The Devil's Betrothed

The next day, Arlan received a secret missive. An informant requested to personally report confidential intelligence gathered from Thevailes, the enemy kingdom. Given that the informant wanted to meet him, he must have unearthed some alarming secrets from the enemy kingdom.

Alas, he came to Wimark to visit his newborn nephew but it seemed work came knocking. Being a Crown Prince was truly tiresome.

Arlan agreed to meet the informant in a specific location within the market of Jerusha, the main city of the Wimark Territory. Donning the plain attire of a nobleman, he told the Duke and Duchess that he wanted to take a leisurely stroll in the city before heading towards the stables.

Just as he climbed his white horse, his cold-looking knight approached them.

"Your Highness," Imbert called out, "the city guard captain came earlier while you were dining with the Duke to update us about that culprit who stabbed you."

"So did they find him?" Arlan asked.

"Apologies, Your Highness. We failed you," the knight responded gloomily.

The younger knight standing behind Imbert, Rafal, lowered his head. He was in charge of the investigation and was working together with the Duke's men.

Rafal explained, "There were no traces of him other than the arrows and bow he left behind. They were ordinary handmade weapons and not bought from the shops or blacksmiths in the city so he could not be traced through them."

Arlan smirked. He would be more surprised if they found him—to begin with, it was not a 'him' but a 'her'. Though he did describe her appearance to them, no one other than Arlan knew the culprit was a woman.

"Wimark is large. I trust finding him is merely a matter of time," the Prince consoled them.

Half an hour later, Arlan and his two knights reached the main city of the Wimark Territory

Jerusha was both a trade city and a fort. It served as an important military base that secured the border between Griven and Megaris.

In the northeastern region of the kingdom, it was the most prosperous city in terms of commerce. Thousands of people would come and go every single day, and the streets were never lacking merchants from other regions.

Arlan blended well with the lively crowd, and though his peerless appearance caused some heads to turn, none of them had high enough status to recognize the Crown Prince of Griven.

The three men came to a stop at the side entrance of a large shop near the main street. A middle-aged merchant with a protruding belly welcomed them all by himself. That man was not the shopkeeper but the actual owner of the shop. In order to keep Arlan's identity secret, he did not allow any of his workers or servants to accompany him.

"Welcome, my lord."

Arlan was about to enter the shop when he caught a familiar scent— that pleasant fragrance he came across during his hunt.

HIs trust in his senses was absolute, and he would not doubt himself.

'Shortie is near?'

He turned around to look at the bustling street, trying to locate the source of that fragrance. However, there were too many people walking around, and he could not spot any woman with long reddish brown hair.

"My Lord, is something the matter?" the merchant asked upon realizing his guest was distracted.

Arlan turned to look at him, his expression friendly but unreadable. "The location of your shop is not bad."

The merchant was confused, but he was quick to reply, "This humble one's shop does not deserve my Lord's praise."

Imbert and Rafal knew their liege enough to understand those words were merely said in passing. His attention was diverted by a person or object of some importance. Could it be an unexpected acquaintance? What if a dangerous person was nearby?

The two knights remained vigilant, scanning the faces among the crowd for anyone with hostile tendencies.

The merchant led their way inside that shop, going through a hallway to avoid the sight of the customers buying his goods at the shopfront.

Upstairs, there was a large office that took the space of an entire floor. However, rather than a place to work, it appeared more like an art gallery, well decorated with antiques from all over the continent, showing how fond its owner was of traveling and collecting things from various places.

Even before the merchant could speak, Arlan made himself comfortable on the luxurious high back chair with wolf fur draped over it. He folded his leg over another, sitting as if the place belonged to him. The two knights stood behind him without a single change in their expressions.

The merchant bowed and left, only to return with a serving tray filled with refreshments. Even though he was the master of this shop, he was but a commoner, nothing more than an ant in front of Arlan.

He subserviently served his guests their drinks before standing on the side. He did not dare sit in the presence of the Crown Prince.

"Why don't you take a seat, Albert?" Arlan said to the merchant. "It's your own office."

Albert awkwardly cleared his throat. Though it sounded like a suggestion, it was an order from the prince.

"Thank you, Your Highness." He sat on the couch opposite Arlan.

Arlan's gaze roamed around the office. It stopped at the most eye-catching object on the merchant's desk.

"A lion figurine carved from veined white jade locally mined in the mountains of Thevailes. Such high quality, I am afraid only high nobles could afford it." Arlan looked at the middle-aged merchant. "Seems like you cracked a good deal with someone at least of Count rank."

The way Arlan looked at him made Albert sweat at the back of his neck. "Of course, I am primarily a salt merchant, Your Highness. I am welcomed everywhere. Receiving precious gifts is common between partners for business to flourish."

Arlan nodded, as if impressed. "This partner appears to be very happy with you."

"While trust exists between us in the form of benefit, as a native of Griven, my loyalty for the land where I was born is also unquestionable," the merchant replied. His expression then turned sullen.

"I have no wish to delay your important matters, Your Highness, so I will be straightforward—-another war will erupt in the next few months, and this time, it won't just be the border army fighting. All able-bodied men would be forcefully conscripted from across the entire kingdom."

The Crown Prince did not react. As Arlan leisurely sipped his tea, the merchant continued.

"Rumor is spreading among the high nobles of Thevailes that King Samer is sick, some going as far as to say he has gone mad. That is why he is intent to go through with another war against Megaris despite losing in the last war."

Arlan raised a brow. "How come a rumor like that appeared when their king is so young?"

"The Royal Palace of Thevailes has been secretly amassing all kinds of rare medicinal herbs. If not for my connections, I would not have noticed their behavior because they were purchasing small amounts through various vassal families."

Albert brought out a scroll which Imbert accepted before passing it to Arlan.

"This is the list of herbs they were purchasing, and half of them were being smuggled through the borders of Hatha."

Arlan silently read the names on the scroll.

Mandrake, henbane, thorn apple…

Wolfsbane, hemlock, hellebore…

'Medicinal herbs? A greater half of these have long been prohibited by the kingdom alliance for decades. Rather than treating a sickness, it seems like they intend to poison the entire continent! What are you up to this time, King of Thevailes?'

The merchant cleared his throat. "There is another rumor circulating among the nobles. I do not know if Your Highness will be interested.

"According to hearsay, King Samer once secretly met strange people before he ordered these herbs to be collected. He did not even allow his most trusted knights to accompany him when meeting them. Some say those people are physicians, but most think they are black magic practitioners.

"This caused them to believe King Samer suffers from an incurable disease and is using black magic to prolong his life."

'Black magic?'

Arlan recalled his last conversation with his friend, the King of Megaris, Drayce Ivanov.

'Dray told me that the Black Witch who targeted his wife escaped towards Thevailes. Hmm, she must be the reason.'

He looked at the list of herbs once more.

'I should confirm this with Dray when I meet him in Selve. If I am not wrong, they should be used in making witch potions.'

With the prince keeping silent, none of those within the office dared to speak.

Just as the merchant could no longer bear the tension, Arlan handed the scroll to his knight who kept it within the inside of his coat.

A relaxed smile spread across the prince's handsome face.

"You did well, Albert. As a reward, remind the Minister of Finance to reduce your business tax this year by half."

Filled with gratitude, Albert bowed. He thought Arlan was leaving, but the prince remained seated, gesturing for Rafal to open the door.

"Since when did you open an herbal shop, Albert?"

"Pardon, Your Highness?"

The door of the office opened and the man standing behind it fell on the floor. Before he realized what misfortune had befallen him, Rafal pinned him on the ground.

"You good-for-nothing!" Albert suddenly burst in rage at the sight of the struggling servant. "Did I not order that no one is allowed to come near my office?!"

"Albert, you seem to have a bad eye for people," Arlan said with an amused smile on his face.

"I…I was just trying to be of help…in case Master needs any help," the servant on the floor cried out. "Apologies!"

Albert felt ashamed, stammering an apology towards the prince. "Please forgive this foolish servant, Your Highness—"

Arlan cut him off. "You are such a good man, pleading for a subordinate who betrayed you."

"B-Betrayed?"

"This man reeks of herbs. I wonder where he came from before coming straight here to eavesdrop?"

Under Albert's shocked gaze, Arlan stood up. "Since I am in a good mood, my knights will help you take care of this ingrate. This visit has been a pleasant one. I look forward to our future cooperation, Albert."

"Your Highness…"

Arlan strode out of the office, ordering Imbert as he passed through the doorway. "Knock him out and bring him to the estate."

"Yes, my liege."

Arlan stepped out of the shop and looked around the street with a keen gaze.

'That fragrance, I can still smell it. That means she is still around. Seems like bad news for her.'