Chapter Seventeen: Doubt

During his days recuperating from his injuries, Chu Tian was both in pain and, paradoxically, filled with happiness. After being carried home, the Princess herself, having just received the news, came to visit him. Her gentle, affectionate gaze, her caring words, and Selina’s attentive tenderness drew Chu Tian ever deeper into the grave of love. Even Little White, for once, did not pester the Princess, instead bustling around Selina, fetching water and medicine.

The next morning, Emperor Ludi III went so far as to cancel the council meeting, personally visiting with a lavish array of gifts. In front of his accompanying ministers, the Emperor declared, “Marquis Vladino is a pillar of the Empire. We must ensure he receives the best treatment, so he may soon recover and continue his invaluable service to the Empire!”

The news that the chief court priest, Marquis Vladino, had been attacked reached the Empire’s ministers and nobility almost immediately. Initially, these officials merely sent servants with baskets of delicacies and supplements. But once Ludi III had publicly shown his regard for Chu Tian, the Marquis’s residence was never without visitors. Observing the capital’s most prominent figures express their concern, and taking note of the thick gift lists in their hands, Chu Tian’s recovery schedule conveniently grew several times longer.

Chu Tian’s old friends were even more attentive: Kanas scoured the capital for the assassin day and night, running himself ragged. Damal came to Chu Tian’s home, insisting on protecting him personally and, moved to tears, begged the Marquis to teach him yet more about the art of governance. Dio suspended his academy lectures, tending night and day to his teacher, acting the very model of filial devotion.

The only oddity was that Reggie, his closest friend, had yet to appear—though, truth be told, Chu Tian’s brush with death had occurred thanks to that notorious playboy’s dinner invitation.

Now, Chu Tian lay in his sickbed, swathed in bandages, teasing Little White while receiving a visit from the Right Chancellor Andor.

“Heh heh, Marquis, you are truly favored by fortune! To emerge unscathed from such danger is a cause for celebration!” Andor’s kindly smile was unchanged from before, his demeanor as affable as ever.

“Praise be to the Goddess of Life. Perhaps She believes there are still important tasks for me to accomplish, and so spared me at the crucial moment.” Though he spoke nonsense, Chu Tian’s mind reeled back to that night, recalling the sudden appearance of Dirk. Dirk’s arrival had been too coincidental, and the alley where the attack occurred was far from the Chancellor’s residence—he had no reason to be there at such an hour.

Despite his doubts, Chu Tian feigned heartfelt gratitude: “To trouble you, my lord, over such a minor matter—I am truly unworthy of your concern.”

“Nonsense. You are now a pillar of the Empire; even His Majesty relies on you for many affairs. It is only right that I visit,” Andor replied, leaning forward as if to inspect Chu Tian’s wounds, but finding only bandages and the sharp scent of medicine. With a sigh, he remarked, “Your injuries are quite serious!”

Chu Tian inwardly chuckled. He had, in truth, long since recovered! But for the sake of these generous gifts, his wounds would need at least a few more days to heal.

Andor glanced at the blood-stained bandages and, in a casual tone, asked, “The Imperial Guards in the capital are truly incompetent—unable even to catch a single assassin! By the way, Vladino, do you have any leads?”

“I was thoroughly drunk at the time; I haven’t the faintest clue. I didn’t even see the assassin’s face!” Chu Tian replied, lowering his head to pat Little White, though his eyes never left Andor, studying him intently.

And yet, Andor’s expression remained unchanged—still smiling. “Is that so? Then that assassin has gotten off lightly. In that case, I won’t disturb you further; focus on your recovery. His Majesty eagerly awaits your return to service.”

With that, Andor rose, took his leave, and exited the sickroom.

Watching Andor depart, Chu Tian narrowed his eyes, pondering quietly. Could it truly have nothing to do with him?

Since his injury, Chu Tian had used his convalescence as an opportunity both to amass wealth and to reflect on recent events. He had been in the capital barely three months—hardly time to make enemies, and certainly no reason for someone to want him dead. If there was a cause, it could only be that he had offended several young nobles while courting Princess Selina, chief among them Anderson.

Still, it seemed unlikely that the most suspicious, Andor, would have his son’s romantic rival assassinated for such a trivial reason. If not him, then Dirk’s timely appearance became all the more inexplicable.

At this thought, inspiration struck—he had overlooked a crucial detail. He called out, “Page, come in!”

After the incident, Ludi III had furiously rebuked the commanders of the city’s Guard. For a high-ranking imperial official to be attacked within sight of the Emperor was a disgrace to the Caesar Cavalry. As a result, War Minister Markory, who oversaw the army, proposed increasing Chu Tian’s protection, assigning a thousand-strong escort commensurate with his rank. This was already Markory’s limit; even marquises with fiefs rarely mustered more than three thousand private troops.

Hearing this, Chu Tian immediately thought of Page, the centurion who had left a deep impression on him, and requested him by name to serve as Captain of his Guard.

At Chu Tian’s summons, Page entered at once. “My lord, what are your orders?”

Page was a most diligent captain; since his assignment, he had scarcely left Chu Tian’s side, even sleeping outside his door. Chu Tian couldn’t help but think he’d found himself a most reliable right-hand man.

Chu Tian gestured for Page to sit, then asked, “It’s nothing urgent—I just wanted to ask if you’re familiar with Lord Andor’s steward Dirk, the elderly man who appeared the night I was attacked?”

“Not exactly familiar, my lord, but I know of him. Dirk often accompanies the Chancellor on military inspections, so most of the Guard’s officers recognize him.”

Chu Tian nodded, satisfied. “And his abilities? What level would you say he is?”

Page hesitated. “His abilities? Dirk is just an ordinary old man.”

“An ordinary man? Is it possible he’s concealing his strength?” Chu Tian pressed.

“Highly unlikely. There are many experts in the Guard, yet none have ever sensed any magic or fighting aura from Dirk.” Though puzzled by the Marquis’s line of questioning, Page answered dutifully.

“I see, that’s all. You may return to your post.”

After Page left, Chu Tian was even more perplexed. Page would not lie—so Dirk could not have been the assassin. If so, Andor’s suspicion diminished greatly. But then, who truly wanted him dead?

He couldn’t figure it out. Chu Tian shook his head.

“Woo-woo—” Still lost in thought, Chu Tian was brought back to reality by Little White’s cry. Glancing down, he saw Little White clutching a small medicine jar in its mouth, wobbling across the soft mattress to his ear, its large eyes blinking as if to remind him: time for medicine!

He took the jar and tossed it into the wastebasket, rubbing Little White’s head. “I’m already healed. I don’t need medicine!” Seeing that Little White was still insistent, Chu Tian pursed his lips and said proudly, “Don’t forget, I’m a Level Eight Grand Priest Mentor!”

Little White rolled its eyes and gazed at him indignantly, as if to say, “Don’t think I’m unaware of how you got that title!”

“Marquis Reggie is here to visit!” At that moment, as Chu Tian was still pacifying Little White, Page’s voice sounded from outside. Accompanied by his announcement, Reggie—the incorrigible rogue himself—strode in. “Ha! Boss, what rotten luck! You go out for a drink and end up nearly assassinated!”