Chapter 1300 A New Breed of Worm Egg <TOC> Chapter 1302 Furlington
Translator: SumTLMan
In a room devoid of any light, a silhouette sat engulfed in darkness, a symbol of solitude. The only sound was a repetitive, melancholic murmur: “Why… Why is there still nothing?”
It was then that a glimmer of light pierced the gloom, as if someone had carved a window into a world swallowed by shadows. This ray of hope illuminated not just the room but also touched the recesses of a somber soul.
The source of this illumination was a door being opened. A man, dressed in a white bear costume, holding a lantern that cast a dim yellow glow, stepped into the room.
The warm light from the lantern’s flame chased away the darkness. Accompanied by the sound of steady footsteps, he finally stopped in front of the silhouette.
“Lord Redhead,” a deep voice emanated from White Bear.
The light then shone upon the figure, revealing flamboyant red hair that shimmered faintly under the lantern’s glow.
“Why are you here?” Suis’s voice was tinged with raspiness.
White Bear replied, “I saw that all your alchemical puppets have returned and haven’t ventured out since. I thought perhaps…” He trailed off, suggesting they might have completed their search in the vicinity.
Before White Bear could finish, Suis understood.
“No, within the limits of what my alchemical puppets can control, I haven’t detected any energy fluctuations. He is not nearby.”
White Bear, having anticipated this conclusion, hesitated for a moment, “So, what should we do now? My sister, she…”
Even with the stimulation of White Bear, the absence of Rolando made Eureka’s once-soothing emotions spiral into madness once again. Last night, she had already escaped from the Exile Space, causing chaos in the mansion. Yet, a single slap from Sanders knocked her into unconsciousness.
The room was draped in a thick silence, the flame within the lantern held by White Bear flickered incessantly, casting a vivid play of light and shadow on Suis’ handsome face.
Suis paused for a long moment, finally letting out a soft sigh.
“It seems we have no choice but to seek the assistance of Lord Phantom Master. Hobson, please notify Lord Phantom Master and… Angel, to meet in the hall later.”
…
Outside Grud Town, the sounds of galloping hooves echoed. A knight, clad in dark armor, carrying the dust and winds of his journey, arrived at the Pat Manor.
Beside the dark-armored knight was the current guardian knight of Grud Town: Jordan.
“Are you certain this letter isn’t for the Viscount?” Jordan asked, looking doubtfully at the tall knight beside him, who claimed to be from Watford on a mission to deliver a message.
“Yes, the client instructed me to personally hand it over to a young noble named Angel,” responded the knight, his voice buzzing through the slits of his helmet.
“Has Young Master Pat returned to the manor? Why haven’t I been informed?” Jordan murmured to himself. Noticing the dark knight’s gaze, he nodded, “Very well, I shall knock.”
Angel was in the hall, sharing cultivation experiences with Leon, when Blaire fluttered her wings and came in to inform him that a knight had brought a letter.
A short while later, Angel met the dark-armored knight who had come with Jordan in the hall.
Upon seeing Angel, the knight respectfully performed a knightly salute, solemnly presenting the letter with both hands.
Angel initially grappled with confusion, pondering who might send him a letter. But as his eyes alighted upon the wax seal that graced the parchment, realization dawned on him.
This seal, embossed with the intricate design of a pipe, had ornate calligraphy beneath.
The beginning abbreviations eluded Angel’s recognition, but the words “Detective Agency” were crystal clear.
Connected to a detective agency, and based on what Jordan had mentioned, it must be from that seemingly downtrodden detective from Watford they’d previously met — Mr. Richard Kaf.
Given that Richard had hastened to deliver the letter to Pat Mansion, Angel surmised he must’ve unearthed some vital information.
Considering Watford’s population and geographic expanse, the fact that Richard, an ordinary man, managed to dig up results in a mere week spoke volumes about his esteemed reputation as a detective. This elicited a silent nod of admiration from Angel.
He graciously thanked the dark-armored knight, proffering a silver coin as a token of appreciation.
It was only after Jordan escorted the knight out that Angel, with an air of anticipation, settled on the couch, holding the letter.
“Who is this correspondence from?” Leon inquired with palpable curiosity.
“It’s from a detective agency. I had commissioned them to investigate a sailor on the White Headed Gull,” Angel explained as he carefully broke the wax seal.
“A sailor on the White Headed Gull?” Leon’s curiosity piqued instantly. “Do you suspect him to be Rolando?”
“It’s not suspicion; I’m almost certain he isn’t Rolando,” Angel responded nonchalantly.
“Why investigate him then?” Leon’s intrigue momentarily dampened, like a sudden cold shower on a curious flame.
“It’s a matter of caution,” Angel remarked, extracting the sheet. The delicate parchment exuded a faint whiff of lilac, wrapping the room in a subtle embrace.
“This detective indeed possesses an astute understanding of aristocratic nuances,” Leon remarked, comfortably seated beside Angel, the subtle scent of cool fragrance wafting to him.
Ordinarily, the act of infusing or fumigating letters with fragrance is reserved for those aristocrats who are deeply engrossed in a sense of ceremony and who harbor a heightened aspiration for refined living. For this purpose, most aristocratic households would employ a dedicated servant specialized in this art of fumigation. Pat Manor, in days of yore, had such a servant. However, after the servant’s demise, this task was bestowed upon the personal maidservant.
Unfolding the letter, rows of neat and beautiful handwriting emerged. Even Angel, renowned for his discernment, had to concede that this Richard’s script was exceptionally elegant.
The allure of the handwritten words revived Angel’s initial lack of enthusiasm for the reading.
He began, diligently reading each word from the outset.
By the time Angel had finished perusing the letter, Leon had also nearly reached its end.
The content essentially narrated the tale of a sailor named Furlington, who had journeyed to Watford in search of his relative. After several months of relentless searching, he finally succeeded in locating his family. Currently residing in the slums of the lower city, the neighbors have mentioned that he will soon be returning to Sea Moon City with his relatives.
“It seems you were right; this Furlington is likely not the Rolando we seek,” Leon observed.
Upon saying this, Leon noted Angel’s absence of response. Angel was seen, brow furrowed, intently gazing at the letter, seemingly lost in thought.
“What’s wrong? Could there be discrepancies in this investigative report?” Leon inquired with palpable intrigue.
Angel paused for a moment before solemnly confirming, “Indeed, there seem to be inconsistencies.”
“Truly, inconsistencies?” Leon, looking doubly intrigued, took the letter from Angel and commenced reading it once more. Upon finishing, he remained baffled, still unable to pinpoint the said inconsistency.
When Leon was lost in thought, Angel inquired, “During our time in Sea Moon City, White Bear overheard something intriguing from the sailors aboard the White Headed Gull. This Furlington, he departed from Sea Moon City on the latter tenth day of the Month of Rest.”
“Examine this report closely. When did he arrive in Watford?”
Leon picked up the letter and quickly found the information Richard had provided, “According to the neighbors, Furlington settled in the slums on the first day of the Month of Harvest?!”
From the latter tenth day of the Month of Rest to the dawn of the Month of Harvest, it’s less than a week’s duration!
Moreover, this is just when the neighbors reported that Furlington moved in. It’s very likely he arrived in Watford even earlier!
The winds of the steam revolution from the proud Gloriosa Kingdom of the Vast Continent haven’t reached these far shores yet. In the Old Land Continent, there’s no railway or steam train; long journeys are predominantly undertaken by horse-drawn carriages.
Having visited Sea Moon City, Leon was well-aware that even with swift horses and constant changeovers, traveling from Watford to Sea Moon City would take at least half a month. If one were to meander leisurely, it would be over a month.
How did Furlington traverse from the coastal lines of the Goldfinch Empire to the inner territories in just under a week?
“There’s certainly a twist in the tale. Could this Furlington actually be Rolando?” Leon pondered aloud.
“In Richard’s notes,” Angel paused, “it’s mentioned that Furlington had a dispute with someone two months ago. A fight ensued, and both parties sustained varying degrees of injuries. Given a transcendent being’s pride in their dignity, I doubt Furlington is Rolando. However, there are undeniable suspicions around him, which warrant a firsthand investigation.”
It’s highly plausible that Furlington has connections with some transcendent beings. Naturally, Rolando is a potential link. But the Old Land Continent is home to more transcendents than just Rolando, so any definitive conclusions are premature now.
“I shall journey to Watford right away.” Declaring so, Angel rose, ready to embark on his quest.
“Wait a moment,” Leon said with a glint of concern in his eyes. “If that man truly is Rolando, he might be connected to the King of Guman… I’m not sure of the extent of the King’s power, but I’ve seen fear in my mentor’s eyes when he speaks of him. It’s best you don’t venture out alone.”
Even though Angel was adamant that Furlington wasn’t Rolando, Leon’s words held a grain of truth. It would be wise to inform his mentor first.
Just as Angel was about to seek out Sanders, the door opened to reveal Sanders, Suis, and White Bear.
White Bear looked at Angel in surprise. “I was about to look for you in your room, but it seems you’re already here in the hall.”
“Why were you looking for me?” Angel wondered. Without waiting for an answer, he handed a letter to Sanders. “The detective I’d hired to investigate Furlington has sent news.”
Sanders was aware of the situation, but the gravity with which Angel presented the letter hinted at something wrong regarding Furlington.
Without uttering a word, Sanders began reading the letter.
White Bear, having encountered Richard with Angel, was also privy to the investigation. He eyed Angel with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “Did that scruffy detective actually uncover something?”
“It’s hard to say,” Angel replied. “I need to verify it.”
Upon hearing Angel’s response, White Bear was taken aback. He’d initially been skeptical of this so-called Richard, but could it be that the detective had unearthed some unexpected intel?
While the content of The Detective’s Letter remained undisclosed, the flicker in Sanders’s eyes and the solemn expression on Angel’s face gave White Bear an ominous feeling. Perhaps Rolando’s trail, hidden for so long, had been unearthed by an ordinary detective…
Chapter 1300 A New Breed of Worm Egg <TOC> Chapter 1302 Furlington