Chapter 559: Act 306 – The Furious Tide III
Even in the most bustling of worlds, there exists a quiet corner.
In a small room, the flickering light illuminated the scene as Merchant Miss leaned over the wooden bed, resting her chin on her crossed arms, her curious eyes rolling as she watched the seemingly sleeping Princess Margadale, occasionally poking her gently with her finger.
“Antinna, how can Miss Margadale be a doll? Look at her skin, it’s so soft and fun… and she’s so beautiful, Brendel must be lying, right?”
The aide sighed. Anyone familiar with Little Romain’s nature would know that her focus was on ‘fun’ rather than the latter part of her sentence; Antinna was holding a book of “Selections from Lockfish,” but her thoughts were entirely elsewhere, long gone to the heavy rain and the battlefield.
Amidst the glimmering blades and violent clashes, this day would be etched into the history of the harbor. But the sunrise the next day would surely illuminate that land.
Can we really win?
Antinna’s heart hung in suspense. She put down her book, silently removed her silver-framed glasses, and glanced outside. The harbor was engulfed in a fiery red hue. Amidst the sounds of wind and rain, there seemed to be a wailing, as if the ancestors of Erluin were crying out in the air—
Just those intermittent cries before death, not knowing if they belonged to family or friends from just moments ago.
“Be careful, don’t be too disrespectful to Princess Margadale… you, you’ve already been too disrespectful like this,” Antinna admonished as she watched Little Romain sneakily press her finger against the nearly perfect figure of the sleeping nun princess, unable to restrain her frustration.
“I know,” came the nonchalant reply.
Antinna glared at her.
Merchant Miss finally reined in her behavior, “Hmm, are you going out?”
“Yes, it’s too stuffy inside, it’s making me anxious.” Antinna shot a jealous glance at the nun princess on the bed, “And if Princess Margadale suddenly wakes up, don’t tell her anything.”
“But Brendel said she won’t wake up for a while.”
“I said if.”
Romain watched as Antinna left the room. Turning back, for a moment, she thought she saw the eyelids of the girl on the bed twitch slightly. After a few seconds, they twitched again.
This time, she saw it clearly.
Ah!
“Ant…” Merchant Miss immediately turned back to call out, but abruptly stopped.
This is Lord Romain’s doing. It’s better to wait a moment.
She thought to herself as she turned back. She studied the nun princess on the bed, Margadale seemed to be trapped in some nightmare, her delicate brows furrowed slightly, looking very weary, she struggled gently, murmuring some faint sounds.
Romain immediately grew curious and leaned forward, carefully bringing her ear close to the princess’s lips, finally hearing a few words: “How can this be, be careful…”
“Be careful…”
“Eh?” Merchant Miss suddenly stood up, ‘seriously’ thinking for a moment before placing her finger on the princess’s forehead: “Miss Margadale, are you dreaming? Let Little Romain help you calm your nightmares—”
A flicker of dim light occurred in the room.
…
The heavy rain interwove to create a hazy world outside the grand plaza of the Great Temple of Andefler. Black carriages passed through the curtain of rain, silently stopping before the temple’s main entrance.
The insignias on the carriages gleamed for a moment.
The pale lone wolf’s Victorkin, the mountains and eagles’ Anlek, the crescent lily of Kurkof Fortress, the flowing wind and flaming moon of Siphai, the long sword and black pine of Golan-Elsen, the black tower of Karasu.
The broken sword of Yan Fortress looked somewhat dim as well.
When Anlek disembarked, his expression was calm, flanked by the eagle, Dejyar, and the silver knight, Xivea. He raised his head, not far away Siphai Duke returned a slight smile, but the red-haired man among the Siphai royal entourage seemed to stand out like a crane among chickens.
“Flame-haired Nicolas, the sword master of the Siphai royalty, his strength surpasses that of Dejyar and the silver knight,” Brendel’s gaze shifted to another, “That old man wearing the purple robe, the mentor of the crown prince, ‘Wanderer’ Gherlok, a grand mage of Cruz, whose strength is on par with Livwz.”
“Earl Victorkin’s elder, an old general of the Black Blade Legion, is praised as the ‘Unshakable Sword’ Nigel. While he is not a sword master, he possesses almost the strength of a primal element. Generally, people consider him to be at the stage of elemental manifestation.”
“Victorkin once served him as a page in his youth, furthermore, Victorkin himself also possesses the strength of a golden rank.”
Brendel glanced around and noticed that the White Lion Legion’s Marshal Baltar and Admiral Yanilasu were surprisingly still, unable to refrain from frowning. Yet still, the scene was filled with elite forces.
Including the head of the Highland Knights, almost all the strong men of the Erluin Elemental Realm had gathered here. Below golden rank, they were as numerous as the stars. The strength of a nation was undoubtedly displayed here.
And what kind of scene was the Cruz Empire? Except for Brendel, perhaps everyone present couldn’t imagine.
“Do you know them all?” Dierphir beside him couldn’t help but ask out of curiosity.
“Just a nodding acquaintance,” Brendel replied.
As he answered, the crowd entered the temple, still the Locksh Palace—
This place was historically, and would continue to leave a bold stroke of colors; before stepping into this magnificent palace built in the year 277 of the First Era, Brendel couldn’t help but glance upward.
On the archway, the vibrant mural depicting the King of Flames driving out the Minren in the final battle sparkled, the renowned holy sword shone brilliantly. The sages aspired to sweep away all darkness, but did their descendants possess such spirit?
Probably not.
The main hall was silent—
The temple, contrary to its usual state, saw High Priest Merros push the door open first, glancing around without a word. Two senior priests walked to the center of the hall beside him, and everyone held their breath:
Something significant must have occurred!
Brendel lifted his head, squinting, only to see Anlek with no expression, while Duke Siphai seemed at ease, smiling quietly at his niece across from him.
Princess Grifian appeared calm, yet the members of the royal faction beside her wore solemn expressions.
The two parties had clearly drifted apart.
Merros paused slightly, his stern face showing no hint of emotion. He slowly raised his head, “Martha above, must be pleased that her people possess the yearning and pursuit of peace; for whether Cruz people or Erluin people, at least it proves the descendants of the King of Flames still uphold justice—”
“However,” he shifted his tone, growing cold, “Ampere Seale is now shrouded in darkness, and the temple is powerless, even allowing nefarious little minions to thrive in discord!”
“Before coming to this place, I received news—alleging that among those present, some are colluding with Goat-Faced Cultists. But I refuse to believe the noble kin of Erluin has fallen to such a level; I hope that before the meeting begins, someone will stand up to prove their innocence!”
As High Priest Merros’s words echoed, the hall erupted in chaos.
A hubbub of discussions broke out momentarily. Everyone was curiously glancing around as if trying to identify the traitor hiding among the nobles.
Only Brendel coldly watched the northern group, Siphai Duke, Julian, and Victorkin, who wore satisfied expressions, while Anlek looked indifferent, as if it had nothing to do with him.
The north was already a solidified bloc.
Brendel turned around and found the southern group of green-clad knights still unmoved, seemingly content to watch the changes unfold.
Among them, only Makarolo looked disdainful, while Livwz appeared as solemn as water. “Despicable!” Brendel caught a muffled accusation from the Countess.
“Mr. Makarolo, you know who I’m talking about.”
Merros’s gaze suddenly shifted toward the royal faction.
“Ah!” Someone in the crowd gasped, as if they had predicted something.
“Utter nonsense.” Makarolo responded coldly. He frowned slightly, the temple’s actions had come a little too early for his expectations, leaving him feeling somewhat passive.
But as the other side pressed relentlessly, did they already prepare for a war?
The Black Blade Legion was still at the Gray Mountain frontline, and only a vanguard had reached Ampere Seale. What made them so confident?
“I also know this is nonsense, but since it is nonsense, I hope Mr. Makarolo can expose the lie here and return us the truth.”
“We must know, Erluin nobles cannot be slandered.”
Merros calmly replied.
“Well, although it isn’t necessary, it’s merely a matter of raising my hand,” Makarolo coldly responded, “But before proving my innocence, may I ask, since the high priest said this, do you have any evidence?”
“Of course.”
“To be precise, what I have is not evidence, but a witness,” Merros added.
An uproar erupted.
Brendel slightly raised his eyebrows—there was indeed a traitor in the royal faction! He thought immediately.
Sure enough, Makarolo and the others turned pale with shock and anger, they had been fighting against the old nobility for years, yet had never had a traitor arise within.
It wasn’t just Makarolo.
Everyone present was slightly astonished; the royal faction were nearly all capable figures, and it was even rumored that ‘there are only fallen royals, no surrendered royals.’ Who would turn traitorous, causing everyone to look toward the southernmost end of the royal faction.
But just as they turned their gaze, a figure stepped out from behind Merros.
It was him.
Brendel was both surprised and enlightened.
“Viscount Begning!” The half-elf maiden stood up suddenly, looking at the young man before her with an expression as if she’d never seen him before. Her face remained calm, but her clenched, trembling fists spoke volumes.
“I… where’s my brother!”
Princess exclaimed, taking a deep breath and almost biting out these words.
But Begning merely glanced at her, ignoring the fuming Makarolo beside him. He raised his head and faced everyone:
“It is well known that I once adored Princess, even betraying my family. Yet even so, I cannot condone the royal faction colluding with cultists, nor would I wish to see the Princess land in that abyss.”
Each word hit sharply, and the hall fell silent. The gathered crowd had already managed to discern how things had come to this, and couldn’t help but be relieved they hadn’t crossed Siphai’s family.
So ruthless.
Brendel clicked his tongue; historically, this Viscount had never been mentioned as having betrayed the royal faction, and instead received praise for his devotion to love. This man truly possessed remarkable patience.
He was astonished inside but felt a vague sense of relief; at least letting the royal faction get stabbed in the back was better than being the one stabbed in the back, wasn’t it?
Yet the bigger trouble was on the horizon. If he remembered correctly, the little prince was taken by the other side, which was problematic. And even bigger troubles were ahead.
He suddenly noticed Begning turning to look at him.
What does this guy want to do?
“Count, this Brendel beside you is likely not your aide, right?” As Brendel’s thoughts were racing, Viscount Begning had already coldly addressed Dierphir.
“Ah…”
Dierphir froze, she had never expected the battlefield would come right to her side. According to Brendel, they should be assisting the princess in leaving Ampere Seale, which was also the task of the Swordbearer family.
Not directly facing these messy issues—
Begning didn’t expect her to answer; getting her to show that surprised expression was enough. He continued to press with questions, “Mr. Brendel, my earliest information indicates you come from Buche, claiming to be of Highland Knights. Then you committed treason in Toniger, killing the local lord and inciting chaos.”
“And another truth is, your real identity is a Goat-Faced Cultist, intertwined with the Everything Returns Society. And now you are conspiring with the royal faction to seize the power of this kingdom, am I wrong?”
The viscount slightly raised his chin: “Whether it’s true or false, actually doesn’t need an answer. We just need to ask the noble knights from Karasu; are you truly that so-called descendant of the Highland Knights, where does your noble identity even come from, and all will be revealed.”
Brendel’s brows furrowed.
The other side was well prepared…
Although he wasn’t too scared of being exposed, after all, after today, the identity of the troublemaker would be solidified. Yet he couldn’t help but turn around and look at those true knights from the mountains and plateaus.
After being a counterfeit for over a year, facing the real ones inevitably made him feel uneasy.
Begning smiled confidently, turning to the direction of the Highland Knights’ leader, “Respected leader, it’s said your word is your bond, adhering to the knightly creed. We believe you would never lie, so let you tell everyone the truth.”
It must be said, Begning had a way with words; the leader of the Highland Knights smiled slightly. He indeed was an old-school knight. The Highland Knights had been passed down through his family, and the chivalric spirit had almost been ingrained in his bones.
This grand leader lifted his head—appearing from afar to be just an ordinary middle-aged man, but Brendel recognizing this man named Bud Norbert couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.
The title of Steel Knight wasn’t given without merit.
This seemingly amiable uncle had a reputation in Karasu, historically, the number of commanders of Madara who had died at his hands could be counted in double digits.
And it was also because of him that Madara gained no considerable advantage in the first Black Rose War on Karasu.
This big uncle also smiled slightly at Brendel but his gaze shifted behind him:
“Charles, is that you?” he asked earnestly.
A murmur rippled through the hall.
…
(PS: Where lies the truth…?) (To be continued. If you like this work, please come to Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
