Captain – Chapter 452 – A Win-Win Solution

The sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, eventually becoming inaudible.

Only after the three figures had been completely swallowed by the night did the old butler, who had been standing motionless, withdraw his gaze.

After briefly composing himself, the old man’s expression returned to its usual calmness. He turned around and walked in the opposite direction, his figure likewise disappearing into the darkness.

He traversed the long gallery, passed through halls bright as day, greeted approaching guests with smiles, occasionally answering questions and resolving concerns, performing his duties flawlessly—as if nothing had happened, like a gentle breeze passing through all the ostentation.

Finally, he arrived at a deserted hall.

Because the palace was so vast, even with numerous guests it couldn’t be filled, especially during a gathering where most people, unless they were particularly reclusive or had important matters to discuss, preferred more lively areas. Many halls located deep within the palace remained neglected.

Of course, the hall wasn’t entirely empty.

As usual, sixteen servants stood by tables and in corners. Their attire and expressions were identical to those of servants outside—heads slightly bowed in humble postures.

Despite this, if anyone had accidentally entered this hall, they would still notice something unusual about them.

Because their bearing was distinctly different from ordinary servants.

This wasn’t to say they were too conspicuous or gave an intentional impression, but rather they were too inconspicuous—even more devoid of human warmth than the servants trained by the Anderson family.

Like lifeless posts, like rats accustomed to dwelling in shadows.

When the old butler entered the hall, these “servants” simultaneously raised their eyes, their gazes resting imperceptibly on him for a moment. Only after confirming the visitor’s identity did they lower their eyelids again.

An ordinary person would never notice being scrutinized in such a manner.

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But Theodore was different. He could clearly sense those emotionless gazes, feel the coldness contained within them, and only breathed a sigh of relief when they turned away before continuing forward.

He knew these people weren’t covert agents sent by the Federation in previous years, nor were they family operatives.

They were from the Black Raven Society—the organization’s sharpest blades.

Similarly, this covert force was one of the reasons the young man could win the family head’s favor. If this negotiation succeeded, the Federation’s restraints on the family would be further weakened.

Even for the Anderson family, this was a matter worthy of attention.

With this thought, Theodore’s steps became much lighter. He understood that the negotiation had actually already concluded, because that young executioner—no, now he should be called the organization’s sole Elder—had a close relationship with the family and had received much cultivation from the old master.

All of that had been established many years ago—shadowy pawns unknown to anyone.

Walking through the hall, he arrived before a relief sculpture that nearly covered the entire wall. The old butler pressed a mechanism hidden among the textured patterns. After an extremely faint “click,” the gentleman in formal attire on the relief stepped back and then shifted sideways, revealing a secret passage.

The passage wasn’t narrow; it could accommodate four people walking abreast, though it lacked any source of light.

Nodding slightly to the “servant” standing nearby who had cast a glance his way, the old butler entered the darkness without hesitation, and the relief gentleman slowly returned to its original position after he entered.

The secret passage was completely silent, though every few steps one could hear breathing so faint it was almost indiscernible. These likely came from the organization’s assassins, but as he progressed deeper, the breathing sounds became more obvious and frequent. At places closest to the family’s core, all those stationed were family servants.

However, these carefully cultivated assassins of the family still fell short compared to the Black Raven Society’s agents.

After winding through countless bends in the darkness, ascending and descending numerous times, climbing a flight of upward stairs, activating mechanisms, and opening a stone trap door, the old butler finally left the secret passage and entered a candlelit room decorated in an ancient style.

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Closing the secret door again, Theodore left the room and walked with lowered head through a corridor where reception rooms and bedchambers were arranged at short intervals, filled with candlelight and cheerful conversation. He quickly ascended the ancient wooden stairs, which despite their age were maintained to near perfection, and soon reached the third floor.

On the third floor, there was only one office, and following the direction opposite the wooden door would lead to Hipalia.

At this moment, a young man was standing beside the door.

He leaned against the wooden railing encircling the corridor, his face hidden in shadows and indistinct. A raven perched on his shoulder, its pupils gleaming as it stared at the old man, reporting to the young man as if whispering.

“Someone’s coming, sir.”

Gently stroking the raven’s chin with his finger, the young man responded with unclear emotions: “That means… the time is approaching.”

Hearing this, the raven cawed hoarsely, as if laughing ominously.

After bowing to the young man, the old butler approached the room door, knocked gently, and called out “Master.”

On the other side of the wooden door were the Anderson family head and Sand Fox, who had been entrusted by the ship’s doctor to buy him time.

Surprisingly, the two men in the room weren’t conversing, but sitting silently across the table from each other.

Mr. Rowell was writing a letter by steady candlelight, while Sand Fox held a cup of hot tea, enjoying it leisurely, showing no discomfort at this strange situation, nor any concern for his friend.

Just as the family head put down his quill pen, massaging his temples while reading through the entire letter, the wooden door was coincidentally knocked on, accompanied by the old butler’s call. After reading the final paragraph and ensuring the wording was appropriate and no important matters were omitted, he began to seal the envelope.

“I understand.”

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This was his response to Theodore. Mr. Rowell remained as calm as ever, his hand not showing the slightest tremor as he sealed the letter, as if from the beginning he had already guessed—no, known—how everything would unfold.

Unhurriedly sealing the envelope, the family head finally looked up at Sand Fox and said in a gentle tone: “Let’s end the charade here. As for the cooperation between the family and the organization, there’s no need to rush.”

“You can stay a few more days.”

Although the Anderson family gathering would only last one night, it didn’t mean that all matters could be settled in a single evening. For this reason, important figures would stay several more days, leaving only when the festival approached or when everything was in order.

“As you wish, Uncle.”

Raising his cup to Mr. Rowell, Sand Fox smiled as he stood up, not treating himself as an outsider at all.

His good relationship with Don was common knowledge, but what outsiders—even the young master himself—didn’t know was that he was equally close to the family head.

One could even say they were like father and son.

From the beginning, this performance wasn’t one that he and the ship’s doctor were putting on for the family head to see.

It was quite the opposite.

After Sand Fox left, the old butler entered the room and, at the family head’s indication, opened the door wide.

“Did he really say that?”

After listening to Theodore’s report, Rowell seemed quite interested in his son’s words, asking with a subtle smile at the corner of his mouth. Upon receiving the old butler’s affirmation, he shook his head and stood up: “At least he has some conscience, but unfortunately, that path is ultimately impassable.”

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The family head took the letter, walked around the table, and came to the railing outside the door. With one hand gripping the wooden rail, he narrowed his eyes to gaze into the distance, as if he could see beyond the dense forests, lakes, magnificent palaces, and towering walls to the three people riding away on horseback, to the port where countless warships lay hidden.

With just one command from him, no one could leave this place.

Not even if the ship was the Mermaid, not even if that person was Golden-Eyed Roy.

But he didn’t.

From beginning to end, he never said a word about this farce, even though he had many opportunities to stop it.

“Master, if you don’t want the young master to leave, why go to such lengths? Wouldn’t it be better to keep him in the city? It would spare him the hardships at sea, suffering unnecessary ordeals.”

The old butler was clearly puzzled by the family head’s actions that contradicted his wishes, and respectfully asked in a low voice.

“Theodore, he is still my son after all.”

Lightly tapping the wooden rail with his fingers, Rowell finally explained: “Although his attitude toward me is already bad enough, at least it hasn’t reached the point of hatred. If I truly intervened to cut off his aspirations, that might no longer be the case. Although I don’t particularly care…”

“But if there’s a way to bring him back without playing the villain, why not take it?”

“After all, my old friend never tolerates defiance from others, even those as dear as his own children.”

As he spoke, the family head turned slightly, handing the letter to the young man who had already approached, and asked with a slight smile.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Victor?”