Chapter 21 — The Deal Struck

After accepting Viscount Andrew's hospitality, Gao Cenxing was temporarily lodged in a guest room within the castle. At Gao Song's specific request, clean and tidy quarters were provided for all of them—the two soldiers, the maidservant Betty, and Amber included.

The Viscount's castle was, after all, very large indeed.

Once the attendants had been dismissed, Hetty could not hold back her question: "Ancestor, do you think Viscount Andrew can be relied upon?"

Though they were "neighbors" whose domains bordered one another, Hetty knew well the ways of the nobility: neither honesty nor honor. They spoke of those two virtues constantly, yet it was precisely those virtues they lacked—and in the remote, wild southern marches, far from the political center, the nobles' manner of survival was all the more unseemly. Now that House Cecil had fallen to its very lowest, and apart from the sudden appearance of the Xuanmai Sect as a point in their favor, Hetty truly had little confidence that they could gain any advantage in dealings with other nobles.

"Reliable? The thought never even crossed my mind," Gao Song replied, to Hetty's great surprise. "A few hours ago I didn't even know what Viscount Andrew looked like."

Beside him, Rebecca was startled. "Huh? But you talked with him for so long…"

"Because it was necessary," Gao Yang said, looking at Rebecca. "It would be no exaggeration to say we're at the end of our rope now. Never mind that we still have to feed those displaced subjects—just look in your own purse. Do you have the money for your next meal? So we must seek help, and that Viscount Andrew is simply the choice we had no choice but to make. Apart from him, is there anyone else you know in the southern marches? As for how reliable he is… I don't know him, I don't know his family. I only learned the extent of his domain a couple of days ago from your own lips. How would I know whether he's reliable?"

Rebecca felt her mind struggling to keep up. "Then why do you think he'll definitely help?"

It was not Gao Yang who answered, but Amber, who had been lying beside the table all this while stuffing grapes into her mouth. The half-elf wiped her lips and shot Rebecca a look of contempt. "Dummy. Because he doesn't want to lose money."

"Doesn't want to lose money?"

"When Sir Philip brought the refugees to Tansang Town, that Viscount Andrew had already made his decision," Amber said, unhurried. "He could easily have shut the city gates and waited for the refugees to disperse on their own or starve outside. And don't bring up any mutual-aid laws—in these outlying regions, the kingdom's laws are worth less than a merchant's gold coins. Since the Viscount accepted the refugees, it means he intends to collect repayment from House Cecil. Once he had that notion, and believed House Cecil was capable of repaying its debts—well, the deal was struck right then. Today… was simply a matter of expanding its scope and making it explicit."

Rebecca stared at Amber, dumbfounded. "You… how do you even understand this stuff? Is the bar for thieves this high these days?"

Amber bared her teeth. "Is this so profound? I don't understand your noble logic and your mountains of rules, but at the very least I understand that a thief never leaves empty-handed. When it comes to profit, is there any difference between you nobles and a thief who doesn't want to leave empty-handed?"

Rebecca flew into a rage, drew her staff, and conjured a fireball the size of a head. "If you don't watch your mouth, so help me I'll really smash a fireball in your face!"

Amber, apparently certain that this callow young lordling wouldn't dare follow through, kept grinning and taunting: "Go on then—conjure an ice arrow if you've got the guts~~"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she felt a cold swish beside her ear. An ice arrow flew past almost grazing her earlobe and froze a patch of icicles across the wall behind her, while Hetty, not far away, still held one finger raised, her face cold and impassive. "One ice arrow, as requested."

A drop of cold sweat slid down Amber's face. The terror of how close that ice arrow had come to her skin surpassed even the fear of the arrow itself; she could not help wondering what height of magical control it must take to achieve such precision.

Rebecca, meanwhile, twitched the corner of her mouth slightly: Aunt Hetty's offensive magic, as always, never managed to actually hit anyone—always skirting the edge, always a near miss…

Gao Yang clapped his hands, putting an end to the brief farce. "All right, we're all on the same side now, more or less. Rein it in, all of you."

When the Xuanmai Sect spoke, it still carried weight. Willing or not, Hetty and Rebecca put away their staffs in obedience, and Amber, though flighty and sorely in need of a beating, also knew when to quit while she was ahead (mainly because the deterrent power of that one ice arrow had indeed been considerable). She pursed her lips and said nothing more.

Just then, a knock came at the door, and after Gao Song gave his permission, the little maidservant Betty pushed it open and stepped inside.

"Master, Lady Hetty, Miss Rebecca," Betty greeted them one by one, skipping straight over Amber, "Sir Philip has arrived."

"Ah, we were just waiting for him," Gao Yan nodded, then noticed the frying pan in Betty's hand. "Wait… why are you still carrying that?"

Betty blinked, thought for a moment, and said, "Because… we're not home yet. If I set it down anywhere, I'm afraid it'll get lost."

Gao Yang slapped his forehead. "You… fine, whatever you like."

A moment later, Sir Philip—the man who had led the refugees of the Cecil domain in their breakout—walked into the room.

What surprised Gao Yang somewhat was that this was a rather young warrior: he looked barely past twenty, with short pale-gold hair, deep-set eyes, and a high nose bridge. Though his features as a whole were hardly outstanding, the martial air of valor about him and his upright, tall figure were enough to make him stand out among ordinary folk. Since it was peacetime, he wore no armor but rather plain clothes, with a longsword at his waist; on the exposed skin of his arms and neck, one could still faintly see unremoved bandages.

He had indeed broken out while wounded.

"My lord, my lady," Sir Philip said, immediately bowing to Rebecca and Hetty upon entering, "how glad I am to see you both safe and sound."

"Sir Philip, please rise," Rebecca said, quickly helping him up. "It's truly thanks to you that those soldiers and common folk were saved."

She noticed the bandages on his body. "These wounds…"

"Taken during the breakout, but they're much better now," Philip said hastily. "Viscount Andrew arranged a priest and an apothecary for me. But…"

The young knight wore a troubled expression, and on his face there was also shame and chagrin.

"You mean the gold and silver you carried out of the castle," Hetty said of her own accord. "Don't trouble yourself over it. Those things were meant for emergencies to begin with. When we had you take them, we said they were yours to command."

"Please don't worry—in fact, the gold and silver Viscount Andrew took was only a portion," Philip said, his complexion improving somewhat, then lowering his voice: "Before entering the town, I divided some of the valuables among a few trusted soldiers to keep, and buried some outside the walls. I was worried that if Viscount Andrew proved too greedy, we would at least need to keep back some money to feed everyone, or to let the soldiers make their own way…"