Wreath of Lilies, Cauldron of Poison

Chapter 64

A Grave Visit

The next day, after having a quick breakfast, Connie took Illumca and Martell to the morning market.

Situated next to the harbor, the market was filled with the noise of peddlers attracting customers. Each with different accents and different methods of calling prospective buyers. Above them, the seagulls cried as below children laughed and cried as they ran around the busy market.

As Connie breathed deep of the air, the smell of freshly caught fishes and exotic scents of perfume and incenses mixed together like nothing else. And at the end of one’s nose, the salty smell of the sea caused her to reminisce about her hometown.

Though they were only separated by one and a half day’s trip, the difference between the market of Cairula and Courandhel was palpable.

Connie, who thrived on new experiences and food were going around the market. Touching and buying and eating with Illumca beside her. Behind them, Martell had his ears drooping low and his tail limply hanging down his buttocks. He yawned a few times on the way, still tired from the lectures about Sword Knowing the night before.

While she was browsing a brown-skinned peddler’s wares, she noticed a glass jar next to a pile of furs.

“Is that?” Connie exclaimed as she gestured at the jar.

“Oh, youse had a nice eye there. This is a deer’s musk. Got it when I was sailing across the sea to Azut-Baydar.”

Hearing the name Azut-Baydar, Martell could not help but frown.

“How much?” Connie asked.

“I didn’t intend to sell it, ya know? It’s a bit of a private souvenir.”

“10 Gold.”

“No, I mean –“

“15!” Connie said as she took out gold coins from her sleeves. “20!”

Hearing that Connie just offered the equivalent of a year of a commoners’ income on what looked like a hairy ball, Illumca almost dropped the skewered meat that she was eating. Even around them, the peddlers had stopped shouting when they heard a foolish young noble buying a curiosity using 20 gold coins.

The peddler with the deer musk did not even count the money as he handed over the jar, gathered the coins and quickly closed up shop.

“Haha! Good! Very good!!” Connie laughed as she stored the big hairy ball in a jar that she just bought into the Item Ring.

It did not talke long for the sellers to come to their senses and quickly gathered around her, trying to sell their item to the prodigal youth. Connie ignored them and quickly made her way through the crowd with the dark elf still chewing on pieces of meat and the beastfolk boy following behind them.

After escaping from the overeager peddlers looking for some quick gold, the three of them walked on a leisurely pace on the bridge crossing Guine River connecting the harbor to Courandhel’s Noble’s District.

At the other end of the long stone bridge was a large gate guarded by a man in leather armor and a ridiculous plume on his hat. The man took a cursory glance at the three of them and simply greeted them before returning to their boring job.

“That was easier than I thought,” Illumca said in wonder.

“Why shouldn’t it? I actually am a noble, you know.”

“As long as you got the outfit and the right demeanor, even a pauper can be a noble,” Martell said with confidence. “So, are we now going to your mansion?”

“Not mine. It was Cornelia’s Father’s. And now Joan Carell’s.”

“Eh? How could that be? That doesn’t make sense!” Martell exclaimed. “If your father’s dead shouldn’t his estate be yours?”

“Hush, you are drawing attention,” Illumca smacked the beastfolk boy upside the head with her palm.

“Ouch! I’m just asking,” the strawberry-haired beastfolk said, holding the top of his head while whimpering cutely.

“It’s a likely story, really. After Cornelia’s mother died, Geno Steelheart married his lover, Joan Carell," Connie shrugged as she told of the man’s promiscuity. “The bastard had no qualms on getting in bed with anything that moves.”

She then recounted her memory of Cornelia’s younger years. “I remembered that when they first met, Joan Carell was really kind to Cornelia. After they got married, she brought with him the insufferable little shit named Julian.”

Connie nodded to herself. “In her eyes, her new stepbrother was a needy but kind little boy who was just a bit too spoiled. And her new mother? She was glad that at least now her father had a nice new wife to ease his loneliness.”

“Not long after, seeing of the great relationship between his new wife and Cornelia, dear old dad made a will to grant his estates and all his money to Joan Carell which will then go to Cornelia and Julian upon her death. Which she reciprocated," she explained as if reading from a book. "She made the will that if she was to die, her assets would become his and by nature, later become Cornelia and Julian’s.”

“How is that not a good thing?” Martell asked. “That sounds like an equal relationship.”

“Incorrect, Martell. That was a stupid thing to do. You need to understand the trap in the contract.”

“Listen. If we go by the exact wording of the contract, that means for Cornelia to get her inheritance, it must be after her stepmother dies,” Connie said. “But as soon as he died, that woman is free to change the will so that everything that she owns, including Cornelia’s share of the inheritance are to be handed to her son at the event of her death."

The blonde girl shook her head and shrugged helplessly. "And that was what she did.”

Connie laughed mockingly. “By then the sow had revealed her fangs and usurped everything that was rightfully Cornelia’s. Her kindness and loving gestures were all an act.”

Illumca closed her eyes as she felt pity for Cornelia. “To be betrayed by someone you thought loved you. It isn’t a good feeling,” she said with a touch of empathy. “But in that case, how are you able to put me in that mansion when I was sick? was it because she still had some attachment to you?”

“Are you joking? It’s the exact opposite. The only reason Cornelia could stay in that mansion in Cairula was because Joan Carell didn’t want any bad rumors appearing from kicking the daughter of her second husband out of her home. If she wanted to stay in the High Society, that kind of thing will be a big demerit to her name. Basically, she was living out of Joan Carell’s “Goodwill”. As much as the Society is concerned, she was still living under the protection of Joan Carell.”

“That means that she had nothing else but the money she got from her quests,” Martell concluded. “It must be hard for her.”

“It was indeed. By the time she understood that she and her father was fooled, it was too late.”

She pointed at a large mansion surrounded by bricks overran with ivy which appeared in their sight as they rounded a corner. “And that’s where the whole drama happened.”

Illumca raised her head as she could not see the whole building without doing so. “That’s a really big mansion. Bigger than the one in Cairula.”

“It has a lot of history behind it,” Connie said. “And we are going to infiltrate the damn place.”

The sun was already high in the sky and the mix of the sticky sea breeze and the heat battering on the mansion’s guards made them sweat uncomfortably.

When they saw two figures walking towards the mansion, the two raised their spears, barring their way.

“Stop, this is the Steelheart’s Property.”

“We know,” Martell said, standing before Connie with a protective stance. “Do you not recognize your own Mistress?”

“What are you talking about?!”

While they were having a row, a dignified old man appeared from behind a bush of roses, a pair of garden scissors in his hand.

“What is with the commotion around here? The Mistress is having her afternoon nap.”

“There is a man here saying that he’s with the Mistress,” the guard said.

The scissors fell abruptly as the old man’s eyes became glassy. “…M-milady…”

“Is this how you greet me, Johann?” Connie said. The guards saw the look on their superior's face and drew their weapons back slowly.

Johann Fahren was the Head Butler in charge of the Steelheart’s property in Courandhel. He came from a long line of Butlers, commended even by the King. His well-groomed mustache and beard were a point of pride of his. Right now, though, the edges of it were wet from tears.

The two were quickly let in by the old servant and he enthusiastically greeted Connie.

“Milady. It has been a few years since I last met you. How big you’ve grown,” the man said with punctuated sobs.

He noted the strong gaze and the confident demeanor by which she now carried herself, not unlike her father. Truly, hardships were the best grindstones. “Why did you not stay here if you came to the Capital? I’ve always kept your room clean. It’s ready for you anytime you want.”

“With that sow in the house? I’d much rather sleep in a stable. At the very least the horses did not fuck as much as her.”

“A-ah…I see,” the man said weakly. Though he had only been with her during her younger years, the man still saw Cornelia as his own granddaughter. To hear her say such dirty words shook him. But it was also his fault that she became bitter.

“I - I have been meaning to say this, Milady,” the man bowed slightly. “I am truly sorry I could not be there with you the last time you were here.”

“It was the order from the King. Nothing else you could do,” she waved him off. “Listen. I am not here for pleasantries. I just want to pay respect to my mother’s grave.”

“Y-yes. Of course. Before that, have you eaten yet? The cook made a very nice kidney pie. I remember that you are fond of it.”

“I’ve already had lunch, Johann. And sadly, I do not have the intention or the desire to stay here. This place is filled with many…memories. Both pleasant and unpleasant.”

Hearing the blunt answer, the old servant could not help but feel that she had now become very distant. Of course, she would be. Because although Connie knew him by name and she remembered everything about this place, this was not her home, and this person was not her caregiver.

The old man helplessly led her to the grave after asking her to not make too much noise as he feared that she would wake Lady Carell.

“This is a nice garden,” Martell commented as they walked through the garden of roses. The bushes were well cared for with no weeds in sight.

“It was Milady’s mother’s favorite…” the man lingered, unsure of the boy’s connection to the young miss.

“I am Mistress Connie’s loyal servant,” Martell introduced himself with a cloying sweetness in his voice. “She saved me when I was held against my will by a slave trader. I have pledged myself to her service.”

“That’s…good,” the old man said weakly. “…here we are, Milady…”

To the West of the rose garden and hidden under a canopy of wildly growing ivy was where Marie Gillenspie was laid to rest. Upon her grave was a marble headstone with the word, “Marie Gillenspie. No rose could be as beautiful as you.”

Though it was quite an impressive grave for the daughter of an Earl, and an acceptable one for a Duchess, the grave was not well kept. Wild grass had grown high around it and the footpath was dirty. To the side, she saw a number of gardening tools leaning against the canopy, along with some sacks of dirt.

“…it seems that the direction of your loyalty has changed, Johann,” she commented at this clear disrespect of the dead.

“…there are no words I can say to express my regrets, Milady…” The old man revealed a pained expression. “The Duchess ordered me and the other servant never to clean her grave. We could not go against her. All I could do is to keep her beloved garden safe.”

“So, as long as you got paid, anything goes?” Martell asked with his usual innocent smile. “That’s great!”

The man could not say anything, for he did not have the right to.

Indeed, as long as Cornelia had not been recognized as having come of age, the Mistress of the House would still be the wretched sow named Joan Carell.

Connie did not feel hate or pity for either the woman buried beneath the ground or the old servant. They were strangers, after all. The one who could empathize with their current situation had long since been gone.

“What’s that noise out there?!” A shrill voice came from above and a haggard looking woman with dark hair appeared from the balcony.

“Quick, Milady! Hide!” The man tried to cover for her and urge her behind the grave.

“Hide? Hardly,” Connie smirked. “It’s me, Lady Carell! Just visiting my mother’s grave. It looks a bit neglected!!”

Martell sniggered at this sarcastic remark as he eagerly waited for the response from the woman.

Joan Carell saw the unexpected face of her stepdaughter and shouted in anger. She had left her in Cairula so that she would not attend the Ball. And yet now here she was, brazenly standing where the hateful woman was buried. “You bitch! Guards! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Lady Cornelia! You must leave now!”

“Leave? Why should I leave? I just happen to be in need someone to clean the grave.”

A few moments later, Joan Carell still in her sleeping dress arrived before them with 7 armed men. The woman looked haggard. Without the appliance of make up one could see that her beauty had been fading for a while now.

“Johann, you bastard! You let this bitch in?!”

“I am sorry, Mistress. I will escort them out!” he bowed quickly. He did not want Connie to be hurt and tried to urge her away.

“It's too late. Take her!” she ordered.

“Go ahead and try, you whorish swine,” Martell said with a sweet voice as he snapped his finger. “Telekinesis: Control.”

At once, the various gardening tools near him floated into the air, all aiming at the people in front of him. “Move an inch and you’ll see how sharp a garden fork could be.”