Chapter 508: Act 256 – The War Without Smoke (Part 1)
Generally speaking, the busiest time of the year at Ampere Seale Port begins in March. However, starting in February, as the north thaws, merchants begin packing and shipping goods from the Southlands to Corvado, which has just revived from the bitter winter. Furs, amber, and tobacco from Rendener, and pine nuts and timber from Golan-Elsen converge here at this time of year. As for Toniger? Toniger has no special products; merchants only care about whether their pockets are fuller or emptier, and no one bothers to inquire what the impoverished land might yield.
It’s mostly likely just bandits and robbers.
It is said that before last winter, several fleets loaded with food were sent into Toniger from Ampere Seale to Burnoson. The first reaction of everyone who heard this news was doubt—could those country bumpkins really afford to make a deal? Of course, not many knew that Toniger had one of Erluin’s only three silver mines, but then again, the silver mine belonged to the Lord, and what did that have to do with everyone else? Even children know this principle.
In short, merchants hadn’t had the chance to confirm whether this news was true or false when the news of rebellion and war from the south came. This made matters worse, with not only bandits and robbers but even rebels showing up. This indirectly proved that Toniger was indeed a place of poor resources; in the eyes of the lords, the old saying that “poor lands bear cunning folk” was as accurate as a proverb.
However, most of the portly nobles who enjoyed furs and spices from the south didn’t need to know where those products originally came from. Although Erluin was in turmoil, with war looming in both the south and north, merchants, being the most well-informed group, found that most commercial activities came to a halt because of the situation. But at the economic core of the kingdom, from Ampere Seale to Yitolin, the free trade port, and the temple’s promised neutral zone, gold coins still flowed slowly like lifeblood.
At Omittos, the closest outpost to Ampere Seale Port, surrounded by mountains where the chilly pine forest had only just shaken off the snow from its needles, a mountain stream formed from melting ice water trickling down from the cerulean mountains of Anlek flowed through the woods. A band of riders passed along the wide path through the forest, birds fluttered their wings and flew up among the branches on either side of the road, dropping a few feathers.
Nemeses was patrolling this area with her knights; most of the first batch of officer students from the Royal Knight Academy had already become competent knights. Behind her was Freya, who six months ago was still the naïve country girl, now dressed in knight’s armor, gradually presenting the air of a soldier—though she still tied her hair up, the mark on her forehead from a previous tournament still lingered, though it had faded considerably.
She wore the Lionheart Sword at her waist, and the princess had advised her not to draw it unless absolutely necessary, so she also carried a regular steel sword. The sight of a knightly girl carrying two swords might have seemed a bit silly, but Freya didn’t find anything wrong with it; every sword in the militia was a valuable asset, and if possible, she would probably carry a few more, as if that would bring her a sense of security.
This was akin to the psychology of someone who has always been poor and seizes every opportunity to save money; however, at least the knightly girl understood that carrying five or six swords was quite ridiculous, and besides, her horse couldn’t handle it.
During training at the academy, each person received a new sword every month due to the intense training, and not many took the effort to maintain their swords, resulting in most replacing eight or nine swords over the year. But every time Freya received her sword, she carefully placed it in a box under her bed for safekeeping; now she had six.
This was an old joke within the academy; when Nemeses found out about this, she dragged Freya to scold her soundly. Freya, horrified, honestly admitted that she intended to hand these swords over to the militias in Buche when she returned so they could better defend their homeland.
After a long silence upon hearing this answer, Nemeses remained noncommittal. The Valkyrie from Buche continued with her plans for the militia, a matter that had gained quite a bit of attention throughout the academy, even reaching the ears of the princess. However, once Freya became recognized by the Lionheart Sword, no one mentioned it again.
Today, Freya appeared a bit tense; it was her first time leaving the academy so far on a mission. Although she had faced real combat in Buche, the thought of someone as insignificant as herself bearing the responsibility to protect the princess made the future Valkyrie a bit nervous, feeling that even the slightest rustle could indicate an enemy.
Beside her, Nemeses was serious, though calm. The knight’s sharp gaze pierced through the forest on either side, and she finally noticed something was amiss nearby. She glanced at Freya and then looked again, unable to restrain herself from asking, “Freya, what are you doing?”
“Ah? Ah!” The girl finally reacted and hurriedly replied, “I’m… I’m here!”
“Is there something that warrants your nervousness?” the knight asked, not very graciously.
“I—I’m not… I’m not!” Her voice trembled.
The riders burst into laughter. Brensen couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement from behind. He had fought his way out of Buche alongside Brendel and Freya; although he hadn’t taken the same path as Brendel, he had also carved a bloody road through the guards. He had liked this girl back in Buche but ultimately realized her heart was not with him; now, after some training and growth, they were merely comrades—his previous hostility towards Brendel had also faded considerably.
After so many events, Brensen felt he had matured significantly. What seemed like shallow rivalry in the past now felt somewhat juvenile, as if youthful passion had transformed into another kind of profound feeling, becoming deeper and more steady, intertwined with the fate of the kingdom.
And beside him were mostly young people with similar thoughts.
The knights laughed, and even Nemeses couldn’t suppress her amusement. The knight’s expression softened somewhat; she didn’t understand why Freya always appeared fearful in front of her, as if she would swallow her at any moment. She shook her head and said, “Freya, you’re a soldier. You need to learn to be calm and composed. This is just a routine patrol; if you’re already this nervous at a routine patrol, what would happen if we were in a real battle?”
The knights burst into laughter again.
“If we were really in battle, I wouldn’t be so nervous,” Freya nodded quickly, but inwardly she muttered.
Yet, unexpectedly, Nemeses seemed to read her thoughts and continued, “Well, unlike the others here, you and Brensen have truly seen war. But there’s nothing to worry about; the princess is quite safe here. This is the temple’s promised neutral zone; no one dares to provoke conflict here.”
“Then why do we have to patrol every day?” one knight asked in confusion.
“This is to maintain the basic vigilance of a soldier. If as soldiers we don’t feel danger, then the kingdom we’re protecting is in danger,” Nemeses turned her head and coldly replied.
The knights paused, seemingly just beginning to grasp the point.
But Nemeses turned her head back, looking far into the depths of the forest. Here there was no war, but real war was just beginning somewhere else.
Behind the layers of overlapping forests, the villa of the viscount sat in a secluded mountain hollow. Margadale had arranged for the royalists to be settled here through the temple’s connections, receiving the host’s generous hospitality. Isolated from the bustling city, this place felt like another world compared to the nearby Ampere Seale—this nun princess understood the kind of place her close friend preferred, and given the current circumstances, she thought her friend needed some peace.
Grifian truly needed a moment of quiet. She silently watched as Duke Anlek’s carriage passed through the gate and slowly came to a stop in the courtyard surrounded by pines, from behind the second-floor window of the villa. This would be their first meeting, one that would determine the direction of the kingdom’s fate, but to put it nicely, she couldn’t truly dictate that fate—put more harshly, it was not within her power to choose.
The princess lowered her head, the silver tips of her hair cascading down to her cheeks. She was not very old, and there was a layer of lovely fine fuzz along her cheeks. But upon these fragile shoulders rested an unimaginable burden that others could hardly conceive. Grifian took out a letter from her bosom, examined it carefully one last time, and then tucked it away close to herself.
“I don’t know what you’re resisting, but I’m willing to fight for Erluin and people like you; you give me faith and strength, Sir Knight.”
The envoy from Duke Anlek had arrived late, and the arrogance of the nobles made her deeply aware of her own weakness. But anger was futile; this was not an era that could be changed by mere wishes. Grifian understood that she had to give up something.
She turned around and instructed her maid, “Tell Anlek that I don’t wish to see him today.”
“But?” The maid looked a bit anxious. The princess had never been capricious from a young age. Although she didn’t understand the politics of those powerful figures, she knew that her whim at such an important moment would likely anger certain people deeply. She couldn’t help but offer a cautious suggestion: “Lord Livwz and Lord Makarolo…”
But Grifian gave her a cold glance, with no trace of capriciousness or dissatisfaction in her silver eyes—only calmness.
“The envoy from Anlek arrives when he arrives, and delays when he delays. Where is the dignity of the royal family? I don’t mind meeting him, but if that’s his attitude, then such talks are better left undone. Convey my exact words to Earl Makarolo: starting today, I will not see Anlek’s envoy for a week.”
She paused, “A week later, we will meet in Ampere Seale.”
When she finished this statement, the childishness in her seemed to have completely faded away, and she had become the princess who would guide the fate of all players in Erluin.
The regent princess of Erluin—
The fate of the kingdom seemed to start to walk the original path anew at that very moment.
…
(Today I faced some writer’s block, but I persevered to write a chapter, trying to keep it consistent.) (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to vote for it with recommendations and monthly votes on Qidian (qidian.com); your support is my greatest motivation.)
