Lord: My Shop Connects to Modern Times

The dungeons of Ironstone Fortress smelled like aged blood, mixed with the stench of moldy straw mats, accumulated over a decade.

Gavin Horsman covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief and, led by the bowing and scraping jailer, walked down the slippery stone steps.

The torchlight flickered, stretching and shortening the shadows of the iron fence.

He hadn't been here for a long time, and the smell and environment of this place made him, a nobleman, feel extremely uncomfortable.

But this time he had to come in person. Because of his subordinates' dereliction of duty before, he dared not be careless about any task assigned to him by his superiors.

"Have there been any cases lately... where the charges are serious, but the circumstances seem excusable?" Gavin stopped in the middle of the corridor, his voice muffled behind his handkerchief: "For example, for family, or because they were forced into it?"

The jailer was a one-eyed veteran. He was taken aback at first, wondering what his master wanted to do.

Then, after thinking for a moment, he pointed to a row of cells on the right: "Sir, these are a few over here. This one stole bread from the lord's granary, saying his mother was starving to death; according to the law, he should have his hand chopped off. And that one over there injured the tax collector because the tax collector was harassing his sister in the street."

Gavin followed the gaze. They were all emaciated, with dull eyes, huddled in a corner. The sight of the firelight and the hem of the nobleman's robe only made them tremble more violently.

Not enough. These people are too ordinary, too much like the "forced into a corner" scenario, and their crimes are not serious enough to support a reason for starting a war.

Lynn only needs to pay himself enough money to resolve the conflict; these other people are not good choices.

"Anything else?" Gavin frowned. "I want...something more serious."

The one-eyed jailer scratched his greasy hair, then his eyes lit up: "Yes! Sir, there really is one, and she's a bit special. She's locked up in the innermost cell, and she'll be hanged soon."

He led Gavin deeper into the dungeon. The air was thicker there, and the iron bars were thicker.

In the innermost cell, there was a person locked up.

Gavin froze as his gaze fell on the other person.

It was a young woman sitting against the innermost wall of the cell. The dungeon was dark, but her long, pale blonde hair, still faintly visible even in the filth, and her pointed ears, which gleamed slightly in the shadows, gave her away.

Half-elf.

Unlike the other prisoners who cowered or became numb, she was drawing patterns on the ground with a small piece of straw she had picked up, humming a strange little tune. Hearing footsteps, she looked up.

The firelight shone directly onto her face.

Gavin had seen many beauties; the aristocratic circles were never short of exquisite, porcelain-like faces.

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But the face before me... had a wild, vibrant quality. The skin was a healthy wheat color, the nose was high and straight, and the curve of the lips, even when pursed, seemed to be smiling.

What's most striking are those eyes; the pupils are the color of amber under the sunlight, and they are staring at him without any fear.

"What? Is it time to send me on my way? Or do you want to be like that guy? Want to taste what it's like to be a 'half-blooded bastard'?" Her expression remained unchanged. Her voice carried an indifferent attitude, but beneath that seemingly nonchalant tone lay a faint trace of hatred.

"What crime did she commit?" Gavin asked the jailer, his voice unconsciously lowering.

"Well..." The one-eyed jailer scratched his head. "She's a slave who's killed three masters. She should have been sentenced long ago, but... quite a few people are still willing to pay a high price for her..."

"Killed three masters?!" Gavin was stunned for a moment, then glanced at the other person's outstanding appearance: "What was the reason?"

"...Every master wanted to...do that kind of thing with her."

"..."

The jailer's words completely extinguished the little bit of anger that had been burning in Gavin's heart.

Gavin stared into her amber eyes. She was looking at him too, a small smile playing on her lips, as if she found the scene of the nobleman and the jailer discussing her quite amusing.

"Aren't you afraid? Do you know you're sentenced to hanging? You'll die." Gavin spoke to the half-elf, feeling very strange.

"Afraid?" The other person's smile seemed to freeze for a moment, then they laughed even more happily: "Why be afraid? So what if you die?"

Gavin began to doubt whether she was "capable" of the fugitive identity he desired, given her nonchalant response.

Gavin called the jailer aside:

"When she killed her master, did she try to escape afterward?"

"Some adults have spent a lot of time and effort to capture her each time, but she has survived until now only because someone is willing to pay a ransom. However, after these incidents of killing masters, no one is willing to buy her anymore," the jailer replied cautiously.

Hearing this, Gavin felt relieved.

It's alright. At least if I can live, I don't want to die. As for why I'm not afraid of death, who cares? As long as I can complete the task assigned to me, that's enough.

"Tomorrow afternoon, arrange for her and the others with lesser charges to repair the drainage ditch outside the west wall of the castle." Gavin lowered his voice, making sure only the jailers could hear him:

"There were 'just right' two fewer guards. And 'just right' the tools were left by the wall. Do you understand?"

The one-eyed jailer's single eye flickered. He licked his chapped lips and nodded. "Understood, sir. An... accidental escape due to negligence?"

"Hmm... the pursuers don't need to be too thorough in their search," Gavin added. "Also, for that half-elf's shackles, use the old ones; the keyholes are a bit loose."

"Yes."

Gavin glanced at the cell one last time. The half-elf was still humming, now in a lighter, more cheerful tune. She even winked in Gavin's direction.

Gavin suddenly had a strange feeling: this half-elf might be more troublesome than he had imagined.

But at this moment, she is the most suitable piece.

The next afternoon, the weather was hot and humid.

Beside the drainage ditch outside the west wall of the castle, four shackled prisoners were clearing away the accumulated mud and debris. Two guards stood in the shade of a tree, leaning on their spears, chatting idly.

The prisoners worked listlessly, but dared not slack off too much, for fear that they would be whipped if they were not careful.

Only Lia was slowly shoveling dirt, glancing around. She noticed that the locks on her shackles were indeed a bit loose, and that there were fewer guards than usual today, and their positions were more relaxed.

Just then, a commotion suddenly arose from the direction of the castle in the distance, as if something had happened. The two guards exchanged a glance, and one of them said to his companion, "I'll go see what's going on. You keep watch."

The remaining guard grunted in response, but his gaze also drifted toward the castle.

Leah blinked. The timing was perfect.

She crouched down, pretending to adjust her shackles, her fingers gently fiddling with the keyhole. The faint "click" was drowned out by the distant noise. The shackles were loosened.

The only person left behind seemed to have his attention drawn to the castle, completely unaware of Lia's subtle actions.

It's now!

Lia picked up a shovel, scooped up a huge clump of mud, and threw it forcefully!

The stench of mud splattered all over the guard's face. While the guard was wiping his face, Lia, like a nimble lynx, darted into the western woods in a few steps.

The guard's whistle blared mournfully. More shouts and footsteps came from the direction of the castle. But Leah had already vanished.