Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 207: Disturbing Plans I

Chapter 207: Disturbing Plans I

After comforting Daphne, Atticus began to interrogate the servants regarding the sudden appearance of the dead chicken. His kitchen staff were utterly perplexed when they found out one of their hens was missing.

They hadn’t noticed one missing animal when they fed them in the morning― after all, the coop was entirely secure, with no signs of forced entry or breakage. Atticus had paid a visit to the grounds personally, suspicious of their claims.

Yet, they were right. The coop was entirely unharmed― by human means. However, Atticus could detect a faint trace of magic on the coop’s lock and the mesh netting. He peeped into the coop and frowned as the chickens all but pressed themselves against the back of their coop, squawking in terror at an unfamiliar face.

Surely they weren’t so cowardly before. Something must have scared them. Then, Atticus took a closer look at their living conditions and his frown deepened.

The hay was surprisingly damp for something that should never have been exposed to the weather outside. Atticus immediately knew who — or more precisely, what — was responsible.

That damn kelpie was back!

After the freak rainstorm during the Spring Parade, there hasn’t been a single drop of rain afterward. For the inside of the coop to be wet, it could only be caused by that infernal creature. He didn’t know why the kelpie would want to intimidate Daphne instead of simply eating the hen, but that would be its downfall.

"Your Highness?" the farmhand asked nervously. The expression on his king’s face was scary for both humans and poultry alike.

"I’ll assign guards to your coop and for the other animals as well," Atticus grimly said. "For now, make sure to account for every single farm animal on our premises. Understand?"

That kelpie might decide to come back for a second round or help itself to another bigger animal. Prince Nathaniel had mentioned that there weren’t any kelpie-related murders in Raxuvia while this damned beast was there but Atticus wasn’t planning on developing its tastes for human flesh now that it was in Vramid.

"Yes, Your Highness!" He squeaked, frantically nodding in agreement.

"Atticus! Your Highness! There you are!" Jonah said, yelling at him through the window in the kitchens, waving his hand to catch his attention. "I’ve finally found you!"

Atticus hurriedly got up and went to his side. "What did you find out?"

"I’ll tell you when you’re in your office," Jonah said, casting a knowing look over all the nosy kitchen staff, who suddenly decided that it was in their best interests to pay attention to dinner preparation instead of their king. "It’s best if you’re seated for this."

"How bad could it possibly be?" Atticus wondered.

However, he quickly ate his words.

Atticus was very thankful that Jonah had the foresight to get him to sit down before he delivered his findings. It was simply one shocking revelation after another, and Atticus barely digested the implications of one finding before Jonah dropped another revelation.

"To some extent, I quite pity the man," Jonah said after he was done catching Atticus up with his findings. His king sat there at the table, utterly dumbfounded by the sheer information unloaded on him.

"This feels like it should be something shared during one of those tea parties the noble ladies organize," Atticus muttered under his breath.

"Other than the fact that we’re talking about the creation of magic, not mere gossip about whose wife had cheated with whose husband," Jonah reminded.

"I see why that snake Prince Nathaniel would have ties with Jean Nott," Atticus said, a pensive frown on his face. "If he is able to give magic, then Jean Nott must have promised him the same thing he promised the Seiberts."

Magic. With Prince Nathaniel’s weak abilities, he would have been desperate enough to turn to Jean Nott, especially if the latter demonstrated such theatrics right in front of him.

Only, Jean Nott wasn’t a poor man by any means. By day, he was a viscount of Vramid. By night, he was the leader of the greatest criminal organization in the world.

He wouldn’t lack gold. What could Prince Nathaniel possibly promise him in exchange for this ability?

"Crown Prince Nathaniel also gave us this hint though," Jonah mused, "I suspect their collaboration fell through. Perhaps Jean Nott didn’t deliver what he promised?"

"Or the price he wants is too high for royalty to pay," Atticus finished grimly. "No matter what, this changes many things."

Jean Nott had found a way to grant himself magical abilities. Maybe the ice magic he had displayed in his fight with Atticus was also unnatural. He hoped it wasn’t; Atticus would rather Jean Nott be some king’s unwanted bastard offspring, rather than the alternative― Jean Nott successfully granting himself magical abilities and displaying full mastery of said powers.

Did he know about the Reaweth myths? Atticus clenched his jaw; such hidden secrets were not for the common man, no matter how well-connected, to discover. If Jean Nott had somehow managed to comprehend the legendary olden texts and invoke their blessings, then Atticus had to deal with him as soon as possible.

He was a thorn in his side, a hindrance to his goals.

"Either way, if his goal is to give people with fat wallets magical abilities, he will be a hindrance to our goals and a menace to society," Jonah said with a sigh. "I’ve sent knights to Reaweth undercover. Alas, they have not managed to find any information regarding Jean Nott’s whereabouts even with Benjamin Killiney’s clues about the red light district."

"Speaking of the red light district," Atticus said, "did Benjamin Killiney mention anything else?"

Jonah shook his head. "Nothing more than what we’ve already overheard outside the shed in the slums. Although..."

He trailed off, a finger rubbing his lower lip, deep in thought.

Atticus frowned. "What?" he snapped. "Out with it. You should know better than to leave things on cliffhangers."

Jonah sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, chewing on his bottom lip after. "It’s just a little weird, isn’t it?" he asked.

"What is?"

"That he is usually paying for women that are blondes," Jonah clarified. "My men posted there managed to get some drawings of the girls that Jean Nott called for in the brothels. They started sniffing around after what we heard at the slums."

Withdrawing a set of scrolls, Jonah handed them over to Atticus, who quickly unrolled them. The king’s eyes widened at the sight of the women, his breath stopping short.

"Is it just me or do these women sort of resemble Daphne?"