Wreath of Lilies, Cauldron of Poison

Chapter 65

Revenge is Best Served with an Appetizer

Seeing this unknown phenomenon, the men were unsure of what to do. They had never seen a Skill that could levitate things before.

“S-surround them!”

As the leader shouted that order, something swooped past the man’s sides and into the ground.

When he looked over in fright, he saw a shovel stabbed into the ground, halfway up the flat blade almost hitting a guard’s leg. The men gulped when they imagined if that shovel struck any part of their body.

They might survive if the wore full armor, but currently the only thing they wore that could be called armor were iron breastplates. The dirty and almost rusted over garden tool were not sharp. But iron was iron.

“Whoops,” the little beastfolk boy stuck out his tongue and hit the side of his head playfully. “Butterfinger.”

“You useless shits!” Joan grabbed the sword of one of the guards and waved it around, only to see the tip of a rusty garden fork suddenly appearing near her throat.

“A-agh…” she gulped and the sword she was holding fell.

While this was happening, Connie did not move from the front of the grave, giving the uneven top a bit of a wipe with the side of her sleeves.

“If you don’t want to have a hole in that wine-guzzling throat of yours, order the men to drop their weapons and stand back,” Martell commanded.

“S-stand back. Didn’t you hear me? Stand back!”

The men quickly dropped their weapons and stood back a few steps.

Connie waved her hand once as a sign for Martell to back up. He let go of his control and the gardening appliances fell in a cacophony of dissonant sounds that irritated the ears. The woman felt a bit relieved without the threat of the dirty fork aiming at her.

After the final din of the tools were finished, Connie finally said something. As if the palpable tension in the air was nothing to her.

“Make sure that none of them try anything funny.”

“As you wish, Mistress,” the beastfolk boy did a small bow as he answered.

“Ah…almost forgot. Afternoon, Lady Carell.”

“Y-you bitch…what the hell are you doing here?!” she shouted angrily. “There is no place for you here!! This mansion is mine!!”

Connie did not give her tirade the dignity of a response. Instead she looked down at her and gave a calm and unemotional question, though the tone was as if she was stating a fact.

“You look very unhappy. Did the Gladstone geezer abandon you?”

Seeing how ugly her expression’s gotten, Connie laughed. “Haha, one doesn’t have to be a genius to know the answer to that question.”

The girl flicked her braid aside as she regarded the gravestone. “Yes, yes. You don’t have to wonder any longer. I know about you and how you whore yourself to the old pervert. Spreading your legs in exchange for his support.”

“H-how -!”

“I have my methods,” Connie said off-handedly while remembering the two free materials she obtained, courtesy of Gladstone. They were very useful.

She walked a few steps towards her with hands behind her back. Her stepmother unconsciously took a step back from the unexplainable feeling of dread that came from that simple action.

“Did you think that he was doing it because you are beautiful? There are prostitutes in the Capital far more beautiful than you. And their spread legs are worth more gold than yours.”

Connie dodged the incoming slap of the maddened woman with a sway of her body. “Shut up! Shut up!!”

She returned with a slap of her own, which sent her rolling on the ground, dirtying her nightgown. She put up a hand to her now swollen cheek in disbelief.

Connie examined the palm she just used to hit her and let out a sound of satisfaction. Ooh, so that’s why women use slaps. It is strangely satisfying.

“Y-you. How dare you hit me! I am still your Stepmother!”

“Haha! Only because you whore yourself to my father! If that’s the case, I’d have a whole slew of stepmothers in the Capital!”

“That’s not how stepmothers work, Mistress,” Martell offered with an adorable little laugh of amusement.

Johann came over and helped her up. After she got her bearing, she shook him off angrily. The old man drew back with a glance at this unseen side of her deceased Master’s daughter. Cruel, decisive, and ruthless. This was very unlike her.

“You bitch…I’ll have you thrown into the dungeon! For breaking and entering! And threatening me!”

“…is that all?” Connie waited after she finished ranting. “Go ahead. Try me. I haven’t been disowned, so this cannot be called breaking and entering. I cannot break and enter my own house, yes? Also, by trying to get me thrown into the dungeon, you are just making your life harder for yourself. And you know why?”

Connie smiled as she got close and whispered in her ears. “Because I know where all the First King’s treasures are.”

Surprised by this sudden revelation, her heart sank.

“You showed your fangs too soon, woman. If you’d have stayed your ambition for a little longer you could have gotten what that geezer wanted. Heheheh…HAHAHAHA!!”

Connie continued with her taunting as she walked with her back facing her. “How unfortunate for you. After all, your only worth is that you are tied to the Steelheart family,” she turned around and spread her arms wide “Now that Grunford is in the hand of the Hero, you are useless to Gladstone.

She playfully put a finger on her lips. “I’ll let you in in a bit of secret. That sword could only be obtained through the blessing of someone of the Steelheart bloodline.”

“Y-you?!” Though she was drowning in anger and despair, her brain could still understand the implications of Connie’s words.

“Yes. Me,” Connie confirmed her unfinished question with a sardonic smile. “I was the one who told the Hero where Grunford was. Oh, perhaps you have been looking around the mansion for clues to present in front of the Noble Faction? A metaphorical meat to dangle in front of the ravenous wolves that plagued the High Society of Courandhel? Has the pleasure you offer them no longer satiate their hunger?”

“Hahah. Age is a cruel mistress,” Connie said, knowing very well that her own beauty shall not ever wither as long as she cultivated enough.

“All that effort is useless. The knowledge of the First King’s secret is only told by word of mouth. As of Geno Steelheart’s death, only I know them,” Connie tapped the side of her head with her finger. “Yes, everything that you desire – as I said before - is here inside…my…head.”

Seeing the look filled of despair on her face, Connie decided to finish it.

“This little bit of fun has gone long enough. You are here at the right time. I need someone to clean my mother’s grave.”

“Now. Kneel,” Connie said coldly. “Pull out the weed until the grave is clean, then kneel down in front of my mother.”

“Never! You might have me down, but I will not stoop to dirtying my hand!”

“Mother!! Where are you? Why is it so noisy? I can’t sleep!”

The look of horror on her face was so vivid, Connie felt like she should have someone paint it on canvas for posterity.

“No! Julian! Don’t come here!!”

“Young Master!” the men were unable to stop the small boy from coming over. Whether it was because of their fear or incompetence, the result was that he was already in front of his mother with arms spread defiantly.

“Don’t hurt my mother, you evil woman!” Seeing this, Connie spoke to the old servant standing to the side with a worried face.

“Remove the boy, Johann,” Connie ordered. “Do this last kindness to the family that once sheltered you.”

“You evil woman! You should die!” the boy screamed as Johann caught him by the shoulder and dragged him away, enduring the boy’s kicking and screaming. He did not know what to do. Should he follow his heart, or blindly follow loyalty expected of him by his tie to the current Mistress of the House?

Left with no choice, he could only prevent the situation to escalate.

“Evil? Boy, you don’t know evil if it fed you breastmilk,” Martell exclaimed with his trademark angelic smile. “Have you ever eaten dirt, you ungrateful little parasite? Have you ever had to starve until your stomach met your back?”

“Tell me, whose money did your mother use to buy you these expensive clothes? Whose treasures did she sell to fatten you?” The beastfolk boy continued, his expression incongruous to the spiteful words he spoke.

Julian, who had never experienced hardships before, cowered as Martell stepped forward slowly.

“M-mister Martell. Please. He is just a boy…!”

“Am I not a boy too, Mister Fahren? This is just boys being boys, you know. A bit of tussle. A bit of playing rough.”

He was all smiles, and yet that smile had nothing behind it. A mask.

The fat boy bawled as he could not understand why he was scared of the smiling little boy, or what was happening around him. Seeing this pathetic thing, Martell slapped Julian and he fell to the ground. Tears and snot mixed with the dirt. “Don’t cry! You don’t deserve to cry!!”

“Don’t hurt my son!” the woman cried out.

“Then you should start cleaning. With your hands. No tools.” Connie ordered as she leaned on a tall apple tree in front of her mother’s grave. This tree used to be where Cornelia trained with her wooden sword under the care of her mother. The marks of her hard work could be seen on its bark.

As she pondered the clearly inferior skills the young Cornelia’s work had done to the tree, Connie spoke.

“I am curious. Why did you even try to threaten me just now when you saw with your own eyes that I wiped out your guards not even two weeks ago? You can’t be that stupid, right? I mean, my father’s taste was never that great. But, come on…at least he could have picked one with a bit of brain in their heads.”

The woman just looked at her with eyes full of hate before continuing her work.

Seeing that she had no intention to answer, Connie simply watched as Joan struggled to pull out the weeds. She was not used to dirty work and her nails became chipped and dirt plastered on her hands.

She then wordlessly kneel down in fron of the grave. Fearing that the evil creature behind her would hurt her son.

“It’s finished. Now release my son!”

“Release your son? Johann is not holding Julian for me, Lady Carell. He is holding him for your sake.”

Johann ran over to his mother and cried as she threw herself into her embrace.

“It’s okay, son. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you. No one,” she placated her son and hugged him tight. The very picture of a loving mother.

Bemused by the difference between this motherly action and her despicable self, Connie no longer bothered with her and called for Martell.

“Martell. This is…the mother of Cornelia Asterium Steelheart,” Connie said as she bowed deeply before the grave. “Pay your respects.”

The beastfolk boy followed her action. This they did 3 times.

After that Connie took Martell and walked away, giving a respectful nod at Johann. He returned it with a bow full of regret.

“We’ll show ourselves out. I know the way.”

The armed me pulled back as she went past, unable to do anything as her slave had been ever vigilant to any attempts at his Mistress.

“You will never take what is rightfully mine from me. Never!!” the woman yelled after gathering up what was left of her dignity. “You hear me! Never!!”

“As you wish,” Connie said, shrugging her shoulders. “You can have the whole mansion for all I care. See if you can keep up with your way of life once your beauty fades. Though, judging from the crow’s feet and the wrinkles on the sides of your lips, it seems to be much sooner than you expected.”

The woman touched her face with her sullied hand, smearing the dirt over her face as despair crept into her heart.

After exiting the property of the Steelheart House, Connie and Martel walked until they were out of the Noble’s District and into the busy streets of Courandhel.

“How is it?” Connie asked, seemingly to no one.

“It’s done,” Illumca said, appearing suddenly from the shadows of the alley and calmly caught up to Connie. “The books you wanted are all inside the Item Ring.”

“Hurgul’s Toe!!” Martell was alarmed by her sudden appearance and cursed. “Don’t do that!”

“I thought you are proud of your tracking,” the dark elf said sarcastically.

“When I concentrate! I can’t do it all the time!” he answered with a pouting face.

“Excellent job,” Connie praised her, making the dark elf’s heart aflutter. A shy smile bloomed from her lips. She pulled her scarf up to hide it.

Before Connie made a scene in the mansion’s garden, she told Illumca to collect the books with the Steelheart coat of arms on the covers from the mansion’s library. She needed them for research into the history of the Steelhearts, but she did not want to handle the Carell sow. Might as well take them all and take her time reading through them.

“Were you seen by anyone?” Martell asked.

“With that commotion Connie was making back there? No way,” she answered with a slight displeasure, offended by the implications. “By the way, Connie. You were having too much fun. I fear that you were heard by them.”

She nodded slightly at two men trying their hardest to blend into the crowd. “They have been following you from the Noble’s District.”

“Ah. My bad,” she laughed as she pulled a strange yellow fruit from a seller and flicked him a coin. “When I get going, sometimes I forget myself.”

“Who are they trying to fool with that laymen disguise? The clothes were too clean, for one. And their gaits were too uniform,” Martell uttered his observation.

“Did they send regular soldiers to tail me? They are underestimating us,” Connie smirked. “Excellent. Now, what do you two think we should do?”

“We should get rid of them,” Illumca said bluntly.

“We could leave them alone. But killing them is better, I think. It should do as a warning to their people. If we can do it without leaving a trace, it would be better. And with the possibility of them hearing you, well…It’s better to nip problems in the bud.”

“Very well,” Connie smiled as she patted Illumca on her shoulder. “After you’ve done the deed, put their corpses inside the Item Ring. You can take care of the corpses later.”

“Alright.”

“Oh, and take this,” Connie handed her a length of thread wound around a small stick from inside her sleeve. “This is something I made using Yao-er’s silk in my spare time. 5 lengths of silk braided together to make a strong thread capable of supporting the weight of 3 full-grown man. Very good for stealth mission,” she gestured at her neck, making a choking motion. “I’m sure you don’t need me to teach you how to do it.”

“Of course,” Illumca replied as she accepted the thread.

“Why don’t you just put the ring on your finger? It’s safer that way,” Martell asked when she noticed that the Item Ring was hung around her neck by a loop of string instead of on her finger.

“Because this is her ring. I’m going to wait until she gives me my own ring before I put it on my finger. And also, the trip this morning does not count as a date. A date is just the two of us.”

“I – uh…I mean, that's more efficent, right. I also need to teach him what I do, you know.”

“Just the two. Of us,” she added sternly.

Connie sighed at this sudden attack. There was no culture of exchanging wedding rings in her old world. But here the act of putting a ring on one’s fingers was a significant one. And a date? She had not been on one for hundreds of years. It was not easy for someone as old as her to get right into the swing of things.

“W-we’ll talk about that later. Listen, I need you to do something else for me too.”

After a brief discussion, Illumca once again separated herself from Connie and Martel while the two returned to their room in the inn.