Lord of the Oasis Chapter 814 - The Grand Finale (1)

“Your Highness, please wear your coat. The night air is quite humid,” Abel remarked, arriving later and noticing the somber mood. He bowed respectfully before addressing Kant.

“Yes,” Kant acknowledged, his thoughts returning from afar. He turned his head, met Abel’s gaze, and responded with a quiet nod.

Abel carefully draped Kant’s sheepskin coat over his shoulders before stepping back.

“Bunduk, please add more logs to the fireplace in this room,” Kant instructed, his voice carrying to Bunduk. “Go down to the kitchen and fetch some.”

“Understood,” Bunduk replied with a nod. He walked towards the fireplace, examining the iron bucket that held the wood. Noticing the dwindling supply, he tossed the remaining logs into the crackling flames. He then informed Kant of his intention to retrieve more firewood from downstairs.

“I’ll accompany you,” Abel offered quickly as Bunduk neared the doorway.

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

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

Once the two had departed, only Kant and Turubin remained in the room.

The fire in the main hall blazed with renewed vigor, steadily increasing the room’s temperature.

Turubin, having composed himself, removed his gloves. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I seem to have lost my composure,” he said.

“It’s quite alright,” Kant reassured him with an encouraging smile and a wave of his hand.

“The supervisory center’s personnel have yet to ascertain Jackie’s whereabouts,” Turubin continued, his eyes beginning to mist over again. “I truly cannot fathom that he would resort to such actions. Perhaps I should not have taken him in seven years ago.”

Kant was silent upon hearing Turubin’s words.

In his previous life, the prevailing wisdom was to refrain from meddling in the affairs of others. Individuals were inherently insignificant, and it was exceedingly difficult to influence their destinies, even with divine favor.

Before arriving in this world, Kant had adhered to the principle of non-interference: ‘Other people’s business is none of my concern.’ However, after transmigrating, with the memories of his past life intact, his convictions began to waver.

It appeared he did not understand himself as well as he had previously thought.

“I have already dismissed those scoundrels who tormented Jackie,” Turubin stated with indignation. “I will absolutely not permit such individuals to remain associated with the inn.”

“Indeed,” Kant concurred with a slight nod. “Such an outcome is entirely deserved.”

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

“Please come in swiftly,” Kant gestured. “It must be quite chilly outside.”

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

“While we were downstairs, we noticed that many guest rooms were still illuminated by candlelight. I suspect everyone slept poorly tonight,” Abel reported.

“The kitchen staff informed me that this month’s firewood allocation has been depleted ahead of schedule,” Bunduk explained with a grin. “They suggested we take this opportunity to stock up. We need to make it through the final two days.” He continued, “So, I instructed an available soldier to help me procure more firewood.”

Abel quickly shot Bunduk a cautionary glance, reminding him of the innkeeper’s presence.

“Oh, oh, my apologies,” Bunduk stammered, covering his mouth. “The waiter had mentioned…”

“It is my oversight that my subordinates did not proactively inform me when issues arise,” Turubin interjected, halting Bunduk’s hurried explanation.

“We must also identify a suitable candidate to fill the position of cashier,” Kant attempted to mediate. “Otherwise, should these waiters encounter any difficulties, I will not know whom to consult.”

“I rarely pay close attention to the inn’s staff, and Fellett is perpetually occupied with hiring. Where can we possibly find a suitable candidate now?” Turubin lamented.

The four individuals in the main hall fell into pensive silence, the atmosphere growing heavy once more.

“Proprietor, we have been staying at this inn for a considerable duration,” Kant proposed. “Perhaps, over the next few days, we could both discreetly observe and see if a potential candidate emerges?”

“Very well,” Turubin agreed. “Thank you for the trouble. I will not be staying in this town for more than a few days; I am scheduled to depart for the city the day after tomorrow. May I inquire how long you intend to remain at the inn?”

“We are on a mission. Once it is completed, we shall depart the island,” Abel replied after a moment’s thought. “I estimate we will be here for at least another half a month.”

“That’s great.” A rare smile graced Trubin’s face. Kant and the others were willing to lend their support to this inn, a gesture that touched him deeply.

“If the boss returns before then, we'll offer reliable advice,” Kant vowed.

“Understood.” Trubin nodded. “I shall take my leave then. My apologies for disturbing you so late at night.”

Kant rose to see him out. “Boss, you plan to stay in town for a couple more days, correct? If there’s anything more you wish to discuss, we’ll have a chance to chat further.”

“Yes.” After a moment of pleasantries, Trubin departed the guest room, observed by the three of them.

“This is quite the predicament. We haven’t even found the person we’re looking for, and now we also need to find a cashier for this inn,” Abel lamented, returning to the main hall and slumping onto a tea table.

“What’s the big issue? A person’s suitability for business is often evident in their temperament,” Bunduk remarked dismissively.

“We must select this person with care; at the very least, we owe the boss an explanation.” With those words, Kant turned and left.

When Abel found him, Kant was changing into his bathrobe, preparing for bed.

Having spoken with Trubin for a while, Kant felt immensely sleepy. He anticipated sleeping until noon the following day.

“His Majesty has returned to his quarters,” Bunduk yawned. “We can discuss personnel selection tomorrow. I must also get some rest.”

“That works for me.” Abel waved at Bunduk. “You may go rest now. When I wake you tomorrow, you’d best be willing to get up.”

“Alright.” Bunduk seemed not to have fully registered Abel’s words, merely agreeing.

Chapter 866: The Soldier Who Smells Good Sells His Skills

Abel watched Bunduk’s retreating figure and sighed, resigning himself to a night of solitary hard work.

At noon the next day, Kant awoke. Emerging from his bedroom, he discovered the main hall deserted.

“Have those two gone out on patrol?” Kant mused silently. He then proceeded to the bathroom to freshen up.

Just as Kant was luxuriating in the hot water filling the tub, footsteps sounded outside the bathroom door.

Before Kant could react, Abel’s voice cut through.

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

“When did you go?” Kant leaped from the water tank, calling towards the door. “Wait for me to finish up.”

“Yes!” Abel’s tone was jubilant.

After donning his padded jacket, Kant opened the bathroom door. The room’s warmth immediately retreated upon encountering the cool air outside, manifesting as a mist that lingered by the entrance.

Kant observed the two individuals seated at the tea table, enjoying afternoon tea.

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

“We didn’t trouble them. We brought these ourselves from the kitchen,” Bunduk replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of tea.

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

“It was nothing, really. I simply recalled a soldier in our unit possesses an exceptional sense of smell,” Abel explained, sitting up straighter as Kant settled in. “We had their captain take him to the streets near the guild to perform.”

“And the guild just found them like that?” Kant asked, amused by Abel’s ingenuity.

“Precisely.” Abel couldn’t suppress a proud grin. “Once the soldier’s name circulated on that street, guild members noticed the performers. They immediately approached the soldier, inviting him to meet with the Guild Master at noon tomorrow.”

“Hmm, your method was quite effective,” Kant praised.

The guild was known for its clandestine involvement in drug trafficking. Discovering a talented individual like the performing soldier likely meant the conversation that followed would pertain to their hidden production operations.

“I was merely fortunate,” Abel replied bashfully.

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

“Michelle!” Abel answered.

“Can he handle tomorrow’s meeting?” Bunduk interjected, breaking his silence.

“This…” Abel’s expression turned hesitant.

“While a keen sense of smell is valuable, I instructed you to find someone capable of dealing with strangers,” Kant stated, a hint of concern in his voice.

“That child…” Abel's gaze settled on Bunduk. “His disposition is far more spirited than that of the other elven soldiers. Yet, after learning of the ship's sinking, his demeanor grew considerably subdued. Today, I dispatched a contingent of them near the guild, and he scarcely paid heed to my instructions throughout the excursion.”

“The calamity of the ship’s sinking…” Bunduk’s expression turned somber as well. He lifted his head, his eyes finding Kant.

Beneath their combined scrutiny, Kant remained silent for a moment before finally stating, “Regardless, we must focus on devising a method to execute this plan. Abel has paved a promising path; the remainder requires our collective effort.”

“Indeed,” Abel and Bunduk affirmed in unison.

“After dinner this evening, make arrangements for Michelle and me to convene,” Kant requested after a brief contemplation.

“Very well,” Abel acceded.

Following their afternoon tea, Bunduk and Abel departed the inn. Today, a multitude of soldiers were occupied escorting guests to the city gates, compelling them to make haste for street patrols.

Kant proceeded to the second-floor restaurant. Navigating past the sparsely populated cafeteria, he reached the dining area where dishes were ordered.

The cook who had prepared his midday meal yesterday greeted him, “A pleasant afternoon to you, my Lord!”

“Greetings!” Kant responded with a smile. “Why are there so few patrons today?”

“Those individuals opted not to prolong their stay at the inn, departing for the streets after breakfast to explore,” the cook explained with a knowing smile. “However, it makes little difference to me. Few venture to my establishment anyway.”

“I suspect they simply haven't had the pleasure of tasting your creations. One try, and they’d undoubtedly be captivated by your culinary artistry,” Kant remarked, a twinkle in his eye. “Much like myself and your proprietor.”

“Well… Hahaha.” The cook’s face crinkled, as if vividly picturing the scenario Kant described. After a moment, he erupted in hearty laughter. “My thanks. What will you be partaking in today?”

“The same as yesterday,” Kant replied, taking a seat by the window. After a brief observation of the skyward vista, he turned his head towards the bustling chef at the stove. “Has the proprietor not made an appearance today?”

“The proprietor departed at a very early hour, though I did prepare his breakfast,” the cook announced confidently to Kant, raising his head. “Fresh shrimp, a vegetable roll, and peanut paste.”

“Hehe,” Kant chuckled. “The proprietor truly exerts himself. He must venture out on business daily.”

“The proprietor's daily schedule is indeed quite unconventional. After all, he bears the responsibility of managing this inn,” the cook responded, slicing a sacred virgin fruit in half. “Fortunately, his health remains robust. With a regulated routine, he is indistinguishable from others of his age.”

“In truth, the inn was flourishing even before our arrival,” Kant mused softly. “Why did the proprietor not afford himself more respite?”

“Hehe,” the cook let out a soft laugh. “My Lord, observe the thoroughfare before the inn. How many souls traverse it? The proprietor arrived on this island a decade ago and established the inn right here. His true passion lies elsewhere, not solely in managing this establishment.”

“Your perception is remarkably acute,” Kant observed, raising an eyebrow. “Do you harbor an inclination to elaborate on the finer details?”

The cook smiled, tilting his head. He met Kant’s gaze, then gently shook his head. Placing his left index finger to his lips, he whispered, “Individuals such as ourselves are not privy to discussing such matters.”

Chapter 867: Culinary Clues and Unspoken Truths

“Hehe,” Kant looked away. “It is perfectly acceptable if you prefer not to divulge more. However, I find the inhabitants of your quaint town to be quite enigmatic.”

“Not at all,” the cook stated, setting down his knife. “Consider myself, for instance. In your presence, my Lord, I am merely a humble cook. Thus, does my identity not simply equate to being a cook?”

“I shall refrain from engaging with your wordplay,” Kant declared, finding the chef’s pronouncements endlessly intriguing. He suspected any debate would invariably lead to him being outmaneuvered. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he resumed gazing out the window.

The cook emitted a soft chuckle, ceasing his discourse of his own accord.

Approximately ten minutes later, the delectable and inviting lunch was presented. As Kant arranged his napkins, he noticed the cook presenting an additional cup of peanut butter.

“I may have spoken excessively earlier,” the cook stated, standing by the table and offering an apology with a smile. “This cup of peanut butter serves as my atonement to you, my Lord. I implore you to overlook my indiscretion.”

“No, there is no necessity for that,” Kant quickly demurred. “We engaged in a most pleasant conversation. Why this gesture?”

Upon hearing Kant’s words, the cook’s expression grew serious. “This peanut butter,” he stated, “is a cherished favorite of our proprietor and equally so of mine. Kindly accept it.”

Kant raised his head, studying the cook for a prolonged moment. Finally, he relented, nodding his assent. “Very well, I shall sample its esteemed taste.”

“My sincere gratitude,” the cook expressed, visibly relieved. After a polite bow, he excused himself from the table.

After witnessing the chef's departure, Kant picked up his cutlery and commenced his morning meal. Dining usually brought him a sense of contentment. During this meal, his gaze landed upon the peanut butter, set aside on the edge of his plate.

The simple beverage, when placed against the gleaming silver cup, took on an air of mystery and luxury.

"When do you typically consume this?" Kant inquired softly, his eyes scanning the now-empty preparation area. He realized the chef had already departed.

Kant's eyebrows lifted in surprise. His right hand instinctively grasped the cup's handle. He raised the peanut paste, a gift from the chef, to his lips and took a delicate sip. The flavor was rich and aromatic, the peanuts ground to a fine smoothness.

Kant finished the entire cup of peanut paste in one sitting. As he returned the empty vessel to its original spot, a distinct *clink* met his ears.

A key had been placed upon the coaster beneath the cup.

Kant's senses immediately sharpened. This key, undoubtedly left by the chef, sparked a question: why such a clandestine method of arranging a meeting?

"This peanut milk is a favorite of our proprietor, and it's mine as well. Please, accept it." The chef's words from earlier echoed in Kant's mind.

"Could this be related to the inn owner?" Kant took a deep breath, discreetly slipping the key into his sleeve. Assured of his privacy, he quickly exited the dining area.

Once outside the restaurant, Kant paused at the top of the stairs, contemplating his next move. He decided returning to his room to process the recent events was the most prudent course of action.

It was approximately 3:30 in the afternoon. Kant drew the curtains in the main room, settling himself at the tea table. He retrieved the key from his pocket, commencing a thorough examination.

Fashioned from a blend of copper and iron, the key was now coated in rust. It was utterly unforeseen that he would be dining in the restaurant today, and Kant hadn't observed the chef leaving the station at any point between ordering and the meal's arrival. The chef had carried this key with him. In the kitchen's consistently humid atmosphere, rust would naturally develop.

Three digits, '503', were clearly engraved upon the key.

However, this inn only possessed four floors. To what could '503' possibly refer?

Kant meticulously replayed the chef's words in his thoughts. Throughout their brief exchange, no information regarding a meeting time had been divulged.

"This room..." Faced with a lack of leads, Kant resolved to seek answers directly.

Just then, a knock resounded from the other side of the door. The sudden interruption startled Kant, causing him to hold his breath. He responded with caution, "Who is it?"

"Your Excellency Kant, it is Moliere." A sharp voice penetrated the gap beneath the door.

"Moliere?" Kant searched his memory for a considerable time before recalling the dwarf who had engaged in a public dispute with him in the lobby the previous day. He rose and inquired, "What matter requires your attention?"

"The individuals who attacked the inn yesterday, despite their connections I am unaware of, were released today," the dwarf declared loudly.

"Hold on, come inside and we can discuss this." Upon hearing this news,