Baron Duval’s Castle, the Inner Castle.
"How is Sylvan’s condition?"
The Baron’s voice ca from behind the curtain, followed by a fit of suppressed coughing. An attendant hurriedly handed over a silk handkerchief, which ca away stained with streaks of blood.
Rotton bowed slightly. "The doctor said that even if he recovers, his already cursed body will be in even worse shape. While the poison wasn’t fatal, it has placed a great strain on his already weak constitution."
The Baron’s fingers toyed with the silk curtain. "Who do you think did it? Sylvan? Or Kelvin?"
Rotton pondered for a mont. "Both young masters are suspects. If Master Sylvan orchestrated this himself, he could use it to gain sympathy and solidify his position. If it was Master Kelvin’s doing, removing his older brother would naturally clear his path to inheritance."
The Baron pressed, "Have you found anything from the previous investigation? And what about the rumors circulating in the castle? How did word of Kelvin questioning you beco common knowledge?"
Rotton shook his head, his expression grim. "Nothing. And for the news to spread so quickly, soone must be fanning the flas from behind the scenes. If Master Sylvan is behind it, his goal is to create public pressure. If it’s Master Kelvin, he might be trying to create a diversion."
The Baron let out a long sigh. "You know the extent of my injuries. It’s difficult for to even get out of bed now. And Sylvan... Rotton, you’re the only one I can rely on now."
Rotton took a step forward and knelt on one knee before the bed. "I will forever be loyal to you and the Duval Clan."
"Rise, old friend." The Baron gestured for him to stand. "Tell your thoughts. How should we handle this matter of the succession?"
Rotton stood up. "Publicly, we must clearly support Master Sylvan. He is the legitimate heir. But privately, perhaps we should give Kelvin so room to maneuver."
The Baron closed his eyes and was silent for a long ti. "You an..."
Rotton’s voice was soft, but every word was clear. "Let the two young masters each display their strengths. In these special tis, perhaps the domain needs to see who is truly capable of protecting it."
The Baron slowly shook his head, the shadow of the curtain falling across his pale face. "No. Let think on it so more."
And so he thought, all through the night.
...
At dawn the next day, Murphy began his day’s labor in the common stables as usual.
To the low-ranking servants, the dramatic shifts among the castle’s upper echelons were far less important than feeding the packhorses and cleaning the stables before them.
If the fodder was not prepared properly, or if the stables weren’t cleaned thoroughly, the Steward’s whip could fall at any mont.
Just then, an unsettling piece of news spread like wildfire through the main stable area: Red Leaf was sick.
The news made every groom in the main stable area tense up.
Even back when the Northern Trade Route was still open, a well-trained warhorse was worth three hundred Gold Coins.
That was equivalent to the entire annual inco of a manor within the Baron’s Domain.
But now, with the Northern Trade Route cut off and the supply of warhorses obstructed, the price had skyrocketed.
Six hundred Gold Coins?
It would be difficult to buy a pure-blooded warhorse like Red Leaf for even a thousand Gold Coins.
The grooms gathered outside the main stable, all of them worried. If sothing happened to the warhorse, they might all be implicated. The groom who had just been assigned to care for Red Leaf was especially pale with fear.
"Everyone, make way!"
The Stable Master pushed through the crowd and hurried into the stable.
Inside, Red Leaf stood listlessly in its stall. The oats in its feed trough were virtually untouched, and the water trough was full.
The Stable Master carefully inspected the warhorse’s teeth and coat, then examined its manure, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
"Strange..." he muttered to himself. "No fever, no diarrhea, and it doesn’t seem to have colic."
The old groom, who had spent twenty years in the stables, bent down again to carefully observe Red Leaf’s eyes.
The horse’s eyes, usually bright and full of spirit, were now dull and lifeless, filled with an indescribable sadness.
"I see." The Stable Master straightened up, his tone complex. "It’s grieving. It was traumatized by seeing Norton killed in front of it. Horses are animals with great Spirituality; they rember those who were good to them."
This assessnt silenced all the grooms present.
Indeed, Red Leaf’s illness had appeared right after Norton’s death.
"Go get Murphy," the Stable Master decided. "He used to take care of Red Leaf. Maybe it will listen to him."
When the other grooms ca to the common stables to explain the situation, both Bart and Hank looked worried.
Bart pulled Murphy aside and whispered, "Go to the main stables at a ti like this? Norton was just killed. Who knows if the murderer is still in the castle?"
Hank also tried to persuade him, "Why don’t you just refuse? Say you can’t do anything about it."
Murphy shook his head and said calmly, "We are grooms. Tending to the horses is our duty. Besides, I don’t have the right to refuse."
Hearing this, Bart and Hank wore complicated expressions and didn’t press him further.
When Murphy arrived at the main stables, the other grooms gathered around curiously.
Murphy gently approached Red Leaf, calling its na softly as his palm stroked its neck.
Amazingly, the restless warhorse gradually cald down, nuzzling its nose affectionately against Murphy’s hand before starting to chew the oats in its feed trough.
The Stable Master breathed a sigh of relief. "It seems it really does rember you. Starting today, you’ll be temporarily assigned back to caring for Red Leaf."
"Yes, sir," Murphy replied respectfully.
The other grooms around them exchanged aningful glances.
In normal tis, being able to care for Red Leaf would have been an enviable job.
But in these troubled tis, no one knew what tomorrow might bring.
Perhaps Murphy would beco the next Norton.
After the crowd dispersed, Murphy remained alone in the stable, continuing to care for Red Leaf.
He added more fodder while giving Red Leaf a full-body massage.
According to the principles of Breathing and Guiding, the internal organs are closely linked to emotions: the liver governs anger, the heart joy, the spleen contemplation, the lungs sorrow, and the kidneys fear.
By guiding energy to flow through the corresponding ridians, one could regulate the state of body and mind.
For the past two years, during his spare ti while tending to the horses, Murphy had been researching how to combine the knowledge of Breathing and Guiding with Horse Trainer.
At first, it was just to better treat the horses’ diseases and improve the efficiency of their care.
But through constant experintation, he had also unexpectedly mastered so byproducts, such as how to stimulate specific ridians to make a horse temporarily lose its appetite.
This was indeed one of Murphy’s steps to return to the main stables.
To use people’s recognition of the warhorse’s value, to use their fear, and to create a situation where he was indispensable.
But what Murphy hadn’t expected was that the people inside the castle would actually connect Norton’s death to the power struggle among the nobility.
As a groom of humble birth, Murphy knew very little about the unwritten rules of the noble world.
The other grooms had never thought about such things either. He could only rely on the knowledge from his previous life to judge that since the Duval Baron’s Domain had enemies, any unusual incident would naturally be blad on an external threat.
But it had evolved into the current situation instead.
However, Murphy knew full well that there was no such thing as a foolproof plan in this world.
He was neither an omniscient God nor a cowardly weakling.
Since he had chosen this Path, he was already prepared to bear all the consequences.
Under his massage, Red Leaf let out a comfortable snort.
Seeing this, the corners of Murphy’s mouth turned up slightly. He whispered, "You’re happy I’m back too, aren’t you?"
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