The Royal Dell Arsenal was located in Highbury Borough, an area renowned for its industry. The people living there were mostly middle-class workers and employees of Londinium’s vast industrial sector. A large number of them were lifelong workers at the Royal Dell Arsenal. Given their roles, the blueprints they handled were all considered Victorian military secrets and, naturally, strictly forbidden from being disclosed to outsiders.

For Felix, obtaining those blueprints wouldn’t be easy. He didn’t have the time to disguise himself as a factory apprentice and infiltrate the arsenal to steal technology. Engaging directly with high-ranking earls and dukes also came with a steep price—and doing so would surely land him on their radar as someone worth watching. At present, Felix preferred to keep a low profile.

The black market was a potential shortcut. But if he truly wanted to acquire those precious blueprints there, he would have to be ready to fight off the very thieves selling them.

Felix entered the city with Degenbrecher and Mandragora, once again separating from Magic ZX, Dandao Dantart, and the others. After assigning them a task to scout out Londinium, Felix and his two companions began to move independently.

They booked a family suite in Londinium’s Central Borough, Auchterigg Borough. As the name suggested, it was the city’s core—a place where one could see well-dressed passersby strolling the streets with gentle smiles. In upscale areas, even aristocrats of the Victorian Empire could be seen exchanging polite, whispered conversations.

For Mandragora, this was an entirely unfamiliar world. Perhaps only in those collections of Victorian poetry had she glimpsed the prosperity and peace of Londinium’s capital. That indelible sense of elegance and nobility seemed etched into the very bodies of every noble who walked its streets.

She stared out the window in a daze, her dark golden eyes quietly observing a world she had never seen in her thirteen or fourteen years. She appeared a little lost in thought.

Why do they look so happy? How can they live so contentedly in Londinium, smiling as if they have no worries at all?

Felix gently stroked Mandragora’s head. The girl leaned into him softly, her lips pursed with the faintest hint of grievance. She didn’t say anything, but her silence seemed to say everything.

“Boss, are you heading out to talk business?” Degenbrecher, sitting nearby and adjusting her protective gear, looked up and asked. “The nobles in Victoria aren’t like the people we’ve dealt with before. Without the right status, you won’t even get into their social circles.”

“Exactly. Their banquets and gatherings are just another layer of business negotiation.”

“Pfft.”

Degenbrecher chuckled. “I like how you put that.”

“So, do you need me?”

“Of course I do.”

Felix interlaced his fingers and smiled. “The nobles hold gatherings every week. To them, it’s just a way to burn Victorian gold coins while figuring out how to earn even more. I plan to sneak into one of those events. Isn’t the title of ‘youngest outstanding scientist’ and ‘Black Knight’ enough of a pass?”

“So… you want to use my identity?” Degenbrecher crossed her legs, a mature smile playing on her face. “Looks like the boss is finally planning to use me for something other than bodyguard or kindergarten teacher?”

“Are you angry?”

“How could I be? On the contrary, I’ve been itching to stretch my limbs for a while now.”

Felix turned to Mandragora, who had remained quietly at his side, and gently patted her head. “Mandragora, you’ll come too.”

Mandragora looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

She quickly lowered her gaze, flustered. Thanks to her recent healthy diet, she’d been growing rapidly—and developing in all the right places. She tried to glance down at her toes, but realized she could no longer see them.

“You can attend the party as my younger sister. There’ll be plenty of children there.” Felix’s tone softened. “I want you to see for yourself what the nobles of Victoria are really like. They’re not the glorious, flawless figures described in novels.”

“Sometimes, what you want to see isn’t what they want you to see. And what you do see isn’t always the truth.” Felix thought of his past conversation with Andoain. He smiled faintly. “Of course, whether something is true or false depends on your own judgment. That’s why, before deciding, you need to witness it with your own eyes.”

Mandragora let out a small hum and nodded as she leaned into Felix’s arms. She had never felt shame or anger over her identity as a Tara. After spending time with Brother Felix and being influenced by his perspective, her once explosive anger had gradually transformed into a quiet fierceness. Perhaps she did want to see for herself what kind of people these so-called noble lords—praised so highly by the common folk—truly were.

“I’ll go, Brother Felix.”

Felix looked at Mandragora with a rare hint of relief and sentiment. In this life, she would no longer become the wretched, villainous figure she might have been. The butterfly had already begun to flap its wings, and under his guidance, Mandragora was gradually growing in the direction he had hoped for.

Whatever future Mandragora chose, or whatever achievements she might pursue, Felix couldn’t say for certain. But one thing he knew clearly—he felt a deep sense of accomplishment watching her grow to this point.

Initially felix wanted to use another alias as a certain Englishman at this party, Wouldn’t it be exciting when he came and was questioned by the guard there with “Mister Walpole, I Presume?”

Ah, so nostalgic, I want to play that game again…or I can just try it directly in the Iberian sea, sadly the “spanish” here is busy with “Davy Jones’s armies”.

‘Maybe in the future, I will craft special harpoons and hold a seaborn hunting event with ships and players as crew.’

Clapping his hands, Felix set those thoughts aside and said, “Alright, I’ll reach out to some connections and get a dress made. Do you want it tailored for a lady or a man… Ah, a man?”

The corner of Degenbrecher’s mouth curled up, her golden eyes sparkling with amusement. “Seems you still understand me quite well, boss.”

“Good. Let’s head out and get fitted for dresses while it’s still daytime.”

Getting involved with Victoria’s aristocratic circles hadn’t been Felix’s original plan. But now, he saw an opportunity. After all, he could finally see with his own eyes what those nobles—those whose names only appeared in dusty archives—were really like. Attending their parties didn’t mean he had to befriend them, right?

As for business, Felix had his eye on the arsenal’s blueprints. Of course, getting access to all of them was a pipe dream—but letting those greedy nobles leak a few? That was a realistic goal.

Degenbrecher still preferred her usual style—tailor-made men’s suits. She had dressed like this even back during the Kazimierz period. One had to admit: she was undeniably stylish. While she was changing, the female shop assistants couldn’t take their eyes off her, instantly becoming fans the moment she stepped out of the fitting room.

Mandragora, on the other hand, chose a girl’s dress. The pure black fabric was scattered with tiny, star-like specks, lending her an air of quiet elegance. It made her look far more mature in an instant. Felix was thoroughly pleased.

Speaking of names, Degenbrecher—better known as the Black Knight—was already quite famous in Londinium and throughout Victoria. Kazimierz wasn’t far from Victoria, after all, and the legend of the Black Knight, a triple crown winner, had long since spread through every alley and street in cities that paid attention to Kazimierz’s affairs—especially in a culturally vibrant metropolis like Victoria.

The banquet Felix intended to attend was scheduled for three days later, to be hosted by Earl Bolton at his manor. Several well-known earls and a number of viscounts were also on the guest list.

The invitation Felix sent had found its way into Earl Bolton’s hands. At first glance, seeing that it bore no noble title, the earl lost interest. He was just about to toss the letter into the trash when a name caught his eye.

“The Black Knight?”

His curiosity piqued, he resumed reading. The leader of the group was a scientist named Felix… Then came the academic titles:

Doctor of Mechanical Engineering, Doctor of Mechanical Dynamics, Doctor of Ecology, Doctor of High-Energy Physics, Doctor of Originium Science.

Was this person trying to make a mockery of him?

Putting aside his initial skepticism, Earl Bolton couldn’t help but become intrigued. The man was of the Sankta race—a people rarely seen, known more for their messenger roles than for breakthroughs in academia. It was rare to see one associated with any real progress in the scientific community.

Whether the credentials were genuine or not, one thing was clear: the earl was glad he had taken the time to read the letter instead of discarding it. According to reports from Columbia’s scientific institutions, these doctorates had indeed been verified. That left little room for fraud.

Nodding quietly to himself, Earl Bolton set the letter aside. He then turned to the aging butler standing respectfully at his side and said, “Inform the Earl of Warwick that I have two particularly interesting guests. I’m sure he’ll want to meet them.”

—

Three days later, a fleet of extended Lincolns moved in orderly fashion toward the manor in the affluent district. The drivers, clearly well-versed in this kind of affair, remained calm and composed even as the guards conducted their inspections.

Felix and Mandragora sat on one side of the car, while Degenbrecher sat across from them. All three were dressed in elegant evening attire. Mandragora still looked a little nervous—her hands trembled slightly, and all Felix could do was gently reassure her, again and again.

Outside Earl Bolton’s manor, dozens of guards stood at attention, each holding a lance. Their eyes were cold, sharp—like those of men seasoned by war.

Degenbrecher was the first to step out of the car. She gracefully extended her hand to Mandragora, who offered a grateful smile before taking it and stepping out beside her. Felix followed last, stepping calmly onto the stone path with invitation in hand.

Feeling the mild warmth of the shifting season, he walked toward the mansion with a composed expression. He didn’t look like a guest; rather, he resembled someone returning home… or perhaps a scholar attending a formal academic seminar. His expression was cool but polite, and the faint smile on his face caused the attending butler at the door to momentarily mistake him for the son of a duke.

“…Colombia, Felix,” the butler murmured, glancing at the invitation.

“This is Felix,” Degenbrecher spoke calmly, stepping forward. “An outstanding young scientist from the Sankta race, currently enjoying high esteem in Colombia’s academic circles. As for me, I am the Black Knight from Kazimierz. I assume no further introduction is necessary.”

The butler bowed with a respectful smile, quickly composing himself. When his eyes landed on the bashful Mandragora, he asked, “And this young lady… she’s Mr. Felix’s sister, I presume? Please enjoy the banquet.”

“Everyone, this way, please.”

The heavy doors swung open, revealing a world gilded in gold. A grand hall stretched before them, filled with custom chandeliers crafted from precious crystal, and soft, lavish carpets made of materials that defied identification. Uniformed servants in pristine maid and butler attire moved quietly through the space.

Passing through several lounges, the group entered the main hall. A towering display of fine wines stood at the center, while buffet tables brimmed with delicacies from across the lands of Terra. Elegantly dressed young men and women moved through the room, their conversations lively, mingling with the discourse of renowned scholars. Not a single person present seemed ordinary.

Felix, halo glowing faintly above his head, golden wings casting soft light behind him, wore a refined and flowing evening gown. The moment he entered, he drew every eye in the room. Murmurs filled the hall as nobles speculated about the identity of the mysterious and radiant guest. Several noblewomen, captivated, moved to greet his group with sparkling eyes.

“Excuse me,” one of them said, “are you Miss Black Knight—the champion of the Kazimierz Tournament of Knights?”

Degenbrecher turned, her golden eyes meeting theirs. A crowd of elegantly dressed women had gathered, each with a familiar glint in their eyes—the unmistakable spark of admiration.

She gave a slight nod.

The effect was immediate. The women burst into excited whispers.

“So it really is the Black Knight! I can’t believe I get to see you here!”

“I’m a huge fan! I’ve watched every single one of your matches. I even have a full collection of your past tournament videos at home!”

“My lady Black Knight, please forgive my boldness… I’m just so thrilled to see you in person.”

Degenbrecher’s smile, graceful and effortlessly cool, swept through the crowd like a breeze in spring, making the women feel warmed to their very core. She was well accustomed to handling her fans.

“Thank you for your support.” Degenbrecher lifted her wine glass and toasted each of the women in turn. After taking a sip, she narrowed her eyes slightly, the corners of her lips lifting into a confident smile. “Please forgive me for being unable to personally respond to every supporter on this occasion. I owe my presence here today to Mr. Lanshem.”

Felix took a step forward, offering a gentle, modest smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I am Felix Shawn Lanshem, from Columbia. In the past, my work involved sciences that most ladies might find rather dull. At such a lively and pleasant banquet, I won’t bring them up and risk spoiling the mood.”

Degenbrecher shot him a glance. The boss had certainly come a long way. His ability to speak fluently—and bend the truth with elegance—had reached new heights. Was this the result of constant interactions with both the elder statesmen and young upstarts of the academic world? His speech was far more refined now than when he used to deal with adventurers.

Felix returned Degenbrecher’s look with one of quiet amusement. You’re quite the capable one, aren’t you? If I ever establish my own influence or organization, I might just leave diplomatic affairs in your hands.

Though Felix’s presence didn’t stir the same fiery enthusiasm as the famed Black Knight Degenbrecher, his words still brought laughter and delight from the ladies present. Their gazes softened as they looked at the handsome Sankta. He wasn’t the dull, stereotypical scientist after all. That quiet charm of his—bookish yet elegant—left them a little spellbound.

When they looked at Felix, they didn’t just see a researcher. They pictured a serene afternoon in the library, where he’d sit by the window reading with a gentle smile. Then, he’d close his book, glance over his shoulder, and smile—and in that moment, it would feel as though you were the only one in his eyes.

It was a compelling image.

Because of this, Felix received a fair share of attention from the ladies—and even began to attract the interest of several nobles nearby.

“Lord Bolton, that gentleman over there…”

“Yes, Lord Warwick… that’s him.”

The Earl of Warwick withdrew his gaze, expression thoughtful. Then, glass of champagne in hand, he stepped forward.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep