Chapter 107. Web of Information

Mountain Road, Ironwood Viscounty

Rattle... rattle...

The rhythmic rattling of the carriage echoed along the winding mountain road as the snow fell in a slow, steady drift across the Ironwood territory.

“I had to pay 3000 Shella to get this… this morning,” Miller sighed, pulling a sealed envelope from his heavy winter coat and handing it to Francesca.

She took it, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “What is it...? And why on earth did it cost so much?” She paused, her eyes narrowing as she read the wax stamp pressed into the paper. “The Butler’s Guild?”

A sudden, violent gust of wind from the white expanse slammed into the window, forcing the carriage driver to halt for a few tense seconds to stabilize the wheels before safely moving forward again.

“It is an information guild started by Randell. You remember the former butler?” Miller reminded her.

Francesca scoffed. “Of course. How could I forget him playing both us and Ivan for money? So, what does he want now?”

“He sent me a letter last night, offering to exchange information on whatever Viscount Hollowland is planning for the banquet in return for the Shella,” Miller explained, gesturing toward the envelope in her hands. “You had better read it. We will be arriving soon enough.”

Francesca nodded grimly, breaking the seal and opening the envelope.

Few Weeks Ago, Second Prince Wing, Imperial Palace, Capital City of Inidal Empire

Alan, Serena, and Raymond sat together in the lavish guest hall, waiting in total, suffocating silence.

Alan was the first to finally break it. “I cannot believe you are Lady Frederica’s daughter and you never told me,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in exhaustion.

Serena sighed in exasperation. “Legally, I am not. Like I already explained... Mother asked me not to reveal it willy-nilly to just about anyone.”

“I am more surprised that you are Lady Nadia’s daughter,” Raymond chimed in with a heavy sigh that mirrored Alan’s. “She used to be the most sought after etiquette teacher in the entire Capital. So I still do not understand why you are living in the commoners' dormitory.”

“Well... how else do you think I can get so many romantic sponsors while being so far away from home?” Serena replied, playfully flipping her hair with a smug, unbothered smirk.

Raymond sighed inwardly. What was I thinking... She is still a complete airhead.

“So that is how you have a connection with the Second Prince’s faction...” Alan nodded to himself in sudden realization, Lady Nadia taught the second prince. He leaned in, about to add, “We need to talk this through in deta-”

Before he could finish, the heavy oak doors suddenly swung open, and the Second Prince’s personal aide walked in.

“His Highness will sponsor the funds you requested in exchange for your latest information,” the aide stated matter-of-factly, not even bothering to sit down. He looked at the trio with cold efficiency. “So, what did you say this first piece of information was going to cost?”

“6000 Shella,” Alan replied with a confident, knowing smile. “And it is about the upcoming New Year’s Banquet in the Hollowland Viscounty.”

Present, Servants Quarters, Hollowland Viscounty, Lord’s Castle

“3000 once, 3000 twice, and 3000 thrice...”

Randell happily counted the heavy stacks of Shella coins and chuckled to himself in the dim light of the room. “A total of 9000 Shella just from selling the same piece of information to Alan, Lord Miller, and Lord Ivan while he is en route to the Gelen Empire. Maybe I can find a way to sell that information to Lady Francesca for a separate fee, too.”

He stood up from his small bunk bed in the corner and began packing his worn leather bag. With this, I have finally gathered everything I need to secure my Guild's starting funds and begin full operations.

He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder and slipped out of the quarters just as the early morning snow began to obscure the entire estate outside.

He crept quietly through the main hallway, heading directly toward the heavy, reinforced vault tucked away in a restricted corner of the castle. With a smug smirk, he pulled a brass key ring from his pocket and slid the master key into the lock. It turned effortlessly with a heavy clack.

“What an idiot,” Randell muttered, pushing the thick iron door open. “He actually gave a spare key to his newly hired butler just from faking a little bit of cheap trust.”

The vault was a perfect monument to Viscount Hollowland’s inflated ego. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of old parchment and polished brass. Stacks of raw, gleaming Shella bars were meticulously arranged on velvet-lined tables, reflecting the faint morning light spilling from the corridor. Oversized, gaudy oil paintings of the Viscount and his ancestors leaned against the stone walls, framed in pure gold. Nearby, ornate mahogany chests overflowed with chunks of iron from many of the territory's mines.

Once inside, rather than stuffing his pockets with the Shella or attempting to steal the expensive art, Randell bypassed the obvious riches completely. He was an information broker; he knew where the real power was kept. He went straight to the heavy iron cabinets in the archive storage section.

“This is it...!” he whispered, his eyes lighting up as he fumbled through the meticulously organized ledgers, personal documents, and territorial information. Finding exactly what he was looking for, he carefully slid the sealed papers into his bag, gently closed the archive cabinet, and slipped back out of the vault, locking it securely behind him.

Randell casually walked out of the main gate and onto the snowy mountain road. As the winter winds increased in intensity, the morning haze grew denser. Just as he was making his escape down the path, a grand procession of carriages rolled past him, heading toward the estate.

“Those look familiar...” he stopped, pulling a brass spyglass from his coat to peer through the falling snow. He managed to make out the distinct sigil carved into the side of the lead carriage and smiled broadly. “Ah... the Ironwood entourage is already here, huh?”

Maybe I should listen in on the greeting at the gate? Randell thought to himself in the freezing cold. Lord Ivan and Alan might fetch a really good price for a transcript of that conversation...

He shook his head a few times, momentarily indecisive, before a reckless grin spread across his face. “To hell with it! If I get caught, I get caught.”

He slowly crept back toward the outer gates, hiding behind a snow-covered pillar, and raised his spyglass again. He couldn’t make out the exact words over the howling winds, but a sudden, booming, overly cheerful voice cut through the courtyard, a voice he instantly recognized from his visits to the capital when working at Ironwood.

“I am so sorry for welcoming myself, Lord Hollowland, but I just wanted a great place to enjoy my time!”

Through the magnified glass, the figures standing in the snowy courtyard became much clearer. Randell chuckled aloud as he spotted a particular hazel-haired young man standing right beside the red headed Miller and the silver haired Francesca.

“They actually brought His Highness along... Ha! Now that is a brilliant play!”