“The Lady of the Lake?”
The vampire frowned slightly and nodded slowly.
“It is a local folk legend; I heard similar stories when I was still a child. Tales of heroes seeking power and drawing a sword after passing a trial, or sages seeking wisdom and obtaining ancient codices after a test. These stories are ambiguous, yet they have persisted locally for a long time.”
He paused for a moment.
“Before I left the area in early autumn, news circulated in the black market that someone had actually encountered the Goddess of the Lake. If you require more detailed information, I can help collect it. Tomorrow—tomorrow I shall provide you with the intelligence I can currently gather.”
“Then I shall have to trouble you.”
Shad raised his glass and lightly clinked it with Mr. Bernhardt’s.
“Additionally, since I have arrived in a new city, could you introduce me to the local black market? I am very keen to see the local specialties.”
“That is no problem. The number of Ring Casters in Huntington is not fewer than those in Midhillburg.”
“Then, aside from the Church of the True God, are there any Ring Caster organizations here that I should be mindful of?”
Shad asked. Mr. Bernhardt thought for a moment.
“None within the city limits. To the east are vast vineyards and farms with a small permanent population. However, to the west, in the Pantanal Great Marsh, there is the ‘Pantanal Voodoo Society’ composed of marsh natives. These people are eccentric, skilled in the use of toxins and plague-type occult arts, and their beliefs are fragmented—some even worship the Pantanal region itself. Because they contaminated the groundwater near Huntington City years ago, they were placed on the Nature Church's wanted list. Of course, there are many decent fellows among them, but when dealing with such people, never carelessly consume the water or food they offer.”
“Is this ‘Pantanal Voodoo Society’ powerful?”
Shad asked again. The vampire pondered.
“Their members are spread across the entire Pantanal Great Marsh region, profiting from the sale of rare marsh herbs and animal products; they are indeed skilled in that regard. If you are interested in venturing deep into those marshes and wetlands, the small houses you see in deserted forests, or the apothecaries growing herbs on the outskirts of remote villages, are mostly members of the Pantanal Voodoo Society. However, this organization only operates in this region; they are almost nonexistent in other parts of the Old Continent and the New Continent.”
Shad indeed had not heard the name of this organization before.
“The Voodoo Society must have high-ring casters, right?”
“Of course, but the highest is only the Ninth Ring. The organizational structure of the Voodoo Society is very loose, so the organization itself is riddled with contradictions; it is not tightly structured like most organizations we know.”
Mr. Bernhardt shrugged.
“As you know, where there are people, there is conflict. It is only natural.”
The two exchanged information about the local situation with great enthusiasm. Mr. Bernhardt, who had lived there for years, was very talkative and even wanted to invite Shad to visit his manor outside the city tonight.
Today was Thursday, and Shad had nothing pressing, so he intended to agree immediately. However, a club waiter hurried over and whispered a few words into Mr. Bernhardt’s ear. The latter wore a look of surprise.
“Oh, I see. It is my honor; I shall go at once.”
He set down his glass, hurriedly wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said apologetically to Shad while smoothing his hair
“A distinguished guest upstairs wishes to see me. Mr. Watson, please continue your meal here; this meal is on me. I will return as soon as possible. Yes, *that* person... is my hair messy right now?”
“Not messy, it looks quite good. Do you need a comb?”
Shad understood that “that person” referred to the Princess. As he spoke, he fished a wooden comb from his pocket and handed it over.
“Then please, go on up.”
He expressed his understanding and was quite curious as to what Princess Margaret of Anjou wanted with this vampire Viscount.
Mr. Bernhardt combed his hair and followed the servant away somewhat nervously, leaving Shad to continue his meal. Although he was a distant relative of the House of Anjou, he did not actually meet with royal members frequently.
He had originally thought Mr. Bernhardt would be gone for a long time, but before Shad had finished the Huntington special honey-glazed grape steak before him, the gentleman returned looking worried.
He returned the comb to Shad and readjusted the napkin handed to him by his servant. Shad believed his current expression practically wrote “I am very curious” across his face, and Mr. Bernhardt, reading the expression, said with some annoyance
“It is still related to that matter.”
He pointed to the news on the newspaper on the table regarding the Princess's visit to Tobesk. Shad nodded.
“Although such diplomatic mutual visits are very important for two countries in times of peace, it shouldn't be to the extent that you are required to go along, should it?”
“No, no, what does that have to do with me? It is Her Highness Princess Margaret who is visiting Tobesk and wishes to prepare gifts in her private capacity, so...”
Mr. Bernhardt shook his head.
“Someone just mentioned to Her Highness that I have several bottles of excellent vintage wines, and that I manage the White River Valley Vineyards for the royal family. Therefore, Her Highness asked me to retrieve some of this year's batch from the cellar.”
Although what Shad saw were wines currently fermenting, there were actually vintages from previous years stored in the warehouse. Mutual gift-giving between the House of Anjou and the House of Cavendish did not require the Princess to prepare them herself, but since she intended to give gifts privately to important nobles and officials in Tobesk in her own name, she had to handle it herself.
“What is the difficulty in that? Aren't there many wines in the cellar?”
Shad asked. Mr. Bernhardt shook his head.
“There are, indeed, but the quality is very poor.”
The dignified gentleman weighed his words carefully.
“Due to the climate of recent years, the quality of the grapes grown in the White River Valley Vineyards has declined year after year, which is why profits have continued to shrink. Therefore, every summer, when I send the wines from the vineyard to Wyndell...”
He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow at Shad. Knowing this involved private matters, Shad immediately said
“I won't tell a soul.”
“The vineyard can afford to lose money, but sending out such terrible wine would be utterly undignified. The wines from the last few summers were actually produced by my own private estate.”
Mr. Bernhardt leaned in and spoke rapidly, glancing around after he finished.
This was actually a minor matter. While Mr. Bernhardt's method wasn't strictly correct, it wasn't exactly wrong; he maintained his dignity, received the subsidies for managing the vineyard, and the royal family received good red wine.
“So, the Princess believes the estate's wine is excellent?”
Shad asked with a smile. The middle-aged noble sighed.
“Yes, and the problem is that this summer, the batch from my own estate has already been entirely sold out. There isn't a single bottle left in stock.”
This was a very awkward situation. Mr. Bernhardt could admit the source of the red wines he sent every year, but that would cause him to lose face. Therefore, the gentleman planned to purchase several bottles of high-quality red wine at a high price for Margaret of Anjou to take to Tobesk.
Of course, the second princess of the royal family was very skilled in wine tasting, so Mr. Bernhardt had to find a fine wine that the Princess had not encountered before; otherwise, she would immediately realize the source was incorrect.
The task wasn't complex, but it wasn't easy either, which was why Mr. Bernhardt was currently so embarrassed.
Shad hadn't expected that this gentleman, who had even participated in the Descent event, would be troubled by such a trivial matter, so he suggested
“Fine wine? I don't think you need to look further; I have some excellent wine here.”
Helping the gentleman was a simple gesture, and he would need this man's help with many things in this city in the future.
As he spoke, he first had the vampire servant nearby fetch two new goblets, then reached into his pocket. After checking that no one was paying attention, he “pulled” two bottles of red wine from the inside of his clothes and placed them on the table.
Mr. Bernhardt raised an eyebrow.
“You carry wine bottles when you go out?”
“No, no, I rarely drink. But when traveling, how can one not carry wine on one's person?”
Shad joked, distinguishing between the two bottles.
“Not this one; this is cider. This bottle is wine.”
He handed the bottle of cider to the returning vampire servant, signaling him to pour for the two of them.
“Viscount, I know these two bottles don't look like much.”
After all, even the bottles were recycled.
“But please, taste this cider.”
Shad said confidently. Mr. Bernhardt leaned back in his chair.
“Very well. I rarely drink fruit wines brewed from apples; I hope it brings me a surprise.”
The fruit wine produced by [Blood Wine Brewing] did not possess supernatural properties, but regardless of the type of alcohol, it possessed the same crimson hue as red wine.
Mr. Bernhardt looked with great surprise at the liquid in the glass, which looked like a liquid ruby. He lifted the goblet and observed the color carefully under the light, unable to help but praise
“This color is truly astonishing; it is a noble color.”
Shad had already taken a sip of the cider. He was actually quite regretful that [Blood Wine Brewing] could only brew alcohol and not non-alcoholic fruit juice.
“Please, taste it.”
“Judging by the color alone, I can be certain it... why would cider be this color?”
Hesitantly, he extended his nose and took a light sniff. The vampire's powerful sense of smell allowed him to fully inhale the rich, high-end aroma of the wine. In an instant, it felt as if the world were spinning; Mr. Bernhardt leaned back and breathed deeply, his eyes wide.
“Oh, my god, this is quite a kick!”
The latter half was Carsonrick slang; Shad hoped his translation was correct.
“This isn't some contraband like Midburg's Blood-Brew; your reaction is far too exaggerated.”
Although he knew there would be such an effect, Shad still smiled; he couldn't help but feel a bit smug at this moment.
(End of Chapter)