Chapter Twenty-One: Connor’s Suspicion

Hughes watched the small boat fade into the distance and couldn’t help but yawn. Night had fallen, and he had been busy all day long... and he hadn’t slept a wink last night! Casting a curious glance at Alexei, whose face was inexplicably tense, Hughes waved his hand. “The curved sword is yours now. You’ve worked hard all day as well. Get some rest early.”

Alexei lowered his head and stared at the curved sword in his hand. It was Jeremiah’s saber. Although the pirate captain himself was filthy, the saber was meticulously maintained and gleamed with pristine cleanliness, clearly a treasured possession.

The saber was exquisite, with a long, golden guard. The scabbard was inlaid with tiny aqua-blue gems. The blade radiated a chilling sharpness, stained by countless drops of blood.

He stood rooted to the spot, as if unable to fully grasp what was happening, gazing blankly at his lord.

Hughes, too weary to notice, only wanted to sleep and turned back toward the manor.

Not far off, Steward Connor was leading the horses. With practiced ease, Hughes mounted, yawning as he grasped the reins.

“...Why is he still standing there?” Hughes wondered, looking toward the dock. Bathed in the fading sunset, Alexei held the curved sword with both hands, motionless, as if cradling a precious treasure.

Under Hughes’s watchful eye, Alexei slowly drew the saber, flicked his wrist, and the blade caught the last glow of twilight as it traced a smooth arc before resting against his chest.

Then he bowed lightly to Hughes and sheathed the sword.

Hughes watched in a daze. He recognized the gesture—an imperial military salute—but weren’t they both merely civil officials?

He was puzzled.

“You can tell he really cherishes that saber,” Connor remarked.

“Indeed,” Hughes nodded. “Maybe his family isn’t well off. We should consider giving him a raise.”

Connor hesitated but said nothing, instead urging the horses onward with Hughes.

——

The clerk to the Border Earl was paid by the royal treasury and answered only to the crown.

For Hughes to give Alexei money was, strictly speaking, bribery—a violation of imperial law.

But what did that have to do with his steward? Connor served Hughes, not the Empress; his master’s master was not his own.

The dock slipped back into silence. The distant sea sparkled faintly beneath the rising moon, serene and peaceful.

Hughes returned to the manor, half-heartedly answered a few questions from the steward, and collapsed onto his bed, succumbing immediately to sleep.

***

Steward Connor sighed helplessly. There were many things he wanted to understand, but now he could only wait for Hughes to awaken.

He was aware of the earlier conversation Hughes had with the two pirates; as Hughes’s steward, he naturally knew.

Alexei was unaware of the details, but Connor knew well—how had Hughes managed to obtain steel and timber?

Even without the pirates, the island’s economy was dire. From Hughes’s last visit to the dock, Connor had anticipated trouble.

Not for any other reason but that their treasury was nearly depleted.

Though Hughes had driven off the pirates this time, it was merely a postponement of justice. What would he offer when the pirate fleet returned in a month?

No matter how lenient Duke Kohn was, he would only preserve Hughes’s life. He would never ship steel into the Storm Ocean to arm those pirates.

Connor sighed, recalling recent events.

That morning, he had been roused by a flustered maid.

He knew her—Zoe, who had cared for Master Hughes ever since his days on Duke Kohn’s estate and had come to Castle Isle at Hughes’s insistence.

This was somewhat irregular. Male nobles rarely appointed a female servant as personal attendant, as it invited gossip and complications.

For activities like hunting, it was inconvenient to have a female attendant constantly in tow.

But Master Hughes... the young lord was far too indulgent.

Connor sighed again. Perhaps there was something between Hughes and Zoe, but it was the young lord’s private matter; he neither interfered nor pried.

A competent steward asks little and does much—this was the lesson of his decades-long career.

Yet ignorance did not mean oblivion.

While Hughes lay unconscious, Connor had assigned Zoe to keep vigil, knowing she would be diligent.

So when he saw Zoe’s panicked expression, his heart sank.

Sure enough, something had gone wrong.

Master Hughes had disappeared.

Connor immediately organized the servants to thoroughly search the manor, personally scouring Hughes’s chambers for clues.

***

The results were strange—there was no sign of forced entry anywhere in the manor.

Hughes’s bedroom bore no unusual marks. The windows were securely closed, and the locks untouched.

The night guards outside were reliable, and Connor questioned each servant; their statements corresponded, with no signs of bribery.

Then how had Hughes vanished?

Contrary to common belief, abducting the lord from a guarded and inhabited house was nearly impossible.

All successful cases in history involved an insider’s collaboration.

Therefore, Connor immediately detained everyone within the manor for questioning.

He did not alert the outside soldiers; he wished to avoid a scandal—and mobilizing troops required the clerk Alexei’s approval, a royal official.

Moreover, bringing soldiers in might only sow chaos, allowing someone to smuggle Hughes out amid the confusion.

Indeed, Connor suspected that Hughes was still within the manor.

Even if there was an insider, it would be difficult to remove Hughes quickly—the night guards were trustworthy, and bypassing them was nearly impossible.

Who, then, would dare target such a lord? Whoever it was, they must be well organized.

The Gem Bay pirates? They were capable of anything but preferred the direct approach—sailing their fleet to demand ransom, and they were due to arrive soon for negotiations.

The Duke’s rivals? Possible, but was Hughes important enough? The Duke adored Hughes but was not foolish enough to risk a grave mistake over an illegitimate son.

Then could it be...

Connor’s gaze drifted past the window to a distant spire.

At the peak of the roof hung a metal plaque engraved with an image.

A single lit candle burned quietly in the darkness.

It was the emblem of the Church—the chapel of the Candlelight Society.