Chapter 174 — The Visit of Lilith Kant

Since it had been arranged that they would spend a few days as guests in the Kant Domain, after the rather lavish welcoming banquet, Viscount Victor Kant had quarters prepared for Gao Yang and his retinue.

The old castle did not leave Gao Yang with a good impression.

It was true that light and warmth filled its interior—the magic crystal lamps everywhere one looked, the freshly polished doors and windows, tables and chairs, all drove away the oppression that came with nightfall—yet still a disagreeable feeling kept rising in Gao Yang's heart. It was as though through those bright windows and whitewashed walls he could see the castle's deeper aspect: behind those glossy coverings lay cold, pitch-black stone, slick moss and crisscrossing cracks, and in those damp fissures shadows and pathogens breeding without cease.

After a brief conversation with Victor Kant, Gao Yang pleaded the need to rest after the journey and returned to his own room. This was a guest chamber reserved for distinguished visitors, furnished as magnificently as the castle master's own bedchamber and warmed by a fireplace; flanking it were the rooms where Amber and Philip rested, and across from theirs were a lounge where guests might play chess and amuse themselves, and a place set aside for tea and reading.

Outside the window the rain was still falling, and showed signs of growing fiercer with the wind. Gao Yang went to the window and through the costly artificial crystal gazed out at Kant Castle in the rainy night. Meandering streams of water traced ever-changing paths down the panes, rendering the scene beyond both hazy and distorted, and within that hazy, warped vision he could see several of the castle's towers standing against the dark across the way.

At the base of those towers a few lit windows faintly sketched the outline of the buildings, but their upper reaches were a mass of black, almost melting into the darkness of the night.

Gao Yang observed those towers carefully, and as he concentrated, he suddenly saw an unmistakable fissure appear in the middle of one of them.

The fissure seemed to writhe and grow in the darkness, spreading swiftly across the entire upper half of the tower. Little by little it widened, and from the crack leaked a light like blood. The tallest tower appeared shattered within that blood-red fissure, crumbling away bit by bit as though in slow motion, mingled with the cries and shrieks of many people.

Gao Yang woke with a start. The sound of wind and rain came through the window into the room once more, and he saw that the tall tower across the way had become whole again; the collapse and the cries had vanished as though they had been a dream.

But Gao Yang would not truly take it for an illusion. He frowned at once, doubt rising in his mind: "Some kind of large-scale phantasm in the castle?"

A light sound of footsteps suddenly came from beyond the door, seemingly approaching this room. Gao Yang quickly composed his expression as though nothing had happened, and only when the knock came did he go to open the door.

The door opened, and a woman who appeared to be about thirty, dressed in a white gown and carrying a lantern in her hand, stood outside. She had flaxen hair, and her face seemed especially pale, as though from frailty and illness. She stood there timidly, a hint of constraint and nervousness on her face as she looked at Gao Yang.

Gao Yang sized her up without betraying anything, then put on a look of curiosity: "Madam?"

"Greetings. Might you be Duke Gao Yang Cecil?" said the woman at the door in a very low voice, as though speaking any louder would leave her short of breath.

Gao Yang nodded. "I am Gao Yang Cecil. And you are, madam?"

"Victor Kant is my husband," said the frail woman who looked barely thirty, in a low voice—yet even so, her tone carried the elegance befitting a noble lady. "I am the mistress of the Xuanyuan Castle. My name is Lilith Kant."

"The viscountess?" Gao Yang looked at her with considerable surprise. He had not expected that old, decrepit-looking Viscount Kant would have such a young and beautiful wife; but recalling the "traditions" of the nobility, his surprise did not last long. He was merely curious why he had not seen her at the banquet earlier, nor heard the old viscount mention her. "You did not attend the dinner earlier?"

"I am weak, and my illness makes it impossible for me to dine with many people, or to come out and welcome guests during the day," Lilith Kant said apologetically. "I knew you would be visiting the castle, but my husband insisted I rest until evening before coming out. Now that I am a little better, he sent me to greet the guest."

Then she hung the lantern on a hook beside the door and bowed slightly. "Welcome, great Duke Gao Yang Cecil. And please forgive me for being unable to fulfill my duties as mistress of this place until now."

"Ah, think nothing of it," Gao Yang said, while conjecture after conjecture, suspicion after suspicion, rose in his mind—yet his expression remained calm. "Are you able to come out only at night? Oh—I know a little about potions. Perhaps I could be of some help to your health."

Lilith Kant gave a pale smile. "My husband has secured the finest apothecaries for me. It is only that my frailty is not solely from illness, but from an inborn constitution; no potion can cure it. But I thank you for your concern, Your Grace."

Gao Yang had no intention of inviting the viscountess before him into his room—she had come alone, and such an invitation would be impolite, even here in the Kant family's own castle. He merely stood at the door and exchanged a few pleasantries with her, after which the lady took her leave.

Only after she had gone did Gao Yang's gaze turn sharp in an instant.

That lantern in her hand!

It was precisely the magic lantern Gao Yang had seen in his dream—the one at the base of the Kant family castle that served as the ritual's nexus; the very lantern that Gao Yang Cecil, seven hundred years ago, had given as a gift to Selina Gervais, the Dream Bishop of that time!

But Gao Yang did not point it out on the spot, nor take any action, for he had sensed no fluctuation of magic from the lantern—which meant it was "fake." Either it was a counterfeit, or the lantern had been altered by magic and its true core of power still slumbered somewhere in Xuanyuan Castle. In such circumstances, acting rashly would likely only ruin matters.

Just then a voice from nearby interrupted Gao Yang's thoughts: "Hm? Old—Gao Yang, what are you standing in the doorway for?"

The door next to his had been pushed open, and half of Amber's head poked out through the frame, looking at him with open curiosity.

And without waiting for Gao Yang to answer, she at once stuck out a hand and waved it enthusiastically, clutching a deck of cards: "I found a set of 'King cards' in my room! Go call that poker face next door and let's the three of us play a few hands!"

"I was going to call you two over, but not to play cards," Gao Yang said with a helpless glance at the half-elf, then went and knocked on Philip's door.

After gathering everyone in his room, Gao Yang brought up the lady who had just visited: "I just met Victor Kant's wife, Lilith Kant. She seemed very off..."

Hearing Gao Yang's description, Amber's pointed ears gave an immediate twitch. "So a dotard that old has himself a wife young enough to be his granddaughter? Ugh—you nobles really are shameless."

And then her thoughts veered off: "Good thing I've got elf blood. If I don't say anything, nobody dares guess my age. Even if a seven-hundred-year-old like you married me, you could go out and shamelessly tell people we're actually the same age..."

The ever-serious, ever-earnest Philip stared at Amber in near horror; the half-elf girl's habit of letting her mouth run wild had once again left this poor, upright knight utterly reeling.