Brothers

As the two were talking, Renard had already recovered from his fear. Relief spread across his face as he said, "That old man's presence is so imposing. I wonder when he'll advance to the realm of a Legendary Warrior."

Hearing this incredibly disrespectful remark, Selina playfully stuck out her tongue, then promptly flattered him. "If you're willing to work hard, Young Master, you'll surely reach the realm of a Legendary Warrior. You might even become an Epic Warrior."

Renard was very pleased with the flattery. He put an arm around her and planted two hearty kisses on her cheek. "If that day really comes, I'll make sure to marry you in grand style, Selina."

What young woman didn't dream of love? At his words, a blush rose on Selina's face, but then she seemed a little uncertain.

Oblivious as ever, Renard didn't notice her changing expression. Having stolen a kiss from a beautiful girl, he wore an impossibly bright smile.

In his twenty-eight years of being single, this was his first time getting so close to a beautiful woman. Of course he was excited. But when the corner of his eye caught the bowl of minced-meat soup and two slightly over-toasted slices of white bread on the tray, his spirits sank again.

In an era like the Middle Ages on Earth, there was no point hoping for stir-fried dishes. The nobles at least had milk, roast meat, smoked sausages, and white bread to enjoy, while commoners had to make do with rye bread every day—and there was never enough to fill them.

The thought of a group of gaunt people staring hungrily at a single loaf of rye bread made Renard shudder. He was glad he'd made the right choice.

Although the body's original owner was merely the son of a down-and-out noble, his status and standard of living were still countless times higher than those of commoners.

He wolfed down the soup and bread. As his stomach filled, his mood gradually improved. The soup was generously seasoned, though the pepper was a little too strong. "I'll have to give the cook some lessons myself when I get the chance."

After eating his fill, Renard lay back on the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. It was probably a common affliction among transmigrators: they needed plenty of time to calm down and adjust to their new identities.

Selina cleared away the tray. After making sure no one was around, she quietly pulled several long, thick objects from beneath her skirt and presented them to him like a treasured gift. "Young Master, look."

Cigars? At the sight of them, Renard's joy was beyond words.

Leaning against a soft pillow, he held a glass of wine in one hand and a cigar between his lips. His thoughts began to wander. This place is practically heaven.

Selina sat beside the bed and gently massaged his legs as she chatted about recent happenings at Saint Brieuc Fortress.

"More than ten days ago, Sir Bruce's dog ran off and bit Sir Adrian. The two of them took the matter to city hall, and it still hasn't been settled."

"Eight days ago, a powerful mercenary company passed through here. I heard they were going to the Ambrisset Mountains to hunt monsters. Their brigade commander was a fierce-looking man with a big beard. Mr. Wilson said he was an Intermediate Battle Qi Warrior."

"That afternoon, a sizable merchant caravan came here to buy goods from the adventurers. They were very generous. Lord Baron sold off all the furs he'd kept in storage over the years. I heard he made dozens of gold coins."

At that, Renard sat up straight. The third piece of news had caught his interest. As a fine young man of the modern era, he knew just how important money was.

He took a deep drag on his cigar and said with interest, "Hmm. I'll have to shake the old man down when I get the chance."

He'd inherited Scum Renard's memories, so he was bound to share many of his traits. Being fond of money was one of them.

Selina took this in stride and continued unhurriedly. "Five days ago, Young Master Gilbert came back from the Royal Capital Academy. He got an excellent rating on his year-end assessment, and Lord Baron is planning a grand celebration for Christmas."

Gilbert? Renard's smile instantly vanished at the name. From Scum Renard's memories, he knew that Young Master Gilbert was no good.

Of course, in all of Saint Brieuc Fortress, only a small group led by Renard saw him that way.

Gilbert was Renard's younger brother—or, more accurately, an illegitimate son with no recognized status.

His mother, Miss Florence, was a socialite who often mingled at noble balls. Through dishonorable means, she had attached herself to Baron Hamilton and borne him a son: Gilbert.

The woman was cunning and ambitious, always thinking about getting her hands on Hamilton's estate.

If Noble Law hadn't clearly stipulated that only a Legitimate Son could inherit the title, Gilbert would likely already have been Saint Brieuc Fortress's heir apparent.

Like his mother, the illegitimate son was skilled at disguising his true nature.

To his teachers, he was a clever and considerate student. To his father, a well-behaved and obedient child. To his subjects, a refined young nobleman. And to beautiful women, a learned and courteous gentleman.

Only in front of Renard did he bare his fangs without restraint. "My dear brother, I'll take everything that belongs to you, and you'll be left watching helplessly."

Compared to this cunning younger brother, Scum Renard was as innocent as a lamb. If not for an old man named Bennett protecting him, he'd probably have been dead long ago.

Renard took a gloomy drag on his cigar and asked, "Has Gilbert changed at all? I mean, in terms of his strength."

Selina shook her head and answered obediently, "I don't know. I've always been here in the castle serving you, Young Master. I only heard about these things from the guards."

Renard glanced at the beautiful girl, a little surprised. She wasn't as naive as she seemed. Then again, it made sense. Living among the nobility without a little cunning would get you taken advantage of.

He gave it no further thought. Lazily blowing a smoke ring, he looked out the window, his eyes full of indifference.

After a long silence, he sneered. "He came home without even telling me. In that case, I'll go pay him a visit myself."

Selina looked up in surprise and caught a fleeting glimpse of the gloom in Renard's eyes. She immediately understood: Young Master was going to pick a fight with him.

Having made up his mind, Renard didn't hesitate to take off his dressing gown and change into his usual gray-black wool tunic and trousers. He threw on a high-collared coat, slipped into his leather boots, and strode toward the stairs. Soon, he was out of the castle.

Selina hurried after him. When she caught up at the castle entrance, she instructed the guards in a breathless voice, "Quick, go inform Mr. Bennett. Young Master Renard is going to see Young Master Gilbert."

By then, Renard had reached the training ground not far from the castle. If his guess was right, Gilbert should be there.