Chapter 04
“I Have Locked You Up, But There Is No Malice”
Ibelin stood with her arms crossed and thought for a long time, but she could not figure anything out.
“Forget it.”
The important thing was not this. She could slowly investigate her grandfather’s identity later. Right now, saving the Gracius Duke was the priority.
The first method Ibelin thought of was a letter.
In this era, there was something called anonymous mail. If you just put a stamp on an envelope, it would be delivered. You could write your name too, but that felt uncomfortable. The Duke’s reputation was far too bad.
A warning sent by a completely unknown person—if it were her, she would probably try to find the sender immediately to confirm whether it was true.
She had heard her grandfather had some connection with him, but there was no proof. If she made a mistake, she might get caught and end up like other victims, with something broken somewhere.
Besides, I don’t even know which army Grandfather was in.
She had asked before out of curiosity, but her grandfather never wanted to talk about it in detail.
Maybe it was because the war he had experienced was too terrible, and he wanted to forget it. That was why she stopped asking. So there was no way to confirm the truth. And she couldn’t say she saw the future in a dream either. Whether people believed it or not, it was dangerous either way.
Still, I don’t have another choice.
Maybe anonymous letters could work if used properly.
Ibelin wrote a letter in a different handwriting than usual, then dropped it into a mailbox in the outskirts far from her home. She even disguised herself lightly, worried someone might notice her.
After sending the letter, days passed—but nothing changed.
“Why?”
The Emperor’s birthday celebration was getting closer and closer, yet the dream where the Duke was attacked did not change. Did the letter even reach him? Or was it lost halfway?
The capital sometimes lost letters because of the huge volume of mail. So she sent a few more letters just in case—but still nothing changed.
At that point, Ibelin realized it.
There’s not enough information.
A piece of information she, a newcomer from the border, did not have. She needed someone who had that knowledge. Otherwise, she would just keep sending useless letters.
Luckily, I know an information broker.
Strictly speaking, it was someone her grandfather used to know. She did not even know if he was still working, but there was nothing to lose.
So she decided to go check in person and left the house boldly.
It was unfortunate that she could not enjoy the situation, but she finally had the chance to meet the information broker she had been curious about for so long!
With that thought, Ibelin headed toward the back alleys of the capital.
The back alleys often appeared in stories her grandfather told her. So she knew—this was a place where countless histories were born and buried.
And in those histories, there was always a certain type of person.
Thugs.
Groups that swaggered around and robbed people who looked weak. Sometimes they drove people into despair, and sometimes they themselves fell into despair. They even became stepping stones for great figures in history.
“Hey, miss. You look like you’ve got some money.”
So when the thugs appeared, Ibelin was not surprised. Of course they show up here. She nodded calmly.
Then she reached into her side bag and pulled out a gun.
Although the world still preferred cold weapons, weapons continued to evolve. That evolution had produced guns.
Of course, they were not easy to use. The bulky gun had many strict limitations.
It could not hold more than six bullets at once, and there was a delay before firing. Even that was not the biggest problem.
The user had to be able to use mana.
From loading the gun to reducing firing delay, mana had to be constantly infused. Since alchemists and mages had developed it, it required magical power.
Because of that, it was not exactly a cost-effective weapon. But the thugs thought differently. To block a bullet, one would need decent combat skill anyway.
“W-what? Is that a real gun?”
The thug looked at her nervously. Most mana users in the world were nobles, so his reaction was natural.
“Yes.”
Ibelin nodded, then fired a shot straight into the air.
That alone was enough to drive them away.
“Agh!”
The thugs quickly ran away. Ibelin did not chase them. She also needed to leave quickly now. Some people might come running after hearing a gunshot, while others might come toward it.
Following what she remembered from her grandfather’s stories, she ran through winding alleyways and found the old tavern she was looking for.
A signboard with a strange monster drawing swayed at the entrance.
When Ibelin pushed the half-broken door handle, it creaked open.
The exterior was old, and the inside was no better. Some chairs had been repaired but still stood unevenly, and dust covered the wall decorations. Still, it seemed to be operating, as a middle-aged man stood behind the bar.
Seeing him, Ibelin’s eyes sparkled.
He really looked exactly like her grandfather had described! Narrow eyes and a hooked nose—this was the right place.
She approached him shyly and whispered.
“One Red Dragon, please.”
The man’s narrow eyes sharpened like needles.
“Not Red Dragon?”
Red Dragon was a fairly famous strong liquor, but it was not what Ibelin wanted.
She held up three fingers shyly. She remembered being told: first ask for one, and when questioned, show three fingers.
“Yes, Dead Dragon. Two glasses.”
The man still looked suspicious, but he did not refuse. He opened the door behind the bar and gestured.
“This way.”
Ibelin followed him down a long corridor. At the end was a small room that, unlike the building outside, was clean.
Trying to stay calm, she still felt her heart beating fast.
An information broker! There really was a hidden space like this!
And now she was inside it.
In a way, she also had something similar to her grandfather’s adventurous spirit, so she enjoyed the experience.
The first person to sit in the room was the man. He looked at her seriously.
“Sit.”
Ibelin sat across from him.
His narrow eyes suddenly opened wide.
“So, what brings you here?”
“I need information,” Ibelin answered calmly.
“Hoho, then you’ve come to the right place.”
The broker smiled and rubbed his hands together like an insect. His serious demeanor had already disappeared.
“What kind of information do you want? I can even find out the underwear preferences of noble ladies!”
If he could even find that out, then information about a duke should be easy too.
Ibelin’s face brightened.
“I need information about Duke Gracius.”
At her shy words, the broker still smiled and asked back.
“Who?”
“Duke Gracius.”
“Who?”
“Gracias—”
Before she could finish, the broker suddenly grabbed his cheeks with both hands and screamed.
“Ahhhhh! No! No! I didn’t hear anything! I didn’t hear it!”
Then he jumped up and started spinning around the room like a dying insect.
He checked whether the door was locked, then pressed his ear against the wall, as if listening for outside sounds.
What a strange person.
While Ibelin thought that, the broker did not stop. He even climbed onto a chair and looked up at the ceiling, trembling.
Still confused, Ibelin just blinked.
The broker then took a deep breath.
