Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 336 - 335: Patty Gran

Upon hearing the attendant’s report and noticing the change in expression on Ropeney Gran’s face, Gawain immediately guessed what had happened.

As he knew and speculated—the child, Patty Gran, was the daughter of the leader of Gran Territory, and her current condition was likely not good. Her connection to the Eternal Sleepers’ psychic network was probably related to her health.

Gawain concealed his inner turmoil, his face showing only simple curiosity: "Lady Gran, what happened?"

"Please don’t worry, just wait here for a moment," Lady Ropeney controlled the worry on her face and slightly bowed to Gawain, speaking in a low and quick tone, "I need to leave for a bit, I’ll be right back."

Gawain thought for a moment and nodded: "...Feel free to attend to your affairs, no need to mind us. However, if there’s anything you need help with, I’m always willing to assist."

Lady Ropeney quickly thanked him, then hurriedly followed the attendant out of the reception room.

Gawain watched her figure disappear beyond the door, yet he controlled the urge to inquire further and didn’t express any wish to meet her daughter—since that would be too abrupt.

Patty Gran should be just a child around ten years old, while Gawain had only recently been resurrected and was currently the Duke opening up the borders in the deep south. It would be rather suspicious to suddenly want to meet her daughter under such unrelated circumstances. He couldn’t very well start with, "Hey, fellow countryman, I heard you have a daughter?"—doing so would certainly tarnish his reputation...

To avoid triggering Ropeney’s vigilance and resistance, he had to make his words and actions seem natural, so Gawain merely watched Lady Ropeney quietly leave the room, knowing he would eventually find a chance to meet that "Patty Gran."

After motioning for the noisy harps and lutes to quiet down, Gawain began to walk around the reception room with interest, observing the collected works and creations of the former Viscount Gran. As he saw these unique items, he recollected various accounts and rumors about the previous Viscount Gran in his mind. These events were recent—just a few years to no more than a decade ago—but had become absurd in the chaotic record-keeping of this era and the intentional distortions, appearing almost like dark stories passed down from centuries old.

In the various versions of these stories, the former Viscount Gran was portrayed as a mentally troubled person plagued by evil spirits or hereditary diseases. He had the traits of both extraordinary intelligence and madness. He accumulated wealth with clever tactics but recklessly squandered it, damaging the family’s tradition and reputation, and causing disorder on the territory. He was once a prominent figure among the younger generation of southern aristocrats and a dream suitor for countless noble ladies, but ultimately became irresistibly ensnared by forbidden knowledge, even to the point of losing his life in a magic laboratory...

Gawain’s mind pieced together these stories, half of which were results from Amber’s investigations. After reorganizing them again, he turned to the half-elf who was licking her plate and nodded: "Are you full?"

"Full, full!" Amber replied without a shred of dignity, patting her belly, "With that look and tone... you surely want me to do something, right?"

"It’s not a troublesome task," Gawain smiled, "You just need to go to the castle gate and take a look at that door..."

...

Before the evening dance began, Ropeney Gran finally appeared before Gawain again—of course, Amber had returned to him even earlier.

The Lady had a hint of fatigue on her face, but her emotions had evidently calmed down. Seeing her, Gawain curiously asked with a natural demeanor: "I heard the attendant say, Patty Gran is..."

"She’s my daughter," Lady Ropeney smiled gently, her expression softening when mentioning her daughter, "Her health isn’t very good..."

"I hope she recovers soon," Gawain said, "If possible, I’d like to see the child—there’s an excellent Druid in my territory, maybe they could help somehow."

Ropeney’s expression softened further, and her tone was more sincere than before when she spoke with Gawain: "Thank you for your kindness, but I fear that no Druid can cure Patty’s illness. Of course, you can visit her; I think Patty would be happy to meet someone like you—a legendary figure whose stories she often heard growing up."

The dance commenced as scheduled.

In the largest ballroom of Gran Castle, tables were laden with food and wine, while the musicians supported by the Gran family played soothing and elegant Anzu court music from a platform in the corner of the hall. Well-dressed gentlemen and ladies entered the ballroom, engaging in aristocratic social activities in this sumptuous and luxurious setting. The minor nobles or noble descendants from around Gran Territory did not overlook the person sitting on the platform at the far end of the hall—occasionally glancing toward the elevated spot, speculating about the conversation between Duke Cecil and Lady Gran.

Gawain was merely chatting idly with Ropeney. After observing the grand scale of this ball, the quality of the tableware, and the musicians’ numbers and attire, he smiled and complimented, "It’s a fine ball."

"It is my honor to receive such praise from you," the Lady replied, "I’ve done my utmost to make this ball worthy of you."

Gawain simply nodded lightly, and at a certain moment afterward, he noticed a subtle change in Ropeney Gran’s gaze as she looked toward the noble members in the hall.

It was deep hostility, contempt, a flicker of near-hatred.

This change in expression was well-hidden, and if it weren’t for Gawain catching it, even with his keen observation, he might have overlooked it.

A slight smile appeared at the corner of Gawain’s mouth, and he said in a casual tone, "How many of those present here today were also at Earl Carloff Hosman’s ball ten days ago?"

Ropeni Gran’s expression seemed stiff for a moment, but all her abnormalities vanished quickly. In the next instant, she calmly replied, "It seems that even after seven hundred years, events on this land still can’t escape your notice."

"No, many things can, but I happened to learn about one or two of them afterwards."

"...Earl Hosman used disgraceful means to steal the wealth that rightfully belonged to you. Fortunately, the Gran Territory was not involved." Lady said after a two-second silence, deftly avoiding Gawain’s initial question and not steering the topic toward the aristocratic members gathered here.

But Gawain wasn’t here to pursue that matter; he merely mentioned it in passing, observed Ropeni Gran’s reaction, and then pretended to forget the topic, suddenly blurting out, "Your husband, in my opinion, was an extraordinary man."

"...That extraordinary man only left me with a mess."

Gawain smiled slightly, turned to look at the southern aristocrats in the ballroom dancing gracefully, speaking elegantly, as if they were actors on a stage. Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to a vague shadow at the ballroom door.

He couldn’t see what it was, but he knew someone was indeed there — because Ropeni Gran, beside him, was already standing up, looking at the same spot with surprise, tension, and concern.

The Lady seemed a bit at a loss: "Your Grace, please allow me to..."

Gawain had already stood up by now: "Don’t mind me, go ahead."

The Lady almost immediately left her seat, quickly crossing from the side of the hall and heading towards the ballroom door, while Gawain naturally followed her.

Some people in the ballroom noticed this scene in surprise, but after Ropeni gestured, the music resumed, and the nobles attending the ball didn’t leave, but many of their attentions were clearly focused on the door, following the figures of Ropeni and Gawain.

Ropeni pushed open the ballroom door, and Gawain stood behind her, looking out.

A wooden chair with wheels was stopped in the hallway outside the door, a slightly panicked maid stood behind the chair, and a curled up small figure sat inside the chair.

The small figure was a girl, draped in a white, specially tailored "garment," which had only one sleeve and a wide opening at the waist since the wearer’s skin was fragile and ulcerated, likely unable to contact any fabric. She sat crookedly in the chair, several straps securing her body to prevent her from sliding off. Under her skirt, one leg had been amputated from the knee, the withered stump resting powerlessly on the chair. Half her body appeared scorched by flames, her skin blackened and wrinkled, cracks and scabs forming layers of scars, while a twisted mass of flesh stuck to and grew on her blackened wrinkled half-body: it was once her arm.

She was bound to the chair like a tattered doll, her head struggling to remain upright, trembling slightly as if it were hard to keep her neck stable at any angle.

Yet she still had a pair of bright eyes, those eyes curiously fixed on Gawain.

A third of her face was marred by ugly, twisted, purple-red scars, but she still smiled, looking very happy:

"You’re so tall!"

Then, she added, "Just like Daddy said in the story!"

Gawain crouched down in front of the chair, sparing the little girl from the effort of looking up, gazing into those bright eyes, the only part that was still exactly like that lively girl from the dream city.

"Hello, Patty."