Chapter 232: Act 165 – The Gambler’s Roulette (Part 2, Fourth Update, Please Subscribe)
In the Hall of Firburh, people came and went. Brendel was with Medisa, Charles, Xi, and Husher as they watched the mercenaries carry a huge, dust-covered map out of the basement and lay it across the long table.
When the map was spread out on the long table, everyone gathered around couldn’t help but sigh. However, only the younger sister among the Wild Elves asked, “Lord, how did you know that scoundrel would put the map in the basement?” After speaking, she cautiously glanced at her sister. Fortunately, Flour didn’t bother her this time, merely shooting her an annoyed look. The previous scene of Brendel advancing to Elementalist had thoroughly shocked her, and she was still somewhat dazed from it.
Brendel knew the “scoundrel” the little girl mentioned referred to Grudin, but that once formidable noble was now lying in the courtyard outside. At this moment, he had no desire to take care of the scum, and perhaps there might be some future use for him.
He looked outside the hall; the mercenaries were gathering in the inner courtyard. Besides clearing out the remaining enemies, one of their tasks was to track down the escaped Bai Tiama Si Jueyue. However, Brendel understood well that the enemy wouldn’t stay in Firburh. Although that person had suffered a humiliating defeat in a prior confrontation, Bai never engaged in pointless actions.
For example, staying here to create trouble for him was not the habit of the Black Knight among the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. It might be possible for the Red Knight, Red Knight Rhea Teos, but Bai would never place himself in a position of needless danger, which was one reason he was the hardest to deal with among the Four Horsemen.
Not easily leaving behind handles—
“Nobles tend to share similar habits, Diya,” Brendel thought as he replied, “and this might not even be something Grudin put there. I doubt he had any intention of managing this territory.” His words were half-true; he knew full well that the map had little to do with noble habits, but rather he was quite aware of what lay in that basement. When the players later overthrew Grudin, he was not one of them, but he had been clear about the matter nonetheless.
Brendel studied the map; it should have been the planning map left from the construction of Firburh. It certainly wasn’t crafted by Grudin, and perhaps it was something handed down through several generations, which caused the young wizard beside him to frown.
“This thing is at least several decades old,” Charles coughed and replied, “Doesn’t he care about his territory at all? In the realm of the Black Tower, the wizards redraw maps every year.”
Brendel shook his head, thinking, do you think everyone is a wizard? Besides, this was Toniger, the most barbaric and marginal area in all of Erluin; what else could you expect? He brushed the dust off the map with his hand and answered, “In this age, it’s normal for city maps in such small places to remain unchanged for decades. As long as they are usable, it doesn’t matter, and besides, we don’t need such detailed maps right now.”
“In this age?” Charles frowned at him.
“Habit,” Brendel lifted his head and gave him an exasperated glance, “Any objections?”
“No,” the young man hurriedly shook his head, “It’s just that when you say that, it carries a sense of historical weight, as if by saying it you are already standing at a certain height in history—truly illustrious and heroic.”
Brendel found it simultaneously amusing and exasperating: “Less nonsense.”
However, he turned back, remembering something: “By the way, Flour, where are the supplies I asked you to organize?”
“Ah?” The elder sister among the Wild Elves seemed to come to her senses at that moment, slightly stunned, then asked back, “What?”
“The cleanup from the battlefield?”
“Oh,” Flour hesitated slightly, “Was it the leftover items from that skeleton? Speaking of which, there’s something very strange, and I wanted to ask you about it—”
Strange items?
Brendel paused for a moment. Generally, the gear dropped by high-ranking commanders like Cabais was rarely of poor quality. However, if it was something strange, the Amber Sword had quite a few peculiar items, but apart from the lower-level toys, anything above fantasy rank was widely known among players as ‘little artifacts.’ So, hearing Flour say this, he couldn’t help but feel curious.
Just as he was about to inquire, he saw Crenshia, drenched in sweat, along with a young man in a blue-gray robe, walking in from outside the hall.
Seeing these two, Brendel’s expression turned serious, and he quickly interrupted Flour’s sentence, asking the two urgently, “What’s the update?”
“Ready to move, Lord. We can depart at any time—” Crenshia cautiously glanced at him and replied.
His words acted as a signal; with a ‘whoosh,’ everyone in the hall picked up their weapons and stood from their seats. Even Xi, who had been chatting with Funiya, patted the young girl on the shoulder and then stood up. Brendel looked at these people and nodded, “Then let’s depart! Crenshia, you will be in charge of supporting Vurn. I will send Miss Medisa with you. What about the situation on the other side?”
Medisa nodded at Crenshia in acknowledgment of Brendel’s words.
However, the silver-haired middle-aged man frowned and shook his head, “The signal has already been sent out, but there hasn’t been a single response. I’ve sent scouts to make contact, but they likely won’t return anytime soon.”
“We can’t wait,” Brendel shook his head, “We must depart immediately.”
“But Lord, I know Juliette,” Crenshia suddenly said, “Even if she doesn’t arrive in time, she will certainly do her utmost to hold back the undead of Madara. Thus, I think you need not worry too much…”
Before he could finish, Brendel interrupted him: “That’s pointless. They can’t hold them back. I know better than you all the tactics used by Madara; under the encirclement of that endless army of skeletons, unless one is securely holed up, a few hundred mercenaries are like stones thrown into the sea. In just a moment, they will be annihilated.”
He pressed his hands on the table, looking at everyone: “Moreover, there are hidden necromancers and dark knights among them.”
Brendel straightened up and took up Xi’s longsword: “Now, all we can do is set out immediately. The rest, we can only pray that Miss Juliette can reach the west gate in time. Otherwise, there will only be one outcome left—”
The hall fell silent.
Everyone looked at each other, but when they saw that Brendel had finished speaking and remained silent, picking up their swords and leaving their seats to walk outside, they momentarily hesitated but then followed suit. At that moment, only Charles lifted his head from the dust-covered map and leisurely asked, “So then, the worst-case scenario remaining is actually to abandon Firburh, right, Lord?”
Everyone was taken aback, not understanding why the young wizard’s topic had shifted to this.
Yet Brendel paused at the door and looked back at him: “What are you thinking?”
“I just thought that you’re really as audacious as ever—”
Brendel smiled slightly.
“Because the cost is too great,” he replied, “To avoid losing capital, I can only choose the most rewarding method, even if the risks are higher. But as I’ve mentioned before, does a dead man care whether he has one rope or two around his neck?”
“Well, that’s true, but now I see—Lord, you and Miss Romaine really are a perfect match.”
Brendel smiled.
“Lord?” Husher asked, somewhat confused.
“What Charles just said is precisely my intention,” Brendel nodded and replied, “I not only want to kill Grudin but also to declare ownership over Toniger. Count Rendener must want to make me suffer, and I will use this land that rightfully belongs to him to give him a taste of his own medicine. Victory is not just about strength; wisdom also holds the key to overturning the situation—”
“No one can defeat the future—”
He stepped towards the door and glanced back at the silver-haired middle-aged man—the only outsider in the hall: “Besides, who says a newly risen noble can only have one territory? Don’t you think so, Mr. Crenshia?”
Crenshia, drenched in sweat, stared blankly at Brendel. At this moment, he had only one thought: either he had gone mad or this young man was insane! He was effectively challenging all the traditions of this ancient kingdom and the game rules among the nobles.
Forcibly occupying a noble’s territory—
Martha is above! If he succeeded, then he would overturn all ancient perceptions of Erluin.
The silver-haired middle-aged man couldn’t help but lower his head, suddenly considering another possibility—that they were all insane!
However, Charles had a different perspective from this mercenary leader. The young wizard lifted his head and, unperturbed, asked, “But it seems the risks are indeed very high right now. The undead are right outside the city, and if you abandon Firburh, Lord, you would lose the excuse to establish a foothold in Toniger—”
“So, what does the Lord plan to do?” he inquired, “Are you planning to hide in the forest and conduct guerrilla warfare? By the way, what did you teach me about the sixteen-character strategy last time?”
Brendel smiled slightly, turned back, and gazed past the large archway beyond the hall, where darkness loomed outside. But Brendel understood that dawn would come in just a moment. Perhaps the next moment, the sun would rise from the horizon.
But could Firburh really hold out until the next moment?
“Planning is up to man; the outcome is in the hands of heaven,” the young man answered, “Since I’ve chosen the life of a gambler, I must calm down and enjoy the thrill of being one—”
“As for guerrilla warfare,” he replied, “Don’t worry; I can also be considered a descendant of masters.”
…
(PS: Today’s fourth update is presented, thank you for your support.)(To be continued. For the later developments, please log in for more chapters, support the author, and read the authentic version!)
