Chapter 99: Act 35 – The Valkyrie and Brendel
Brendel glanced at Freya, who was silent and seemed to be struggling to comprehend the situation. It was understandable, after all; this country girl had never been exposed to the complex and decayed dealings among the nobles behind closed doors.
But to put it simply, it was merely about interests.
So he decided to open up the conversation: “I know this may be hard for you to accept. But the fact is, what we are doing is still not enough—because to put it bluntly, we are merely pawns for the nobles. They only care whether this pawn will be effective, without concern for the pawn’s fate.”
Freya was taken aback and looked up at him.
Marden frowned and sighed. Brendel’s words confirmed what he had observed over the past few days. The nobles all claimed they would reward them immediately with enthusiastic promises, but at the end of the day, it was merely to achieve their own objectives. What would they ultimately gain? Perhaps a promotion for a person or an insignificant reward, or even just a bit of honor.
Yet, he had brought up the issue of the homeless villagers of Buche several times, but it had fallen on deaf ears.
“Freya,” Brendel turned to her now, looking into her light brown eyes. “If you want to protect the people of Buche, holding onto a naïve and unrealistic hope that everything will turn out well after the war—that everyone will receive rewards and accolades and return to a happy life in their hometown—you may end up disappointed.”
“Brendel?”
“If you’re merely relying on others, then you will become an expendable pawn to be discarded after being used by the nobles,” he interrupted her.
Had he said this earlier, Freya would have certainly not believed him. But having witnessed so much along the way, she had more or less come to understand this. The girl with the long ponytail hesitated and asked, “But what should I do, Brendel?”
“Of course, you should grow and become someone who can protect others,” Brendel replied.
“I understand, but I—” Freya replied eagerly, not able to restrain herself. She thought to herself that she was just a small militia captain; how could she ever grow to the level of those lofty nobles? The country girl felt it was unlikely.
“Are you worried you can’t do it?” he asked.
Freya nodded.
“Don’t be anxious. Opportunities will come soon. Trust me, do you remember what I said before?” Brendel smiled as he answered.
Freya was momentarily taken aback.
Brendel knew that he hadn’t revealed his true intentions. In fact, he hoped this girl with the long ponytail would enter the Royal Cavalry Academy, receive higher education, and learn the kingdom’s most orthodox command and tactical knowledge.
On one hand, he didn’t want to change the path the future Valkyrie would take, and on the other hand, he genuinely needed someone to rise within the royal hierarchy.
Currently, Romaine had no such intentions, and the only person he trusted with such potential was Freya.
There was no need to worry about safety. The Royal Academy was located in Vilan, south of Anlek, one of the royal family’s private territories. It was also one of the first domains secured by Her Royal Highness during the December Rebellion, so there would be no issues.
Moreover, this matter would only benefit Freya.
In fact, the classical military command and tactics of Erluin were not outdated. The nation had a robust history of war that left behind many outstanding military commanders and tactical thoughts—only its internal factions had become so corrupt that these legacies could not be utilized.
Just like during the revival period, Erluin had a group of talented young officers. Brendel believed that with Freya’s seriousness in that environment, she would absorb knowledge like a sponge and, after enough accumulation, would quickly rise to prominence and attract Her Royal Highness’s attention, just as in history.
Brendel recalled that historically, in June of the following year, during the 64th Swordplay Competition of the Royal Cavalry Academy, Freya met the eldest princess of Erluin. Perhaps history would change slightly, but as long as his butterfly hadn’t flapped its wings yet, he believed the changes wouldn’t be too significant.
Moreover, especially, he was eager to learn what the future regent princess, Grifian Corvado Manofi, who had just turned sixteen this year, was thinking.
Brendel believed there was no core conflict of interest between himself and the princess. She wanted to revive this kingdom; he too was attempting to alter Erluin’s ultimate fate. It was just that whether that talented girl from the Corvado family could achieve that was a concern for Brendel; he feared that the half-elf girl born into royalty ultimately wouldn’t be able to put aside the interests of the nobility.
Unlike him, who still held onto the dream left behind by the game; he could not forget those companions who fought alongside him in the past and the scenes that had once occurred in history.
Could he watch Erluin fall into flames of war? He remembered the day the capital Monsteras was attacked, the palace and city ablaze, and the sky filled with dark clouds. That day, he and many players were ordered to retreat from the north, and as they looked back at their homeland in the south—they had all wept.
Time was too short for them to change anything.
Could he watch Freya fight to the death in the crimson canyon of Daral? He recalled that day when they all fought desperately, and he alone had leveled up by more than seven levels, with countless others like him doing the same.
But what was the outcome?
Brendel watched Freya, who had turned her head away and was not looking at him—she still resembled a neighborly girl rather than the Valkyrie she would become, that time dressed in silver sunflower armor, holding a square banner embroidered with the pine leaf insignia—symbolizing Erluin’s courage.
Yet in the end, they still failed to protect that main banner. The Valkyrie in silver armor ultimately stood and sacrificed herself in that war. Perhaps she at least fulfilled her promise:
To spill her last drop of blood for this land.
But unfortunately, Erluin was too weak, too decayed. The three legions stood still, while the Cruz reinforcements watched from the sidelines—on that day of the final battle, besides Freya’s own legion, there were only players present.
Thirty-six thousand players swore to fight to the death, yet were but a stumbling stone before Madara’s army.
What of the princess, the shining gem of Corvado, Grifian, destined to marry the Duke Anlek whom she did not love for the sake of the kingdom, lived a life of melancholy, ultimately unable to escape the conspiracy of the Everything Returns Society and dying in a murder?
In that world, Erluin had remained with these players.
His former captain, his senior, and his predecessors. It had been many years since they left the Amber Sword, yet every time they gathered and discussed past battles, everyone still fell silent, and their eyes grew dry.
The spirit of Erluin no longer existed.
Brendel looked at Freya, then at Romaine and the aging Marden. Could he tolerate this all happening again? He shook his head. Perhaps if he didn’t know about everything that was going to happen, he could still choose to escape alone. With his knowledge of this world, he might even create a legend.
But heaven had brought him to Erluin at the moment the First Black Rose War erupted, allowing him to meet Romaine, Freya, and everyone else involved in this history. Brendel perhaps understood the kind of mission he had taken on.
To change history, he could not concern himself with the interests of certain people. He would clear away anyone in his way. But he also understood that a voice inside him was telling him: Brendel, if you take this path, you may have to face the entrenched local nobles across Erluin, including those five powerful dukes from history, even the proud regent princess would have to compromise before them.
You would even have to face Madara, which was growing stronger and entering the most glorious period of its history, with its genius generals emerging one after another—‘The Black Baron’ Instalung, ‘The One-Eyed General’ Tagus, ‘The Immortal’ Vilande, ‘The Pride of the Black Rose’ August, ‘The Sword of the Empire’ Greta, and that emperor holding the Mercury Staff—each one a once-in-a-lifetime genius—how could an ordinary woman from a civilian background like Freya stand in the way of history’s progress? What could you do, even with your help?
And in the north, the Cruz were coldly watching everything. Brendel, the current Eagle Empire is no longer the cradle of that ancient, kind human civilization. The proud son of Grand Emperor Grantod, the eleventh son, is conducting a reform of iron and blood—the war machine is powerfully sounding off, and with the emergence of the slate of the earth, the Third Holy War will soon begin.
By that time, Madara, Cruz, and the northern countries like Buche would merely be pawns on a vast chessboard, fighting for survival.
Are you really sure you can face all this? Brendel, if you choose this, Erluin will be up against nearly the whole world—because you chose to stand against history.
But Brendel shook his head, casting out the chilling thought that had taken root in his mind. He had pondered all this when he led the group of refugees out of Ridenburg, carving a bloody path. Even if facing an entire world, Brendel’s pride stemmed from his past as a player in this world—that identity was like a collective silhouette of countless figures from another world; it symbolized a challenge to the world’s original rules.
Thinking this way might seem arrogant.
But Brendel believed that rather than seeking to achieve, it was better to have attempted, if only to compensate for regrets.
Therefore, this was not only Freya’s choice; it was his as well.
So he felt a sense of urgency—he needed to gain certain power and voice during this brief period of peace after the Black Rose War and before the December Rebellion commenced. Any path to promotion within this decayed system was unreliable; he had no time. In this chaotic age, the only way to quickly obtain the power once held by a player was to secure territories and armies.
He indeed had a plan.
To the west, that sealed kingdom.
(To be continued. For future developments, please log in for more chapters. Support the author; support legitimate reading!)
