Chapter 219: Death List

By this point, Lita had to correct one thing.

“Her Royal Highness the Third Princess isn’t dead yet.”

“Huh? She’s not dead?” Momoka’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Her slightly disappointed expression made Lita feel a secret thrill.

It wasn’t just herself—Momoka didn’t like the Third Princess either.

Momoka thought for a moment, then casually explained to Lita, “The version I heard was that she got ambushed by the Glen faction and was sent to the Church for treatment, but their people infiltrated the Church and strangled the Third Princess in her bed. The King was so enraged that he beheaded eighteen Bishops of the Church to vent his fury. The Church held a grudge, so they colluded with the Demon Race and did this to you…”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Lita quickly interrupted Momoka. “Where did you hear this unofficial history?”

Following Momoka’s gaze, Lita looked toward the Beautiful Pheasant, who was singing by the fireplace. All her doubts vanished instantly.

‘Of course it’s her. That explains everything. I’ll have to give her a good kick or two later.’

Not only had she offended the Church, but she had also offended the most petty and vengeful member of the royal family, Lilya. It wasn’t hard to imagine why she was so destitute when Lita met her. In fact, it was a miracle she still had all her limbs intact. If one day Claire was captured and had her fingers broken or her tongue cut off, Lita wouldn’t be surprised at all. Really.

But now wasn’t the time to think about Claire. Thinking about it wouldn’t help.

“Alright, let’s stop with these digressions. What exactly is this ‘Glen’?”

“I don’t know what the official term is, but we usually just call them Glen. Each of them has a weird personality, most of them operate alone—though there are exceptions, but that’s the general case.” Momoka took a swig of wine and began to ramble.

“I’ll just tell you what I know. There was this Madam Trude who turned an entire village’s people into wood. They say that when those wooden people were thrown into the fireplace, they let out piercing screams.”

Lita glanced at the firewood crackling in the fireplace behind the Beautiful Pheasant and couldn’t help shivering.

That small reaction only made Momoka speak more enthusiastically.

“Then there’s this guy who looks like a little brat, calls himself ‘Poor Child from the Grave.’ He goes around stealing things. That’s fine by itself, but whenever someone comes to confront him, he buries that person alive in the ground.”

“And then there are three guys who call themselves ‘The Surgeons.’ They look like stitched-together freaks—somehow they sewed Demon Beasts onto their own bodies. These guys are more straightforward: whenever they see someone, they kill that person.”

“Oh, right, there’s one who calls himself the ‘Pied Piper of Hamelin.’ They say he uses his flute to bewitch people’s minds, then offers up one sacrifice every night and feeds that person alive to rats.”

…That last one sounded strangely familiar.

She didn’t know about the feeding-to-rats part, but if these stories were true, then those fat, huge rats in that village made sense. So she had already encountered those people without realizing it?

If that was the case, then the reason Lilya had been running all over the place with Xingxian back then might have been to catch these people’s trail.

But based on the Pied Piper’s strength, Lita didn’t think this group was all that powerful—they were just good at keeping a low profile. If she hadn’t happened to stay overnight in that village, she might never have caught that guy’s trail.

“In short, they’re a bunch of infamous scoundrels who aren’t all that strong. I heard Her Royal Highness the Third Princess tried to root them out, but in the end, she suffered for it—she even…”

“Not dead! Not dead!”

“Fine, even nearly lost her life.”

Lita couldn’t take everything Momoka said as gospel. Who knew how much of what she was saying—especially since she had claimed Lilya was dead—was just hearsay that had been artistically embellished?

But at least she now knew of the existence of this group called Glen.

Lita and Momoka talked late into the night at the tavern. It wasn’t until Claire put away her lute and the patrons gradually left that Momoka, already hazy with drink, finally let Lita go.

Actually, it wasn’t that Momoka let Lita go—it was that Momoka could no longer keep chatting with Lita. Maybe it was the joy of seeing Lita that made her drink a few too many glasses; in the end, she couldn’t even stand up.

“In the Royal City during winter, even with patrolling guards, people still freeze to death on the streets every year. Two silver coins will guarantee you don’t freeze—it’s a pretty good deal.” That’s what the tavern owner said. He seemed to have anticipated this situation; upstairs, he had prepared a row of small rooms. Each had only a bed and a tiny space for luggage, but the price was low, perfectly meeting the needs of drinkers who couldn’t make it out of the tavern for the night.

This helped Lita too, because otherwise she wouldn’t have known where to put Momoka.

In the end, Claire paid for this round of drinks. Her money came from secondary creations starring herself—surely Lita could take a bit of licensing fee.

“If I hear you spouting nonsense again, I’ll personally send you to the Church.” Before leaving, Lita threatened Claire with a smile, making Claire nod vigorously like a sieve.

She returned to the Royal Palace near midnight, but from afar, Lita noticed that Lady Cecilia’s room still had its lights on. She must be waiting.

Lita quickly changed her clothes before going to see Cecilia. Even though Lita had prepared herself, the smell of liquor had been seeping into her hair and skin from the fireplace for half the night—it wasn’t so easy to get rid of.

“Lita, you’re back?” Cecilia greeted Lita with a nuclear-friendly smile at the door.

Honestly, Cecilia’s smile was far more terrifying than her stern face. At least Lita felt that most of the time when she saw Cecilia smiling, Cecilia was either plotting something bad or had already succeeded.

“Ah, Lady Cecilia…” Lita scratched her head, grateful that Cecilia hadn’t directly rapped her skull with her little cane tonight. Probably because she had reported in advance.

But Cecilia had told her not to come back too late. Having been out so long, it felt like a husband coming home late, about to be scolded by his wife… Although Cecilia was proactive when feeding her, most of the time, she was a true lady.

Before the lady got angry, Lita needed to explain quickly.

“Lady Cecilia, I met Momoka tonight, at the tavern. Momoka, do you remember? The one I dueled with in Solus City…” Lita’s defense was somewhat incoherent—she just blurted out whatever came to mind. But luckily, Cecilia’s comprehension wasn’t bad.

“Yes, I remember her. Excellent people always leave a strong impression.”

Although Cecilia didn’t say it, Lita could hear the implication of “Learn from her” in her words. Learn what? Drinking? Forget it—she shouldn’t compare herself to someone else’s child.

“She chatted with me for a while tonight, so I was a bit late. But I did gain something.” Lita recounted the topics she had discussed with Momoka. By the end, Cecilia’s slight displeasure at her late return had vanished, and her expression grew more serious.

“Of course, all of this is hearsay. It might not be true. She even said Lilya died.” Lita added a specific remark.

“Hearsay, yes. But staying cooped up in the palace all day, my information has indeed grown a bit stale. I see… so this is what Amelia was talking about…” Cecilia fiddled with her fingers, making Lita unsure if she was talking to her or to herself.

“Even street rumors can be very beneficial to us. The rumors that spread after we returned from the Northlands contained some truth, and this is no exception.” Cecilia walked to her desk, picked up the paper and quill, and Lita immediately brought her the ink.

Cecilia dipped the quill and had Lita recount everything from start to finish in detail.

So Lita spoke, and Cecilia listened while writing. When it was over, Lita wanted to say something, but Cecilia silenced her with a gesture.

Under the moonlight, only the scratching of the quill and the rustling of paper could be heard. Though the hour was late, Cecilia wrote on tirelessly.

Finally, when Lita had started to feel drowsy, Cecilia put down her pen and pushed a list in front of Lita.

At this moment, Lita had no idea how important the things recorded on that list really were.