Chapter 206: Act 140 – The Hope of Warm Words (2)
Brendel left Count Rendener’s castle in silence, walking out the castle gate like a king: no one dared to obstruct him, even the most loyal knights of Grudin could only nervously place their hands on their swords and step aside. Yet the young man felt no joy in his heart; his hand tightly gripped the sword sheath—as if the long sword was still there—its creaking sound echoed from excessive force.
Yes, he had compromised.
He was not retreating out of fear of the combined might of Madara and Baron Grudin, but rather because Xi’s pleading gaze had moved him. Just as he could never become Makarolo, he could not ignore Sanford and the other Grey Wolf mercenaries lingering in the yard due to his anger.
He understood that she was the girl’s only family and support in this world. She had the right to do so.
Yet, even though he understood, he still felt oppressed and angry.
Especially when even Antinna diplomatically expressed her opposition—
The young man could not help but feel a chill in his heart.
He was fighting against Erluin’s rotten rules, but he despairingly realized that he currently had no ability to do so—nor was he getting any support. He knew Antinna wanted him to integrate into these rules; although the noble lady had not openly stated it, she had not hidden her true thoughts either.
Indeed, this would be a better choice for him.
But was it possible?
Brendel had never thought he would give up his stance; if he retreated, he would forfeit everything. Thus, there was no retreat for him. Even if the path ahead was filled with pain and hardship, he must stand against Grudin.
Therefore, even though he knew that the undead of Madara had already allied with Count Rendener, he had to make this choice. He had already expressed his stance; the rest could only be left to time to prove.
Brendel pursed his lips and crossed the castle’s drawbridge in silence. However, with the afternoon breeze, a strong smell of bl**d invaded his nostrils—then he heard a scream from behind; it was Antinna’s voice.
Brendel instinctively looked up, but in that moment, he was stunned. The familiar street before him seemed to stretch infinitely in his sight, the long road reaching towards the edge of the sky, with not a single person in sight, yet lines of brand new crosses stood at the roadside—
Rows of bloody corpses hung from those crosses.
Most of those corpses wore the clothing of adventurers and mercenaries, and a few were evidently those from the outer city’s impoverished regions. Both men and women, but now only lifeless bodies remained.
Brendel remembered that in the classical era of Vaunte, local lords would hang the bodies of outlaws on crosses to warn those who continued in that profession.
But in this moment, who was Baron Grudin trying to warn?
Not only was it a warning to him, but also to the adventurers and mercenaries in the city who were itching to move. Baron Grudin was using this event to tell these outsiders who the true masters of this land were.
A bloody warning.
“Very well—”
Brendel took a deep breath, almost turning back immediately. But he gritted his teeth and ultimately held it in. However, the corner of his eye caught a figure blurring by the street.
Was it him?
Brendel’s heart stirred, and he immediately gave chase.
He rounded the corner onto a side alley. That familiar grey hue came into view, and the young lord hesitated for a moment, but the other person spoke first:
“Brendel… My lord, right?” The young man in grey robes looked at him, cold indifference on his face.
Brendel recognized him as the apprentice of the string wizard he had met that morning. He had left a strong impression, and would naturally not be easily forgotten.
He nodded.
The young man did not speak immediately; both fell into silence. But despite the indifference on his thin face, one could detect the silent anger from the depths of his eyes.
After a brief pause, the young man spoke again: “I remember, you once asked if I wanted revenge?” Looking at him unchangingly, he replied: “If I tell you now that I want—”
He lifted his head, gritted his teeth: “My lord, can you show me a path?”
Brendel remained silent.
“This is also the thought of others in the city—mercenaries and adventurers; they have already created enmity with Baron Grudin.” The young man stared at him, continuing: “If you are willing, we are ready to serve you—”
The two were only ten meters apart, but Brendel shook his head: “I’ll ask you the same question. Do you want revenge?”
The young man froze.
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Then live well,” Brendel looked at him and replied: “I promise you, but not right now.”
“My lord?”
Brendel stopped speaking and turned to leave the alley, just as he spotted others catching up behind him. But in the face of the young man’s darkened expression, filled with suppressed rage, the clueless Husher, Sanford, and the others could only exchange sidelong glances.
The young man brushed past them.
“Brendel.” Only Merchant Miss called out to him.
Romaine stood behind him, hugging her small bag, her deep brown eyes questioning as she looked up at his face, her eyebrows slightly raised: “Are you angry?”
Brendel was taken aback slightly; he did not want to say much, but looking at the Merchant Miss’s face, he couldn’t muster any anger. He could only sigh and gently pat the girl’s cheek.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Eh,” Romaine was slightly taken aback, frowning as she pushed his hand away—curiously asking: “But I haven’t said anything yet—”
“Wasn’t it Antinna who called you here?”
“How did you know?”
Brendel sighed again, shaking his head. He turned to look back, and sure enough, he saw the noble lady hurrying toward him, her skirt in hand.
“Are you angry with me?” Antinna looked up at him, softly asking: “My lord?”
“You did nothing wrong, Antinna.” Brendel replied solemnly.
“But you are still angry.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Antinna, just as you know, things in this world are not so simple as black and white—”
“You speak well, Count Rendener, as the highest officer on the southern border of Erluin, his power is vast, a lord in his own right; his private army can make all who oppose him tremble, even those truly important figures can only dare to curse him in private. Not to mention that we are nothing but insignificant ants.”
Brendel shook his head, looking at the girl, and replied: “One could even say, a single sneeze from that important figure could turn our path ahead into a crisis-filled thicket, and with a slight misstep, we could vanish without a trace.”
“But?”
Antinna asked earnestly.
“But—” Brendel nodded: “None of this is a reason for me to bow down. If pretending to smile and accept Grudin’s gifts means being astute, then I’d rather choose the path of iron and bl**d, fire and sword.”
“Do you understand?”
Brendel pressed on his nonexistent sword, fingers flicking slightly: “You asked me why before, Antinna. The answer is actually simple—no reason, because I am Brendel.”
He glanced back at Little Romain: “I am Brendel from Buche.”
The Merchant Miss immediately playfully winked at him, as if they shared a mutual understanding.
Antinna was momentarily speechless, and after a second, she reacted: “But perhaps we can choose a smarter way. I understand your thoughts, my lord, but there is a saying among nobles—dead people have no right to oppose!”
“Now, we have to face not just Baron Grudin, but also the Rendener family and Madara. My lord, you—” she bit her lip, although she felt something ignited within her chest by Brendel’s words, burning fiercely, her dark eyes still filled with worry.
“That is my business, Antinna,” Brendel replied lightly: “Whether it is Grudin, Count Rendener, or even the Undead Army of Madara.”
He looked again at Baron Grudin’s towering castle.
“Since we have to face it sooner or later, then I shall wait at any time—”
He dropped this sentence and turned to leave.
In the distance, the red-haired girl with a long ponytail, trailing behind the group, felt a slight stir in her heart as she witnessed this scene—watching Brendel’s retreating figure, she tightened her grip on her long spear.
And the noble lady likewise looked at the young man’s back with worry, her expression flashing with a slight and unusual admiration. Yet precisely because of this, she worried even more that this excellent young man might impulsively do something extreme. After all, it was an obvious fact that their current strength was far from sufficient to contend with the other party; sometimes, mere confidence could not solve everything.
A loud crash echoed, as a piece of white porcelain from the Anson era shattered into pieces.
Not long after Brendel and his party left, Baron Grudin furiously smashed something in his study. At this moment, only three people remained in the room—Cabais and Rothko had already left; as undead, they naturally could not stay in the castle for long, forming a secret alliance with Madara was not a trivial matter, and leaked information might have little impact on Count Rendener.
However, conspiring with the undead was not a name that would sound pleasant if it spread.
At this moment, only his two male pets were left by Grudin’s side, which was why he could unleash his fury without any reservations. “Viscount Gunsting, Viscount Gunsting, these Northerners are too brazen!” The baron was almost in a hysterical state; he had never faced such humiliation from a young age.
If it weren’t for the fact that his opponents were indeed far too powerful, he would have insisted on taking their heads. Even if it meant war against another family, he would not mind. Although Count Rendener might have some difficulty explaining this back to his father, in his current rage, Grudin could not care less.
After catching his breath, one of the male pets cautiously stepped closer and whispered: “My lord, since they have left the castle, should we just—”
(PS. After days of pent-up thoughts, it was difficult to start writing. After a few days of intensive reflection, I finally reached clarity; the strong break walls, revealing a bright path ahead. I hope the trolls of the disillusioned will roll away.) (To be continued, for more chapters and support for the author, please log in and support the original reading!)
