"Our family has a house in the town, Sir Charles."
Walking with Arlott trailing behind her, Claire said simply.
"That's where we must all rest." she added.
"I don't mind. I would like a separate room for myself." Arlott replied.
Claire fell in a moment of thought and then nodded, "Not a problem, Sir Charles. We have enough rooms."
Once entering the city, no one bothered Claire or her convoy. Arlott could see many citizens gawking at the carriages that were being pulled by horses.
They were murmuring in a low voice while the children appeared happy, seeing the convoy.
'I guess the convoys aren't that rare then. But that's understandable, the variety in a single place can only be so diverse, there is always a limit.' Arlott thought, 'Citizens here wait for the convoys to get unique and different things that aren't found in Plethora.'
He chuckled, 'How cute.'
Arlott had no memory of such a life, life that was so… calm.
At the age of 3 his father died while he had no knowledge about his mother.
And the life of an orphan was 'difficult' to say the least. Even the orphanage only kept him till the age of 6 before closing due to low funds.
At the age of 9, he was kidnapped by a mysterious man and thrown into multitude of deadly tests, which turned his life into hell.
The proof of the difficulty could be seen by the fact that out of 100 orphans, only 10 remained until the very end.
Thus seeing the happy vibes of families in Plethora, Arlott couldn't help but smile. Not a warm, lovely smile. But a cold, creepy smile.
'It was all because of you… Valentina…' he gritted his teeth, 'Your Red Flower Clan took away my peace.'
Once again, his heart burned in rage but Arlott controlled it.
For now, getting a room and sleeping was more important.
He had the mission to fulfill, after all.
No fighting for 3 days.
"This will be your room, Sir Charles." Claire pointed at a wooden door that had number 104 etched on the top.
She fished out an old copper key, handing it to him.
"Thank you, lady Claire. I will go fetch my baggage." Arlott nodded before retreating to the carriage and picking up the jute bag that held Emily.
The guard inside the carriage gave a judging side-eye to Arlott, but said nothing.
"Focus on your work." Arlott scoffed before walking off.
The building that Claire owned was actually an old run-down tavern that had 2 floors of 6 rooms, and a small restaurant on the ground floor.
The restaurant was still active and had a few customers but no one was staying in the rooms, leaving 12 rooms vacant for Claire and her crew.
Which was more than enough.
"Not bad. But not soundproofed." Arlott chuckled darkly as he threw the jute bag on the floor.
"How will you scream now, Emily?" he was just about to move and torture her, but then a thought popped in his mind.
Hitting her is also considered as fighting, isn't it?
When he had knocked her out, he was outside of the town. And when he fought the other 4-circled guard, that was outside of the town as well.
But now, he was in the town.
Technically beating Emily shouldn't count as a fight, since fighting should be both ways, not one sided beating.
But… Emily hated Arlott when he beated her, and she often ended up cursing him when he went extreme.
Maybe, just maybe, it could be counted as fighting.
"Shit." Arlott cursed, "I guess no torture for 3 days. Sleeping is best."
With a sigh, Arlott petted Emily and then stuffed her in a cupboard.
He threw himself on the bed, pulling up the bedsheets and closing his eyes with a smile.
Being a chosen of the sloth, sleep came naturally to him. The moment his head hit the bed and his eyes closed, Arlott was already sleeping.
***
"My lady, My lady!"
Claire's maid came running up to Claire, panting and worried.
"Alia." Claire turned to her maid with a smile.
Her maid was similar to her in age, about 19 years old with a cute chubby face. She was more like a friend rather than a maid.
"Why did you agree to his demands?!" Alia complained, "You could have saved yourself with the Totem Of Protection!"
"And waste the totem that's worth 3 times the cost of my life?" Claire chuckled.
"NO!" Alia said, "Your life is priceless, my lady!"
"And so is the totem, Alia." Claire sighed, "I saw it in his eyes. Those crazy, psychotic eyes. That man wasn't lying, he will indeed make me a duchess."
"How is that even possible, my lady…" Alia gave her a look meant for idiots, but of course, her words were polite, "Sir 'Charles'? Have you heard of a single noble of that name?"
"Who said he will make me a duchess in the normal way?" Claire shot back with a smirk, "There are other ways. I am not sure how many or which way, but I am sure there are. And Sir Charles will find them."
"You have too much faith on a person who placed a sword to your neck, lady."
"Oh Alia, what do you know? I am a sucker for deep voice." Claire chuckled to Alia and then walked away.
Alia sighed and turned around to leave, but she didn't notice the strange glint in Claire's eyes.
No one did, after all, Claire was supposed to be a naive little girl, wasn't she?
"Sir Charles, you better make me the duchess just like you promised me to." Claire giggled to herself.
But then she wiped off the glint in her eyes and turned on her heels, walking out of the tavern with a sunny smile.
"Alia, let's go meet my future hubby, shall we?"
"Oh, already, my lady?" Alia was a little stunned but she nodded anyway, "Your wish is my command."
"Stop being cringy." Claire giggled and pulled Aria into the carriage, the direction set to the royal palace of Plethora.
The home of the Duke Paxley.