Chapter 234 Conversation
The sun hadn't yet fully risen, and a thin layer of mist shrouded the spring morning. The Bourne family of Harvest Town sat around the table, enjoying breakfast. The soup was thin, with a few plump, skin-covered beans floating in it, almost all of which went into Mr. Bourne's bowl. As the only able-bodied man in the family, he wouldn't have the energy to handle a full day of hard work without eating more.
His eldest daughter, Lina, was sawing black bread. This girl, only sixteen or seventeen years old, was incredibly thin, with wrists so thin that they seemed to break if she grabbed them. Since the textile factory started work an hour earlier, she had to set out before sunrise.
Seeing her daughter sloppily stuffing a piece of bread into her mouth and preparing to go out, her mother looked at her and shook her head: "You should try to eat more, Lina, at least drink another bowl of bean soup."
"No, Mom, I have to leave early." Lina said happily: "You know, today is a big day - Sister Mary is very optimistic about me. She said I am the best worker in the group. Today she will introduce me to Ms. Watson of the Twelve Spinning Wheels Alliance. She is recruiting skilled textile workers."
She straightened her most respectable, least patched dress and the beautiful hat with feathers her mother had lent her. "If I'm selected, my monthly salary will increase by a full twenty coppers—a full twenty!"
It is almost equivalent to the monthly salary of a child laborer, and even close to the salary of an adult male worker.
Lina walked along the edge of the field, careful not to let her skirt rub the dirt. Through the mist, the muffled sound of wooden plows breaking through the earth could be heard. Women were carrying seeds to the edge of the field in wicker baskets. Spring plowing had begun, the most difficult period. The winter grain had been depleted, the work was plentiful, and the food was scarce. Even the one-eyed old ox, the one-eyed ox that the farmers had carefully tended to, was emaciated.
As the morning bells rang, Lina, who had already entered the town, gradually quickened her pace. She had to go faster, not wanting to be late—but an accident happened. Just as the girl was concentrating on carefully avoiding the sheep droppings on the roadside, she was startled by a speeding carriage that suddenly passed in front of her. She couldn't dodge in time and fell to the ground.
The mud from the street stained her large skirt, her hat fell off, and the heavy wheels of the carriage pressed down on her, crushing her beautiful feathers to pieces.
The girl couldn't help but scream: "My hat!"
Fortunately, the driver stopped the car in time, and a pale, black-haired young man wearing glasses opened the door and got out. Lina looked at him in horror, and for a moment she forgot that she was still lying in the mud.
She wanted to cry very much, but she didn't dare say anything more - she knew she could only blame herself for her bad luck. A poor girl like her would never dare to pester a well-dressed gentleman to ask for compensation, otherwise the sheriff would definitely arrest her.
The other party picked up her hat, patted the mud off it, and tried to stand up the broken feathers - but he failed, and the feathers drooped miserably again.
"…Excuse me, miss. I believe this is yours?"
Seeing that she didn't say anything, the other person simply squatted down in front of her and handed the hat to her. The almost transparent smoky gray eyes behind the lenses looked at her quietly.
Lina took the hat from the hand in a daze, and her face began to turn red with embarrassment. She saw herself in those mirror-like gray eyes, with messy hair and mud all over her body - how could she go to see Ms. Watson like this?
The girl who was nearly caught under the wheels looked as if she was about to cry. The professor's expression froze slightly. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Lina shook her head and stumbled to her feet. She lowered her head and looked at her skirt, which was completely soaked and stained by mud and water. Finally, she couldn't help but sniff.
"...It seems you had an important interview, and this accident ruined it." The other party suddenly said, "Are you a textile worker?"
The girl suddenly raised her head and looked at the black-haired young man in front of her in shock: "H-how did you know?"
The man spoke faster, "You have a slight hunchback when standing. The tread on your right shoe is more worn on the forefoot than on the forefoot, from prolonged periods of bending your head and pedaling. The joints of your index and middle fingers are swollen, and there are calluses on your base from constant cranking. There are also unwashed dye stains between your nails. This level of pigmentation is more likely to occur in a textile factory. Therefore, based on these findings, I can conclude that you are a textile worker."
Seeing the man's eyes widen, the professor paused and continued, "And what you're wearing today isn't suitable for work. It's likely for a meeting. It's not a date at this time, so it's likely you have an interview. How much is this suit and hat?"
"About thirty copper coins..." The topic changed too quickly, and Lina answered subconsciously.
The professor put his hand into his pocket, then pulled it out as if nothing had happened - damn, he forgot his wallet was in his coat, and he felt too hot on the way, so he left his coat in the car.
Someone slipped a silver coin into his hand, and Nova calmly placed it in the girl's palm. "There's a clothing store about fifty meters to the right. You should have enough time to change clothes now. The remaining amount is your mental damage compensation."
"Respected sir, you don't have to do this," Lina was shocked and held the shiny silver coin in her hands with great trepidation: "This is too much..."
"I'm not giving it away for free," Nova said seriously. "You're a local, right? My companion and I are new here, and we'd like to know which hotel is the safest, most affordable, and most comfortable near Harvest Town?"
…
After successfully securing two rooms from the innkeeper, the professor tore off Jophiel Yialos's tattered cloak. After a day and a night, he had awakened, but he refused to communicate, staring blankly into space. The Knight Commander appeared unrestrained, but as soon as he tried to raise his arms, countless invisible chains emerged, binding him tightly.
"Would you like some water?" The savior went to tidy up the room, and the professor, temporarily without anything to do, simply occupied the softest chair in the room. He sat backward, his arms resting on the back of the chair, tilting his head to look at everyone, and then suddenly asked.
The knight commander's lips were dry and chapped, and his eyes were motionless, like a lifeless statue.
"What a coincidence! Like you, I don't have the habit of abusing prisoners." The black-haired young man lazily rested his chin on his arms, so much so that both chair legs were lifted up. "But unfortunately, there's someone around me who is very good at extreme torture. Anyway, according to him, he can pry open anyone's mouth, and no one can lie under his hands."
A fleeting expression of mockery flashed across the prisoner's face, but was keenly caught by the professor.
"Let me see. Disdain, anger... and desire?" He scoffed. "It seems you wish to die, loyal knight. You know full well that the mistress you serve is now eager to kill you."
When Queen Esmeralda was mentioned, his eyes finally moved—he closed them to avoid looking at the cunning and hateful rebel leader. If his hands were not tied, and he only had one hand left, the knight would have wanted to plug his ears as well.
The professor stared at him for a moment, then suddenly said, "Jolini Bateman is still alive."
“…”
"After nearly losing his life, he turned and ran towards the royal city like a stray dog." Nova faithfully repeated the letter delivered by Orre's crow. "He didn't even look back. It seemed he had no intention of even trying to find his surviving colleagues. What a heartless man."
He propped up his chin and said slowly, "Without the teleportation scroll, it would be a very long journey from the Kasa Strait to the Royal City. If someone were chasing us along the way..."
The Knight Commander finally opened his eyes abruptly. The bright anger made his light brown eyes become rich in color, and the cold and sharp aura on his body continued to rise.
Azuka, passing by with a load of laundry, held down the professor's chair to prevent him from falling. He glanced at the Knight Commander indifferently, seemingly doing nothing. Cold sweat began to drip from the captive's forehead, his muscles tensed to the utmost, as if he wanted to leap up immediately, clutch his rifle, and charge the enemy with a roar.
...It's a pity that he can't do anything now.
"Don't worry." The black-haired young man who was watching the show on the side "comforted" him in a "sympathetic" way: "After all, I need a living person to spread the news of what happened in the Kasa Strait. Since you have been forced to join forces with me, the rebel leader, Jolini Batman will arrive in the royal city alive."
As a result, the person being comforted did not seem to appreciate it, and instead wanted to pounce on him and bite him to death.
"...You're surprisingly a decent person." The professor considered him thoughtfully. "In this disgustingly filthy and rotten empire, you've managed to reach your current position, yet you still retain some traces of true chivalry—justice, loyalty, and fraternity. It's truly astonishing."
"It seems that Her Majesty the Queen must have done a lot for you behind the scenes. Your loyalty is not difficult to understand." The black-haired young man calmly concluded: "--but it's a pity that you are still stupid."
He lowered his eyes and pronounced his verdict with an unusually cold tone, "Even if she were the queen, she couldn't save the Silver Iris Empire, which was rotting from the very roots."
"...What do you know?" The Knight Commander finally spoke, his voice cold and hoarse. "I admit that you have a persuasive tongue and an exceptionally clever brain—and you also possess enviable luck, extreme luck."
"But you have no right to dictate to His Majesty so brazenly." Yialos slowly raised his head, his expression coldly gazing into those unwavering, smoky-gray eyes. "You have never experienced anything truly worthy of the name 'hardship,' yet you, with a self-righteous, arrogant, and naive imagination, rely on the power of the gods to act recklessly."
"—Who do you think you are? What makes you think you are the truth?"
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