Chapter 174: The Visit of Lilith Kant

Since he was scheduled to stay a few days as a guest of the Kant family, after a rather lavish welcome banquet, Viscount Victor Kant arranged accommodations for Gawain and his entourage.

The ancient castle left Gawain with an uneasy feeling.

Though inside it was bright and warm—magical crystal lamps glowing everywhere, freshly polished doors, windows, and furniture dispelling the gloom of nightfall—Gawain couldn’t shake a persistent sense of discomfort. It was as if he could see through the gleaming windows and freshly whitewashed walls into the castle’s deeper core: beneath the polished surfaces lay cold, dark stone blocks, slick moss, sprawling cracks, and in those damp crevices, shadows and decay quietly festered.

After a brief conversation with Victor Kant, Gawain excused himself, citing the need to rest after the journey, and returned to his room. This guest chamber, reserved for distinguished visitors, was as lavishly furnished and as cozy as the lord’s own bedroom, complete with a warm fireplace. On either side of his room were the guest rooms of Amber and Sir Philip, and opposite them lay a lounge for playing chess and a quiet space for tea and reading.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, growing heavier with the rising wind. Gawain approached the window, peering through the expensive, man-made crystal at the Kant castle shrouded in the rainy night. Water traced ever-changing patterns on the windowpane, blurring and distorting the view beyond. Through this hazy, warped lens, he could make out several towers rising against the dark sky.

At the base of those towers, a few windows glowed faintly, sketching the outlines of the architecture, but their upper sections were swallowed by darkness, almost merging with the night itself.

Frowning, Gawain studied the towers more closely. Suddenly, he noticed a distinct crack forming midway up one of them.

The fissure seemed to writhe and grow in the darkness, rapidly spreading over the entire upper half of the tower. It widened bit by bit, leaking a blood-red light. The tallest tower appeared shattered within this crimson crack, collapsing slowly in a dreamlike slow motion, accompanied by the distant sounds of people’s gasps and cries.

Gawain jolted awake. The wind and rain once again whispered through the window. He saw the tower across the way restored to its full form; the earlier collapse and the cries vanished like a nightmare.

But Gawain didn’t dismiss it as mere illusion. He furrowed his brow, puzzled. “Is there some large-scale illusion at work inside this castle?”

Suddenly, soft footsteps approached outside the door, coming toward his room. Gawain quickly composed himself, as if nothing had happened. When a knock came, he went to open the door.

Standing there was a woman in her thirties, dressed in a white gown, holding a lantern. Her flaxen hair framed a face pale from apparent frailty. She stood cautiously, a hint of nervousness and restraint in her gaze as she looked at Gawain.

Gawain appraised her calmly before showing a curious expression. “Madam?”

“Good evening. Are you Duke Gawain Cecil?” The woman’s voice was low, as if speaking louder might leave her breathless.

Gawain nodded. “I am Gawain Cecil. And you are?”

“My husband is Victor Kant,” the frail woman said softly, her tone still carrying the refined elegance expected of a noble lady. “I am the lady of this castle. My name is Lilith Kant.”

“Viscountess?” Gawain was surprised. He hadn’t expected the elderly Viscount Kant to have such a young and beautiful wife. But recalling noble traditions, his surprise faded quickly, replaced by curiosity as to why she hadn’t appeared at the banquet or been mentioned by the old viscount. “You didn’t attend the dinner earlier?”

“I am weak and ill, unable to dine with many people or receive guests during the day,” Lilith apologized. “I knew you would visit, but my husband insisted I rest until evening. Now that I feel a bit better, he allowed me to come greet our guests.”

She hung the lantern on a hook by the door and bowed slightly. “Welcome, great Duke Gawain Cecil. Please forgive me for not fulfilling my duties as lady of this place earlier.”

“Oh, no need to apologize,” Gawain said, his mind racing with questions and suspicions, though his face remained composed. “Are you only able to be active at night? I know a bit about potions—perhaps I could help with your health.”

Lilith gave a pale smile. “My husband has engaged the best alchemists for me, but my weakness is not just illness—it’s my constitution, something no potion can cure. Still, I appreciate your concern, Your Grace.”

Gawain didn’t invite her inside. Since she came alone, it would be impolite to do so—even in the Kant family castle. They exchanged a few polite words at the door before she took her leave.

As soon as she was gone, Gawain’s gaze sharpened.

That lantern she carried—

It was the very magical lantern he had seen in his dream, the one serving as the ritual core in the castle’s lower levels. The same lantern that Gawain Cecil had gifted seven centuries ago to Selina Gerfen, the Dream Bishop of that era!

Yet Gawain didn’t call her out or act immediately. He sensed no magical aura from the lantern, indicating it was a fake—either a forgery or a magically altered replica. The true power core likely still slumbered somewhere within the castle. Acting rashly now could only cause trouble.

At that moment, a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hey… Gawain, what are you doing standing at the door?”

The door next to his opened, and Amber poked her head out, curiosity shining in her eyes.

Without waiting for a reply, she eagerly waved a hand, holding a deck of cards. “I found a set of ‘King’s Deck’ in my room! Let’s call that poker-faced guy next door and the three of us can play!”

“I was going to call you all over, but not for cards,” Gawain said with a wry look at the half-elf. Then he knocked on Philip’s door.

Once everyone was gathered in his room, Gawain brought up the visitor. “I just met Victor Kant’s wife, Lilith Kant. Something about her seemed off…”

Amber’s pointed ears twitched. “So that old geezer married someone who could be his granddaughter? Ugh—nobles really have no shame.”

Her thoughts then wandered. “I’m glad I have elven blood. If I don’t say my age, no one dares guess it. Even if you, a seven-hundred-year-old, married me, you could still shamelessly tell people we’re the same age…”

Sir Philip, ever serious, looked horrified at Amber’s wild talk, the half-elf’s loose tongue leaving the poor knight utterly bewildered.

Gawain banged Amber lightly on the head. “Focus!”

“We’ve never heard of this ‘viscountess,’” Sir Philip said gravely. “Victor Kant never mentioned her. That’s strange. Even if she’s too ill to appear, the viscount wouldn’t keep her a secret. And with so many servants around, no one has whispered about a lady of the castle… It’s very odd.”

“Well, I chatted with some of the staff earlier,” Amber said, rubbing her sore head and joining the serious discussion. “They didn’t mention a lady of the castle, but they did say the old viscount has a son named Belm. He left the castle young to travel the central regions and hasn’t returned in decades…”

Gawain stroked his chin. “Decades without coming back? Was he traveling or sold off?”

Amber rolled her eyes. “Maybe he’s a hostage at some powerful noble’s house in the central lands? Isn’t that a common noble practice?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We never did that,” Gawain said firmly. “Our alliances were based on trust, not hostage exchanges.”

Sir Philip nodded admiringly. “That’s what honest and upright people do.”

“No, mostly because the founding nobles were hot-tempered,” Amber added. “Back then, if someone broke their word, the whole nobility would come after them. Sometimes the king himself would personally deal with offenders. Travel was slow, so these visits could go on for a year straight. Nobody dared break an alliance…”

Sir Philip was speechless.

“Man, how did those straightforward founding nobles turn into what we have today?” Amber sighed nostalgically. “Anyway, that Belm Kant really did go traveling. He sends letters regularly. If nothing happens, once the old viscount dies, Belm will return to inherit the family estate.”

(End of chapter)