Chapter 61: Things Have Come to This (24)

Blake did not know that his expression had already given away a great deal; he adjusted his mindset, took two letters from his bosom, and presented them with both hands.

"Your Highness, our party has been ordered to bring you the Duke's reply, and… a personal letter from Her Highness the Princess."

"A letter from Felia?"

Herbert's brow furrowed slightly; he picked up the letter stamped with the Frost Crystal royal crest and was about to tear it open on the spot.

"Your Highness! Please wait a moment!"

Blake hastily spoke up, anxiously trying to stop him: "Her Highness the Princess instructed that she hopes you will only read it when you are alone…"

"Are you trying to tell me what to do?"

Herbert's voice was cold, every trace of expression vanished from his face, and only indifference remained in his eyes.

"Warrior, remember your place."

"Are you a vassal of Silver Wing? Or a vassal of Frost Crystal?"

Stared at by those pale grey eyes, Blake felt a sudden unease and instinctively took a step back.

This is—!?

"No! Your Highness, I…"

He wanted to explain, but in the end he obediently lowered his head and said respectfully: "I am a single feather of Silver Wing."

"Mm."

Blake felt somewhat bewildered at this moment, because in his former impression, His Highness Herbert was not like this.

Is this really His Highness Herbert?

Gentle and refined, well-read and courteous, fond of the arts more than martial pursuits—a perfect, elegant noble heir.

Even toward servants like themselves he was always warm and friendly, never once showing any aristocratic arrogance on the surface.

But now…

Even though Herbert had not glared or even changed his expression, the intimidation delivered by that single glance far exceeded the pressure many of his own rank had ever given him!

He even felt as if he had come face to face with an earth dragon!

How could His Highness carry such a terrifying aura?

What on earth has he been through here!!?

On the other side, after opening the letter Herbert merely glanced at it once before folding it shut again.

His eyes lowered, he was silent for a moment, then instructed Blake: "Very well, I am now aware of the situation."

"Withdraw. Rest well in the guest quarters; stay here a few days to recover. There is no rush to hurry back."

Blake nodded and gladly obeyed: "Yes."

Herbert recalled something and added: "…Oh, by the way, the monastery's grass carp soup is quite good. You fellows should eat plenty of it in the evening, drink more of the broth, warm yourselves up."

"Ah?"

Blake blinked, then honestly nodded: "Oh, alright. Thank you, Your Highness."

"Go."

After Blake left, Herbert, still standing where he was, narrowed his eyes slightly, tapped the letter lightly with a finger, and murmured to himself:

"Felia… heh."

Just now, after opening the letter, Herbert had skipped over everything else and spotted the very end of it at a glance.

At the letter's conclusion there was this passage—"Herbert, I hope you will attend my coming-of-age ball."

Regarding this invitation, only one sentence kept repeating itself in Herbert's mind at that moment.

"Things have come to this, and you're… joking with me, right?"

Night fell.

On this night Herbert, unusually, did not go to the Third Commandment Hall to chat with the monster girls, but sat alone in silence at his desk.

At this moment he was truly a little moved, and somewhat understood why Nie Nasha had said before that sleeplessness was not a reward but a punishment.

Being able to remain awake forever is undoubtedly a gift, one that extends the hours available for work and study.

But when you truly want to zone out for a while yet cannot fall asleep, it does indeed become a form of torment.

The night punishes every waking soul.

No escape, no sinking, no way to stop…

And this pain and anguish, under the blessing of the night, swells ever larger, gradually devouring your entire mind.

People generally call this condition—late-night emo.

A clear-headed brain keeps up its active thinking, endlessly running through things on its own, revisiting every past you wish you could forget.

Every mistake you once made, every wrong word you said, every thing you failed to do right at the time…

Here is a piece of advice for everyone: at such a moment, absolutely, absolutely do not post anything on your social media feed or status!

Otherwise, there is a high probability that the next morning you will dig out an entire villa with your toes, and receive from others a few bestowed names like "Brooding Bro" or "Drunk-Alone Bro."

Don't ask me how I know; I just happen to have a friend like that.

Really!

"…"

Herbert finished reading both letters, and also opened the package containing the magical-construct item.

The Silver Wing Duke's reply was very ordinary, even formulaic.

It was simply a fatherly greeting to Herbert, along with encouragement to temper himself well at the monastery, not to disgrace the name of the Albert family, and so on.

Beyond that… nothing.

No concern for him, no mention of other matters at home.

Reading the whole thing through, the words were not harsh, but they came across as stiff, the text brimming with the estrangement of strangers.

After Herbert finished reading it, he casually tossed it aside, not taking it to heart at all.

As for the magical artifact that was sent over, the 【Ring of Bitter Restraint】, its effects not only perfectly met Herbert's requirements, but it also came with some additional abilities of its own.

Not only could it defend against and counter others' mental control over him, in daily life it could also suppress his own emotional fluctuations, keeping his mind calm.

This was a high-grade magical artifact, not far off from a legendary item; one could tell that whoever prepared this item had spared no small amount of thought.

But on the outside, there was a bit of a problem...

Mm, there was a very big problem.

It looked like a black silk choker, but no matter how Herbert looked at it, he felt this thing was more like a... collar.

Eh?

What does this mean now?

Herbert would not consider for now what other profound meaning the old man had, and just took it as his aesthetic sense being lacking...

He himself did not plan to wear this thing, but he wouldn't go so far as to throw it away either; he happened to have some candidates on hand who would pair very well with this item.

Mm.

There was one very suitable dragon candidate.

Who could it be, exactly?

It's really hard to guess.

If Blake had brought only these things, then Herbert wouldn't be confused at all, but they had also brought another handwritten letter.

In this letter, Felia conversed with Herbert in a tone he was utterly familiar with.

Felia first expressed sympathy and regret for Herbert's various previous ordeals.

And she stated that she had not been in Wang Cheng at the time of the incident, had no relation whatsoever to that "personal maid," and suspected that someone had impersonated her identity at the time, and so on...

After that, she carefully inquired about the details of Herbert's life in the monastery, concerned about his various recent circumstances.

And she proactively offered to help him resolve his financial problems, saying he could tell her about anything he needed.

Only at the very end of the letter did Felia extend a sincere invitation to Herbert — hoping he could attend her coming-of-age ball two months later.

(End of this chapter)