"Respected Mr. Peter, I am delighted to hear that you, a member of the Vladimir family, have come to Ural City as a guest. As it happens, the blizzard has cleared today and the weather is fine, so I would like to invite the city's nobles to a winter hunt in the forest belonging to my estate, to celebrate the impending arrival of spring and to welcome a guest from afar. Might I have the honour of inviting you?"
"Karilina? Lotnikov."
This was an elegant and exquisite invitation card, printed on stiff, delicate paper covered with patterns of sunflowers. Written upon it in the graceful, refined strokes of Shahran script—a writing system entirely different from the Common Language—was the invitation. A faint, sweet fragrance emanated from the card, and reading it almost conjured the image of a mature, beautiful woman认真ly writing with a feather pen.
"Baroness Karilina…" Lucian had only just heard this name at noon from Sergei, a suspected swindler, and now he had received her invitation. Although his own strength meant he had nothing to fear from a band of con artists, he still felt a moment's hesitation.
After lunch, Byelov, Lena, and other members of the merchant caravan came to chat with Lucian. Seeing him fall silent after reading the invitation, they asked curiously, "Mr. Peter, which noble of Ural City has invited you? Hehe, along the way, if not for your noble status, how could we have reached Ural City so quickly?"
Lucian had received similar invitations many times before. Many lords, upon hearing that a member of the Vladimir family had arrived in their territory, would invite him to visit out of curiosity or a desire to cultivate connections. In order to avoid drawing attention and to maintain the courtesy and social enthusiasm expected of a proper noble, Lucian would generally accept such invitations with pleasure.
Although these lords often turned icily cold once they learned that "Peter" was merely the son of a baron who had not yet inherited the title, their very invitations had spared Lucian and the four or five merchant caravans he had joined over time from a great deal of harassment, allowing them to pass through the Shahran Empire smoothly.
"It's an invitation from Baroness Karilina." The Shahran Empire was vast, encompassing twenty-three provinces and over a hundred counties, each with numerous nobles. Lucian only knew the major lords of Ural County—such as Count Vite—in any detail. Minor nobles like a baroness were impossible to investigate one by one. Answering Byelov's question honestly, he hoped to learn more about her from these merchants who had long traded in Kinov Province.
Byelov had drunk black hawthorn wine at noon, and his face was flushed, his nose an even brighter red. He burst into hearty laughter. "So it's Baroness Karilina. Mr. Peter, she's known as one of Ural County's great beauties, and she's a widow at that. She inherited Baron Lotnikov's title and considerable fortune. Countless young nobles have vied for her favour, hoping to claim the title, the estate, and the beauty all in one go."
The tipsy man's expression and gaze were extraordinarily suggestive, as though hinting that Lucian had stumbled upon a stroke of romantic luck—perhaps he would get to taste the beauty's charms, or even go further and win her hand.
Regardless of age, most men could not help adopting just such a teasing tone when discussing this sort of matter.
A blonde, blue-eyed young woman named Irina in the caravan added with a somewhat sulky expression, "Baroness Karilina is called the 'Black Widow' and the 'Vain Fox' among the nobility. She was born into a noble family and is the niece of the Count's second wife, yet she abandoned the many young nobles who courted her and married a widower forty-six years her senior—Baron Lotnikov—solely for his title and wealth. And in less than five years, Baron Lotnikov, who had been in fairly good health, had grown frail and sickly, and soon passed away."
Though Karilina should properly be addressed as a baroness in her own right, the people of Ural County still habitually called her "Baroness" as before.
"Irina, don't spread idle rumours." A rather composed gentleman in the caravan reminded her with a serious expression. This was no tavern, no wilderness camp—it was an upscale inn in Ural City, and the nobility of the Shahran Empire were far more corrupt and savage than those in the southern Church-controlled territories. Noble-bashing at private gatherings could easily earn one a whipping.
Byelov waved his hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. Without the tacit approval of the nobility, how would Baroness Karilina's affairs have spread so far and wide? They want it this way—to scare off other rivals. As far as they're concerned, Baroness Karilina's character and reputation don't matter one bit. What matters are the title, the fortune, and that wonderful body."
"But Baroness Karilina really does have a poor character. It was barely half a year after Baron Lotnikov's death before she began constantly inviting young nobles to banquets and dances—extravagant and decadent." Lena didn't care for this baroness either.
Lucian smiled. "Regardless, since the baroness has extended an invitation and the caravan won't be leaving for several more days, as a proper noble, I certainly cannot refuse my host's generous hospitality."
It was precisely his noble status that had allowed Lucian to travel so smoothly to a place two provinces away from the Vorlite Principality. But it was equally because of that status that he now had to attend many unnecessary social engagements—a double-edged sword. Since Baroness Karilina had also invited other nobles, the winter hunt should pose little danger. As for any scam, one could not be swindled without succumbing to greed.
Besides, his primary goal was to cross the Shahran Empire. Strictly speaking, he was a con artist himself.
The gazes of several caravan members grew complicated—some smiled with amusement, some gave suggestive winks, some pouted unhappily, and some looked on with disdain and contempt, all wearing expressions that said, "Just as I expected—you're exactly the sort of hollow noble I took you for."
Lucian adjusted his clothing, rose with a smile, and took his leave with impeccable courtesy. "Everyone, I'll see you tomorrow."
As he spoke, Lucian closed "An Actor's Self-Cultivation," which he had been reading in the library of his soul.
…………
The earth stretched out in a vast expanse of white. Coniferous trees periodically shed their accumulated snow. Several fierce black Ural hounds howled as they bounded back and forth through the snow, flushing rabbits and other prey from their hiding places and sending them fleeing in panic.
Suddenly, a long arrow arced gracefully from the distance, striking a grey long-haired rabbit with perfect accuracy.