Chapter 552: Act 300, Part IV
Princess Grifian seemed to have truly untied her inner knot. Under her arrangements, everything regained its orderliness. Observing the once again sharp and capable princess, Mister Brendel quietly sighed in relief. Although the rarely seen side of the princess showing hesitation and helplessness was touching, he preferred the appearance of the princess before him now.
Perhaps because it was more genuine and closer to his mental image of her.
But Mister Brendel did not let his guard down. While the princess had temporarily pulled herself together, this couldn’t change the fact that they were still surrounded by difficulties and danger. At least until everything was well-arranged, Mister Brendel knew that the princess’s faction still had an unavoidable issue to deal with.
He did not intend to bring it up, preferring to wait for someone else to address it. Overwell, who was present, was astute, and Black-haired Lady Knight Nemeses didn’t seem like someone who would shy away from confrontation. There was no need for him to play the part of the overly clever one.
However, every time Mister Brendel looked in that direction, his gaze was irresistibly drawn to the black-haired knight. Lady Nemeses stood quietly, emanating an aura that felt very familiar to him.
Familiar yet strange.
The room fell silent for a moment, and Nemeses naturally noticed the young man’s eyes constantly on her. Whenever she turned around, she saw him quickly averting his gaze.
“Hmph.” The black-haired knight slightly furrowed her brows. Not far from her, the half-elf maiden seemed methodically taking care of every task. She glanced back—towards Overwell. The once sharp-tongued Sir Wolf said nothing, and Nemeses understood it as a hint for her to speak.
“Your Highness, how do we handle His Highness Prince Haruz?”
A short while later, her calm inquiry seemed to strike a nerve with Princess Erluin of the future, the girl stiffened, and Brendel noticed her slender fingers faintly trembling.
This was an unavoidable question. Even during their time at the Knight Academy, the Young Prince’s daily life had been in the hands of the Royal faction, what once seemed like protection had now become surveillance and control. Now her younger brother was firmly in the hands of the Royalists, and both Makarolo and Count Bal were individuals of great prowess. Taking him back would not be an easy task.
“Of course we need to rescue him; he must not become their bargaining chip,” but how to rescue him was the question. The princess frowned deeply—currently, the only force under her command was a cavalry unit made up of young cadets who had yet to finish their studies, their number being less than half that of the Royal Knight Corps.
Besides, outwardly, the princess had not yet publicly parted ways with the Royalists. Both sides could be said to have no room for retreat. Should the Royalists lose their final leverage, they might even turn towards the Temple of Fire. Though the likelihood was small, she had to consider it.
A large silence enveloped the spacious room.
“Perhaps old me should make a trip,” Overwell responded. “If it doesn’t work, we might call upon the Knight of the Lake; perhaps…”
“I will attempt to persuade Freya,” Nemeses answered calmly. There was not a trace of anxiety on her face, cool and composed like a sculpture.
The last time the Knight of the Lake displayed their strength, it was likely second only to the might Mister Brendel himself had witnessed at the Loop of Trade Winds. Thus, it was understandable why Overwell thought of him. However, although the Lionhearted holy sword was still in Freya’s hands, it seemed that the Knight of the Lake merely protected her, the future Valkyrie, but didn’t necessarily follow her commands.
In truth, Overwell probably wasn’t unaware of this fact, but at the moment, the princess’s side truly had no better alternative.
Brendel shook his head, finally unable to hold back his interjection, “I fear that won’t work, Overwell. Actually, abducting the prince isn’t difficult, just adjust the schedule.”
“Adjust the schedule?” Everyone present was momentarily surprised.
“I propose we not depart too early, ideally after the noble conference begins,” Brendel answered. “Departing earlier or later makes no difference anyway. Even if we leave now, there’ll be a jungle of blades and fire, making leaving the venue no less perilous.”
“Besides—,” he paused but was interrupted by the princess, her eyes lighting with comprehension. “Besides, the most dangerous place can be the safest. If we were to escape, we wouldn’t pick the conference grounds. Because of this mindset, it’s likely we’d find breaking out easier at such a time.”
“Of course, we don’t have to force an escape from the venue. We could choose a time period either before entering or exiting the Saint Ampere Temple. That would be the moment when their vigilance would be the lowest.”
“And the key is, if we go to the conference, Makarolo et al. will let down their guard, assuming Princess does not have the courage to confront them,” Overwell nodded.
Everyone present was intelligent. Mister Brendel realizing this point beforehand wasn’t to say he was superior, but he stood as an outsider, even outside of this history. He more clearly understood what would happen at the upcoming conference. Meanwhile, the princess’s faction faced more fear about the unknown future. Who knew whether the Temple of Fire would threaten them the next time they met.
But Mister Brendel’s revelation made everyone present suddenly realize.
“Then, let’s settle on the time right after the conference ends. The Royal Party has a battle with Duke Siphai to prepare for, we can watch from the sidelines,” In an instant, the ability to grasp the situation seemed to return to the princess. She lightly smiled, a touch of mockery in her tone: “The Temple of Fire is likely to not take action in the immediate future. After all, they still need to wait for the Northern allied forces to arrive, don’t they?”
“Since we are attending the noble conference, could you, Mister Brendel, escort his highness the prince out of the manor?”
Calling it an escort, in truth, it was akin to a blatant snatch. But Mister Brendel shook his head, “This selection isn’t suitable for me. First, I don’t know the prince. Second, this time around, the army under Princess might not be enough. And I have a force in Erlin now that I will personally command to assist the princess’s breakout.”
All present took this statement with interest and looked up at Mister Brendel. They hadn’t expected this ‘knight of the princess’ to have brought an entire army here. Of course, Mister Brendel’s current apparent identity is the royal ‘agent,’ thus, naturally, this achievement would be credited to the princess.
Overwell couldn’t help but re-evaluate his student. Could she really have foreseen such a situation?
Only Princess Grifian’s eyes sparkled with admiration.
…
“Princess wishes Viscount Begning to escort Prince Haruz?”
Thunder and storms were gathering above the city, with clouds resembling a canvas painted in shades of gray and black, layers merging as colors spread along rain streaks, storm clouds transforming shapes.
Rainwater cascaded down from the tiles.
The heavy rain quickly formed silver streams; beads of water rolled off the eaves to create fine rivulets. Fortunately, the oiled cloth cloak resisted soaking. Freya turned around, her grayish-brown eyes sparkling in the night, her pale skin glowing faintly, like polished jade.
Mister Brendel nodded.
The Viscount Begning he knew was the youngest son of Duke Siphai, drawn to the princess through unrequited admiration, standing by this faction. This man did not have great renown in history. Later, he seemed to become the head of the Siphai family, nothing more. However, Viscount Begning was both loyal to the princess and free from Royal Party influences, making him the perfect person for this task. Yet, Mister Brendel vaguely felt uncomfortable, could it be jealousy?
“I heard…” Freya hesitated.
“What did you hear?” Mister Brendel turned to look at her. In this future Valkyrie, a bit of youthful innocence had waned, yet some of the stubbornness from her time as a militia captain in Buche remained.
“I heard Viscount Begning adores your highness. He was originally Duke Siphai’s youngest son. His arrival here represents his betrayal of his own family. I imagine your highness’s trust in him has its reasons.”
Mister Brendel acknowledged this with a noncommittal ‘hmm.’
He understood that the princess, even in her youth, harbored affection but chose to present herself as resolute. The family she represented, Corvado, and the house Viscount Begning hailed from, Siphai, could never join. But possibly, Viscount Begning had once won the heart of the princess.
Torrential rain soaked the earth, occasional lightning occasionally illuminating the heavens, blending the world into a white expanse. The Grand Temple of Andere stood silently in the rain, its architecture silent as a wall adorned with statues of gargoyles and dragons, each piece an invaluable artistic treasure.
The two hid in an alley one street away from the temple; it was just a little time until the rendezvous with Margadale.
He claimed to steal a figurehead, but in fact, was here merely to meet with Margadale. With the sea monster in his possession, he saw no necessity to complicate matters at this tumultuous time.
Beside him, Freya was slightly envious. Young girls usually lacked resistance to such romantic tales. Viscount Begning’s act was indeed audacious in this era, a nobleman betraying his own family to chase his love—a knightly tale if there ever was one.
When Freya displayed her youthful side, she was indeed quite adorable. Mister Brendel involuntarily scrutinized this future Valkyrie. He realized he could only remain natural before Miss Romaine and Miss Freya, as if being able to relax.
Speaking of forsaking all for ideals, this Valkyrie was indeed a similar person. Just like him, she was striving for the future of both the Valkyrie and the kingdom.
Just for a different history.
When Freya turned back, she was startled by his expression, “Is there something on my face?”
“No, nothing.” Mister Brendel quickly shook his head.
“Princess Margadale hasn’t appeared yet?” Freya didn’t detect his internal commotion but asked, always the impatient one.
Mister Brendel glanced at the time—it was perfect—yet when he looked up at the temple’s back entrance, no one had shown up. This made him frown. Typically, those meeting were very time-conscious unless something unusual had occurred, rarely would anyone be late.
Besides, Margadale Princess didn’t seem like someone to be careless.
A flicker of unease crossed his mind.
“Isn’t there some issue, Mister Brendel?” Freya noticed the clue.
“The agreed time has passed.”
She frowned slightly, “Could Princess Margadale have run into trouble?”
“Possibly.” Mister Brendel could only speculate.
“What should we do?”
Mister Brendel’s brow furrowed into a ‘川’ shape. He didn’t need the artifact of the prow. He could come for that any time. Actually, the contents of the letter passed from the new High Priest Merros to Wood, after getting the news from the North, almost could be guessed at seven out of ten. The meeting with Margadale was merely a confirmation.
The safest option was to turn around and leave. But Mister Brendel felt uneasy, as if walking away without saying a word would be a betrayal to Princess Margadale possibly encountering trouble within the Andere Grand Temple.
Like abandoning comrades, Mister Brendel believed he couldn’t do such a thing.
“Mister Brendel, should we go inside to find her?” Freya whispered, “Margadale is a friend of the princess…”
“Yeah, how do you plan to get in?”
“I don’t know, but we can try, can’t we? We’ll figure something out.”
That was too naive, indeed the simple-minded woman hadn’t changed. Mister Brendel shook his head, “No need,” before Freya could glare at him, he added, “I agree, follow me—”
… (To be continued. If you like this work, please visit qidian.com to cast your recommendation and monthly votes. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
