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Chapter 34
“Did you say the Godwin Duchy?”
At the mention of an unexpected name, Piril ripped off her dirty glasses in surprise.
“Yes. It’s not yet publicly known, but the Godwins secretly brought in a new spice recently.”
“A spice, not a poison?”
Litricia picked up a piece of paper and a pen as she thought that calling it a spice was just a polite way of masking what was essentially a poison.
“To be precise, it’s a toxic spice. Piril, even if it’s the same spice, the symptoms can vary depending on how it’s used, right?”
“Of course. Dosage matters too.”
“Then I think it’s exactly what I’m thinking of.”
“A very interesting spice has come in—one that can put a person in a stunned, reflexive state in a short time without leaving a trace.”
Litricia began sketching as she recalled Patrick’s giddy laughter when he talked about it.
‘Who knew Patrick would be helpful for once.’
Ink flowed smoothly from the fine tip of the pen as she drew the plant.
With bluish leaves and dark red berries, it was the very plant Patrick had described as the source of the spice.
“What kind of plant is this? I consider myself quite skilled in toxicology and herbology, but I’ve never seen this before.”
“You probably haven’t. It’s a genetically modified plant developed in the southwestern region of Concord. It’s called Tetrad.”
Litricia explained fluidly, without pause.
It wasn’t at the victory banquet that she first learned of this plant. Long before that, she had come across documents about the Tetrad among the many imports Patrick had scattered around.
“Genetically modified? Then it’s no surprise that it wouldn’t show up in standard reagent tests… But how do you know all of this?”
“I saw it. In Patrick’s documents.”
“You remember all that just from seeing them once?”
Piril’s reaction was much like Killian’s—caught between astonishment and disbelief.
“But if Tetrad really is a toxic spice, how did the Godwins manage to import it? Wouldn’t the Imperial Palace have classified it as a hazardous substance and denied permission?”
“That’s due to the unique properties of the plant. See the red berries? They’re used to make the spice, but their nature changes depending on the extraction temperature.”
Tetrad was also the name of a god revered in the Concord region—said to have two faces, one of benevolence and one of punishment.
Just like its namesake, the plant had two drastically contrasting effects.
When extracted at high temperatures, it became a delicious spice; when extracted at low temperatures, it became a deadly poison.
“Then the one in this water must’ve been extracted at a low temperature.”
As new knowledge unfolded, Piril’s expression grew more solemn.
“This is fascinating… but if this is true, Lady Litricia, the situation might be more serious than I thought.”
“Serious?”
“According to your explanation, even trace amounts of this substance could be fatally toxic, right?”
Judging by the symptoms currently spreading, the toxin had likely been diluted well, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous.
The same dosage could have drastically different effects on children.
“That might explain why Allen’s condition is worse than the knights’. He’s younger, and his body is much smaller than other kids his age.”
“Oh no… Piril, if we can get our hands on the Tetrad, can you make an antidote?”
“If we can identify the source compound, it wouldn’t be difficult, but… can we obtain it? Since it was imported secretly, I doubt the Godwins would hand it over easily.”
At Piril’s worried look, Litricia set down her pen.
“I think I can get it. Probably.”
“If so… One more thing, my lady. Does the Count know about your ability?”
“Ability? I just have a good memory, that’s all.”
“Pardon? That’s not just a good memory. If the Count knew about this—”
“If he knew?”
Piril, excited by the belated discovery of Litricia’s talent, was tripping over her words and forgetting proper titles, but couldn’t bring himself to finish his thought.
Though she was of an age when she should’ve been full of life, Litricia’s eyes were hollow.
There wasn’t a shred of hope in them.
“Piril, I realized something earlier than most people do. It’s best not to hold on to false hope. All it brings is pain.”
After offering a bitter smile, Litricia erased the emptiness from her face and left the room, leaving Piril behind.
***
“Um, my lord. May I open the door for a moment?”
Killian’s brow furrowed deeply at the voice outside.
“What is it? I said not to let anyone in for a while.”
Lying haphazardly on the long sofa with his arm covering his eyes, Killian’s voice was thick with irritation.
“Well… the lady is here to see you.”
“Litricia?”
“Killian, may I come in for a moment? I have something to tell you.”
At the clear, ringing voice, Killian slowly raised himself from the sofa.
“…Come in.”
“Killian, about what Piril said earlier, umph—”
The strong scent of dry herbs filling the room made Litricia involuntarily hold her breath.
The ashtray on the table was piled with broken cigars.
What stood out was that the cigars had teeth marks on them—but no signs of having been lit.
Even so, the scent of the cigars was so pungent that it strongly permeated the room through the cracks in their broken ends.
“Oh. Please wait a moment.”
Seeing Litricia struggling to breathe, Killian quickly strode to the window.
He flung open the large window, letting in a cool breeze that immediately swept away the cigar scent.
“I meant to air it out before letting you in. Is that better now?”
“Yes, but… why didn’t you actually smoke the cigars?”
“Oh, I’m quitting. Someone finds the smell unbearable.”
Killian threw the overflowing ashtray into the trash can with a thud.
Then he closed the window before the room got too cold, tossed more wood into the fireplace, and finally returned to Litricia’s side.
“Are you cold? Shall I have them bring some warm tea?”
“No, I’m alright now. More importantly, Killian, about the poison Piril mentioned earlier—I think I’ve figured out what it is. Here.”
“So I sent you off to rest and you ended up working. What is it now, my dear wife?”
Killian cracked his stiff neck as he looked at the drawing Litricia had placed down.
Even so, he quietly listened to everything she said.
“So, in summary, you’re saying the Godwin family’s spice is the source of this crisis.”
When she finished, Killian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Patrick Godwin’s doing, then.”
“It seems that way.”
Litricia fiddled nervously with the corner of the paper.
According to Piril, on the day Litricia left the capital, Patrick had suddenly been appointed to a clerkship in the Imperial Palace.
That position was highly competitive, usually reserved for the elite—hardly a place someone like Patrick should’ve gotten into.
That alone was suspicious.
Even more bizarrely, the Duke of Godwin—who had never involved Patrick in business matters—had recently put him in charge of a southern warehouse.
And oddly enough, among all the nobles in the capital, none had shown signs of the epidemic—except for one family: the Loraz family.
Something definitely smelled fishy.
“Patrick tried to use me to become the Duke’s heir, but when that plan failed, he must’ve turned to something else.”
The problem was—there’s no way Patrick could have pulled all this off alone…
Litricia had been watching Killian for some time now, noting how unsurprised he looked.
“Killian. Do you know something about this?”
“You’re asking if the Imperial family is backing Patrick Godwin. Is that it?”
Killian, who had been idly rubbing the scar on his palm, now replied knowingly to the question behind her words.
“If that’s the question, then yes.”
“…I thought as much.”
Matching his calm tone, Litricia absentmindedly rubbed her lower lip with her index finger—a habit she shared with Killian, one that surfaced whenever she was deep in thought.
“Killian. About the meeting with the young Lord Godwin—I think we should move the date up.”
