashford bowed slightly. "The Blood Bottle Gang is currently leaderless and in chaos. There are rumors that he went abroad to search for the Blood Elementalist."
The Blood Elementalist?
Jann squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled through his nose.
The education he had received forced him to swallow the crude but desperately desired words.
"There's no other way. Send our own people to take control of the Blood Bottle Gang." Duke Jann opened his eyes. His pupils held no emotion as he set down his wineglass.
"Within these two months, I want control of every rumor and piece of information on the Blood Bottle Gang's territory, from commoners to soldiers, and nobles to merchants."
Ashford nodded gently.
"The messenger sent to Exeter should be returning soon. Let's see whether Grand Duke Black Sand is willing to seize this opportunity." Jann leaned back into his comfortable recliner and narrowed his eyes.
Just wait, Father.
The Tricolor Iris will soon advance another step.
If all goes smoothly.
A word about something.
Wu Jian has a bad habit of uploading chapters first, then browsing through them carefully again and again on the reader interface. This is more efficient; I can't make out a thing on the writing page. I then review and revise them, sometimes even making major revisions.
So, esteemed readers who see an update, check the time first. If the update was posted within twenty minutes, Wu Jian is very likely still holding a notebook and revising it. The entire chapter will be modified in the backend later. Don't rush. Wait a while, and look again after half an hour. That will be the final version.
So at times like this, all you need to do is smile.
Don't be impatient. If you happen to read a draft and get poisoned to death by typos, flawed logic, and terrible plot, wouldn't that be Wu Jian's fault??
P.S. Recently, I have been hesitating over several major plot points and particularly need feedback from my readers.