Chapter 722: Act 81 – The Ball of Yesteryears II
In the depths of the unknown, Brendel always felt he had seen this forest before. It was not surprising, considering how the dreams of the Nameless Ones blended with his fragmented memories, and the dream itself was filled with his personal imprint.
He lingered by the riverside for a moment, and suddenly remembered. He recalled a park near his childhood home, where the pine trees grew just as tall and straight.
Brendel’s heart began to race.
He thought of his childhood and his parents. Back then, they were still young and proud of him. As a child, he was filled with confidence, believing he could bear the weight of their expectations.
But in the end, he disappointed them.
Brendel had once thought such disappointment stemmed from his own failures. To escape, he immersed himself in games; but only after meeting that sword saint Erluin—his grandfather—in the dream of the Golden Tree did he realize how utterly mistaken he was.
But did he still have a chance to ask for forgiveness?
Could Lady Martha really be willing to give him this opportunity?
Brendel gazed at the light beyond the forest, unable to suppress the pressure on his chest. He still remembered that during holidays, various celebrations would take place in the park, and his parents would take him to enjoy the festive activities.
He knew full well this was just a dream.
Yet standing there by the river felt as if a thousand weights were on his feet. A gentle evening breeze rustled through the trees. At that moment, a soft patter of footsteps suddenly echoed from the forest, and Brendel turned his head slightly, his heart leaping.
“Is there someone else?”
Brendel turned back, but to his surprise, a familiar figure stumbled out of the forest—Prince Haruze. The young prince gasped heavily, looking surprised at his teacher, but his eyes quickly reddened, tears sparkling within: “Brendel-sensei… I thought I could never find you!”
Brendel was stunned.
He never expected that this little prince would burst into his dream. Although the guide mentioned that the dreams of the Nameless Ones reflected incomplete memories, and the world of dreams was filled with the memories of others—determined by players’ experiences in “Amber”—sometimes other players would stumble into another player’s dream.
But the problem was—this was modern times! Modern times! Modern times!
Brendel’s mind was in a flurry. What should he do? What if the little prince saw his dream? While his childhood home wasn’t in a bustling city, it was hardly a backward area. How could he explain the concrete buildings, high rises, and cars to Haruze?
Should he knock the prince unconscious?
He shook his head immediately; that possibility was slim, unless he wanted to murder the little prince right there. Since Haruze had entered his dream, it suggested a consistency in their tasks. If the little prince couldn’t redeem himself, he would have to remain in the dream forever.
With these thoughts in mind, Brendel found himself frozen in place.
“What now…?”
This was the only question left in his mind.
“Sensei?” Haruze noticed Brendel standing still by the river, staring at him intently, and couldn’t help but feel a bit scared, stepping back slightly. He had never seen Lord Earl like this; Brendel was usually very gentle.
Though Brendel’s expectations were somewhat strict, Haruze faced even harsher demands from his sister. Mostly, he admired this kind and gentle earl.
“Um… Haruze,” Brendel said softly, deciding to give the little prince some warning. After all, Haruze was young; perhaps he could get away with it.
“Yes?” Haruze, blushing, breathed heavily and replied softly.
“You know, we’re in a dream—”
“I know, Sensei. I heard what you said earlier; you mentioned that we’re in the dream of the Nameless Ones, and these dreams are filled with our own memories,” the young prince answered diligently, like a well-behaved student.
He had been frightened alone in the dark, but upon seeing his teacher, he felt reassured. Brendel was the hero who saved Ampere Seale, but in his heart, Brendel was the hero who saved his sister.
This alone was enough for him to trust.
“No, please forget the last part—” Brendel couldn’t help but groan inwardly.
He smiled slightly and said gently, “Yes, Haruze, but you must know that dreams are quite bizarre, so anything you see later, don’t be too startled. Don’t forget, we are still in a dangerous environment.”
Brendel found it harder to smile than to cry, wishing to stab himself with the Sword of the Earth.
Haruze blinked, and his slightly pointed half-elf ears moved slightly. His silver eyes sparkled in the moonlight, shining brightly as he nodded seriously: “I understand, Sensei. Actually, I used to have strange dreams as a child too.”
Without anyone else around, the little prince appeared less shy than usual. Having spent several months with Brendel, their conversations were no longer as awkward as they had begun.
Brendel finally relaxed a bit.
“Follow me.”
He nodded and turned, crossing the riverbank, walking toward the source of light in the distance. Haruze, clutching the Lion’s Tooth, followed closely. The two passed through a vast black pine forest, the light ahead growing brighter, but just then, Brendel suddenly squinted and let out a slight “huh?”
He stopped, noticing a carriage with its door open not far among the trees.
He glanced back at Haruze, wondering if it was merely a projection of the little prince’s dream. But the young prince was also staring blankly in that direction, seemingly unaware of what was happening.
However, Brendel didn’t expect the prince to decipher anything. Boldly, he walked over and found the carriage empty. But there was a pool of glaring blood on the seat, the stench permeating the forest, slightly nauseating.
“Sensei?” The young prince quickly noticed the abnormality on the carriage.
Brendel raised his hand, signaling for his student to be quiet. Every detail in a dream was not generated out of thin air; this scene must be a part of either his or the little prince’s memories, or perhaps a fragment of the Nameless Ones’ lost dreams.
This appeared to be the scene of an assassination. Given the young prince’s age, he would undoubtedly remember such a sight and would not fail to recognize it. As for Brendel himself, he seemed to have no similar memory. Considering that, the only possibility left was that it belonged to the Nameless Ones’ lost dreams.
Brendel couldn’t help but heighten his focus. In this dream, the task was redemption. Thus the dream of the lost ones was a crucial clue—legend had it that the Nameless Ones wandered through the Black Forest, seeking to reclaim their lost selves. Most of them were driven by regret, which meant that the tasks in their dreams were often about mending those regrets.
He leaned down, quickly discovering scattered bloodstains around the carriage.
Brendel began to follow those bloodstains down a path. Not far along, he found his target by a black pine tree. It was the corpse of a young man, a dagger protruding from his back, hunched over, his head drooping until it nearly touched his knees, having long since lost the breath of life.
When Haruze saw this scene, he couldn’t help but let out a small gasp.
“Do you know him?” Brendel turned to ask.
“I don’t know,” the young prince shook his head.
“Then the right to examine the body belongs to me.” Brendel approached and lifted the young man’s corpse. He appeared quite refined, and his clothing hinted at a noble status, likely a scion of some aristocratic family.
He first picked up the young man’s coin purse, but as soon as he touched it, it turned to dust. Brendel was taken aback; the guide had mentioned this phenomenon, as everything in dreams was merely residual memory. Unless it was the deepest part, most details did not exist, meaning they turned to nothing upon contact.
Just then, a thin piece of paper fell from the disintegrating money pouch.
Brendel picked up the paper, only to find it completely blank.
After a moment of contemplation, he understood. In this scene, the most deeply ingrained memory of the Nameless One was likely this paper; he remembered it well but had forgotten what was written on it.
Brendel inspected the young man once more, indeed finding no other valuable clues. However, he caught sight of a signet ring on the young man’s hand and memorized its design.
“Brendel-sensei?” The young prince stared at the paper in his hand, somewhat puzzled.
“This is a clue. However, it’s not enough to make him recall more. We need to enter the next scene, and in this dream, we will help him trace everything back and remind him of who he truly is—” Brendel responded, glancing at the paper in his hand.
Haruze seemed to understand: “We need to help him find his name, right, Sensei?”
“Pretty much.” Brendel was quite pleased with his student’s insight.
“But since he has forgotten everything, how can we help him remember? He must have wandered in this forest for many years, and even those histories have vanished into dust. Can we really retrieve the memories he wants from nothing?” Haruze furrowed his delicate brows, looking somewhat curious.
“Remember, this is not a complete memory. There are also your memories and mine in this world—” Brendel suddenly paused, wishing he could slap himself. But having said it, he had no choice but to continue with immense regret: “We are examining his dreams, and he is examining ours. People’s experiences are often similar; similar scenes might evoke his memories—”
Haruze nodded, looking at his teacher with admiration.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Brendel felt somewhat awkward facing a blushing little prince with bright, sparkling eyes.
“Before Master Livwz died, he often told me stories. I—I don’t know if it’s disrespectful to the deceased, but I think the Master didn’t know as much as you do.”
That flattery felt good. Brendel felt a little light-headed, especially knowing that the little prince was genuinely innocent and wouldn’t lie. He patted Haruze’s head: “Everyone has their strengths—”
Then he straightened up, letting out a sigh. Once he entered task mode, the previous chaotic thoughts faded significantly, and he regained his calm.
“That brightly lit place over there looks like a small town. I think we should be able to find some clues; let’s go over together.” He glanced at the edge of the forest, asking knowingly.
“Yes!”
Haruze nodded vigorously, clutching the Lion’s Tooth tightly.
Brendel laid the young man’s body respectfully. Though he knew this was merely a dream, he still acted out of respect for the deceased. The nameless ones wandered eternally in the forest due to their regrets; it was said that these people were often scorned in life—but Brendel believed that if a person felt regret, there was still a patch of purity in their heart.
For this self-redemptive heart alone, they were worthy of equal respect.
Then the two continued forward, moving on. Here they were only a short distance from the edge of the forest. In the real world, the young man’s body and the carriage would soon be discovered, but here in the dream, as Brendel had said, the dream pursued the existence of memories themselves, and rationality had no place.
Light flowed into the forest like milk, casting long, slanted shadows on its edge. Brendel moved forward against the light and shadows, and suddenly he found himself in a wide-open space.
But he was slightly taken aback.
Outside the grove was not the park he had imagined, nor the expected concrete buildings, no cars, no towering skyscrapers.
A classical city lay beyond the forest, surrounded by a moat, with scattered small towns. Flickering lights dotted the area, and a high wall loomed, encircling the city from near and far.
A little closer, a main road cut through the forest, leading directly to the distant city gate. On either side of the road were numerous tents, brightly lit inside, with stalls filled with fruits, vegetables, and barrels of wine. Not far away, a stage had been erected, and he saw clowns performing, actors singing and dancing, the music joyous.
This looked like a festive celebration from any rural area in Erluin.
However, the drastic contrast left Brendel momentarily dumbfounded. Until Haruze stepped out from behind him, staring at the distant city, uttering a dazed “Ah!”
Brendel understood the meaning behind that short exclamation.
Just as he recognized that city.
Minstrelos.
The royal capital of Erluin.
(PS: There is one more chapter, please wait a moment.) (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please consider voting for it on Qidian (qidian.com); your support is my greatest motivation.)
