Chapter 536: Act 284 – The Game of Big Shots
The gray sky seemed to be covered with a layer of white frost. Marquis Julian exhaled white mist, withdrawing his gaze from the resplendent balustrades of the manor. A faint, enigmatic smile hung on his thin, pale face. “The weather is quite dreadful, isn’t it, my lord?” A dissatisfied attendant behind him remarked, rubbing his hands together while the marquis continued wearing a fur coat. “Though the thaw season brings temperatures lower than deep winter, no amount of cold can extinguish our lords’ burning ambitions.”
“Is it ambition?”
The marquis smiled but did not answer. He placed his hand back on the balustrade, silently watching as two horse-drawn carriages, escorted by knights, entered the bare forest and came to a stop outside the manor gates. At this moment, several elegantly dressed nobles had gathered in the hall, discussing animatedly. Although most were renowned local merchants and gentry, this meeting had little to do with them. In this game that decided the fate of the kingdom, they were insignificant participants with only the right to ‘applaud.’
However, the carriages brought with them true heavyweight figures—
As the carriages came to a halt, the entire hall fell silent. The animated conversations turned into whispers, and the guests could clearly see the emblems on the black coach through the tall arched windows—half moon, crossed scepters and crowns, along with the unique winged snake insignia. The identity of the carriage owner was evident—the last bloodline of the Corvado family, Her Royal Highness Princess Erluin and her brother.
But compared to the fallen royal family, the second carriage bore only a simple and fierce emblem of a stark hawk, yet this insignia loomed over everyone like a dark cloud—if there were to be a powerful figure among the six dukes of Erluin, the answer could only be Duke Anlek.
The knight first opened the door for the princess. Her light purple ceremonial dress flowed like a cloud that had suddenly unfurled. Grifian slowly stepped down from the carriage, slightly lifting her head, her pale silver eyes resembling autumn’s water, shimmering with a clear, restrained radiance. Her soft silvery hair fell delicately over her slender shoulders, covered by a fur shawl that accentuated the frailty of the half-elf maiden—yet this fragility now upheld an innate resilience and pride.
Everyone present instinctively held their breath. It was well-known that the kingdom’s princess was the brightest jewel of Erluin’s crown, but only upon seeing her did they realize the truth of those words.
“Lucky Anlek, that old man,” was the thought in the minds of most attendees. But on the terrace, Marquis Julian merely wore a profound smile. He lowered his head to smell the musk on his fur gloves, pondering the cunning nature of Duke Anlek appearing with the princess—was this a footnote to their frequent interactions? However, he found the most interesting aspect to be the value this girl from Kurt (1) had sold herself into.
As the second carriage’s door opened, those present couldn’t help but feel a sudden halt in their breathing. Even the usually composed Julian raised an eyebrow. Duke Anlek appeared far from the frail, elderly figure portrayed in rumors; although his hair was graying, his eagle-like eyes and stern expression emanated a sense of inherent authority. His thin lips and well-groomed chin made him look more dignified than most nobles.
He wore a black fur long robe, beneath which faint silver armor was barely visible—but no one would think of this duke as someone afraid for his life. Highlanders valued martial prowess, and Duke Anlek had lived a life of warfare. He was well-known for attending functions in military attire, and Julian didn’t need to look to know that beneath the robe, he certainly wore a sharp weapon. This was no decorative piece; Duke Anlek had cleaved a multitude of enemies with it, far exceeding a mere tally.
But Julian felt a twinge of jealousy as he clicked his tongue. Ordinary people were not allowed to bring weapons into this assembly, but Duke Anlek clearly did not fit the definition of ‘ordinary.’ This was a privilege reserved for dukes, and although his status was exceptional, he was merely a step above the others in the hall compared to the influential figures presiding over this meeting.
Duke Anlek slowly descended from the carriage, holding a silver cane and surveying his surroundings with cool precision. His stern demeanor softened slightly when he saw the princess beside him. Dusting off his robe, he approached her with a smile and elegantly extended his right hand, “Today, you are the most beautiful princess in all of Vaunte.”
Grifian maintained her calm demeanor as she lifted her hand to accept the support of this powerful duke. “Thank you.”
“It would indeed be my honor to marry a wife like you.”
“As agreed, when Haruz ascends to the throne, I shall naturally become your wife, my lord duke,” the half-elf maiden replied quietly.
Duke Anlek smiled without responding.
Behind them were Anlek’s close aides and members of the royal party, such as Overwell, Makarolo, and Livwz, exchanging glances that appeared cordial on the surface. Yet this cordiality conveyed a fixed meaning within the rules of noble games, which could be interpreted differently by those observant enough—of course, for most, the most notable figure among them was Dejyar, with his hand bandaged and a clouded expression. This outstanding swordsman from the highlands had barely saved his right hand during the earlier duel, but the wound on his arm would not heal quickly.
The guests in the hall saw the newsworthy figure again and couldn’t help but whisper among themselves. Dejyar’s duel in the Great Saint Temple had long spread throughout Ampere Seale, and the duelists naturally remained the center of the topic. Unfortunately, this honor brought neither glory nor pride; Dejyar’s face was a shade of dark blue, and the once-proud eagle of the highlands could no longer hold its head high.
Julian was one of the witnesses to the duel; he greeted Duke Anlek from the terrace with a smile, thanking him for lending his guard that day and apologizing for his own recklessness. Yet, watching Dejyar and the others enter the hall, he couldn’t help but recall the events of that day—
Who exactly was that young man? The temple remained tight-lipped; it seemed that besides the High Priest, no one knew the man’s origins, as if he had emerged from thin air. But could someone really just appear out of nowhere? He thought he was familiar with all the families of Erluin, but it now appeared that this kingdom’s affairs ran profoundly deeper than he had thought. Julian rubbed his furrowed brow; Wood was from Cruz, and he already knew that the Cruz Empire had infiltrated several underground factions in the kingdom, but it was unclear what their intentions were to act at this time.
Was Wood perhaps a pawn of his own? Regardless, the headache would not be his, Julian mused, as suddenly a figure flashed in his mind.
At this moment, the prominent figures representing various factions of Erluin had gradually arrived, with luxurious carriages stopping one after another in the woods outside the manor. First was Duke Seifer’s carriage—being the brother of the queen and the future king’s uncle, Duke Seifer was naturally openly aligned with the northern faction. Following closely was Marquis Baltar from Sword Fortress, a family that had long held control over the White Lion army for the Corvado royal family.
The White Lion army’s enemy was the Cruz people, but who the Sword Fortress family’s enemies were remained a mystery. Julian sneered inwardly, but the next carriage made him slightly pause—this black carriage glided into the woods like a ghost, and the unfamiliar shield emblem, with its crimson backdrop and broken sword, seemed to remind the world of its unique pride. Julian hesitated for several seconds before realizing it belonged to the Yan Fortress family, who had come to Ampere Seale, a family that wandered outside the noble circles of Erluin.
A hint of surprise flickered in his eyes.
Not only Julian, but it seemed the entire hall silenced at that moment, akin to the atmosphere when Anlek and the princess had previously arrived. What Yan Fortress represented for Erluin might be difficult for many to articulate, but in terms of mystery, this family could rank in the top three within this ancient kingdom. The last audience between the Count of Yan Fortress and the King of Erluin occurred thirty years ago, and there seemed to exist a tacit understanding between the kingdom and this ancient family, allowing the kings of this land to remain indifferent to their subject.
The reasons behind this were unknown even to Brendel, for this secret had sunk into obscurity along with Erluin’s downfall. Yet this did not prevent him from comfortably taking a seat in this carriage, the mysterious one due to its owner. Corresponding with this comfort was the somewhat awkward demeanor of the earl—rather, the earl miss, Dierphir, who had never shared a carriage with a strange man before.
Typically, her companion was the lady knight Nia, but today Brendel was to act as her aide and close attendant, which was only natural for aides to accompany their lords.
When the carriage came to a stop, Brendel lifted the curtain to glance outside. He immediately spotted the royal carriage and Anlek’s, along with Freya and Nemeses beside them—the future lady Valkyrie was actually dozing off. Brendel couldn’t help but find it amusing, yet his heart felt warm. Everything familiar from the past remained intact, and Erluin hadn’t completely slipped into the abyss of destruction. It seemed there was still hope. At times, he genuinely worried it was all an unreal dream.
However, only when he saw Freya’s youthful face, still imbued with the rustic innocence of a girl from Buche, would he feel that everything had become real again, as if within reach.
Then he withdrew his gaze, just as the knights outside were opening the carriage door—Nia, the lady knight, shot him a disapproving glance. Brendel was unfazed; he stepped down first and then reached out his hand towards the earl miss—Dierphir hesitated for a moment but then took his hand to jump down from the carriage.
As soon as they alighted, they caught numerous eyes upon them. Of course, Brendel didn’t think those gazes were directed at him; indeed, they weren’t. The crowd in the manor was astonished by Dierphir’s age—she wore the earl’s long robe, and the three silver edges on the fur coat attested to her status—Yan Fortress had actually gained a new heir.
However, among all present, at least one gaze landed on Brendel.
“It’s you!” The once-silent highland eagle, Dejyar, suddenly let out a roar of rage, so loud it made one doubt if such a slender body could produce such a sound. The roar penetrated the manor’s hall, shaking the floor as if mirroring the rage contained within the voice’s owner.
Everyone was taken aback.
Dierphir was no exception; she had long anticipated Brendel and the others to come to the venue to cause trouble, but she never expected trouble to come knocking immediately after they disembarked. This was not the script they had discussed, and the earl miss couldn’t help but frown, casting a questioning look at Brendel.
At this moment, the focus had shifted from the earl miss onto Brendel, who felt somewhat embarrassed. He couldn’t help but shrug; he hadn’t expected this guy, unable to heal, would follow along too.
…
(Note 1: Kurt is Grifian’s hometown, located in the Corvado Province.)
(PS: I made another mistake,55555. I originally planned for two chapters, but the editor contacted me regarding some matters, filling out forms took some time, so let’s leave it for tomorrow. When I return tonight, I’ll write faster…) (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to support me with recommendations and monthly votes on Qidian (qidian.com). Your support is my greatest motivation.)
