Chapter 1976 - 536: Let's See Whose Blood Runs Dry First

The Dungeon of Campbell Castle.

Hearing a noise outside the barred door, Earl Derek opened his eyes and saw the prison guard with the cold face bringing today's dinner.

It was stew and bread, plus fried pork cutlets.

But there were no knife and fork or soup spoon, only a napkin and a bowl.

Looks like the Duke wants him to eat with his hands.

Not bothered by this childish humiliation, Derek cracked his dry lips into a grin and tossed a quip at the prison guard who had just tossed down the plate.

"They're holding a banquet out there?"

"Yes, Earl."

"Looks like they didn't manage to bag any game today, heh."

Picking up the plate, Derek grabbed the greasy fried pork cutlet with his fingers and said, seemingly unconcerned, "Give my regards to your Duke. Tell him Earl Derek wishes him good luck in bagging his first Wild Rabbit tomorrow, and not letting some commoner snatch the first kill."

"The Grand Duke only arrived at Glanton Castle today, I'm afraid I can't pass on your message, sir. Maybe in a few days." Looking at the Earl joking with him, the prison guard politely teased him back.

"Oh?"

Derek's hand holding the cutlet paused. He raised an eyebrow, his cloudy eyes fixing on the young man outside the bars.

"This year's summer hunt is at my castle? When did he set out?"

Unbelievable. He hadn't thought Edward had that kind of nerve; the entire North Stream Valley Earl's Territory was in the hands of the Granston family.

"Your Majesty left this morning, together with guests from Thunder City."

Left this morning…

Earl Derek's pupils narrowed slightly. On that always-composed face, a faint trace of panic finally appeared.

They're already here!

...

June in Roland City was unusually hot, so much so that the Rushing River stayed warm even at night. Newcastle couldn't help optimistically thinking that perhaps the coming winter would be mild.

In an apartment in the city center, a thoroughly polished kerosene lamp dispelled the gloom inside. The hands on the wall clock had only just passed half past seven.

At the very same moment that the guests at Glanton Castle were raising their glasses together to celebrate the Royal Railway Company's first line officially opening, Newcastle finally finished the day's social obligations and sat alone at the table to enjoy his dinner.

Compared to the Duke's banquet, this "Level One" Campbell gentleman's dinner was no doubt on the shabby side.

But measured against other mid-tier gentlemen in Roland City, a bowl of rich stew plus a basket of toasted, fragrant bread slathered with butter already counted as a luxurious evening meal.

And Newcastle's means went well beyond that: the two sausages fried to a crisp golden skin, still sizzling with oil, and the kerosene lamp standing at the corner of the table were things only the most well-off gentlemen could afford.

Newcastle speared a piece of sausage and put it into his mouth, slowly chewing that heart-soothing warmth, yet he couldn't help thinking nostalgically of home.

In Thunder City, for just one silver pound you could hire an Adventurer to go into Silver Pine Forest and bring you back a Wild Rabbit.

And if you went to Silver Pine Town, the farmers there would, for that one silver pound, stuff you so full you literally couldn't eat another bite.

"…Praise Baron Wickton—thankfully fire extinguishers aren't settled in copper coin, or else I'm afraid everything I earned last month wouldn't be enough to pay for tonight's dinner."

He muttered this under his breath and reached out for a second piece of bread. Just then, a rapid knocking sounded from outside the door.

"Knock knock—"

Newcastle picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth and hands, sighed, signaled the manservant coming out of the kitchen to hand it over, then rose from his chair and walked to the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, sir, your assistant! Ryan!"

Once he recognized the voice outside, he pulled the door open, and a wave of damp hot air blew in along with the movement.

"Why so late?"

"Sir, the Royal Guard sent over some documents—about next quarter's fire extinguisher procurement and a list of maintenance parts! I thought it was on my way, so I brought them straight to you…"

The young fellow standing at the door shook the kraft paper bag in his hand, looking thoroughly travel‑worn, with sweat‑plastered bangs on his forehead.

Halfway through his words, he suddenly fell silent. His gaze seemed glued in place by strong adhesive, nailed dead onto the dining table behind Newcastle.

"Grr—"

A slightly awkward sound echoed in the apartment's entryway, and made the lad's sallow cheeks grow hot.

As a profit‑driven businessman, Newcastle had always had a hard heart.

Yet perhaps that bite of sausage had just reminded him of home, or perhaps the warm light in the room stirred his pity.

"Haven't eaten yet, have you?"

Taking the document bag from Ryan's hand, he patted the lad's shoulder, forcing a smile onto his face as he closed the door behind him.

"I was just having dinner… come in and eat something."

His original intention was for Ryan to sit down first, then to call the manservant to bring out a fresh plate from the kitchen; but hunger had already burned away the young man's reason and dignity.

He didn't even have time to say thank you, let alone worry about manners, and shot into the dining room like a gust of wind.

By the time Newcastle came back to himself, Ryan had already plopped down and dragged the half‑eaten plate of sausages and bread over in front of him.

Another blink, and not only were the sausages gone, even half the stew had disappeared.

Newcastle had just raised a hand to call the manservant, then stopped awkwardly halfway, finally letting it fall back down, unable to bring himself to interrupt the lad's frantic gobbling.