Chapter 252: Chapter 239: Jon: What? People From My Hometown Are Here?

Their colossal frames sank slightly, their metallic joints emitting faint grinding sounds as they shifted from an offensive to a defensive stance. However, their leveled lances were not fully raised, still hinting at the threat they posed.

After defusing the minor disturbance, her gaze first lingered for a moment on Master Wood, who seemed to have ignored the warning, his eyes gleaming as he stared intently at the details of the Gun Cavalry. Then, her eyes moved past him to the Knight leader who had rushed up right behind, his forehead beaded with sweat from the preceding perilous moment.

"Since you are envoys of Her Highness Belina Benest—"

Rosalind’s voice was not loud, yet it cut clearly through the cold wind.

"Why did you not send a calling card in advance?"

Her tone was flat and calm, betraying little hint of accusation, but the word "advance" was like an ice needle, puncturing their greatest breach of etiquette.

In the unwritten rules of conduct between nobles and important figures, arriving unannounced, especially at a sensitive time when the host was clearly occupied or had just returned, was a grave offense.

What’s more, it had triggered the Mechanical Bodies’ alert state and led to a scene that had briefly spiraled out of control.

Not even an envoy of a Prince or Princess could expect to brush this aside easily!

The Knight leader, stared down by Rosalind’s cold silver eyes, felt an inexplicable chill spread from his spine. It made him subconsciously straighten his back, and he was inwardly astonished—’The master of the Giant God Workshop has such a beauty under his command.’

’With such an air and appearance, she must be a truly important figure.’

He quickly suppressed his thoughts, clenched his fingers into a fist, and struck his chestplate in a flawless Imperial Army salute, attempting to use a soldier’s rigid bearing to mitigate the awkwardness of his gaffe.

"My sincerest apologies, respected lady! The responsibility is all mine!"

The Knight leader’s voice was loud and sincere, but it could not hide a trace of embarrassment at having his impropriety called out.

"I was negligent of the proper courtesies and failed to present Her Highness’s calling card and greetings in a timely manner. To arrive so presumptuously was a dereliction of my duty!"

"In fact, we have come from Gray Rock Castle under the orders of Her Highness Belina Benest to inspect the new model of Mechanical Body produced by your esteemed Workshop..."

He spoke rapidly, shouldering all the blame and explaining their purpose, making no mention of the fact that the old scholar in his party, who was currently staring at the Gun Cavalry’s Mechanical Body with eyes so bright he looked like he wanted to press his face against it to study it, was the real "culprit."

Master Wood’s impatience and obsession with engineering marvels were well-known in Gray Rock Castle. On this trip, he had been eagerly anticipating a chance to personally verify the rumors about the Giant God Workshop’s miraculous Mechanical Bodies. How could he possibly be bothered with red tape?

The Knight leader knew that to explain was to make excuses, and it would likely only make things worse. It was better to simply admit fault.

Rosalind’s gaze lingered on his face for a moment, as if it could pierce through the tough exterior of a soldier and see the helplessness behind it—and that the old scholar was the true "root cause."

But she did not expose him, nor did she have any intention of dwelling on these details at the gate.

Since he had clearly stated he represented the third princess and had adopted a sufficiently humble posture, pursuing the matter further would be an affront to the "Steel Rose" herself.

She gave a slight nod, her cool voice still even and calm.

"In that case, please wait a moment. The Giant God Workshop is aware of the purpose of your visit."

That one short sentence both accepted the apology and clarified the Workshop’s position—since you didn’t send a calling card in advance, you can wait.

She then looked away from the Knight leader, her gaze sweeping past their somewhat disheveled party toward the two other groups in the rear, who had belatedly sent their own people forward to announce their presence.

"And you? Which house do you represent? For what purpose have you come?"

One of the groups was quicker to act. A female official in plain, elegant court attire, with a delicate face, was escorted by a composed, middle-aged Knight in a half-cuirass. She had already navigated the chaotic gap between carriages and horses to approach.

"Respected lady."

The female official’s voice was clear and gentle, carrying a well-trained propriety.

"We have come on the order of Her Highness, the Seventh Princess, Cecilia Benest."

"This is not a formal visit, but merely to extend our gratitude to Mr. Jon and present a token of Her Highness’s regard."

As she spoke, she gave Rosalind a slight curtsy and said softly.

"My princess wished to come and thank him personally, but she is occupied with the royal selection ceremony and could not make the trip. Therefore, she dispatched us to deliver a humble gift and wish Mr. Jon a happy Midwinter Festival."

The female official turned slightly to the side, gesturing to several exquisite gift boxes covered in velvet, held by the Knight behind her.

"Once winter has passed, Cecilia Benest will pay a special visit—"

"Those were my princess’s exact words."

Her attitude was humble, her words laced with a sincerity that made it clear she understood the simple purpose of their visit required no elaborate embellishment.

A light flickered in Rosalind’s silver eyes.

Jon told her everything, so she was naturally aware of the events in Roco Town.

Moreover, the other party had specifically emphasized "not a formal visit" and "only to deliver a gift," adopting an extremely deferential posture. Everything was handled with subtle grace.

This tactful approach was indeed perfectly executed.

Thus, her own attitude softened slightly.

"The Workshop has received Her Highness’s kind regards."

"On behalf of my master, I thank Princess Cecilia for her well-wishes and welcome you."

The female official curtsied and nodded once more, then took a polite step back, indicating her understanding and willingness to wait.

Rosalind’s gaze then shifted to the final, and most grandly ostentatious, entourage.

Their carriage was adorned with intricate golden patterns, and their Guard Knights’ armor was polished to a brilliant shine. They were disciplined and clearly of high station.

A female Knight with a powerful and agile build, wearing an orange-red cape decorated with flame patterns, strode forward from the front of the group. Her steps had the crisp efficiency unique to a soldier, her metal boots ringing against the frozen ground.

Behind her, a standard-bearer held high a striking gold-and-red banner. In its center was an abstract Sun Emblem with radiant beams and flame-like patterns leaping from its edges—similar to the holy symbol of the Sun Church, yet slightly different.

The female Knight stopped about five paces before Rosalind and executed a clean, standard Knight’s salute.

"Greetings, lady. We are Knights of the Apollonia Duchy."

"Previously, His Majesty, our King Ulysses Apollonia, received a notice from His Excellency Duke Feldren of the Harvia Empire, mentioning that a member of the Apollonia Royal Family’s bloodline may be lost in the Birch Town area."

"Upon learning this, our King was overjoyed and dispatched us to confirm it."

Her gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, seemed to casually sweep over the solemn manor complex behind Rosalind before finally settling back on Rosalind’s cool face as she continued.

"Therefore, we wish to have an audience with the master of this estate, Mr. Jon, to perform the necessary verification."

"We trouble you to inform him."

These words, like a stone dropped into a deep pond, sent silent ripples all the way to the second floor of the main residence.

Jon, who had been coldly observing this "three-way envoy performance" at the manor gate through a crack in the window, could hardly believe his ears when he heard that.

’Royal bloodline? Lost here?’

’Apollonia? Duke Feldren? How did they find their way to me?’

His ice-blue eyes were filled with confusion, like a great arctic fox blinded by a sudden glare in the snow.

However, a moment later, a piece of information he had tucked away in a corner of his mind, nearly forgotten, was violently unearthed.

It was an anecdote from a Lord’s Mansion banquet that Rosalind had mentioned during idle chat one night after they had been intimate—a few high-society ladies who loved attending parties had privately gossiped about his appearance, saying he bore some resemblance to the heir of the Apollonia Duchy.

At the time, he had dismissed it as the boring, name-dropping gossip of nobles, forgetting it as soon as he heard it, not even letting it linger in his mind for a second.

’And yet, now Apollonia has actually come looking for me!’

Jon subconsciously raised a hand to his forehead.

"...You’ve got to be kidding me?!"

’The grand Prime Minister of the Empire, and the ruler of a Duchy, are they really this bored?’

’Just because of some baseless rumor about a "passing resemblance," they’ve come all this way to "confirm a bloodline"?’

’Do they really have to be so proactive?’

And as his thoughts continued to spiral, some even older memories were dredged up.

’Wait... the original Jon... I think he really was adopted, wasn’t he?’

’Could the intelligence be real!?’

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