The Forest Feeds No Idle Goblins

Chapter 279: Chapter 252: The Loner at the Ball

In Plantagenet City, on Perfume Lily Avenue, a grand ball was underway on the second floor of Si Ren’s House.

Scores of well-dressed men twirled their beautiful partners on the dance floor. They danced to their hearts’ content, faces beaming, some couples already pressing their cheeks together.

"Not going for a dance?" A rather sultry woman approached Alshe. She dipped into a slight curtsy, revealing an ample bust, and suggestively extended the glass of red wine in her hand toward him.

"My apologies, but I’m not particularly interested in dancing at the moment." Alshe sized up the beautiful woman who had approached him and politely declined.

"Oh, not dancing is fine. There are other fun things to do at Si Ren’s House." The woman took a small step closer. She deliberately tilted her head back to take a sip of wine, exposing her long, slender neck.

"Is that so? Now that, I am somewhat interested in." Alshe watched the woman, the corner of his mouth hooking into a smirk. "I know something fun to do. Would you care to join me?"

The woman batted her eyelashes, her gaze turning suggestive. "And what might that be? I’m very interested. Besides, I heard..."

She leaned her neck forward and whispered, "I heard there’s a new shipment of Little Blue Star."

"No, no Little Blue Star needed," Alshe said with a mysterious smile. His smile actually caused the woman to blush shyly. "I want to invite you to blow up a toilet with me."

"Bl-Blow up a toilet?"

"That’s right. All it takes is a few small bombs. A Bursting Fireball Magic Scroll would be more effective, but you could hurt yourself if you handle it wrong. Of course, getting hurt is the least of it. We’re going to blow up the men’s faculty restroom at the Royal Grammar School. I hear some men still go there to, ah, practice their craft. And of course, I also..." Alshe explained with relish, his mysterious expression rapidly twisting into a bizarre grin.

"Sorry, I’m not interested." The woman frowned, turned, and walked away, shooting Alshe a glare as she left.

"I even have a more perfect target—the dean’s private lavatory." Alshe watched the woman walk away, his voice trailing off until he was alone, leaning against the wall. He swirled the red wine in his glass, looking out at the men and women on the dance floor with utter boredom. ’How dull.’

"Young Master." A man in servant’s livery hurried to Alshe’s side. He bowed slightly and leaned in. "His Grace wants you to return at once."

"He wants me back?" Alshe took a sip of his wine. "What could possibly be happening at home that requires my presence?"

Holding his wine glass, he made a shrugging gesture. "My brother can handle anything that comes up."

"His Grace said that you spending all your days loitering on Perfume Lily Avenue is... unseemly..." the servant said cautiously.

"Look over there. Isn’t that Elder Count Baxter? And over there," Alshe said, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor.

A few seconds later, however, he sighed and set his glass down on a long table nearby. "Forget it. Let’s go."

The servant bowed quickly. "Thank you for your understanding, Young Master Alshe."

"Don’t mention it. It’s just too dull to stay here anyway." Alshe glanced at the reveling couples, pursed his lips, and walked on ahead without looking back. "There’s no point to any of this. It’s the same thing, day in and day out."

"You could always listen to His Grace and accept an official post in the city administration," the servant suggested in a low voice, trailing behind him.

"Don’t talk to me about politics. Politics is what ruined my best friend." Alshe immediately cut the servant off. "I will never set foot in that world. The political circles of the Royal Capital are far filthier than this ballroom. At least here, the price for everything is clearly marked."

The servant, rendered speechless by Alshe’s retort, could only follow silently behind him.

"By the way, my author’s fee should have been delivered by now, right?" Alshe suddenly recalled something, stopping and turning his head to ask the servant behind him.

"The bookseller came by shortly after you went out this morning," the servant replied at once. "However, His Grace has previously forbidden you from writing... that sort of thing. He said..."

"The family’s honor? I know," Alshe scoffed. "Not a single noble in all of Plantagenet City has any honor, yet every one of them has to prattle on about it, wear it like a mask on their face. Just like that Count over there. Do you know what he..."

Seeing his young master raise his hand, the servant immediately stepped forward and pressed his arm down. At the servant’s action, Alshe bit back the rest of his words.

"Fine. It would just lead to another duel anyway." Alshe turned away, bored, and strode out the main doors of Si Ren’s House. "I’m still going to write, though. I’ve only just finished the third book, and I’m already planning the fourth."

The servant followed, a conflicted look on his face. It seemed the second son of the Duke’s Mansion had no intention of compromising on this. "In that case, you could give the manuscript to a commoner and have him publish it under his name. That way, you can keep your own name clean."

"A book must be published under the author’s own name. Besides, I’m already using a pen name," Alshe said with a wave of his hand. The two of them hurried toward a carriage emblazoned with a family crest.

"But... *Nobles behind the Bed Curtain of Plantagenet City*... could you perhaps change the title?"

"Don’t listen to my father," Alshe said nonchalantly. "My best friend was the one who came up with that title."

"Alas," the servant sighed, whispering cautiously, "but the Merlot Clan has been branded traitors."

Alshe stopped dead in his tracks. He turned back and stared gravely at his personal manservant, his eyes radiating a potent warning.

"My apologies, Young Master. I was wrong." The servant bowed hastily, raising a hand as if to slap his own face.

"Stop. We’re in the middle of the street," Alshe said. "I know you’re doing it for my sake, and for our family’s, but I hope to never hear such words again."

The servant immediately nodded in agreement, though he knew the second young master was kind and soft-hearted. A threat like that didn’t carry much weight.

"Let’s go. Time to go home." Alshe reached the carriage, bent down, and ducked inside. A golden family crest was mounted on the carriage door—the emblem of a Giant Eagle, its talons gripping a Treasure Sword. The surrounding people dared not approach the magnificent carriage, clearly awed into submission by the crest’s authority.

As the carriage pulled away, the surrounding crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. No one noticed that high atop the five-story Si Ren’s House, a mysterious figure in a long, black Cloak was slowly rising to their feet, gazing at the receding carriage.

Only after the carriage had turned a corner and vanished from sight did the mysterious figure turn from the edge of the roof. They pulled back their hood, revealing lively green eyes. It was Vivian.

’How strange. Why would Duke Lefevre’s second son be leaving flowers at my father’s grave?’

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