Chapter 205: Act 139 – The Hope of Gentle Words (Part 1)
“Xi?”
The red-haired maiden looked at him in silence, merely shaking her head; then she raised her head, and Brendel could see something in those piercing amber eyes. He turned around and, indeed, found that an unexpected guest had appeared on the balcony of the hall’s second floor at some point.
Or perhaps it had always been there; he just hadn’t noticed it before.
The tall skeleton wielded a battle axe, its entire body cloaked in ancient brass armor, with its wind-whipped jaw slightly ajar. A crack in its skull seemed to mock silently. Cabais was looking down at him from above, the yellowish flames flickering in his eye sockets, having recognized the young man he had seen from a distance during the breakout in Ridenburg.
“Viscount Tinsgon?”
Cabais said in a raspy, wind-swept voice, “It’s been a while since Ridenburg; I trust you’re well?”
“Madara,” Brendel uttered a few words through clenched teeth.
The undead of Madara—how could they be here? The young man coldly regarded Grudin; his mind raced, and he asked icily, “Since when have the aristocrats of Madara and Erluin become as close as family?”
“With the passage of time, all life turns to dust. In this world, only interests remain constant, my dear Viscount,”
Cabais replied in a low tone.
His response confirmed Brendel’s suspicions; Grudin had actually colluded with Madara. But what were their intentions? Brendel raised his head and saw the battle axe in the tall skeleton’s hands pointed diagonally between him and the vile baron. Surely, if he made a move, Cabais wouldn’t stand idly by.
This ‘one-eyed’ lieutenant of Duke Toniger, lord of the dark kingdom, at least possessed strength at the gold mid-level. Meanwhile, he had only just touched the fringes of the golden tier. Although the outcome was uncertain, it wouldn’t be difficult for the other side to stop him from killing someone right before their eyes.
Duke Toniger operated cautiously, step by step; with Cabais here, it was likely that others were nearby, ready to assist. Brendel turned around and indeed saw shadows flitting in the corner, then a pale-faced young man in a gray robe stepped into view.
Rothko, yet another familiar face; Brendel remembered the first time he met the man in Buche, when he was merely an unsophisticated undead wizard apprentice. Now, he already bore two purple flame insignias on his collar.
An intermediate undead wizard.
Brendel fell silent, his gaze settling on Baron Grudin not far away.
The latter had somewhat recovered from his earlier panic; this middle-aged man leaned one hand on the wooden debris, forcing a semblance of calm, his ashen skin revealing the tension of his heart through tightly stretched veins.
But as Brendel turned his sword, a glint of eerie light shone in Grudin’s eyes, causing him to flinch slightly. Realizing that this was an unspoken mockery, a spark of rage ignited within Grudin, yet he concealed his anger.
“I didn’t expect someone to sell their soul to a demon,” Brendel replied coldly, “You rotten skeletons are here to ensure this scoundrel keeps his miserable life, aren’t you?”
Baron Grudin regained a bit of courage from his ally. He ground his teeth like a wild beast, his eyes flashing with malice as he spoke in a low voice, “Young man, go ahead and spout your nonsense. But deep down, you know that even without my allies from Madara, would you dare to go against the Rendener family? A trivial dispute of pride could lead to a war between our two families; in the end—Viscount Tinsgon, I’m sure your family wouldn’t allow you to act so recklessly…”
He hadn’t finished his sentence when Brendel’s cold scoff interrupted him—like the temperature in the hall had dropped several degrees, causing icicles to form in the air.
Everyone present, except for the undead, almost involuntarily shivered.
Baron Grudin stiffened, his remaining words stuck in his throat. He would never understand how terribly wrong he was from the start, for Brendel was merely an imposter. In truth, the young man’s murderous intent had already taken shape; he raised his hand, and his longsword shot forth like a silver line aimed straight at Baron Grudin’s throat.
The latter stood stunned, clearly not expecting Brendel to actually strike; this was against the norm! For a moment, Baron Grudin didn’t know how to evade—had it not been for a heavy axe crashing down with a thud, blocking Brendel’s sword with its long handle, the result would have been nothing but a corpse left behind.
“I believe I mentioned,” Cabais said, gripping the axe handle, looking down at the young man, “that Baron Grudin is an important ally of ours and cannot be handed over so easily.”
“Sorry, you never said that,” Brendel retorted, both of them exerting force simultaneously to step back. Brendel unleashed a surge of power, and both retreated three steps, neither gaining the upper hand.
“Young man, you should withdraw,” Cabais said, propping himself up with the battle axe before continuing, “The war between Madara and Erluin is still on ceasefire; why must you provoke a war between you and the baron? Such a commotion in the hall, the guards outside must not have remained oblivious; aren’t you a bit worried about your servant left in the yard—”
Brendel’s expression darkened, ready to strike again.
“Mister Brendel!” But the red-haired maiden grasped his sleeve; she gritted her teeth—Sanford and the other members of the Gray Wolf Mercenary Group were still outside.
“Miss Antinna, do you also think I shouldn’t kill this scoundrel?” Brendel asked coldly.
The noble girl hesitated slightly, coming back to her senses from her earlier distraction. She looked at the seated Grudin with a very poor expression, wishing to stomp on that visage resembling a ‘human’ and prove she was unlike him; but she let out a slight breath, forcing down her discomfort as she replied:
“My lord, after all, this scoundrel is a lord of the kingdom.”
The noble maiden’s words carried weight, hinting at Grudin’s identity to Brendel. In chaotic times, noble families attacking one another was not uncommon; as long as it didn’t affect fundamental interests, the kingdom might not have the time to intervene—but she wanted to tell Brendel that the trouble lay with the people behind Grudin.
Count Rendener, as the highest administrative officer of the Rendener border region in the kingdom of Erluin, was a nominal earl with real power akin to that of a marquis; to deal with the barbarian invasions at the border, this historically rich family had begun to cultivate private noble armies since the last two generations. To this day, their local power had nearly become the kingdom’s only legitimate private military force.
Even with the royal family not paying much attention to these ‘barbarians’ and the balancing of local autonomy, the strength of this privileged count in such a tumultuous world was plain to see.
Should Brendel kill this noble’s offspring here, it would be tantamount to declaring war between families. Although he called himself Viscount Gunstin, paper cannot cover fire; such things wouldn’t withstand scrutiny—moreover, the young man had intentions to seek a territory. People could escape, but freshly acquired land was vulnerable; faced with the wrath of Count Rendener, it would likely end in ruin.
The noble maiden didn’t want to see the young man’s hard work go to waste and therefore hoped he would reconsider. Yet at the same time, she also absolutely did not want to show even the slightest bit of fear in front of this beastly baron, hence she framed her words in such an obscure manner.
But she firmly believed that this young man before her would understand each of her subtle implications intricately.
Brendel coldly scoffed.
“Timing and wisdom; think twice before acting,” Cabais’s cracked and wind-swept jaw seemed to symbolize a silent smile.
The sword in the young man’s hand tilted toward the ground, his gaze passed over the tall skeleton to stare at Baron Grudin, his eyes cold as if looking down at a dead dog—
Sensing Brendel’s openly chilling killing intent, Grudin stiffened, or perhaps because he was sheltered behind Cabais, he sneered, “If you don’t kill me today, dear Viscount, I shall repay you doubly in the future—”
This baron of Toniger spat these words almost through gritted teeth; he had never experienced such humiliation in his life—those gentry who had invited him to witness Brendel’s misfortune now felt like they were shooting themselves in the foot. This feeling of defeat had ignited rage in him.
However, just as he was about to say something more to further provoke Brendel, hoping to send the young man into a rage and engage in a mutually destructive fight with Cabais, he saw Brendel raise his hand—
A flash of silver zipped past his cheek.
Baron Grudin was stunned, half of the hair on one side of his face fell, a sharp pain igniting on his face. To onlookers, it left a glaring red mark. Stunned, he reached to touch it and then looked at his palm—bright red blood stained his hand, causing the power-hungry lord of Erluin to howl like a slaughtered pig.
Cabais remained unmoved; the tall skeleton knew without turning around what sort of effect Brendel’s strike would produce. He wasn’t Grudin’s guardian and had no need to intervene for such a minor injury; furthermore, giving the arrogant noble a lesson would serve him right, preventing him from continually misunderstanding their relationship.
He turned his gaze back to Brendel, the young man lowered his hand and coldly said, “Keep your head; I’ll come for it next time—”
With that, he surveyed the hall, the chilling aura forcing everyone back a step. Then he turned and gave Antinna and Xi a glance, leaving in silence.
As he turned, the guards and heavily armored soldiers outside the hall, who had been alerted, immediately parted to both sides. After all, most of them had just witnessed Brendel’s overwhelming display of power in taking down twenty or so knights, and even if they hadn’t seen it personally, hearing accounts from others made it clear who this young man was—a god of death. As long as he wasn’t at odds with their lord, they felt grateful enough and didn’t dare to obstruct him.
Within the hall, while Grudin was howling in anger and anxiety, he wanted his subordinates to capture Brendel, but the memory of that ice-cold sword strike held him back.
The baron opened his mouth, but in the end, his words caught in his throat.
……
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