Lord of the Oasis Chapter 813 - Chapter 865-868

“Your Highness, please put on your coat. The night air is quite humid.” Abel, arriving a moment later, registered the somber mood. He bowed and approached Kant, whispering the suggestion.

“Yes,” Kant returned to awareness, turning his head to glance at Abel before responding softly and nodding.

Abel carefully draped the sheepskin coat over Kant’s shoulders, then stepped back.

“Bunduk, add more firewood to the hearth in this room. Go down to the kitchen and fetch some,” Kant instructed, raising his head to address Bunduk.

“Understood.” Bunduk nodded and moved towards the fireplace, examining the iron barrel holding the firewood. Noticing the dwindling supply, he tossed the remaining pieces into the flames. He informed Kant of his intention to retrieve more wood from downstairs.

“I’ll accompany you,” Abel stated quickly as Bunduk neared the exit.

Bunduk paused, momentarily surprised. After receiving Kant’s assent, Abel unlocked the door and stepped outside.

“Wait for me,” Bunduk called, picking up the metal barrel and following Abel out.

With the departure of the two, only Kant and Turubin remained in the main hall.

The fire in the hearth blazed with increasing intensity, causing the room's temperature to rise.

Turubin, having composed himself, removed his gloves. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I have made a spectacle of myself,” he confessed to Kant.

“It is alright,” Kant replied with an encouraging smile, waving a hand.

“The individuals from the supervision center have not yet located Jackie’s hiding place,” Turubin’s eyes welled up again. “I truly cannot comprehend how he could commit such an act. Perhaps I should not have taken him in seven years ago.”

Upon hearing Turubin’s words, Kant became silent.

In the world he had inhabited during his previous life, it was widely accepted that one should not meddle in the affairs of others. Individuals were inherently insignificant, their destinies too difficult to alter even with divine favor. Before arriving in this current world, Kant had maintained an attitude of detached indifference towards others' problems. However, after his transmigration, retaining the memories of his past existence, his steadfast values began to waver.

Perhaps he did not understand himself as well as he had previously believed.

“I have already dismissed those scoundrels who tormented Jackie,” Turubin declared with anger. “I absolutely will not permit such people to remain associated with the inn any longer.”

“Indeed,” Kant nodded slightly. “Such an outcome is entirely deserved.”

“Your Highness, we have returned,” Bunduk announced, carrying a half-full barrel of firewood, with Abel beside him at the entrance.

“Enter quickly,” Kant gestured. “It must be quite cold out there.”

“It is indeed a bit chilly,” Bunduk replied, placing the iron barrel near the fireplace and rubbing his hands.

“While descending, we observed that many guest rooms were still illuminated by candlelight. I suspect everyone had a restless night,” Abel reported.

“The kitchen staff informed me that this month's firewood supply has been prematurely depleted. They mentioned we should use this opportunity to stockpile more wood, as we must get through the remaining two days,” Bunduk explained with a grin. “Consequently, I instructed the available soldier on duty to assist in gathering firewood from their reserves.”

Abel quickly shot Bunduk a meaningful glance, subtly reminding him of the innkeeper's presence.

“Oh, my apologies, no,” Bunduk quickly covered his mouth, attempting to clarify. “The waiter had mentioned…”

“It is my oversight that my subordinates did not proactively inform me when issues arose,” Turubin interjected, cutting short Bunduk’s explanation.

“We still need to identify a suitable candidate to fill the cashier’s position,” Kant attempted to mediate. “Otherwise, if these waiters encounter any difficulties, I won’t know who to consult.”

“I generally pay little attention to the inn’s staff, and Fellett is perpetually occupied with hiring matters. Where can we possibly find a suitable replacement at this juncture?” Turubin lamented.

A period of silent contemplation fell upon the four individuals in the main hall, and the atmosphere grew quiet once more.

“Boss, we have been residing at this inn for a considerable duration,” Kant proposed. “Perhaps we could pay closer attention in the coming days and see if we can identify a suitable candidate?”

“Very well,” Turubin agreed. “Thank you for offering your assistance. I will not remain in this town for much longer; I plan to depart for the city the day after tomorrow. May I inquire how long you intend to stay at the inn?”

“We are currently on a mission. Once it is completed, we will depart the island,” Abel mused for a moment before answering. “I anticipate we will remain for at least another half a month.”

“That is excellent news.” A rare smile graced Turubin’s features. The willingness of Kant and his companions to lend their support to the inn deeply touched him.

“If the boss returns before then, I believe we can offer solid advice,” Kant pledged.

“Very well,” Trubin nodded. “Then I shall take my leave. I truly apologize for disturbing you so late at night.”

Kant rose to see him out. “Boss, you intend to remain in this town for a couple more days, correct? If there’s anything else you wish to discuss, we will have further opportunities to chat.”

“Yes.” After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Trubin departed the guest room under the gaze of the three individuals.

“This is quite vexing. We haven’t even located the person we were seeking, and now we must also find a cashier for this inn,” Abel lamented, returning to the main hall and slumping against the tea table.

“What’s the real issue? Whether someone is suitable for business is quite evident from their demeanor,” Bunduk remarked dismissively.

“We must choose this individual with care. At the very least, we owe the boss an explanation.” With these words, Kant turned and left.

Upon approaching Kant, Abel discovered him changing into a bathrobe, preparing for bed.

After conversing with Trubin for some time, Kant felt overwhelmingly sleepy. He would likely sleep until noon the following day.

“His Majesty has returned to his quarters,” Bunduk yawned. “Let us discuss selecting someone tomorrow. I also need to get some rest.”

“That sounds acceptable,” Abel replied, waving a hand at Bunduk. “I grant you permission to rest now. When I wake you tomorrow, you must do so willingly.”

“Alright.” Bunduk, not truly absorbing Abel’s words, merely agreed.

Chapter 866: The Soldier Who Sells His Skills with a Keen Nose

Observing Bunduk’s retreating form, Abel sighed and resigned himself to staying up all night, toiling alone.

At noon the next day, Kant awoke from his slumber. Upon exiting his bedroom, he discovered the main hall to be deserted.

“Have the two of them gone out for patrol?” Kant mused internally. He then proceeded to the bathroom to clean himself.

Just as Kant was luxuriating in the steaming water of the bath barrel, the sound of footsteps approached the bathroom door.

Before Kant could react, Abel’s voice reached him.

“Your Majesty, we have returned from the guild! Michelle has brought reliable news!”

“When did you depart?” Kant exclaimed, exiting the water tank and addressing the door. “Allow me to finish first.”

“Yes!” Abel’s spirits were clearly buoyant.

After donning his padded jacket, Kant opened the bathroom door and stepped out. The warmth within the room immediately retreated upon encountering the cooler air outside, manifesting as a wisp of white vapor that lingered near the entrance.

Kant cast his gaze upon the two individuals seated at the tea table, partaking in afternoon tea.

Approaching the tea table, Kant gestured towards the pastries and inquired with a touch of curiosity, “Were these sent by the waiter?”

“We did not trouble them. We brought these to the kitchen ourselves,” Bunduk stated indifferently, taking a sip of his tea.

Noticing the self-satisfied expressions on their faces, Kant raised an eyebrow, took his seat, and inquired, “You have performed admirably. You found a candidate so swiftly and even completed the task. Tell me, how did you manage it?”

“In truth, it was nothing extraordinary. I simply recalled that a soldier within the unit possesses a remarkable sense of smell.” Abel straightened up upon seeing Kant seated and explained, “We had their captain take him to the streets near the guild to perform.”

“And the guild discovered them just like that?” Kant asked, amused by Abel’s ingenious plan.

“Indeed.” Abel couldn’t suppress a proud smile. “Once the soldier’s name became known on that street, members of the guild noticed the group of performers. They immediately approached, informing the soldier that the guild’s boss wished to meet him tomorrow at noon.”

“Hmm, your strategy is quite effective,” Kant complimented.

The guild was covertly engaged in drug trafficking. Discovering a talented individual like the performing soldier meant the conversation would likely revolve around their hidden production network.

“It was merely good fortune,” Abel replied with a hint of bashfulness.

“By the way, what is the soldier’s name?” Kant inquired, looking up.

“Michelle!” Abel responded.

“Can he handle the meeting tomorrow?” Bunduk interjected for the first time.

“This…” Abel’s face displayed a moment of hesitation.

“While being able to discern scents is valuable, I instructed you to select someone adept at interacting with strangers,” Kant stated, his tone tinged with a slight concern.

“That young man…” Abel glanced at Bunduk. “His disposition is more spirited than that of other elven soldiers. However, after learning of the ship’s sinking, his temperament grew considerably more subdued. Today, when I sent a group of them near the guild, he didn’t exhibit much engagement throughout the entire excursion.”

Bunduk’s expression turned complex as he considered the repercussions of the ship's sinking. He lifted his head, his gaze falling upon Kant. The two watched him, and Kant remained silent for a beat before speaking. “Regardless, we must focus on how to proceed with the plan. Abel has laid a solid foundation; the remainder requires our collective effort.”

“Understood,” both Abel and Bunduk responded in unison.

Kant pondered for a moment before making a request. “Arrange for Michelle and me to meet this evening, after dinner.”

“Certainly,” Abel agreed.

Following their afternoon tea, Bunduk and Abel departed the inn. Many soldiers were occupied with escorting the day's guests to the city gates, necessitating their immediate return to patrol the streets.

Kant ascended to the second floor, navigating through the quiet cafeteria to reach the dining area where dishes were ordered. The chef who had prepared his lunch the previous day greeted him warmly. “Good afternoon, my Lord!”

“Hello!” Kant replied with a smile. “It seems rather quiet today?”

“Those guests chose not to remain at the inn. They ventured out to explore the city after breakfast,” the chef explained with a chuckle. “For me, it makes little difference. Not many patrons frequent my station anyway.”

“I believe they simply haven't experienced it yet. Once they taste your creations, they will undoubtedly be captivated,” Kant said, a playful glint in his eye. “Much like your boss and I were.”

“Well… Hahaha.” The chef’s face crinkled as he apparently pictured the scenario Kant described, erupting into hearty laughter a moment later. “Thank you. What shall you be having today?”

“The same as yesterday,” Kant responded, taking a seat by the window. After a brief period admiring the skyward scenery, he turned to the busy chef at the stove. “Has the boss not come in today?”

“The boss left very early, but I did prepare his breakfast,” the chef stated confidently, looking up at Kant. “Fresh shrimp, a vegetable roll, and peanut paste.”

“Hehe,” Kant chuckled. “The boss truly works diligently, heading out so early each day.”

“The boss’s daily schedule is indeed quite erratic. After all, he bears the responsibility of managing this establishment,” the chef replied, slicing a 'saintly virgin fruit' in half. “However, fortunately, his health remains robust. With a bit of adjustment to his routine, he’s no different from others his age.”

“The inn was operating successfully even before our arrival,” Kant mused softly. “Why doesn't the boss allow himself more time to rest?”

“Hehe.” The chef let out a soft laugh. “My Lord, observe the street before the inn. How many people truly pass by? The boss arrived on this island a decade ago and established the inn right here. His heart isn't truly set on managing this shop.”

“You perceive things quite clearly,” Kant remarked, raising an eyebrow. “Would you be inclined to share more details?”

The chef smiled, tilting his head back. He met Kant’s gaze, then shook his head. Placing his left index finger to his lips, he whispered, “Folk like us aren't privy to discussing such matters.”

“Hehe.” Kant looked away. “It’s perfectly fine if you prefer not to speak of it. Still, I find the people in your small town to be quite enigmatic.”

“Not at all,” the chef demurred, setting down his knife. “Consider myself. In your presence, my Lord, I am merely a common chef. Is my identity then not simply that of a chef?”

“I cannot be bothered with your wordplay.” Kant found the chef’s responses consistently intriguing, suspecting any attempt at logical debate would lead to him being outmaneuvered. He gestured dismissively, returning his attention to the view outside the window.

The chef chuckled quietly for a moment before falling silent once more.

A little over ten minutes later, the delectable lunch was presented. As Kant arranged his napkins, he noticed the chef had also brought an additional cup of peanut butter.

“I spoke excessively earlier,” the chef apologized with a smile, standing by the table. “This cup of peanut butter is my apology to you, my Lord. I hope you can overlook my indiscretion.”

“No, there’s really no need,” Kant quickly declined. “We were having a pleasant conversation. Why would you feel the need for this?”

Upon hearing this, the chef’s expression grew serious. “This peanut butter is a favorite of our boss, and it is also one of my favorites. Please do accept it.”

Kant looked at the chef intently for a moment before finally relenting with a nod. “Very well, I shall sample its taste then.”

“I am greatly appreciative,” the chef expressed with a sigh of relief. He bowed deeply before departing from the table.

After watching the chef leave, Kant picked up his knife and fork, commencing his first meal of the day. Dining always lifted his spirits. During a pause in his meal, Kant’s gaze fell upon the cup of peanut butter placed at the edge of his plate. Against the glint of the silver cup, this simple beverage took on an air of mystery and luxury.

“When do you drink this?” Kant inquired softly, his gaze sweeping over the open stove. He discovered no one was present; the chef had already departed.

Kant's eyebrows rose in surprise. His right hand instinctively grasped the cup's handle. He brought the peanut paste, a gift from the chef, closer, sipped it, and savored the rich, fragrant flavor derived from finely ground peanuts.

The entire cup of peanut paste was consumed by Kant in one go. As he placed the empty cup back, a distinct, crisp sound met his ears.

A key was discovered resting on the coasters situated by the cups.

Kant's eyes immediately sharpened with alertness. This key must have been left by the chef. However, why would he arrange such a clandestine meeting?

“This peanut milk is our boss’s favorite, and it's mine as well. Please accept it.” The chef’s words from not long ago echoed in Kant’s mind.

“Could this be about the inn owner?” Kant took a deep breath, discreetly slipping the key into his sleeve. After ascertaining that no one was in sight, he hastily exited the restaurant.

Upon leaving the establishment, Kant paused at the staircase, a moment of hesitation washing over him. He resolved to return to his room first, to process the recent events.

It was approximately 3:30 in the afternoon. Kant drew the curtains closed in the main hall and settled himself at the tea table. He withdrew the key from his pocket, commencing a thorough examination.

Crafted from copper and iron, the key was now coated in rust. It was entirely unforeseeable that he would dine in the restaurant today. Furthermore, Kant had not observed the chef leaving the stove at any point between placing his order and the arrival of the dishes. The chef had carried this key with him. In the humid kitchen environment, rust formation was indeed probable.

The key bore an engraving of the numerals ‘503’.

Yet, this inn did not possess a fifth floor. To what could ‘503’ refer?

Kant meticulously replayed the chef’s words in his mind. He found that no specific meeting time had been divulged during their conversation.

“This room…” Unable to ascertain any clues, Kant prepared to seek the answer himself.

At that moment, a knock resounded from outside his door. The sudden sound startled Kant, causing him to momentarily cease breathing. He inquired vigilantly, “Who is it?”

“Your Majesty Kant, I am Moliere.” A sharp voice penetrated the gap under the door.

“Moliere?” Kant pondered for a considerable time, finally recalling that the individual bearing this name was the dwarf who had openly argued with him in the lobby the previous day. He rose and questioned, “What is the matter?”

“The group of people