Chapter 119: The Clue and the Shattered Glass

“What’s wrong? Are you really alright?” Gareth’s voice carried a hint of genuine concern. He stared at Nolan, his brow slightly furrowed as his gaze settled on his face.

“Look at your face; it’s as white as if you’ve seen a specter from the underworld.”

“No… I’m fine.” Nolan’s voice trembled with a barely detectable flutter. He lightly raised his elbow, stopping the glass Gareth was offering. “Thank you for your concern.”

If it were a matter of specters, he had indeed run into quite a few over the past couple of days. However, what had terrified him to this extent was not some mere ghost.

He tried his best to force an easy smile, but the curve of his lips was painfully stiff, completely unable to mask the chill spreading across his back—cold sweat trickled down his spine, dampening his inner shirt so that it clung stickily and uncomfortably to his skin.

“Gareth, these scoundrels you call friends not only have terrible memories, but they aren’t too bright either.”

Young Wetting leaned askew against the tavern table, his fingertips carelessly spinning his glass as the amber wine drew a warm curve along the rim.

Tilting his head back, he downed the glass in one gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if venting his thorough impatience. “Following you to a joint like this is a pure waste of time.”

“My, my, Wetting, your mouth is like you’ve swallowed gunpowder—exploding at the slightest spark.” Gareth scratched his head with a chuckled attempt to smooth things over.

When he turned back to Nolan, his smile was as bright as ever.

“Nolan, don’t take it to heart. In these peaceful times, inspections of carried weapons in the capital aren’t actually that strict. Today was purely because our Lord Wetting here was in a foul mood, so he picked a bone with you over this minor detail.”

Nolan pressed his fingertips slightly against the edge of the table, but ultimately unable to resist the gentle force of Gareth pushing the cup toward him, he had to take the cold glass in his hand.

Furrowing his brow, he managed a smile that looked more painful than crying. “Don’t say that. It was indeed my oversight, and I was the one who caused offense first.”

“Hmph.” Young Wetting let out a soft snort from his nose. His eyes swept over Nolan with a trace of scrutiny, but he did not speak again. Taking advantage of this gap, Nolan discreetly studied him—

If this young man had spent significant time in the Royal Capital, and since the Knight Academy was not a place ordinary people could easily enter, being able to pry some information from him would make this encounter worthwhile.

Nolan had already formulated a plan in his mind. To extract information, he first needed to ease the tension. He slapped the table, using the momentum to stand up, and walked over to Young Wetting with an extremely humble posture.

“Sir, earlier it was due to my arrival as a newcomer unfamiliar with the laws of the Royal Capital. I apologize for the offense. I will penalize myself with a glass of wine to make amends.”

With that, he raised his hand and downed the wine in one gulp. The liquid burnt as it hit his throat, making his chest tighten, but he forced himself to hold back his cough.

Young Wetting stared at him blankly for a long while, complex emotions flickering in his eyes. Only when Nolan’s breathing had stabilized did he let out a soft sigh, his tone softening slightly as he acknowledged the gesture.

A trace of an awkward smile emerged on Nolan’s face, though he muttered to himself inside. He and Gareth had only crossed paths once on a ship; they could hardly be called friends. Yet, since he had relied on him to get out of trouble, it was fine. He decided to change the subject, attempting to avoid this far-fetched “friendship” talk:

“So, what kind of guards are you anyway?”

Hearing this, Gareth raised his eyebrows, a smug expression on his face. He flicked the badge on his chest, the metallic crest reflecting fine glints under the warm yellow lights.

“What do you mean, ‘what kind of guards’? We are the official Royal Capital Citizens’ Patrol!” He raised his chin slightly, boasting, “We aren’t those regular guards who do nothing but eat and wait to die.”

“Citizens’ Patrol?” Nolan repeated the unfamiliar term, his eyes filled with doubt. “How is that different from ordinary guards?”

“That’s where your ignorance shows,” Gareth said, shaking his head and teasing his curiosity. Seeing Nolan still looking bewildered, he explained unhurriedly,

“Well, to put it plainly—as you know, this Royal Capital is crawling with nobles and gentry of all sizes. If we relied on regular soldiers to keep the peace, how could they ever police these influential figures? That’s why the Citizens’ Patrol is a semi-professional force voluntarily drawn from the city’s nobility and gentry.

They train in arms on regular days, and in their spare time, they help keep order. This way, unlike regular guards who get easily pushed around due to social disparity, they can’t be easily manipulated into bending the law.”

‘So “the nobles police themselves”—doesn’t that just make it even easier to bend the law?’ Nolan grumbled inwardly, his brow twitching imperceptibly, though on the outside he instantly put on a look of sudden enlightenment. “I see! But wait—when did you become a noble?”

“Just because I’m not one now doesn’t mean I won’t be in the future.” A sly glint flickered in Gareth’s eyes, his lips curving into a teasing smile as he intentionally dragged out his words, “Why? Are you curious about how I’m going to become a noble?”

“Could it be that you’ve accomplished some legendary exploit with your extraordinary courage?” Nolan followed his lead, probing.

“Heh, quit putting on a show,” Young Wetting put down his glass, speaking with a sneer as he ruthlessly exposed Gareth. “Weren’t you simply recruited as a consort by the Imperial Family? You hooked up with Her Highness Princess Perla, and who knows…”

“What? Are you trying to slander the Imperial Family?” Gareth bared his teeth, shooting a glare over.

“So, you’re getting married to the Princess… I really don’t know how to congratulate you,” Nolan said jokingly. “Should I…”

“It hasn’t gone that far yet. Princess Perla has not officially come of age, and she still has to finish her studies.” Gareth waved his hands. “Even if we officially wed, it will be a matter for next year.”

“Anyway—Nolan, you’ve asked me so many questions, isn’t it my turn to ask you? Can you tell me what your plans are now that you’ve come to the Royal Capital?”

Nolan was taken aback, and then saw Gareth’s eyes slowly narrow as he peered over.

“It’s nothing particularly important. I just came to the capital to visit family.”

Nolan’s fingertips unconsciously rubbed the rim of his empty glass, speaking with forced indifference—the warning letter must absolutely not be leaked.

He could only use visiting family as a cover for his true purpose. “My younger sister is studying at the Preparatory Knight Academy. We haven’t met in a long time, so I came this time hoping to visit her.”

“Oh! This is too coincidental!” Gareth snapped his thigh, his eyes lighting up. He jerked his chin toward Young Wetting.

“Nolan, do you know? Our Lord Wetting here was a legendary genius back in the Three Great Knight Orders. He was right up there when it came to strength and reputation!

You just offended him earlier—aren’t you worried he might give your sister a hard time at the Knight Academy later?”

“Then I was truly reckless to have offended the Lord.”

Nolan felt a surge of joy. Seeing the conversation finally veer into the direction he cared about, he quickly followed the lead, lowering his posture even further. “Lord Wetting, if you wish to hit or scold me, please direct it all at me.”

“Am I really that petty?” Young Wetting slammed his glass heavily onto the table. He had been drinking steadily on his own, having already finished a whole bottle of champagne by himself.

However, his tolerance was rather average; by now, the alcohol had rushed to his head, leaving him somewhat tipsy. “Besides, the current me has no authority over such matters anyway.”

“That is because of your admirable generosity, My Lord,” Nolan flattered him smoothly. “To be honest, I came to the capital hoping to find her. But the Preparatory Knight Academy is strictly managed and has countless rules. I really don’t know how I can arrange to see my sister without inadvertently violating some regulation and causing trouble.”

“Mmh…” Young Wetting furrowed his brow, his fingertips unconsciously tapping on the table. The alcohol seemed to have stripped away a bit of his usual cold stiffness, replacing it with a touch of patience.

“According to the convention of past years, the academy should be arranging joint field training around this season. Whether your sister is currently at the academy, or if you can see her, I cannot say for sure.”

“Joint field training?” Nolan’s eyes lit up, and he quickly pressed, “Is it… going out for concentrated training? I wonder if you happen to know…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Gareth slapped his shoulder, laughing as he interrupted: “Nolan, you’re asking the wrong person!” Gareth’s tone carried a hint of teasing.

“This fellow committed some errors earlier and was suspended by the knight order to reflect. Now, dying of boredom, he has come to our Patrol to pass the time—he knows absolutely nothing about the current state of the knight orders, let alone that Preparatory Knight Academy he graduated from years ago!”

“Yeah…” Hearing these almost provocative words, Young Wetting did not get angry. Instead, his shoulders slumped slightly, and he spoke as if muttering drunken words:

“But for that kind of thing, I didn’t have… any other choice… Whatever, you really are asking the wrong person. I know nothing.”

“I see. My apologies for asking.” A trace of disappointment flickered through Nolan’s heart. Knowing that asking further would likely yield nothing, he felt the urge to leave.

He slowly stood up, straightened his slightly creased clothes, and cupped his hands to the two of them. “Gentlemen, it was a pleasure to meet you both today, though I am truly sorry for causing so much trouble on my account. Having just arrived in the capital, I haven’t settled on a place to stay and still have many matters to arrange, so I shall take my leave now. I will surely pay a visit to express my gratitude another day.”

“Leaving already? Why not have another couple of glasses?” Gareth quickly rose to urge him to stay.

Nolan had already turned and was about to walk away when Young Wetting’s slurred, wine-soaked voice came from behind: “By the way, your sister… what was her name? I might still have some old acquaintances at the academy, so I can keep an eye out for you.”

“Really? That would be wonderful!” Nolan’s eyes lit up instantly. Filled with surprise and joy, he whipped back around, his voice unable to hide his excitement. “Her name is Diya—Diya Cyril!”

Clatter!

The glass cup fell to the ground, shattering into tiny pieces. Right after, Nolan distinctly saw Young Wetting’s face turn as pale as a corpse upon hearing that name.

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