I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 184 Oda Semi

With a low groan from the hinges, the heavy wooden door, studded with iron nails, slowly closed, completely shutting out the whispers of the servants in the corridor and the clamor of the banquet hall in the distance.

As soon as the door closed, before the heavy iron door could be fully pushed in with the latch, Hans Capone slumped against the door panel as if his spine had been removed.

"God—I am guilty, I am practically putting my soul on the fire."

The young master muttered to himself as he paced anxiously around the room like a wild beast trapped in a cage.

He looked at the calm-looking Zieg beside him, then buried his face in his hands and let out a painful groan: "Your Highness! Did you see that? Lord Semi's eyes were filled with gratitude for me! He even tried to kiss my boots! And you stood behind me, pouring me wine like a sommelier!"

"When you held the jug and poured that red liquid into my glass, I felt like I wasn't drinking Burgundy wine at all, but molten lead! My throat was burning!"

His tone was filled with self-reproach: "This is insane, and utterly presumptuous. If those old fogies in the Imperial Court, who spend their days flipping through heraldic catalogs, knew that I had actually appointed a duke with the blood of His Majesty Charles IV as my squire, they would write it into every book of chivalric jokes, and from then on, my family's coat of arms would only be fit to be painted on the back of tavern signs!"

Ignoring Hans's incessant chatter, Zieg walked to the table in the center of the room, preparing to pick up the wine jug on it.

However, this simple action seemed to have stepped on Hans's tail.

The young master, who had just been complaining, rushed over in a flash and grabbed the wine jug tightly in his arms.

"Your Highness, please, please don't touch this thing again!"

Hans's tone carried a hint of pleading panic. He skillfully and respectfully poured a full glass of crimson wine, then carefully presented the heavy silver cup to Sieg with both hands.

Then, he turned to the side and pointed solicitously to the largest and most comfortable armchair in the room, covered with a thick bearskin.

"Please sit down, Your Highness. In this room, only you are worthy to sit in this chair. If you continue to stand behind me like that, I will definitely have nightmares tonight."

Zieg did not refuse, naturally accepted the silver cup, and calmly sat down in the armchair.

Seeing that the esteemed Duke had finally settled comfortably in the main seat, Hans's heart, which had been hanging in mid-air, finally settled back into his chest.

He poured himself a glass of wine with a sigh of relief, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp.

Only at this moment did the unease of being a newcomer and the extreme fear brought about by overstepping one's bounds finally subside with that sip of mellow wine.

Completely subsided.

He stood tall and proud before Siegfried's chair, holding an empty wine glass, like a true and loyal vassal.

The extravagance and anxiety were stripped away from him, replaced by plans for the future.

"So, what's next, Your Highness?"

"We've already driven ourselves into the Semih estate, and old Semih has been quite polite to us. But that key figure—Oda Semih—hasn't shown his face yet. If he keeps hiding outside and doesn't come back, are we just going to sit here doing nothing?"

Zieg swirled the liquid in his glass and said confidently.

"He will come back."

"Hans, you may not have noticed the details in the game house next to the stable. Auda's most beloved falcon is still dozing on its perch, and the hunting dogs that he usually takes with him, even when just going for a walk in the woods, are all locked in their kennels, not one is missing."

"A spoiled brat who wants to escape a wedding and clear his head in the woods wouldn't set off in the dark."

"This is not an escape, my friend."

"He's going to keep an appointment, to deal with an urgent matter that's more important, and perhaps more dangerous, than the wedding. He's not hiding from this family; on the contrary, he's sharpening his claws in the dark for their sake."

In the original storyline, the Hussite war god, whose eyes are still intact, was able to move freely in the Troski region thanks to the strong support of Oda Semi.

Since that young master Oda is not here, it goes without saying that he must have gone to find that Hussein war god.

"He will always come back. By then, he will be exhausted. A noble friend from afar, equally young and seemingly harmless, will be a welcome respite for him."

"What should I do?" Hans looked at Zieg, his eyes focused.

"Take him out."

Zieg extended a finger and gently pointed to the night outside the window. "The walls of the manor have ears. Old Semi's anxiety and von Polgar's spies fill every inch of the air here. To talk about rebellion here is like smoking on a powder keg."

"You need to use the method you're best at—perhaps invite him on a morning hunt, or ask him to show you the scenery of the territory. In short, find a reason, a respectable, aristocratic reason, to lead him outside the manor. To a place where only the wind can hear our conversation."

Upon hearing this, Hans Capon paused for a moment, then let out a suppressed chuckle.

That familiar playboy confidence returned to his face.

"Ha! If you were asking me to infiltrate Trossky Castle, I might hesitate. But if you were asking me to..."

"The young man lied—no, I mean 'invited' you out to have fun," Hans's voice held a relaxed smugness. "Well, you've come to the right person."

"Leave it to me, Your Highness."

He snapped his fingers, the crisp sound echoing in the quiet room: "I have more tricks up my sleeve for dealing with this kind of young master than the baker in Lathai can bake bread. As soon as he shows his face, I guarantee he'll crawl out of this door with me, even if he has to."

It wasn't until the next morning, when the first rays of sunlight barely pierced through the thin mist and shone on the muddy dirt road of the Sami Estate, that Oda Sami's figure appeared at the estate's gate.

The young heir didn't look like a groom about to get married; he looked more like a soldier who had just crawled out of the mud.

His cloak, soaked with the night's dew and the chill of the forest, hung heavily on his shoulders.

The once gleaming riding boots were now covered in a thick layer of mud, and you could even see a few dead branches that had been brought out of some bushes.

But there was little weariness in his bloodshot eyes.

He had just dismounted and hadn't even had a chance to toss the stiff reins to the groom when the captain of the guards, who had been standing by the door,...

She came forward, not bothering with pleasantries, and quickly recounted the events of the previous night in a low voice in his ear.

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