Felona's heart raced as Charles's words hit home, his nonchalant demeanor doing little to ease her growing unease. She played along, maintaining her facade of composure despite the nagging feeling that she may have overplayed her hand.
"Yeah... however, you didn't really show that. In fact, if anything, you tried to be as non-threatening as possible. That's... not how people act... unless you knew we were coming," Felona retorted, her voice cold and calculating as she kept her eyes closed, bracing herself for whatever revelation might follow.
Charles chuckled softly, his amusement evident in the way his laughter danced through the air. "Hmm, not wrong, but not right either..." he mused cryptically before taking a sip from his drink. Felona couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized under his gaze, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach.
"Do you know of the eight ruling families, yes?" Charles asked, his voice low and deliberate as Felona felt a subtle shift in the mana surrounding the garden. She nodded, acknowledging his question as she took another sip from her cup.
"Yes, everyone within the confines of this kingdom—no, this world, if anything—knows of them. The royal family, the Smirdas, the Mannors, the Peckecks, the Lucos, the Sotos, the Tekkeis, and the Asumos," Felona recited, holding up eight fingers before lowering them one by one as she listed the families. Charles leaned back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he let out a contented sigh.
"Amongst the eight, besides the obvious two... who of them has had the most conflict?" Charles inquired, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Felona's mind raced, her lack of formal education beyond the basics provided by the Smirdas leaving her at a disadvantage. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the puzzle before her.
As Felona contemplated Charles's question, she took another sip from her cup, savoring the taste of the drink. It was a deep crimson color, with hints of ruby and amethyst swirling within. The aroma was rich and inviting, a tantalizing blend of spices and fruits that danced across her senses.
The first sip revealed layers of flavor—sweet and tangy, with a subtle warmth that lingered on her tongue. There was a complexity to the drink, a depth that hinted at a skilled hand behind its creation. It was unlike anything she had tasted before, a true testament to the craftsmanship of the person who had prepared it.
As she savored each sip, Felona found herself drawn further into the conversation, the drink serving as a comforting companion in the midst of uncertainty. Despite the weight of Charles's question, she felt a sense of calm wash over her, the warmth of the drink soothing her nerves as she searched for an answer.
Felona took another sip from her cup, the taste of the drink lingering on her palate as she mulled over Charles's question. As far as she knew, there had been no major conflicts between the families, only minor disputes that had been resolved time and time again. The only significant event she could recall was the incident involving Rebbecca, but even that had been contained without sparking any wider conflict.
Setting her cup down on the glass table, Felona regarded Charles with a dead serious expression. "The Asumos, but I assume that's what you're aiming at, old man? The Smirdas' main aggressor? However, there is no major conflict with any other family..." she stated, her tone firm as she delved deeper into her thoughts.
Charles met her gaze with a smirk, his amusement evident as he leaned forward in his seat. "What a smart lass you are!" he chuckled before settling back and rubbing his hands on his mustache.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Felona raised an eyebrow, her demeanor calm and composed as she crossed her legs and sighed. She knew where this conversation was heading—the Smirda family's unparalleled power and influence within the kingdom. Considered almost a second royal family, the Smirdas wielded immense political and financial clout, rivaled only by the actual royal family of Patmonia. However, unlike the royals, the Smirdas faced numerous restrictions and hurdles in exercising their authority. Any legislation they proposed could take years to navigate through the intricate web of bureaucracy, from a minimum of ten to a maximum of twenty years for matters even as trivial as taxation on bread vendors.
Felona's mind raced as Charles's words sank in, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and apprehension. She struggled to maintain her composure, taking another sip of her drink in an attempt to steady her nerves.
"Well... if we're going that way, sir, then why are you doing this with me? I don't really know much of anything but the basics—simply the things a maid should know to take care of her master and mistress," Felona questioned, her voice wavering slightly as she searched for answers.
"True, however... the ones who know more... know more than they lead on to. So, I just needed a... test to see what you knew," Charles explained cryptically, his gaze unwavering as he continued to speak.
Felona felt a knot form in her stomach at his words. What did he need a test for? The implications of his statement sent a shiver down her spine, her mind racing with the possibilities of what he might uncover.
"When I saw your little mistress walking up to my inn, I knew it had to be you and the fat fuck of a coachman. Now, as far as the world knew... you guys were on your way to a... very special event for a family friend, where you would be staying for a very long... long time. One outside the kingdom, specifically to the north... just so happens, the 'Royal Congregation' would happen within a year's time... don't you think the timing is a bit conspicuous?" Charles smirked, his words sending a jolt of panic through Felona.
Felona's face drained of color as she struggled to process the implications of Charles's revelation. The Royal Congregation—a simple event shrouded in secrecy and political intrigue. If she said one wrong thing, it could spell disaster for the Smirdas and potentially for herself as well. Caught between the urge to maintain her ignorance and the fear of the consequences of withholding information, Felona faced a decision that could have far-reaching consequences.
Felona's heart pounded in her chest as she scrutinized Charles's every movement, her senses on high alert in the presence of the enigmatic mandrake. Mandrakes were a particular people, known for their intelligence, adeptness in espionage, and their uncanny ability to decipher a person's thoughts and intentions based on subtle cues in their speech and behavior. Felona couldn't shake the feeling of unease that washed over her in the mandrake's presence. She knew all too well that they were skilled observers, capable of discerning the truth behind even the most carefully constructed facade.
As Charles began to speak, Felona remained outwardly composed, though her mind raced with suspicion. She leaned forward slightly, her finger tracing the edge of her drink as she maintained her intense focus on Charles.
"Well, the congregation is just a bunch of people gathering, that's it. For what? It doesn't really matter to me, I just run this little Inn," Charles replied casually, taking a sip of his drink. Felona's gaze remained fixed on him, searching for any signs of deception.
"However, to those with power now! HAAH!! That's a political battlefield. Where the powers of Patmonia are brought forth and shown to all in a fun event for 3 weeks! Where you get to meet some of the most powerful people in the nation like... the Smirda family! The second power in the nation. Which I guess is why you guys are going to the east, yeah?" Charles continued, his words carrying a hint of amusement.
Felona's mind raced as she processed his response, her instincts telling her that there was more to his words than met the eye. She remained silent, her expression carefully neutral as she weighed her next move. With the mandrake's presence adding an additional layer of complexity to the situation, Felona knew that she would need to tread carefully if she hoped to navigate the intricate web of deceit and intrigue that surrounded her.
Charles's words lingered in the air, a subtle challenge veiled beneath his seemingly innocent inquiry. Felona's mind raced, her instincts warning her of the danger that lurked in the old man's probing questions. If he knew about their destination, then he was undoubtedly a threat—a potential spy with nefarious intentions.
Suppressing her rising panic, Felona maintained her outward composure as she replied, "Hm, I don't know what you mean, sir. We're simply going to the infamous Kogin Asylum for my mistress's mental health—now..." She rose from her seat, offering a polite bow. "Thank you for the information you've shared—"
Her thoughts raced, urging her to leave, to escape the prying eyes of the mandrake and his mysterious agenda. But before she could make her exit, Charles's voice halted her in her tracks.
"Say..." he tapped the glass table slowly as he sucked his teeth looking down. "You know who Mira is ain't ya? How you know what a Mandrake is? I'm most curious about that part... country bumpkin..." he remarked with a knowing smile, his words dripping with subtle implications.
Felona's jaw tightened, her mind racing for a plausible explanation. She cursed inwardly, realizing that her attempt to conceal her knowledge had only drawn further suspicion upon herself.