The midday meal was arranged in the gazebo of the garden.
A beautiful woman in her late twenties was standing in front of the table where a luxurious spread of food was arranged. Like Arlan, she too had blue eyes and ash brown hair, the trademark appearance of those with royal blood, only hers were a hue lighter. In her slender arms, there was a small bundle of joy making adorable cooing sounds.
She was Arlan's older sister, the wife of the Duke of Wimark and the First Princess of Griven, Alvera Cromwell Wimark. The newborn baby was her second child, the first son of the WImark Household and its future lord, Ryan Wimark.
"My dearest sister, I heard you miss me?" Arlan asked as he approached the pair.
He was now clad in a light blue breasted jacket with a decorative white military cape over his shoulders. The buttoned cuffs of his white-trimmed sleeves were patterned with an oak tree design, the emblem of virtue and strength which was also the symbol of the Cromwell Royal Family.
The blue-eyed man's appearance transformed from a dangerous hunter into that of a dashing prince in white. His smile was as bright as sunlight, giving onlookers an impression that the Crown Prince was a gallant and good-natured man.
Alvera merely glanced at her cheeky brother before returning her attention to her son. "Little Ryan, as I was saying, do not be like your First Uncle. That careless brat hurt himself for no good reason. Hmph!"
"Your servants are good spies. Do you mind transferring some of them to my service?"
Only then did Alvera face the grinning man.
"Hah, you speak as if that dark squad working under you are unskilled. Those men you trained could even infiltrate the kingdoms of Abetha and Thevailes. Why are you poaching my people?"
"Of course, I still need to expand my network not just in the neighboring kingdoms, but the rest of the continent. Talented people I can trust are far and few between—"
"Stop, stop, I do not want to hear more of your bragging." Though her voice sounded annoyed, she eyed his waist with a somewhat worried gaze. "How's your wound?"
"Healed, of course. Such a small scratch disappears in a matter of seconds on its own. You know your brother is no ordinary human."
The woman sighed in relief. "Tell me the appearance of the culprit. I will order the city guards to release a warrant on the entire duchy."
"No need. I will get that person on my own."
There was a silent understanding between the siblings. Despite her reluctance, Alvera respected his wishes. She knew her brother well—once he set his mind, it was impossible to change his decision.
"Did I keep you waiting for long?" they heard someone speak, causing them to look at the newcomer.
Duke Rhys Wimark, Alvera's husband, was a tall and handsome-looking man a decade older than Arlan. The brown-haired man was wearing a knee-length coat with a rather intricate gold design, his attire indicating that he had been outside for official matters and had only recently returned to the estate. His brown eyes emitted the warmth that he had after seeing his wife and son.
"I am back, my dear." He kissed his wife on the forehead before poking his son's chubby cheek with a finger of his gloved hand. The man then observed the brother and sister. "Did I interrupt something important?"
Alvera flashed Rhys a mischievous smile. "Indeed. My heart is filled with anxiety. Our younger brother, Lenard, is getting married in less than two weeks, but the older brother remains a bachelor. Alas, without a Crown Princess, the future of the kingdom is bleak!"
Compared to his playful wife, Rhys' disposition was more serious and reserved.
Her casual remark reminded the Duke of a secret missive he recently received. "About this, I would like to report something to the Crown Prince."
"How about we talk while having a meal?" Alvera offered to which the other two agreed.
Alvera handed her child to his nanny and accompanied two men to dine.
"Is it about Arlan's missing betrothed?" Alvera asked as she received a plate of steak her husband personally cut for her.
Rhys lovingly smiled at his wife before turning to face Arlan. "Two months ago, I informed you that the traces of the Verners were spotted at the border between Megaris and Griven."
"Yes, you did."
"My spies recently informed me that they had narrowed down the area where Philip Verner and his granddaughter are likely staying. Surprisingly, this led them to believe those two are hiding within the Wimark territory. Give me a week, at most a month, I guarantee to give you good news."
The territory of Wimark Duchy shared a border with the neighboring Kingdom of Megaris, whose ruler, King Drayce Ivanov, was Arlan's close friend. Due to its location, criminals and fugitives wishing to escape to another kingdom were common in the area.
"My missing betrothed?" Arlan said as the evil smirk painted on his lips, "You mean those criminals? Duke Rhys, they better pray you find them before I do. At most, you will send them to the capital to be imprisoned, but this Crown Prince will have their heads for their crime."
Before Duke Wimark could say anything, Alvera sighed.
"You always talk about punishing them. I don't know what happened at that time and why Lord Verner ran away with her, but justice must be meted accordingly. Someone of your position must know better than let your prejudice rule over you."
Arlan raised a brow. "Those lowlives insulted the Cromwell Family. Law warrants they receive a death sentence."
The woman did not back down. "But his granddaughter was just a newborn baby when that incident happened. How could you blame an innocent child? Not to mention, you should not call your betrothed a lowlife. If she were truly lowly, our parents would not arrange your marriage with hers. It is even highly possible that Young Lady Verner doesn't know of her betrothal with the Crown Prince of this kingdom."
"If one person in the family commits a crime then the entire family has to pay for it. She might be unfortunate, but so are the countless fallen aristocrats whose titles and wealth were stripped away from them due to the foolishness of a relative. Why should she be a special case?" Arlan countered. "If she has to blame anyone, then she should blame her grandfather for breaking the trust of the royal family and taking her away with him."
Alvera was beginning to have a headache. "When you do find them, how about you first hear their reasons? Give them a fair public trial."
"A crime is a crime— one's reason is secondary. To commit a crime against the royal family is the worst one could ever do," Arlan declared. "If Father forgives them, so be it, but if I were to judge their crime, I say, 'Off with their heads!'"
Alvera sighed helplessly. "I hope you won't regret this."
As the siblings argued, the Duke of Wimark remained quiet, his thoughts unknown. He didn't meddle between the stubborn pair of brother and sister. Though his wife was displeased, Arlan was not wrong either.
At the end of the day, Rhys was a loyal vassal of the royal family, and his allegiance was to the throne. Regardless of his opinion, he would execute the orders given to him by the King of Griven— and that was to find the only survivors of the fallen Verner Family.
The next day, Arlan received a secret missive. An informant requested to personally report confidential intelligence gathered from Thevailes, the enemy kingdom. Given that the informant wanted to meet him, he must have unearthed some alarming secrets from the enemy kingdom.
Alas, he came to Wimark to visit his newborn nephew but it seemed work came knocking. Being a Crown Prince was truly tiresome.
Arlan agreed to meet the informant in a specific location within the market of Jerusha, the main city of the Wimark Territory. Donning the plain attire of a nobleman, he told the Duke and Duchess that he wanted to take a leisurely stroll in the city before heading towards the stables.
Just as he climbed his white horse, his cold-looking knight approached them.
"Your Highness," Imbert called out, "the city guard captain came earlier while you were dining with the Duke to update us about that culprit who stabbed you."
"So did they find him?" Arlan asked.
"Apologies, Your Highness. We failed you," the knight responded gloomily.
The younger knight standing behind Imbert, Rafal, lowered his head. He was in charge of the investigation and was working together with the Duke's men.
Rafal explained, "There were no traces of him other than the arrows and bow he left behind. They were ordinary handmade weapons and not bought from the shops or blacksmiths in the city so he could not be traced through them."
Arlan smirked. He would be more surprised if they found him—to begin with, it was not a 'him' but a 'her'. Though he did describe her appearance to them, no one other than Arlan knew the culprit was a woman.
"Wimark is large. I trust finding him is merely a matter of time," the Prince consoled them.
Half an hour later, Arlan and his two knights reached the main city of the Wimark Territory
Jerusha was both a trade city and a fort. It served as an important military base that secured the border between Griven and Megaris.
In the northeastern region of the kingdom, it was the most prosperous city in terms of commerce. Thousands of people would come and go every single day, and the streets were never lacking merchants from other regions.
Arlan blended well with the lively crowd, and though his peerless appearance caused some heads to turn, none of them had high enough status to recognize the Crown Prince of Griven.
The three men came to a stop at the side entrance of a large shop near the main street. A middle-aged merchant with a protruding belly welcomed them all by himself. That man was not the shopkeeper but the actual owner of the shop. In order to keep Arlan's identity secret, he did not allow any of his workers or servants to accompany him.
"Welcome, my lord."
Arlan was about to enter the shop when he caught a familiar scent— that pleasant fragrance he came across during his hunt.
HIs trust in his senses was absolute, and he would not doubt himself.
'Shortie is near?'
He turned around to look at the bustling street, trying to locate the source of that fragrance. However, there were too many people walking around, and he could not spot any woman with long reddish brown hair.
"My Lord, is something the matter?" the merchant asked upon realizing his guest was distracted.
Arlan turned to look at him, his expression friendly but unreadable. "The location of your shop is not bad."
The merchant was confused, but he was quick to reply, "This humble one's shop does not deserve my Lord's praise."
Imbert and Rafal knew their liege enough to understand those words were merely said in passing. His attention was diverted by a person or object of some importance. Could it be an unexpected acquaintance? What if a dangerous person was nearby?
The two knights remained vigilant, scanning the faces among the crowd for anyone with hostile tendencies.
The merchant led their way inside that shop, going through a hallway to avoid the sight of the customers buying his goods at the shopfront.
Upstairs, there was a large office that took the space of an entire floor. However, rather than a place to work, it appeared more like an art gallery, well decorated with antiques from all over the continent, showing how fond its owner was of traveling and collecting things from various places.
Even before the merchant could speak, Arlan made himself comfortable on the luxurious high back chair with wolf fur draped over it. He folded his leg over another, sitting as if the place belonged to him. The two knights stood behind him without a single change in their expressions.
The merchant bowed and left, only to return with a serving tray filled with refreshments. Even though he was the master of this shop, he was but a commoner, nothing more than an ant in front of Arlan.
He subserviently served his guests their drinks before standing on the side. He did not dare sit in the presence of the Crown Prince.
"Why don't you take a seat, Albert?" Arlan said to the merchant. "It's your own office."
Albert awkwardly cleared his throat. Though it sounded like a suggestion, it was an order from the prince.
"Thank you, Your Highness." He sat on the couch opposite Arlan.
Arlan's gaze roamed around the office. It stopped at the most eye-catching object on the merchant's desk.
"A lion figurine carved from veined white jade locally mined in the mountains of Thevailes. Such high quality, I am afraid only high nobles could afford it." Arlan looked at the middle-aged merchant. "Seems like you cracked a good deal with someone at least of Count rank."
The way Arlan looked at him made Albert sweat at the back of his neck. "Of course, I am primarily a salt merchant, Your Highness. I am welcomed everywhere. Receiving precious gifts is common between partners for business to flourish."
Arlan nodded, as if impressed. "This partner appears to be very happy with you."
"While trust exists between us in the form of benefit, as a native of Griven, my loyalty for the land where I was born is also unquestionable," the merchant replied. His expression then turned sullen.
"I have no wish to delay your important matters, Your Highness, so I will be straightforward—-another war will erupt in the next few months, and this time, it won't just be the border army fighting. All able-bodied men would be forcefully conscripted from across the entire kingdom."
The Crown Prince did not react. As Arlan leisurely sipped his tea, the merchant continued.
"Rumor is spreading among the high nobles of Thevailes that King Samer is sick, some going as far as to say he has gone mad. That is why he is intent to go through with another war against Megaris despite losing in the last war."
Arlan raised a brow. "How come a rumor like that appeared when their king is so young?"
"The Royal Palace of Thevailes has been secretly amassing all kinds of rare medicinal herbs. If not for my connections, I would not have noticed their behavior because they were purchasing small amounts through various vassal families."
Albert brought out a scroll which Imbert accepted before passing it to Arlan.
"This is the list of herbs they were purchasing, and half of them were being smuggled through the borders of Hatha."
Arlan silently read the names on the scroll.
Mandrake, henbane, thorn apple…
Wolfsbane, hemlock, hellebore…
'Medicinal herbs? A greater half of these have long been prohibited by the kingdom alliance for decades. Rather than treating a sickness, it seems like they intend to poison the entire continent! What are you up to this time, King of Thevailes?'
The merchant cleared his throat. "There is another rumor circulating among the nobles. I do not know if Your Highness will be interested.
"According to hearsay, King Samer once secretly met strange people before he ordered these herbs to be collected. He did not even allow his most trusted knights to accompany him when meeting them. Some say those people are physicians, but most think they are black magic practitioners.
"This caused them to believe King Samer suffers from an incurable disease and is using black magic to prolong his life."
'Black magic?'
Arlan recalled his last conversation with his friend, the King of Megaris, Drayce Ivanov.
'Dray told me that the Black Witch who targeted his wife escaped towards Thevailes. Hmm, she must be the reason.'
He looked at the list of herbs once more.
'I should confirm this with Dray when I meet him in Selve. If I am not wrong, they should be used in making witch potions.'
With the prince keeping silent, none of those within the office dared to speak.
Just as the merchant could no longer bear the tension, Arlan handed the scroll to his knight who kept it within the inside of his coat.
A relaxed smile spread across the prince's handsome face.
"You did well, Albert. As a reward, remind the Minister of Finance to reduce your business tax this year by half."
Filled with gratitude, Albert bowed. He thought Arlan was leaving, but the prince remained seated, gesturing for Rafal to open the door.
"Since when did you open an herbal shop, Albert?"
"Pardon, Your Highness?"
The door of the office opened and the man standing behind it fell on the floor. Before he realized what misfortune had befallen him, Rafal pinned him on the ground.
"You good-for-nothing!" Albert suddenly burst in rage at the sight of the struggling servant. "Did I not order that no one is allowed to come near my office?!"
"Albert, you seem to have a bad eye for people," Arlan said with an amused smile on his face.
"I…I was just trying to be of help…in case Master needs any help," the servant on the floor cried out. "Apologies!"
Albert felt ashamed, stammering an apology towards the prince. "Please forgive this foolish servant, Your Highness—"
Arlan cut him off. "You are such a good man, pleading for a subordinate who betrayed you."
"B-Betrayed?"
"This man reeks of herbs. I wonder where he came from before coming straight here to eavesdrop?"
Under Albert's shocked gaze, Arlan stood up. "Since I am in a good mood, my knights will help you take care of this ingrate. This visit has been a pleasant one. I look forward to our future cooperation, Albert."
"Your Highness…"
Arlan strode out of the office, ordering Imbert as he passed through the doorway. "Knock him out and bring him to the estate."
"Yes, my liege."
Arlan stepped out of the shop and looked around the street with a keen gaze.
'That fragrance, I can still smell it. That means she is still around. Seems like bad news for her.'
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