Chapter 109 Chapter 109. Stay at Hollowland

Hollowland Viscounty, Lord’s Castle

“My great-grandfather settled here right around the time of the Ironwood Viscounty’s founding...” Viscount Hollowland continued, gesturing grandly to the faded oil paintings lining the grand staircase.

Hah...! Look at her struggling, Hollowland thought with a cruel sneer inward. What makes her so much better than my daughter, other than being born a Duke’s defected daughter?

He purposefully stopped on almost every single step to deliver an unnecessarily long explanation for each portrait, side-eyeing Francesca every few seconds to watch her wince as she navigated the steep stairs with her cane.

Miller held Francesca firmly by the waist, allowing her to lean her weight entirely against him for support. “We really should have gotten you a new cane before we left. This one seems to be getting rather inefficient, huh?” Miller commented with a warm, pointed smile.

Francesca smiled back, instantly catching his drift. That is a brilliant angle, she thought to herself. If we blame the cane, it won’t be viewed as disrespectful to the host even if we abruptly cut the tour short.

“You are right. I should have listened when you wanted to have a new one forged from solid metal,” Francesca replied. She smoothly wrapped her arms around Miller’s neck as he effortlessly scooped her up into his arms, lifting her off the painful steps.

“Oh my! You should have said something, Lady Francesca! We could have stopped by one of the local blacksmiths on the way!” Prince Vadim dramatically clapped his hands together, seamlessly joining the act.

“That is true. We do have the finest iron ore and the best blacksmiths in the entire North,” Lady Nina added, trying to redirect the conversation back to Francesca's perceived physical weakness.

Viscount Hollowland eagerly chipped in with a sickly, fake smile. “Indeed! I am sure our blacksmiths would have been able to forge a spectacular one in just a few hours. That way, you could have focused on our esteemed family history without being such a distraction!”

A victorious smirk was just appearing on Hollowland's face. He was about to push even further to land an insult when Prince Vadim loudly clapped his hands again, cutting him off completely.

“Oh, if that is the case, I apologize so much, Viscount Hollowland! I was just so incredibly eager to meet the peerless beauty of Hollowland that I mercilessly rushed Lord Miller and Her Ladyship along the road!” Prince Vadim practically swooned, looking directly at an immediately flustered Nina.

“Since this entire lack of preparation was my mistake, why don’t we cut this little family history lesson short and get moving? I would feel terrible making everyone uncomfortable just because of my hastiness.” Prince Vadim maintained the exact same bubbly, utterly dense expression as he spoke.

Miller couldn’t help the smug smirk forming on his face.

Without giving the stunned Hollowlands a chance to argue with a Prince, Miller simply nodded in agreement and carried Francesca directly up the remaining stairs toward their designated guest rooms.

Carriage Square, Hollowland Viscounty

Randell walked briskly down the main street leading away from the Viscount’s castle, slipping into the cold shadows of a quiet alleyway to wait for the morning rental carriages to begin their daily routes. He dropped his heavy leather bag to the frosty cobblestones and pulled out a thick stack of the stolen documents, carefully checking them one by one for vital information under the dim morning light.

“He really kept all the official documents pertaining to his precious iron mines in such an obvious place, huh? What a fool. He even handed a spare vault key to a brand-new hire like me,” Randell chuckled to himself. Thinking back to the chaotic courtyard greeting he had witnessed earlier that morning, his smug smile only grew wider.

“I would have loved to stick around just to see his fumbling act as he tries to salvage his pathetic 'bed trick' trap with His Highness’s overbearing presence ruining the board.” Randell tapped the stack of parchments against his knee to align them, safely tucking them away before pulling out the next batch to read. “But this is for the best. I definitely do not want to be caught in the inevitable crossfire, after all.”

Suddenly, his eyes widened. He paused on an incredibly old, sealed document, its edges brittle and heavily yellowed with age. He slowly stood up, his gloved fingers tracing the faded ink of the crest stamped upon it.

“No... way. If this is actually real, then...” Randell started chuckling, a low, incredulous sound that quickly morphed into a laugh of genuine disbelief. “That idiot of a Viscount! He was sitting on a goldmine like this and never even figured out what it was? No wonder he is still trying to pull off reckless, small-time stunts to feed his useless ambition.”

Down the street, the carriagemen finally started yelling, calling out the start of the morning rental services as the town woke up. Randell quickly shoved the yellowed parchment deep into the safest pocket of his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and rushed out of the alley toward the nearest enclosed carriage.

“Get me to the Goldance Duchy,” Randell ordered, tossing a heavy Shella coin directly to the coachman. “I will not be sharing the ride. Charge me the full private rate.”

The coachman easily caught the coins, a bright, eager smile breaking across his wind-chapped face. “Right away, Mister!”

Guest Chambers, Hollowland Viscounty, Lord’s Castle

“You can rest up. Viscount Hollowland and his family will be busy welcoming the other guests all day, so we can just stay put in here until tomorrow’s New Year's banquet,” Miller informed her, pouring steaming tea into a porcelain cup.

Francesca sighed in relief, taking the warm cup from his hands. “That is really good news. I cannot imagine spending the whole day rubbing shoulders with that insufferable crowd.”

“Poor His Highness. He won’t be able to hide away like us, since every single guest arriving will be lining up to greet him,” Miller chuckled, taking a sip from his own cup.

In the quiet sanctuary of the thick stone walls, as the fireplace crackled cheerfully and the snowy winds outside aggressively rattled the windowpanes, a much-needed atmosphere of cozy warmth settled over them.

They sat silently in comfortable chairs opposite each other, simply drinking their tea and enjoying the rare peace. After a few minutes, Miller set his teacup down on the table, his expression turning serious. “Randell’s intel could be fake, but we still need to prepare for it. Be very careful about what you drink tomorrow night during the banquet.”

Francesca sighed, looking straight into his deep red eyes. “I spent years in the Capital, maneuvering through these exact kinds of amateur social stunts many times over, both in my past life and in this one. A spiked glass of wine is not the thing we should be worrying about right now.”

Miller nodded in silent agreement, the flickering golden light of the fireplace dancing across his face.

“Meeting with the Northern Central Church’s envoy during the banquet...” he muttered heavily.

They sat together, enveloped by the crackling noises of the hearth. Outside the frosted glass, small northern birds struggled to fly through the harsh, freezing winds, yet they still rose bravely through the heavy gray clouds to reach their destination.