Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 165 Betrayal
"But if the matter of the mithril mine is exposed, the entire family will be implicated."

The Viscountess suddenly spoke, her fingertips drawing a silver light on the table, and ripples appeared in the soundproofing barrier. "Unless... we can find the transaction receipt from that year." She looked up suddenly, a cold light flashing in her eyes.

"Duke Hawke is so anxious to silence the witness, maybe the secret letter is still in his hands."

Robin rubbed his brows, feeling like a chess piece that had been suddenly pushed onto the chessboard.

His father's expectant gaze, his mother's tightly clutched handkerchief, and the faint sound of guards changing shifts coming from outside the window all reminded him that there was no turning back in this game.

He suddenly remembered the griffin token given by Baron, and perhaps he could use the power of the Round Table Council.

"First, keep Duke Hawke steady. Don't let him realize we've become suspicious." Robin stood up, the Sword of Judgment casting a cold shadow behind him. "I need to sneak into his private residence and find the secret letter. As for father."

He looked at the bandaged Viscount Wilk and said, "You must pretend to be seriously injured and unconscious, so that the family can completely fade out of this vortex."

Viscount Wilk and his wife looked at each other and smiled at the same time.

The former smiled heroically, while the latter smiled cunningly, leaving Robin speechless.

You two old men are really good at this, I have to do everything!
"Good boy, you finally look like a lord." The Viscountess suddenly pulled out a sapphire necklace from her collar and stuffed it into Robin's hand. "Hawk's mistress likes Eastland jewelry. This is a fake I bought on the black market last year. Maybe it can come in handy."

Robin looked at the gem glowing in his palm, and suddenly felt that the crisis didn't seem so serious.

At least, they were not isolated chess pieces with no chance of winning - after all, the Wilk family had never learned to surrender.

The sapphire necklace on Robin's fingertips was bewildered. He stared at the cunning light in his mother's eyes, and the tips of his ears couldn't help but turn a suspicious red.

Viscount Wilk suddenly coughed and knocked on the table in annoyance: "Alan! That's... cough... Duke Hawke's second wife, Aisha!"

"What's wrong with the Second Lady?" The Viscountess raised an eyebrow, twisting a strand of hair around her fingertips. "Even when she was a flower girl at the dock, I knew she was no ordinary girl." She suddenly leaned close to Robin and lowered her voice. "The bard she hired last month has a northern accent—exactly the same as the captain of the guard at Hawke's residence."

Robin instantly understood what his mother meant, and with his Adam's apple rolling, he stuffed the necklace into his arms.

The hilt of the Sword of Conviction suddenly struck his thigh, and he remembered that he was wearing a washed-out linen shirt, the cuffs still stained with the medicine he'd used to treat his wounds yesterday. "So I need to..." He tugged at his collar, "to be bait?"

"Don't worry, my lord knight." The Viscountess suddenly pulled a dark green velvet coat from the closet. The laurel pattern embroidered with gold thread shone coldly in the candlelight. "This is the dress you wore at your coming-of-age ceremony when you turned sixteen. It should be just right now—" She looked up and down at her son's shoulders, "to show off his collarbone."

Viscount Wilk protested hoarsely from between his fingers: "This is sheer nonsense!" Before he could finish his words, the lion-head relief on the top of his cane had poked a small hole in the carpet.

The Viscountess turned a deaf ear to him, her fingertips deftly fastening the gilded buttons of Robin's dark green velvet coat. The folded cuffs revealed the young man's cold white wrist bones, which shone like pearls in the candlelight. "Lady Esther has a spice room behind her malachite screen," her voice suddenly softened, as if advising a girl attending a ball. "You must pretend to be choked by the rosemary, and she will definitely make the perfume for you personally—the emerald bracelet on her wrist will knock against the glass bottle, and the sound of the mechanism in the study's secret compartment will be hidden in this sound." As she spoke, she pressed her fingertips, dipped in essential oil, behind Robin's ear, and the spicy scent mixed with rose powder penetrated her nostrils. "Remember, don't support her waist with your left hand. She broke a rib last winter."

Robin felt like a dagger stuffed into an exquisite gift box. It was a blade meant to draw blood, but it had to form an elegant arc against the satin lining.

The Sword of Conviction was slightly hot under the velvet coat, and the emblem of order on the hilt burned his skin through the fabric, as if reminding him of the absurdity of the moment.

Two weeks ago he was still fighting the mechanical siren in the royal capital, but now he had to smile gently at the mistress of the powerful official.

"Mother!" He suddenly grabbed the Viscountess's wrist and touched the edge of the magic scroll hidden in her sleeve. "If I am discovered..."

"No." The woman's fingertips gently covered the back of his hand, the amethyst on her ring pressing against the throbbing veins in his wrist. "Duke Hawke needs a scapegoat, but Lady Eshar needs a 'Bard of the North' to show off at the banquet—you see, you each get what you need." She suddenly pulled out a piece of parchment from the bottom of her dressing box. On it was a love poem that gave her goosebumps. "I had someone copy it. Remember, when you read 'The amber in your eyes is the poison I drink,' lower your eyes and pluck the strings."

It was copied by someone and prepared in advance.

Viscount Wilk finally gave up struggling, collapsed in his armchair and covered his face with his sleeves.

He heard his wife quietly teaching their son how to stir black tea with a silver spoon and how to show his left fang when smiling. He suddenly remembered that thirty years ago, when he knelt in the snow to take over the grain cart from Duke Hawke, he was also in the same puppet posture that allowed others to manipulate him.

The difference is that now his son is going to seduce the second wife of the Duke of Hawke and may have to sell her body.

When Robin pushed open the door of the drawing room, the first stroke of midnight happened to ring.

The Viscountess watched his back disappear into the shadows, her fingertips gently stroking the sapphire on the necklace, which she had "borrowed" from Lady Aisha's jewelry box a few days ago.

Viscount Wilk glanced at his wife through his fingers and found that she was adjusting her earrings in front of the mirror, as if she was not planning a dangerous deception but preparing to attend an afternoon tea party.

"You've been planning this for a long time," he said suddenly, his voice full of tired relief.

As the Viscountess turned around, the pearls on her earrings swayed gently. "I've been waiting for this chess piece ever since Duke Hawke sent his men to attack the territory." She walked over to her husband and wrapped him in the blanket again. "Besides," she said, her fingertips brushing against the tassel of the sword of judgment that Robin had left on the table. "Our son was born to stand in the light, not rot in the gutter with some old man."

Viscount Wilk immediately expressed his discontent, "That's my son. I remember how you strongly didn't want him to come back, and even tried to drive him away several times."

The Viscountess smiled awkwardly and explained, "At that time, I was also worried that he had ulterior motives and wanted to steal my research results."

(End of this chapter)