100: Chapter 72: Stealing Flowers Does Not Make One a Thief 100: Chapter 72: Stealing Flowers Does Not Make One a Thief “Ouch, ouch, ouch~!
My clothes are caught, be gentle!” the man behind the bushes cried out in pain.
Leon ignored him, grasped the man’s ankles with both hands, pushed against the stone pavement on the garden path, and pulled with all his might.
With a rip, the sound of fabric tearing could be heard.
Leon only felt a sudden looseness in front of him, took two steps back to steady himself, and finally dragged the man out.
The splendidly feathered hat fell to the side, and the disheveled man collapsed onto the grass.
The vibrantly colored coat he was wearing was also torn open by the vigorous pulling.
Letting go of the man’s ankles, Leon tilted his head to look at the man’s face.
At one glance, the signature thin mustache sparked his memory of a half month ago.
What are you doing here!?” Leon asked in surprise.
He wasn’t mistaken; it truly was that indecent poet he had seen in Dragon Throat City.
To run into each other so far from home, were they really that destined?
Western Port was over a thousand miles away from Dragon Throat City, even if one were just to look at the straight-line distance on the map.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, it’s ruined, it’s all ruined; this is the new outfit Miss Magreina gave me.”
The poet lamented as he picked up the fabric, sighing heavily.
Then, raising his head and spotting the familiar face, he too looked surprised: “Yo?
Isn’t this that chivalrous…
After mumbling for a while, the poet scratched his head, still unable to recall the name, and could only smirk with a squint: “My lord, what was your name again?”
Leon was speechless: “Didn’t you say you were going to write a poem to praise us?
You can’t even remember my name?”
I remember now, Lord Pendragon?”
“…It’s Pendragon,” said Leon, holding his forehead.
“Oh, oh, oh, Lord Pendragon!”
The poet quickly stood up, brushing the dust off his legs, put on his hat, and with a sycophantic smile said: “What a coincidence, I never expected you to be invited to this wedding banquet as well.”
To invite a poet of such ill-repute to one’s own son’s wedding banquet…
Had the Earl of the Felcon Family lost his mind?
Leon found it unbelievable and suddenly realized that it was not good.
He wasn’t here as a bona fide guest attending the banquet.
He couldn’t talk about this with this guy.
“I thought you were locked up in Dragon Throat City jail?
Have you cleared your name?”
Leon deftly changed the subject to the other party.
“Of course~ I’ve always been innocent; it’s just that people tend to believe rumors and misunderstand me a lot,” the poet lifted his head and stroked his mustache, looking righteously indignant.
“So, what are you skulking about for?
I don’t believe your act just now was about looking for a toilet.
Are you playing the thief?
Be careful or I’ll report you to the guards,” Leon crossed his arms and started interrogating the other party.
“Ah, hiss…” Galliard’s pretended seriousness fell apart in less than a second.
He grimaced as if out of excuses and looked around to make sure no one was nearby.
Then, placing his hand over his mouth, he approached Leon with a lecherous expression: “…Let’s make a deal.
If you don’t report me to the guards, I’ll tell you about a pleasant secret path.”
Leon tilted his head back, distinctly repulsed by the lascivious face so close to him.
“Isn’t there just a hole behind those bushes?
Considering how stuck you were just now, do you really think I need you to tell me?
But, what do you mean by ‘pleasant’?”
“You don’t understand; inside this glossy and beautiful castle lies…
many a lonely and empty canary,” whispered the poet with a sly chuckle.
“If there is no one to comfort these melancholic birds, wouldn’t it be a shame?
Let’s not even talk about the Earl’s main residence, but just in the courtyard of the man in black you can see from here, I’ve got to know quite a few elegant beauties lately, let me tell you, it’s just…
“You can get into the courtyard up ahead!?” Leon suppressed his voice and grabbed the poet’s shoulder.
He didn’t care whether this scoundrel had been seducing any lady or miss in the castle, but if this hole could help him enter the Atiyas people’s courtyard, it would be like a dream come true.
“Heh heh, it seems that you, my lord, also appreciate the finer things~” Seeing Leon’s reaction as a sign of shared interest, the poet relaxed, smiled and beckoned to him, and then bent down to push aside the bush he had just crawled through.
Leon looked through the gaps between the branches and saw, indeed, a “human”-shaped inconspicuous crack at the corner of the thick castle walls.
The crack wasn’t large, just wide enough for a not-too-chubby person to crawl through.
Leon crouched down, turned his head and peered inside; the crack penetrated the thick castle walls, leading straight to the sea view outside.
However, from his current position, it seemed that there was a coastal cliff just outside the wall.
“Isn’t there a cliff outside?”
Leon looked up, his questioning gaze towards the poet.
“This crack happens to be above a secret path close to the cliff; just crawl through, and there’s a small trail below the hole that can fit one person,” Galliard said with a pleased look.
“Yes, it’s used to escape the castle in case of a siege, as a last resort.
It’s not surprising; nearly every castle leaves a small back door for such possibilities during construction.
I’ve also followed the trail to the real entrance on the other side and saw a small door sealed off from inside the castle.
I guess it’s been closed for who knows how many years…”
The poet, with his wealth of experience, talked on and on.
Leon’s eyebrows lifted; the fellow in front of him had apparently scaled the walls of noble estates for illegal encounters quite professionally.