Chapter 258:.The Town of Senf (6)

​After splitting up with Liliana’s group, Clyde headed toward his intended destination with a few guards in tow. There was a place he had been determined to visit the moment they arrived in Senf. 

However, he wanted this visit to be as discreet as possible. He particularly didn't want Philip, the Clark family butler, to find out. For that reason, the guards he brought along were all men he had hand-picked himself after inheriting the dukedom.

​"You lot, put these on."

​Along the way, they stopped at a private house he had contacted in advance and donned old robes. Since their footwear might give away their high status, they changed their shoes as well. The guards complied silently and efficiently.

​Once he confirmed they were ready, Clyde passed through a door inside the house that led to the adjacent building and exited through its back door. He had verified that they weren't being followed, but one could never be too careful.

​The town of Senf was generally prosperous, but it still had its public face and its hidden side. Clyde was heading toward the so-called "hidden side." He had heard rumors, of course, but he had never set foot there. He couldn't bring Riley and the others to such a dangerous place. Naturally, as one of the Three Great Dukes, Clyde shouldn't have been visiting it either.

​It wasn't that the area was purely populated by criminals, but any place where the impoverished gathered was bound to have poor security.

​After walking for an hour, Clyde left all but one guard to wait nearby and approached a modest shop nestled in a back alley. A sign hung above the door indicating it belonged to a goldsmith. In reality, however, the shop made its living by producing counterfeit coins and fake jewelry.

​"—So this is the place," he murmured, his expression grim.

​The guard he kept with him was the most slight of the group, a young man who had only recently entered service. Despite his youth, he was one of the most skilled. He was of commoner stock—something Philip would have surely frowned upon—but he was diligent and fiercely loyal, and Clyde valued his abilities.

​"Let’s go."

​"Yes, sir."

​The young man, who had seemed out of his element at first, now had a sharp, focused look befitting a proper guard. However, his aura was softer than the other guards, making him the best choice for today's mission.

​Clyde knocked on the door. After a moment, an elderly man peered out. He looked exhausted, but his features were refined and handsome. If he bathed, trimmed his hair and beard, and changed into high-quality clothes, he could easily pass for a noble’s butler or valet.

​"—You lot lookin' for work?" the man asked, casting a suspicious eye over them. His face was grimy, and even though it was midday, he reeked of strong alcohol. Yet, he seemed reasonably lucid.

​Clyde put on a friendly smile. "No, I have some questions for you," he said, holding up a silver coin.

​◇　◇　◇　◇

​The moment Clyde showed the silver, the goldsmith's attitude shifted. The door, which had only been open a crack, swung wide, and Clyde and his young guard were ushered inside. Clyde sat on a chair that looked like it might collapse at any moment, facing the goldsmith.

​The shop was cramped, filled with tools for gold and silver work, and unfinished products were piled high near the chair where Clyde sat. The man didn't seem to care about his wares. Several barrels that likely once held ale were scattered around, and the man sat on one of them.

​He remained blunt, but he seemed somewhat more open. "So?" he asked Clyde. "What exactly do you want to know?"

​"I'm looking for someone."

​"Someone?"

​"Yes."

​Clyde nodded calmly at the man’s furrowed brow. He had no intention of revealing everything, so he smoothly spun the story he had prepared.

​"Actually, he’s a man who worked at my family home for a while. My father lent him a considerable sum of money. The man said his family was sick, and my father felt sorry for him. But..."

​"I get it. He vanished with the gold. Your old man sounds like a real soft touch."

​The man finished Clyde’s sentence with a mocking sneer. Clyde didn't get angry. He simply gave a wry smile and agreed. "Yes, he really is."

​"And now I'm the one stuck cleaning up the mess. It's a real headache."

​"Heh. You about to lose your title over it?"

​Clyde didn't answer the man’s question. Instead, he gave a troubled shrug. That alone was enough to make the man chuckle deep in his throat.

​Behind his peaceful mask, Clyde carefully observed the man. The man likely realized Clyde was of decent standing, which was why he hadn't been welcoming at first. But the moment he sensed Clyde’s status was in jeopardy, he seemed to find the situation immensely entertaining.

​There were surprisingly many who took pleasure in the downfall of the high-born, the wealthy, or the talented. Clyde had pegged this man as one of that sort.

​Sure enough, the man looked at Clyde’s hands with amusement. He twisted his mouth into a nasty smirk and feigned a knowing look. "I see, I see. So you're desperate to find the guy even though you're broke."

​"I'll leave that to your imagination."

​Clyde neither denied nor confirmed. The man, however, convinced himself his deduction was spot on.

​"So? What's the guy you're lookin' for like?"

​"He went by the name Eckhart, though it might have been an alias. He’s in his early thirties."

​"Eckhart...?"

​The man knit his brows and thought for a moment. He twisted his mouth and shook his head slightly. "Nah, he shouldn't be in this town."

​"I see..." Clyde’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. The man watched him, a glint of amusement in his eyes. Clyde remained dejected as he pulled out a silver coin. He hesitated for a second before handing it over, asking another question.

​"It doesn't have to be now. Have you ever heard stories of a man named Eckhart being here in the past?"

​"The past? Oh, if we're talkin' the past, then yeah."

​The man gave a nasty grin and looked meaningfully at the silver coin. Clyde let a wry smile show and dropped the coin into the man’s outstretched palm. The man tried to maintain his surly face, but his cheeks clearly loosened with greed.

​"When was this?"

​"Who knows? Must've been fifteen, sixteen years ago."

​"What kind of person was he?"

​"What kind? Well, he said he was gonna make it big in the capital. Even when people told him it was impossible, he wouldn't listen to a word of it."

​Clyde pulled another silver coin from his pouch. Showing it, he asked another question. "Are his family members still alive?"

​"Alive? Oh, you mean if they're still kickin'? Hell if I know. Probably dead, ain't they?"

​Clink. Clyde dropped the coin into the man's palm. The man finally couldn't help but break into a wide grin.

​"She's alive. His sister, anyway. She ain't in this town no more, though. It was... about eight years ago? She said she found a man she liked and left, and that was the last I saw of her."

​"Do you know where she went?"

​At Clyde’s question, the man thrust out his hand. It was a signal for another coin. Clyde reached into his pouch but didn't pull one out immediately. The man scowled in irritation, but Clyde ignored it and repeated the question.

​"Do you know where Eckhart’s sister went?"

​"You're a real piece of work, ain't ya?"

​The man clicked his tongue, but he seemed to change his mind and gave the answer easily. "She said Navy. Don't know if it's far from here or what."

​Clyde was internally shocked. If he said Navy, it must be the Baron’s territory they were scheduled to visit tomorrow. From the information he had gathered beforehand, the Navy territory wasn't very large. The Baron likely knew all his subjects. If he asked, he would surely find out if she was still there or if she had moved elsewhere.

​"What is the sister's name?"

​"Annie. God, that’s enough, ain't it? Give me the gold and get lost."

​The man seemed to find answering questions a chore now, and he thrust his palm out toward Clyde again. Realizing he had gotten all he could, Clyde placed another silver coin in his hand. The man smirked and fiddled with the three coins. They would likely all be spent on booze, but that was no concern of Clyde’s.

​"You've been a great help. Thank you."

​Clyde offered a quiet thanks, but the man didn't even look at him. Clyde pulled his hood low and left the goldsmith's shop. After walking for a while and turning a corner, his guards appeared one by one from their hiding spots and joined him.

​Not a single soul spoke until they had cleared the slums.

​Back in the house where they had changed, they returned to their original attire. Clyde felt as if the foul stench of the area had clung to him, but it couldn't be helped. He lightly applied some cologne to mask the smell before heading to the Senf Temple to regroup with Liliana and the others.

​The goldsmith's shop had been far, and more time had passed than he’d anticipated.

​"Let’s hurry."

​"Yes, sir."

​At his short command, the guards picked up the pace. Clyde’s footsteps were lighter than those of his guards, buoyed by the fact that he had obtained far more useful information than he’d hoped for.

​Eckhart—that was the name of a footman who had previously been employed at the Clark Ducal manor. He had only worked there for a few years, but there were others like him. What had piqued Clyde’s curiosity was the unusually short tenure of many servants at the manor.

​The pay wasn't bad compared to other houses. The working conditions were decent enough. They were given proper time off, and they weren't worked to the point of exhaustion.

​He had suspected that the reality might differ from the reports, but after visiting the territory numerous times, he realized that wasn't the case.

​When he had subtly questioned Philip, the butler—who was younger than Clyde’s father—Philip had simply replied, "I suppose they lacked the necessary resolve." He dismissed Clyde’s doubts entirely, saying, "It’s a common occurrence among the peasantry." Instead, he advised Clyde that if he had time to worry about such trivialities, he should focus on further enriching the territory. Clyde had no choice but to diligently apply himself to territorial management.

​But is Philip truly telling the truth?

​The doubt that had sprouted in Clyde’s heart grew larger every year.

​Philip was undoubtedly an excellent butler. The vast Ducal lands were managed without a hitch thanks to his skillful coordination. There was no question about that. But the longer they worked together, the more the sense of wrongness accumulated.

​Eventually, Clyde decided to launch his own investigation, keeping it hidden from Philip. Philip was incredibly sharp; just trying to look into things in secret took a long time.

​Clyde looked into the subsequent fates of those who had been hired but quit after a short period. There were quite a few of them. Most were commoners with no relatives, making the investigation extremely difficult. Unlike nobles, most of them didn't carry letters of recommendation. Since they had no family, they had no home to return to.

​People’s memories also faded over the years. Even when he could track their movements for a while, he would lose the trail eventually, and there were many whose whereabouts after leaving the Clark manor were completely unknown. In fact, it was easier to trace them from their birthplace to the start of their employment at the manor.

​That fact only deepened Clyde’s suspicions.

​Why were the servants at our manor quitting one after another—no. Why were they vanishing?

​Could it be that the Clark Ducal family—my father and Philip—were involved in the disappearances of these servants?

​He couldn't imagine anything good. From the day he had witnessed his father attempting to kill his mother, the respect he’d once held for his father, bordering on worship, began to fade. Gradually, the sense of wrongness regarding his father and Philip grew. He couldn't help but feel they were plotting something terrible. But he had no idea what it was.

​The man named Eckhart was a single ray of light in all of this. He was one of the servants whose trail after leaving the manor had been completely lost, but he had taken a broken bracelet to a certain goldsmith.

​'Eckhart—yes. He said it was a precious bracelet from his sister and he wanted it repaired. But he paid for it and never came back to pick it up. I always wondered what happened to him.'

​The man, who had retired a few years ago and handed the business to his son, had answered Clyde’s question that way.

​Paying for it but never returning to pick it up—it was suspicious no matter how one looked at it. It was more natural to assume he’d been caught up in some sort of incident. It was relatively easy to find out that Eckhart was from the town of Senf. The only other thing to verify was the possibility that he’d been involved in some sort of trouble. If he’d been caught up in something entirely unrelated to the Clark family, then Clyde’s concerns were for naught.

​The man had kept the bracelet Eckhart had left behind despite the many years that had passed. Clyde took the bracelet and swore the man to secrecy. If Eckhart had been involved in an incident, the goldsmith's life might be in danger. While the likelihood of him being killed for silence wasn't incredibly high, there was always a risk.

​The image of his father trying to kill his mother without a hint of hesitation flickered in the back of Clyde’s mind.

—-

Toc