Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 266 - 266 135 Distant Visitor_2

266: Chapter 135 Distant Visitor_2 266: Chapter 135 Distant Visitor_2 “Yes, sir!” A few soldiers temporarily breathed a sigh of relief, merely being confined and having their lips sealed was already fortunate for them.

“Zabron, go outside and stand guard, and don’t let anyone approach the prison.”

After ordering the guards to seal off the cells, Leon sighed, staring at the corpse before him and continued to contemplate his strategy.

The incident had already happened, and at least until Baron Eriv returned, they couldn’t let the Wolf Family know that their Young Master had died a mysterious and tragic death in jail.

Otherwise, Baron Grey Wolf, in his fury, might really bring his troops back to the region and march all the way from Mamor County to question him.

The consequences would be like…

…just like what those thieves who infiltrated Farolis Castle, attempting to assassinate Lady Adelina, had hoped for, except the roles were now reversed…

He estimated it was the same group of people.

Perhaps, as Baron Eriv had predicted, those behind the scenes, not seeing the desired conflict between the two families, had taken matters into their own hands again and targeted someone new.

They were truly ubiquitous…

even reaching his own side.

So what now?

How to avert the severe consequences of Canis’s death by his own hands?

Leon covered his mouth, sinking into deep thought.

Until a chilling idea surfaced in his mind!

But could it work?

Biting his lip, Leon turned his thoughts and dismissed his hesitation.

Whether it worked or not, he had to try; a dead horse was better than no horse at all.

…

…The sun was setting in the west.

The driver, dressed as an attendant, was guiding a covered wagon, and the two wheels slowly rolled over the rural dirt paths.

The wagon, shaky and unsteady, carried six or seven women with their faces obscured by headscarves, leisurely pulled by two horses, creaking and groaning as it passed over the North Slope of Selva.

Beside the wagon rode a young Rider on a spirited horse, guarding the front of the traveling caravan.

The young Rider was dressed in light chain armor, with a wide traveling cloak covering his warrior garb, and a Urian Long Knife sheathed and hung at his side.

The Rider with the knife removed his hood and spurred his horse to a craftsman carrying tools down the hillside.

He asked in Farro, with a strange accent, “Old man, is this Selva?

Is the local lord a knight by the name of Pendragon?”

The old carpenter, hired locally, noting the man’s horse and armor as well as the handsome features, quickly stepped aside to make way, bowing his head, “Yes, sir, this is Selva, and Lord Leon Pendragon is indeed the master of this place.”

The Rider with the knife was delighted at the response and hastily asked, “I am a Knight from afar, seeking an audience with Lord Pendragon.

Could you tell me where to find him?”

“You’re out of luck, sir, the lord is not in Selva right now, but if you have business, perhaps you could go to that big house and talk to Lady Elena, the stewardess,” the old carpenter said, pointing towards the lordly manor down the slope.

“…Elena?” The veiled women in the wagon glanced over and then couldn’t help but look at each other.

“It’s probably just a coincidence of names, Martha,” whispered a young girl with younger-looking eyes to a woman next to her.

“A coincidence?

What do you mean?” another veiled girl sitting across from them couldn’t help but ask curiously.

“We had a companion of the same name back when we were there, but now, we don’t know what has become of her,” the woman named Martha replied with apparent concern.

By then, the Rider with the knife had finished his inquiry, and from his pocket, he handed the old man a few Orland copper coins: “Thank you for the direction.”

The old woodcrafter took it with hands both earnest and fearful, bowing repeatedly, “Praise your generosity, esteemed sir from afar.”

The rider with the adorned sword pulled on the reins, urging his horse back to the side of the covered wagon, and said to the attendant following him, “Go around the slope up ahead, and down there seems to be an inn.

Let’s head over.”

After giving the instructions, he looked towards his lover on the wagon, “Magrina, the local lord isn’t here; we’ll stay for a few days to wait and see.

If we still can’t meet those knights from Master Goliard’s poems afterward, we’ll just continue on our way.”

“Sure, going to the ‘Dinexion Kingdom’ isn’t really affected by these few days,” Magrina nodded.

Across from her, Martha pulled down her scarf and revealed an apologetic bitter smile to the young Knight Kantadar by the side of the wagon, “I’m sorry, Lord Larian, this journey, we’ve really been delaying your trip too much.”

The several veiled women around her also lowered their heads in shame.

Their statuses varied; either being daughters of foreign nobles who had been defeated in war or coming from wealthy households that had been plundered.

They were literate and numerate, and after being trained as slaves, understood household and cleaning work, and were by no means incapable of making a living.

However, now homeless, without protection and a stable place to settle, it would be difficult to say, given their own appearances, how long before they could find sustenance, they might fall into the hands of those with nefarious intentions again and become playthings, reliving their unhappy pasts.

No family, no home, no protection from fathers, brothers or husbands.

This was the cruel reality that ordinary women had to face in this era.

“There’s no need for concern, Lady Martha.

Protecting women is my natural duty as a knight.

I promise I won’t let down Master Goliard’s trust and will find a suitable refuge for all of you,” Larian smiled, offering words of comfort.

Magrina also took Martha’s hand, “Don’t worry, Lady Martha, having you with me makes the journey far less lonely.

We’ll wait to see the character of those knights, whether they are as commendable as in the poems.

If this isn’t a good place, then you’re all welcome to pursue a path with us to the Holy Court Kingdom.”

Martha did not refuse, but still sighed softly to herself.

Traveling such a long distance with so many people, the expenses were enormous; how could she continue to rely on the kindness of this couple who had eloped?

They had already escaped the hunt within the bounds of Kantadar.

No matter what the other companions decided, Martha made up her mind that she would soon find her own way in the Northern Kingdom, even if it meant selling her tarnished body or becoming a maid and a mistress for the country nobles.

She couldn’t…

she couldn’t keep troubling Lord Larian and Miss Magrina…

The wagon moved on slowly.

Soon enough, they arrived at the newly built bright inn in the neighborhood north of Selva, and stopped in front of it.

Larian entered, greeted warmly by the landlady at the counter.

He paid for the care of his horses and obtained three different-sized guest rooms for the women in his company, the attendants, and for himself and his lover.

The women on the wagon didn’t sit idle; they efficiently transferred their luggage.

Once the group was settled, Larian instructed the attendants to stay and guard the women, then left the inn to visit the house of the local “Miss Elena,” the lady steward mentioned by the old carpenter.

Exiting through the inn’s ground-floor tavern hall, Larian suddenly saw a beautiful woman, dressed in a spectacular gown and wearing a feathered hat, with a flute hanging from her waist, walking towards the inn.

Due to his fresh memories of Master Goliard, Larian’s gaze lingered a bit longer on the minstrel.

A female minstrel?

Could she be a resident poet of the tavern behind him?

Quite rare, Orland doesn’t have such good conditions, does it?

As he made his way into the Northern Kingdom, crossing through the forests, he had encountered more than a few bandits.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have had the women in his company wrap their faces in robes and scarves to avoid trouble.

At least in his homeland of Kantadar, Larian had never seen a beautiful woman wandering alone in the countryside.

Curious, he stepped politely out of the way, nodding a slight greeting to her.

The poet returned his greeting with a radiant smile and continued on her way, looking composed.

In the moment they brushed past each other.

The warrior instinct prompted Larian’s hand to instinctively touch the hilt of his Moonlight Long Blade.

“?” The young knight slightly tilted his head, glancing surreptitiously at the alluring slim figure of the female minstrel as she passed.

Such light footsteps…