Captain – Chapter 229 – Shackles and Key

“Tell me, are these shackles really effective?” Roy asked the servant with a wry smile after examining the pair of silver-white manacles on her hands. They were connected by slender chains and decorated with raven feather patterns, and she’d determined their only function was to restrict her hands’ range of motion to the area in front of her body.

Half a day had passed since the Colonel’s men had taken custody of her. The carriage was now stopped in front of a tavern in a dilapidated small town not far west of Elvet, where everyone planned to rest for the night.

Outside the tavern, the sky had completely darkened. The rain clouds, compressed to their limit, resembled broken embankments that could no longer hold back the downpour. With each thunderclap, torrential rain fell, causing the aged wooden building to tremble slightly, as if it might collapse at any moment.

“These shackles are forged from special alloys adopted by our organization, with extremely complex internal mechanisms. Without the specific key, even the world’s finest locksmith couldn’t unlock their secrets. So Captain, you needn’t worry about their effectiveness,” Tomb Bat patiently explained to the young woman.

“Furthermore, their symbolic meaning is greater. Once wearing them, no matter where you flee or how you disguise yourself, your identity will be instantly recognized. As for the chain length…”

His deep purple eyes flickered slightly as he looked at Roy’s face, hinting at something deeper: “You are not truly a criminal after all—this is clear in both our minds, as well as in the mind of the lord who is elsewhere. Therefore, to avoid hindering your daily life, I deliberately made them a bit longer.”

“Oh, I see,” the Captain said.

Roy glanced at Berney and his soldiers scattered around tables, drinking and eating, though their gazes repeatedly fell on her. She leaned closer to Tomb Bat and asked in a voice only the two of them could hear: “You’re just saying that for show, right?”

“That’s for you to interpret, Captain.”

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The servant’s answer was rather meaningful, but Roy seemed to have confirmed something and continued asking: “Who has the key?”

“That answer too is for you to find yourself, Captain.”

Though Tomb Bat maintained a blank expression, Roy clearly sensed his barely contained anticipation, as if he were eager to see what choice she would make in this situation.

“Tch, how ruthless.”

Roy distanced herself from the servant, looking at him as if he were a treacherous, venomous snake.

Locking her with shackles that barely affected her combat ability, then hinting that the key was hidden on someone in the tavern—the implied message couldn’t be clearer.

To regain her freedom, she needed to obtain that key. But given these soldiers’ vigilance toward her, finding the key’s location and stealing it without alerting anyone would be nearly impossible.

Of course, she had another method to get the key.

She could kill everyone and search their bodies one by one—which was precisely what Tomb Bat, or rather that Governor, wanted to witness.

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Although she deeply understood that man’s ruthless cruelty, seeing him so casually sacrifice Berney—a pawn he had invested countless efforts to successfully elevate to a high position in the military—still sent a chill through the young woman’s heart, along with profound disgust.

Seeing what the Captain was thinking, the servant said softly: “Captain, perhaps you misunderstand something. Though Colonel Berney’s abilities are ordinary, his current position in the military, the city under his jurisdiction, and the military power he commands all weigh heavily in the lord’s mind.”

“What do you mean? Are you warning me not to harm him?” Roy raised an eyebrow, asking with interest: “So I can eliminate one incorrect answer?”

“You misunderstand again. For the lord, no one is indispensable; it only matters whether their sacrifice is worthwhile.”

Tomb Bat slowly shook his head, speaking in a slightly hoarse voice: “If you’re willing to return to the lord’s side, then to compensate for the suffering you’ve endured in the past…”

“The lord naturally wouldn’t concern himself with Colonel Berney’s fate.”

Hearing this, Roy’s eye twitched as she lowered her voice to ask: “Are you joking, or has that man gone mad? He expects to exchange the life of an unremarkable fellow for my forgiveness, so I’ll stay by his side and loyally serve him?”

“No, you needn’t do anything. Your freedom won’t be restricted. What the lord seeks is merely your understanding.”

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Listening to the servant’s explanation, the Captain lowered her eyes slightly and asked softly: “You think I’d believe such nonsense?”

“Whether you believe it or not, and how you choose to act—the power of choice lies in your own hands. But I still want to say that the lord treats you differently, differently from anyone else.”

Tomb Bat gazed at the young woman’s slightly wavering eyes, his tone unusually emotional: “In all the years I’ve worked for him, only your name can move him, and only you can make the lord compromise again and again. Compared to me, I believe you feel this much more deeply.”

Though reluctant to admit it, Roy knew the other’s words weren’t wrong.

With Robert’s power and the intelligence he possessed, he had countless methods to achieve his goals more simply and directly—whether through bloody murder, blatant framing, or publicly revealing secrets hidden in the shadows.

But among these countless methods, the sincere-toned secret letter would never be included.

Seeing Roy’s silence, the servant knew his purpose had been achieved. He bowed slightly and respectfully said: “This is all the lord asked me to tell you. I wish you good luck, Captain Roy. Both the lord and I will be waiting for your good news.”

With that, Tomb Bat left the tavern, walking into the increasingly dense rain.

Watching the servant’s figure disappear behind the closing wooden door, the Captain’s previously contemplative expression immediately relaxed, as if her earlier silence and thought had all been a pretense to fool people.

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She patted her cheeks, muttering “Go to hell” in a voice only she could hear, then walked past the tables where the soldiers sat, approached the table where only Berney sat alone, casually pulled over a chair and sat down, her face breaking into a warm smile.

“Colonel, might I have the honor of a conversation with you?”

The young woman’s smile didn’t put Berney at ease; rather, it gave him a violent start. He nervously glanced at the wooden door, and only after confirming that Tomb Bat had indeed left did he nod somewhat stiffly: “O-of course.”

Glancing at the letter pressed under the Colonel’s hand, Roy called loudly to the tavern keeper: “Innkeeper, bring some wine!”

The middle-aged man with a simple, honest face ran to the table upon hearing her call. He looked at the elaborately crafted wedding dress on the young woman and the shackles on her wrists, his eyelids twitching rapidly as he instinctively glanced questioningly at the officer across from her.

Only after receiving Berney’s nod did the innkeeper smile apologetically to the increasingly impatient Captain: “What wine would the Miss like?”

Seeing this, Roy finally showed some satisfaction. After tapping the table a few times with her finger, the corner of her mouth spread into a playful smile: “Then bring a few bottles of…”

“Black rum.”