Chapter 640: Act 3 – The Future of Erluin
As soon as the Young Female Dragon left, Brendel finally regained his freedom. He hurriedly created a water sphere and splashed it on his face; the cold temperature calmed his racing blood, allowing him to grab a coat and rush outside.
Upon exiting, he saw Antinna seated on a stone chair, reading a geography book, although her mind was clearly elsewhere.
“The Princess seems to be very angry,” the attendant, seeing Brendel come out, lowered the book and asked with concern. “It’s nothing,” Brendel sighed, “Where’s Alorze?”
“Are you referring to that lady from the dragon race? I haven’t seen her; did she leave?”
“No, forget it.” Brendel turned around to chase after her. “Wait,” the attendant stood up and grabbed him, noticing her lord’s confused expression, she carefully reminded him, “Fix your attire, my lord.”
Brendel was not one to care much for formal dress, having thrown on just a coat to come out. Antinna blushed at his disheveled appearance and reached out to adjust his collar.
Brendel had made no fuss in Toniger; if it weren’t for his displayed demeanor, one might doubt his noble status. Though commoners would not possess such breadth of knowledge. In fact, he typically relied on Flour for daily affairs—this careless Merchant Miss was always a bit scatterbrained herself, let alone taking on the responsibilities of a lord’s fiancée—thus the elder sister of the Wild Elf duo had often been nicknamed ‘the head maid of Lord Brendel’ by mercenaries.
If Flour were the head maid, then Antinna’s role was more akin to that of a butler. She arranged Brendel’s collar, gently brushing off the dust from his black velvet attire, slightly annoyed, saying, “If only my lord would pay more attention to his dignity.”
Brendel never thought of dignity as an inherent trait, nor did he care much about it. It wasn’t the first time Antinna had helped him tidy up; to be honest, he couldn’t tell the difference between his appearance before and after her adjustments and felt it was an unnecessary effort. However, he did not refuse her help and asked,
“Antinna, how long was I unconscious?”
“We have been in Ampere Seale for half a month, my lord,” the attendant said as she buttoned his chest and glanced around, satisfied with her work.
“That’s so long!” Brendel was taken aback; he thought he had only been out for two or three days. “What happened after I fainted? What about Duke Siphai and his henchmen?”
“The Duke is dead.”
“Ha!?” This news caught Brendel completely off guard; he never imagined that one of the most pivotal figures in Erluin’s history had died.
He paused momentarily before asking, “Antinna, what exactly happened after I fainted? Tell me about the battle in detail.”
……
Countless demons seemed to surge forth from the darkness, as if caught in an endless, unending nightmare. The rain fell in torrents, with lightning cutting through the downpour, sketching shimmering silver chains across the heavens and earth.
Princess Grifian’s face was pale—
“Mr. Stephen… cough cough… the princess is entrusted to you.”
“Mr. Reld, I promise you, on my knight’s honor.”
“No, Sir Reld! I order you not to do this; I want to stay here!” In that nightmare, she screamed. But the stern old knight grabbed her shoulders and hurled her away. She flew weightlessly above the heads of the demons, her last view fading on that noble lion of the kingdom, looking valiantly northward through the rain.
That ice and snow-covered plateau was the honor of the White Lion.
It was the battlefield where countless White Lions had found eternal rest, sleeping among the spirits of generations. Perhaps every knight eventually returned to their homeland, but only the White Lions would forever protect this land.
This was an age-old legend; they swore under the sword and walked the path of their vows.
The kingdom’s noble lion was scarred all over his armor, but the rain quickly washed away the bloodstains. Princess Grifian was already in tears as Knight Stephen held her hand, carving a bloody path through the demonic army.
“Why wouldn’t you let me die there? My people are there!” She recalled shouting as if she had lost her mind.
But Stephen turned back to look at her. “I am not from Erluin, Your Highness. But if everyone falls here, your kingdom will one day repeat this mistake.”
“Please cherish your life; you are not living for yourself.”
Indeed.
Princess Grifian quickly walked out of the temple, taking a few hurried steps before slowing down. Suddenly she stopped, standing on the snowy marble staircase, letting out a faint sigh. Indeed, what was she getting angry about? She had even lost her usual calmness and grace.
“Your Highness, please watch your step,” the lady-in-waiting following behind reminded, panting. “Temptress, let’s wait here for the Count to come out.” Princess Grifian sighed, turning back to reply.
“What’s wrong?”
The princess remained silent. The pure white temple square reflected the light, a bit blinding. She squinted her beautiful eyes, her pupils like silver threads. The lady-in-waiting quickly noticed her princess seemed to be in a trance.
For this princess, such moments were rare.
Grifian was indeed dazed. Her gaze crossed the distant horizon as if she had returned to that battlefield beneath the same azure sky. The clash of blades, iron, and blood intertwined into a heavy long poem.
Perhaps dying on that battlefield at that time would have been a release. However, those who lived onward would bear an even heavier burden, even inheriting the sorrow from the dead.
But the living had no right to choose. She pressed her lips together—too many had already died.
The previous commander of the White Lion army, the kingdom’s noble lion, the Highlander’s sword Reld was dead. In a war triggered by a civil conflict.
Duke Siphai was dead as well, the one she once hated with gritted teeth. He was the first wielder of the Titan, killed at the hands of the Merchant Miss, leaving no remains. When she heard this news, she had thought she would be happy, but she felt no excitement.
Marquis Baltar, Marquis Julian, Earl Victorkin, the master swordsman Dejyar from the Anlek Clan, the kingdom’s chief wizard Livwz—regardless of the factions they belonged to in life, the dead were all Erluin people.
Even many royal knight academy cadets whose names could not be recorded—no one knew what kind of story lay behind the nameless corpses on the battlefield, no one knew how their closest friends grieved behind them.
Only when she held Bud’s lifeless body and cried out in despair did Freya feel that cold, piercing pain.
That was enough.
This civil war had to come to an end.
But the northern nobles were still stirring, having lost the security of the Siphai family, the future situation became even more chaotic. Duke Anlek’s whereabouts were unknown, but he would likely not sit still. Count Rendener’s attitude was ambiguous, and the two other dukes might be waiting to carve up a share of the current chaos.
On the surface, Erluin seemed to be undergoing a rebirth after the great war, but in truth, it had already reached the edge of the cliff. Princess Grifian suddenly realized helplessly that perhaps the previous situation was a bit better.
At least the kingdom wouldn’t be facing the danger of fragmentation.
She didn’t know how she had spent the past half a month; the Silver Elf army was still stationed in Ampere Seale. The dragon race’s formidable reputation had deterred all factions from daring to act. Turiman’s arrival had further clarified the situation in Ampere Seale, but she understood that all these seemingly unrelated terms were connected because of that person.
That person with the title of ‘Miracle.’
She suddenly realized that the entire fate of Erluin was actually in one person’s hands. But this person was neither her nor her younger brother.
……
“You’re saying that Duke Siphai was killed by Romaine with one punch? Hmph, he got what he deserved,” Brendel felt a rush of relief; half of the future downfall of Erluin could be laid at this guy’s feet. If he was seeking power for himself, that would be understandable. But he never expected this guy to be a cultist.
Thinking that the tragic fate of the future princess and Valkyrie was merely the result of a madcap plan by a cult made him furious.
But he quickly fell silent; what truly worried him was Antinna’s condition. During their previous discussion, he had carefully inquired about the attendant’s ‘resurrection’ on the battlefield, but neither she nor anyone else could explain what had happened.
He began to suspect the influence of the demon artifact obtained on the battlefield, but after Antinna produced that item, it was quickly ruled out. Although he still couldn’t figure out what it was, Brendel could tell at a glance that it seemed sealed, and could not have any effect.
Moreover, Antinna herself proved she did not possess any healing abilities; her blood was the normal red of a human, indicating no golden or silver lineage. Additionally, her wound healing time was identical to that of normal people.
But such a situation started to make Brendel uneasy. He knew of some special powers that could induce resurrection, but none of them were reassuring. Some even came at the cost of one’s lifespan.
However, Brendel did not disclose this information to his attendant. It could be considered a kindness, a lie; he was determined to investigate it thoroughly himself.
“Got what he deserved?” Antinna lifted her head upon hearing Brendel’s words.
“It means to have it coming,” Brendel explained. The attendant shot him an intense glare: “My lord, don’t keep inventing strange phrases; you’ll be laughed at. You clearly understand so much yet always prefer to use colloquialisms.”
“Only commoners would say things like that.”
“That’s not something I made up,” Brendel couldn’t help but chuckle. Having dreamily crossed into this world for more than a year, some colloquial terms were hard to change. Especially idioms with historical backgrounds—most would be viewed as the jargon of country bumpkins except for a few that overlapped with the Jiufeng setting.
But there was nothing to be done about it. While people could quickly adapt to their environment in a short period, they couldn’t alter deeply ingrained habits. He had lived in this world for a year, spent seventeen years in the game, and had lived thirty full years in another world.
Nonetheless, Duke Siphai was dead, a historically significant family had fallen into disarray. The north was now emboldened in the absence of this powerful force’s restraint. No wonder the princess had rushed to find him.
He had not anticipated that such a famous figure in history would die just like that. Then there was Marquis Julian, Earl Victorkin, and even Marquis Baltar and Master Livwz. Livwz died in an attack by another Demon King but saved the entire crew of the royal flagship, the Victory.
One of Erluin’s three heroes, Enlock, was also dead. Brendel recalled that mischievous young man who smiled like Kargris and sighed. He had sworn to protect them, the future of this kingdom.
“Berging actually sent the Young Prince back,” Brendel gritted his teeth, “Did he think he could be forgiven for that?”
“No, in fact, Prince Haruze wasn’t sent back by him,” Antinna helped him adjust the buttons on his sleeves, stepping back with a sigh of relief: “All done, my lord.”
“Thank you, Antinna.” Brendel asked, “What exactly happened?”
“I heard it was a Medusa that brought him back; I’m not entirely sure, maybe you could ask the Princess,” seeing Brendel about to open his mouth, the attendant quickly interrupted, “Alright, let’s not keep the Princess waiting too long, my lord—you’re already a Count of the kingdom now.”
“What? Count? Then where is my territory?” Brendel paused slightly, this was completely unexpected. He had not cared about it before, but suddenly he blurted out a question upon hearing it.
“Earl of Toniger, my lord.”
“That’s not much of a difference,” Brendel said sourly.
Then he was met with a fierce glare.
……
Brendel had just stepped out of the temple—the reconstruction of the Grand Temple of Andelfler was only halfway done—and he saw the collapsed walls and towering scaffolds he passed by were all the doing of Charles, of course, Brendel would never admit that—then he spotted the Princess waiting outside.
“Your Highness.”
Princess Grifian turned around, saw his attire, and nodded in satisfaction. “How is the Earl’s health?”
“It’s bearable… Your Highness…” Before Brendel could finish, Princess Grifian interrupted: “Mr. Brendel, the northern nobles are planning to support my brother for the throne. The Temple of Fire also intends to facilitate peace talks between us and the north; what do you think about this matter?”
Brendel was stunned; wasn’t this a good thing? But he immediately realized, “They must have conditions, right?”
“No, they made no conditions; they just hope we promise to maintain the status quo of the kingdom.” Princess Grifian replied quietly. Brendel fell silent; the kingdom maintaining the status quo? Which status quo? This half-dead status quo?
This was unacceptable for both him and the princess.
The northern nobles still wished to maintain the semi-independent status since the reign of Ain VII; Brendel felt these guys were really dreaming.
He set aside his previous jestful demeanor and coldly asked, “If we disagree, will they revolt? Will the Temple of Fire back these people?”
The princess shook her head: “I’m afraid not, but even so, it is unacceptable. The north is facing the threat of war… Reld… the old commander handed the White Lion army over to you. You should know this, right?”
“What!” Brendel nearly jumped up: “He entrusted the White Lion army to me? Would others agree?”
He suddenly halted. Marquis Baltar was dead, and Reld also fell on the battlefield; if this was truly the lion’s legacy, then perhaps the White Lion army would indeed fall into his hands.
This was good news.
But it was not entirely so—
……
(PS: Wuwu, first of all, thank you, Your Highness, for the recommendation. However… tomorrow I just happen to have somewhere to go, wuwu, may the gods protect me, may my home be safe. If by any chance I don’t return, QAQ…) (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please feel free to support it at Qidian (qidian.com) with recommendations and monthly tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)
