"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" The short man was startled for a moment before he spoke.
Frey remained silent for about a second, just staring at him coldly. Then, just as the short man was about to back away, she suddenly drew her sword with a ’swish’ and placed it against his neck, her gaze darkening slightly.
In an instant, the situation changed. Su noticed that several people on the street moved a bit subconsciously. However, they quickly calmed down and returned to their original positions—those minor movements were so subtle that only the girl hiding at the street corner saw everything.
Frey had no idea what was happening behind her; she just held the sword steadily, keeping her voice level as she said, "Are you an accomplice of that witch?"
"Don’t kill me, they forced me... the... the witch?" The short man, terrified by the sudden turn of events, sat down heavily on the ground. Only then did he realize what the cold-faced ponytailed girl in front of him was asking.
At that moment, Frey could only think of what Brand, the young man called Char, the wizard follower, had once said:
"Your aunt knows quite a lot. This is a secret passed down among the wizards in this world. There is a book called ’Dark Epic’ that tells of events from countless ages past..."
"But it’s not certain; some rural witches also know something about these things related to magic."
In fact, she hadn’t thought she would be able to react so aptly before she drew her sword, or rather, her mind was in a state of clarity. She spoke coldly, "You should call her ’Jenny,’ but never mind... it’s irrelevant. I’ll teach you a lesson first."
As she spoke, she raised her sword, and the textile merchant named Hude immediately wailed in terror, "Wait, wait, my lord, I have nothing to do with her... no, not nothing to do with her, I mean we’re not accomplices. I mean we’re just ordinary acquaintances, distant relatives—!"
"Really, really! Believe me, believe me, she occasionally comes to town to pick up goods—the witch, yes, the witch! She does collect some strange things—oh, right! She lives in Buqi, with her niece!"
Frey looked at the man, barely restraining her disgust. She yanked him up, "But my informant told me she entered the city a few days ago. You’d better not lie to me. As a wizard, I can extract your memories at any moment!"
The small merchant was already paralyzed with fear, not noticing the error in Frey’s words, "I swear, I swear, she left Ridenburg two days ago, heading north."
Frey looked into his eyes, then disgustedly shoved him away. She took a light breath just as she heard Su whistle from the corner of the alley. She knew her grand gesture had caught the attention of those people, and she needed to leave quickly.
But she hadn’t expected Aunt Jenny to not be here; she had gone north? North to Brags? What was she doing there? It didn’t seem like the man was lying.
She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment.
The afternoon sunlight poured through the arched floor-to-ceiling windows of the castle, brightening the room decorated with soft hues. A girl in a silver princess gown sat beside a Rococo-style small round table, leaning in a poised manner against a high-backed chair. Her slender hand held a cup of Hong Cha, the other holding a silver spoon, unmoving, her soft silvery-grey eyes fixed ahead—as if enthralled by a story.
She had beautiful silver curls, with slightly pointed ears peeking from the curls, showing a touch of fair skin. She was the most beloved daughter of Oberg the Seventh and was recognized as the most beautiful woman in Erune.
In Brand’s era, whether players or NPCs, everyone called her the Regent Princess. If anyone in Erune could rival the Valkyrie in prestige, it was this somewhat still immature Princess.
"A clever girl indeed. Everyone in the Everton family seems extraordinary." After a while, the princess put down her teacup and quietly asked, "And then, Lord Overwell?"
The middle-aged man with a stern face standing in front of her, had Brand been here, would certainly recognize him. Because this was the same ’Count Dune’ whom Brand had slain with a single stroke. However, in the noble circles of the capital, not many people recognized this count, though ’Sir Wolf’ Overwell, a close aide to His Majesty and a core leader of the Royalists, was widely known.
Overwell scrutinized the princess, knowing she was not simple. Still, she was the apple of His Majesty’s eye, and he dared not be perfunctory.
This time, he had used the name of Dune from the Lulesburman family to visit Ridenburg—both were master collectors, sharing a great passion for collecting, although their appearances weren’t much alike. In an era when information was scarce, this wasn’t a significant issue—his mission was a secret task for Oberg the Seventh.
Thinking of this, he realized the princess was still waiting for his answer, "Indeed, the Earl of Everton’s daughter seems as exceptional as her father, a pity..."
He was about to say a pity she was a woman, but realizing he was in the presence of the kingdom’s crown, he hastily swallowed the rest of his words.
The girl naturally understood what he meant but didn’t pursue it. Instead, she changed the topic, "However, my lord, I find part of your story confusing. You deliberately sought trouble with that young man; it seemed somewhat unnecessary."
Overwell thought to himself that she was being deliberately obtuse, but respectfully replied, "I was only concerned about his intentions. A Highland Knight appearing in Ridenburg alongside Everton’s daughter is indeed questionable. Princess, you know the White Knights of Karasu don’t align with your father’s stance—"
"I know, but they’re not opposed either."
"It is for this reason that I thought it wouldn’t hurt to test him a bit. After all, he is just a shadow compared to Karasu. For His Majesty, there’s no harm in trying personally." Overwell replied.
"I thank you on behalf of my father, Lord Overwell." The princess thought her father and this man intended to make trouble in Karasu Province, but could they succeed? She guessed their plotting, merely creating something out of nothing.
She thought the Royal Cavalry Academy of Basta might increase the number of recommended slots, but held back, considering her position.
Finally, she only said, "And then, Lord Overwell? I wish to continue listening to the story before my history lesson begins; I have time for two or three more sections."
"Of course, my pleasure."