Chapter 556: Act 304 – Vortex VIII
Silver lightning occasionally streaked across the dark sea outside the window, like a dazzling spark lighting up the horizon. Brendel sat silently at the edge of the bed, while Princess Margadale lay flat on the bed, quiet as a sleeping beauty from a fairy tale.
After a while, Otales’s voice echoed in his heart: “Brendel, you guessed correctly; this little girl is not human, and even—”
“Even not a living being,” Brendel’s tone was calm and unruffled.
“So you’ve already realized,” the senior sister’s rough voice held a hint of surprise.
“The Tome of Creation and the Crusian epic The Azure Poem say: ‘Life in the mortal realm is born from water, thriving on land, sheltered by the wind, and endowed with wisdom by fire.’ It also states, ‘At the beginning of creation, a supreme benevolence walked upon the waters, granting souls to the humble, tiny creatures floating upon the water, thus life was born.’ However, with light and darkness coexisting, with both good and evil present, the one above the gods decided, ‘The end of life is the realm of the dead, where the departed gather, managed by a deity.’ Yet, beyond the boundaries of life and death, there exists a third camp—the ‘soulless things’ such as stones and metals.”
(Note: God of the Dead, the shadow beneath the light, monarch of the eternal realm, Kos)
“I didn’t expect you to be quite knowledgeable about The Azure Poem. I suppose not many can read ancient texts in this era. During the age of the Saints’ War, these texts and prophecies served as our beacon in the darkness,” Brendel sensed that Otales turned her head to glance outside despite not being able to see it, prompting him to look as well—
A lighthouse stood tall on a cape amidst the roiling waves, its beam piercing deep into the sea like a sword, as if it represented the only truth in this chaotic world.
A magical storm on the edge of the ordered world was gathering, affecting the civilized realm to some extent. This storm off the coast of Ampere Seale was fiercer than in previous years, yet very few noticed this abnormality; sailing ships had lowered their sails and docked, with their captains waiting for the storm to calm before setting out again.
“My relationship with the mages in the tower is quite deep, as you know, Lord Otales. In a sense, I am half a mage. I am very interested in history; not just the Crusian Azure Poem, but I have even read some fragments of the Black Prophecy.”
“Although your points are valid, I still feel like you are hiding something from me,” Otales said with a faint smile, and Brendel could sense the teasing glint in the senior sister’s gaze, “And I do wish you would call me sister instead of ‘Lord Otales.'”
“That, I cannot bring myself to say,” Brendel replied awkwardly.
Otales laughed lightly.
“Then you are my student; it should be no problem to call me teacher.”
“Teacher,” Brendel replied respectfully. There was no familial bond between him and Otales, yet she had offered him many significant forms of assistance, even saving him more than once; this care resembled that of a senior to a junior, and while he may not voice it, he remained profoundly grateful in his heart.
Otales chuckled, “Well then, what do you plan to do next?”
Not only did she ask this, but several others in the room did too. Freya, standing beside Little Romain, was unaware that Brendel was conversing with a spirit, but noticing the change in his expression, quickly asked, “What is it, Brendel?”
Brendel regained his focus.
He glanced around the room at the others: Sue, Antinna, Charles, Husher, Flour and Tina, as well as the other members of the Lubis mercenary group, Medephis and Medisa standing not far away from the door, and the silent red-haired girl beside him—essentially the core of his little group.
“Princess Margadale’s injury penetrated her heart. I mentioned that for an ordinary person, this would be an irreparable fatal wound.”
“Ah…” Little Freya was momentarily stunned, unable to suppress her trembling finger pointing at Brendel: “But… but… you clearly said…”
Brendel couldn’t help but chuckle, “I did say that if it were a normal person, this would be an irreparable fatal wound.”
“Oh, oh, you mean this little girl is not a normal person, right?” Romain was the fastest to react, immediately exclaiming. Others quickly caught on, looking at him with curiosity.
“Don’t forget you’re a little girl too!” Brendel glared at the business lady, then nodded, “Regarding this matter, I hope you won’t spread it around. Princess Margadale has actually not sustained a fatal injury because she is not human.”
“Not human? Is she like Princess Grifian, a half-elf?” Freya asked, puzzled, and couldn’t help but look at the princess’s ears lying on the bed—still looking like a normal person’s.
“No, to be precise, she is not even a living being,” Brendel replied, enunciating each word clearly.
“What!?”
Everyone was taken aback.
Brendel paused for a moment; initially, he too found this hard to accept. However, when he inspected her injuries, he had already sensed something was off. When he opened the ‘status’ window on her, her name and other statuses were clear.
Margadale’s full name was ‘Margadale Armanlodur de Antobro,’ Armanlodur being her maternal family’s surname and Antobro being the name of her fief, and this naming convention was entirely consistent with the local customs in Antobro.
At the same time, it matched Brendel’s memory perfectly.
Details such as this name and gender were known to Brendel, which was why they appeared on the status. However, one detail caught his attention: Margadale’s race was listed as: ???.
This was unusual; theoretically, Margadale was human. Not to mention humans, even some common races were straightforward to identify; such knowledge was common sense, so it was theoretically impossible for something that he couldn’t identify to occur.
When he first saw Margadale’s body, his thoughts were a chaotic mess, and he hadn’t noticed this detail. Looking back now, he immediately sensed something was off.
Upon closely examining her body again, he swiftly discovered another issue. Battlefield emergency protocols indicated that Princess Margadale had died at least two hours earlier; however, several minutes after death, muscles begin to relax, skin changes color, and rigidity sets in. These changes become apparent within the first hour, yet at that moment, the princess showed none of these signs.
Crucially, although her skin was cold, it retained a degree of elasticity, appearing as if it were in a healthy state. In Vaunte, most injuries and diseases were treated through herbalism and magic, so the majority of people lacked the biological knowledge familiar to modern individuals. However, these discrepancies seemed quite unusual to Brendel.
Consequently, he discreetly checked her pupils, and his heart trembled sharply. The pupils of the deceased Margadale were dull and lifeless, as if the brightly burning flame had been extinguished. It seemed like a dead person’s gaze, but the pupils were not dilated, and importantly, deep within the eyes, there flickered a glimmer of faded light reminiscent of an extinguished spark.
In Brendel’s memory, only one existence exhibited such characteristics after ‘death.’
That was the ember glow of a soul core, which required only one kind of ‘life’ to be animated—puppets.
He nearly shouted in shock, his first reaction being whether this was a substitute for the princess, but he quickly realized that was impossible because he immediately identified the ‘silver ornament of the wind elf tribe’ he had given her at the auction that afternoon.
If this puppet were a substitute for Princess Margadale, she had no need to leave behind this item, which would reveal her prior meeting with Brendel.
Moreover, this princess of Antobro as a puppet was not too exquisite. Aside from the pupils being the only evidence, her entire being exhibited no traits of a non-living entity; she was flesh and blood, just like an ordinary person. As for intelligence, personality, or emotions, she was indistinguishable from normal individuals.
Brendel found it hard to believe that the girl who once discussed how to help him, possessing steadfast faith and a pure heart, was a puppet. But after Otales carefully examined her through him, they finally concluded that she was indeed a special existence very different from ordinary life.
To be precise, she was a very special puppet. At least in Brendel’s experience, he had never seen such a wondrous life form; this princess was clearly not a soulless, rigid construct.
Brendel preferred to acknowledge her as a very special ‘race.’ In fact, Otales agreed with this notion. Within the memories of the wind elf senior sister, she had indeed encountered such beings in the past; they were once puppets, but later gained intelligence and formed a race of their own.
That race was the Rune Dwarves.
Since a similar existence existed, perhaps Margadale’s existence wasn’t so strange after all. But what Brendel was curious about was her identity; as a princess of a duchy, Margadale wasn’t an inexplicable person like him. He just didn’t know if her parents—the Duke and Duchess of Antobro—were aware of this fact. If they weren’t, that would be interesting.
At least it seemed Margadale herself was completely unaware, as she always believed she was human. In fact, throughout history, Brendel had never heard any rumors about this. However, he did recall a particular piece of news, that this nun princess had a wretched married life and eventually went missing…
What had originally been a tale of aristocratic history now seemed somewhat nuanced.
Brendel shook his head and cast those chaotic thoughts out of his mind. After carefully explaining his thoughts to everyone beside him—of course, excluding that final segment of speculation—everyone’s eyes widened in astonishment.
“Wait, Brendel, are you saying Princess Margadale is a puppet?” Freya, let alone Antinna, was bewildered. “But… but…”
“No, in fact, Princess Margadale is not a puppet. It’s merely a metaphor,” Brendel shook his head and explained, “Simply put, Princess Margadale’s vital signs differ from what we know; she doesn’t have a circulatory system, is not a carbon-based lifeform, but a constructed being, yet she possesses a soul just like us.”
“What is a circulatory system, and what is a carbon-based lifeform? Is that mage terminology?” Antinna asked, puzzled.
“Ahem,” Brendel quickly realized he had misspoken. However, given the difference in knowledge systems between him and these individuals, this question was rather difficult to explain; he could only cover up, “That’s a professional term; just listen. In short, it’s like…”
“Like the Rune Dwarves, right? What Brendel mentioned before. But Uncle Odum was really a puppet back then?” Romain asked curiously, always thinking differently from others.
“No,” Brendel replied irritably, “That was ten thousand years ago. If there were puppets, they would have to be Odum’s ancestors, and it has nothing to do with him!”
“Oh!”
“But… if Princess Margadale is entirely unaware of this, does that mean she has been lying to Princess Grifian all along?” Though she had only spent a short time with the future regent princess, Freya was already thinking for her.
Brendel’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly signaled her with his eyes, shaking his head: “No, I suspect Princess Margadale herself is also unaware.”
“Unaware herself?” Freya paused in surprise, wanting to ask further, but upon seeing Brendel’s expression, she obediently closed her mouth. She immediately realized that if Princess Margadale was unaware herself, the implications were significant.
After pondering, she rephrased, “Then how can we bring her back to life?”
“To be precise, Princess Margadale isn’t dead at all. As for how to awaken her, I need to consult some materials—but for now, we have more important matters to attend to.”
Brendel glanced outside.
Between the dark sea and sky, hardly a glimmer of light could be seen before dawn, but the hourglass had run its last course, and the most important day in the history of Ampere Seale was about to arrive.
Yet, as the moment approached, he felt somewhat hesitant.
What could possibly compel Marquis Julian and others to lay their hands on a princess, a high-ranking priest of the Temple? The stakes involved were too great. What had Princess Margadale seen in the end?
The previously clear history seemed to be shrouding in darkness, as if a great vortex was forming right before him.
…(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please consider voting for it on Qidian (qidian.com). Your support is my greatest motivation.)
