Mystery: But the Witch's Path

At exactly three o'clock in the afternoon, warm sunlight slipped in through the curtains and fell on the blankets, making them feel cozy and warm. Altair slowly opened his eyes in the soft blankets, the warmth of his afternoon nap still lingering in his mind. He felt as if he had been gently patted, so comfortable that he didn't want to move.

This morning, after finishing the weapon manufacturing, Altair was so exhausted at noon that he didn't get any rest and instead read a lot of mechanical manufacturing books. He barely ate lunch and took a nap instead.

Altair woke up now because his stomach was protesting; otherwise, with this warm sunshine, he could have slept until evening.

After all, she really enjoys sleeping with the warm sunlight shining on her blankets during the autumn and winter seasons; it feels very comfortable.

After getting up, Altair tugged at the thin rope by the bed a few times. When Eileen came in, she explained her needs: "I'm hungry, prepare afternoon tea."

When Eileen came in again, she saw two maids following behind her, who brought Altair a pot of Sri Lankan black tea and a platter of pastries.

The platter has three layers: the bottom layer consists of finger sandwiches filled with cucumber, egg, and ham; the middle layer is traditional scones served with jam and cream; and the top layer is desserts such as cake and fruit tarts.

While Altair was still enjoying his afternoon tea, old Clayton stood in the doorway, gently knocked, and said, "Count Altair, I apologize for disturbing your tea time."

"There is a small matter that requires your decision and handling."

Altair put down his teacup and nodded slightly: "Come in."

Old Clayton pushed open the door and slowly walked in, carrying several documents. He placed the documents on Altair's desk and explained, "Count Altair, it's time to distribute this year's 'Winter Relief Packages.' The people listed in these documents are in need of special assistance."

"Hmm~" Altair nodded and then picked up the documents on the table to take a look.

The nobles of this period were the natural leaders of their regions, possessing absolute influence and power in their own territories, but at the same time, they were also the protectors of their regions.

Because this society places great emphasis on 'charitable responsibility,' local nobles distribute relief packages every year to the lower classes who are unable to work normally due to various 'special circumstances.'

These relief kits typically contain: flour, potatoes, meat, thick coats, wool socks, gloves, boots, coal, and other survival supplies.

This is considered a social obligation and a form of dignity for the upper class.

The Sheffield family, being a military family, often had more empathy for the plight of orphans, widows, and veterans.

Furthermore, soldiers, whether "retired" or "killed in action," often only receive meager "retirement pay or pension," and sometimes no subsidies are even provided.

So, in order to ensure their survival, each Sheffield administration would oversee the relocation of people to Morse after each war.

The "Sheffield" type will help these people solve their most basic survival problems by renting out land at low prices.

Even so, there will still be some who cannot guarantee even the most basic survival. These include those with missing limbs, orphans and widows, those who are constantly on medication, and so on. Old Clayton's relief list mostly included these types of people.

Altair turned the pages one by one, praising old Clayton, "It seems that Father's bold decision to let you manage 'Morse Town' independently was a wise one. You've handled these matters very well."

Before old Clayton could reply, Altair pointed and asked curiously, "What's wrong with someone like Marian? No surname? Incomplete information?"

"It's not Earl Altair, it's just their name." After saying this, old Clayton quickly added:

"As you just mentioned, 'Marianne' was an orphan, and the orphanage only gave her a given name, not a surname. Her husband, 'Jack,' was the same, so the information could only be registered this way."

Altair nodded slightly. That was indeed the case in this world. For example, old Kohler didn't even have a full name. After his death, his urn only had a number. If Klein hadn't engraved "Khler" and an epitaph for him, who would remember him?

After searching for a while, Altair finally found the one she expected. She then pointed to the information on that company and asked:

"What's the deal with this 'Moretti' family? According to regulations, they should have been relocated to Morse Town long ago."

Upon hearing the name, old Clayton's lips curled into a slight smile as he replied, "The Moretti family, the previous head of the family, died ten years ago during the colonial conflict in the Southern Continent. He was a Royal Army sergeant at the time of his sacrifice."

"After his sacrifice, 'we' invited the remaining members of his family to move to the town of Morse."

"But he was refused. The reason given was that the only adult in his family, the mother who gave birth to the children, wanted to continue sending the children to school so that they could change their fate."

"So in the end, all I could do was offer her the help I could. I remember the outcome was that I helped her find a suitable job."

"But unfortunately, this woman did not have a good fate; she died of typhus last year due to long-term malnutrition."

"Currently, only Benson Moretti is working in his family. As for Klein Moretti and Melissa Moretti, they are unable to work because they are still students."

Looking at old Clayton's appearance, Altair smiled, shook his head, and asked, "You admire him?"

"Yes, Earl Altair." After saying that, old Clayton explained, "I haven't had much contact with him, except for meeting him once a year when I receive my allowance."

"But I don't think this affects my understanding and appreciation of him. He is very disciplined, good at communication, and has good speaking skills."

"Unfortunately, his lack of education is a major weakness. In order to help his mother share the family responsibilities, he dropped out of school early and devoted himself to work. I asked people to persuade him to improve his education, but unfortunately, he has never studied for various reasons."

"So what's your purpose? This document shows that he's already working at the company you manage. If you just want him to get a promotion, it should be very simple, you wouldn't need to go through me at all," Altair asked curiously with a smile.

Old Clayton calmly explained, "Altaire is joking. I have no relation to him, nor any friendship with him. I simply admire him."

"If I had to pinpoint a purpose, I'd say he's a flawed talent I've gathered."

Altair nodded slightly, because old Clayton was telling the truth. Butlers of this era did indeed have this 'core responsibility,' but they generally wouldn't choose someone with 'flaws' like Benson Moretti.

Altair tapped the table with his fingers, thought for a moment, and said, "Go and send a telegram, asking him to come to Morse town tomorrow."