Chapter 65: Act 1 – The Burning City
The gaze returned to the year of flourishing flowers and summer leaves, early in the morning of June 2nd.
With the guidance of Sue, the bar owner’s daughter, Freya soon arrived at 51 Bonohan Market. She glanced outside; even at this early hour, the largest trading market in Ridenburg still had numerous people. Fire pits were lit here and there, casting bright lights that provided a slight sense of reassurance.
As she was about to step forward, Sue, the girl with braided hair, suddenly grabbed her hand: “Don’t go, there are people hiding in the alley.”
This girl stood at the junction of light and shadow, one hand resting on the wall, watching vigilantly outside.
“Is it the guards?” Freya asked in surprise.
“I don’t know, but there are two unfamiliar faces over there, definitely not from this district,” Sue shook her head and answered quietly.
Freya felt the hilt of her sword against her lips, hesitating nervously for a moment. At this time, the people appearing in Bonohan Market were mostly soldiers from the White-maned Legion; she suspected that they had indeed found Hood. But did they recognize him? Should she knock on the door or not?
The future Valkyrie furrowed her brow, suddenly recalling what Brendel had told her:
“If you discover signs of the army, don’t worry. As long as they’re uncertain of our relationship, they won’t act rashly. They also wish to have an opportunity to capture us all at once.”
Thinking of this, Freya took a deep breath. She turned back and asked, “Sue, can you answer me some questions?”
“Sure.”
“Let me ask you, do you know how to tell if someone is lying?”
The dark-skinned girl smiled: “Because I often help out at the bar, is that why you asked?”
Freya’s face flushed as she realized her thoughts had been seen through. She had indeed chosen Sue for her much richer experiences and insights. During their previous conversations, she and others had naively believed that the nobles would save them, but Sue had pointed out the essence of things in just a few words.
Thus, in her mind, this slightly aloof girl was a very sharp and opinionated individual.
“It’s okay, I occasionally help others out too,” Sue smiled: “Freya, look at me.”
“Uh?”
“Your friend who said Ridenburg will be breached, what’s his name?”
Freya was taken aback, unsure why this girl suddenly brought up that question. She felt a jolt of panic, her gaze involuntarily flickering: “B-Bendel.”
Sue’s gaze shifted slightly: “You have feelings for him, don’t you?”
“N-No, it’s not like that! Bendel… he likes Romaine.”
“Eyes, look at me, Freya,” Sue leveled her gaze at Freya, her deep brown eyes calm as still water: “Who is Romaine?”
Freya’s face felt like it was on fire, and she didn’t dare look at Sue. Her eyes were restless, fumbling to explain but unsure where to start. She felt like the biggest fool, wishing desperately to find a crack in the ground to hide in.
“Got it?” Sue asked.
“Y-Yeah,” Freya lowered her head and nodded vigorously.
She took a deep breath, gripping her sword, wanting to step out, but then quickly turned back to grab Sue’s arm: “Sue, can you wait for me here?”
Sue was startled but nodded. Freya suddenly felt a bit nonsensical, yet she felt that having Sue by her side gave her the same confidence as Bendel.
Then she stepped out of the alley, pretending not to notice the vague gazes around her, and walked straight to 51 Bonohan Market. She raised her hand—hesitating for a moment, Freya felt at least two sharp gazes land on her back, but she ultimately steeled herself and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock—the knocking echoed in her heart. Freya waited for a brief moment before the door creaked open. A stooped man appeared, bald, with an age that was hard to discern. He looked shocked upon seeing Freya, instinctively retracting his gaze.
“After you find that textile merchant named Hood, don’t reveal your identity right away. Give him some time, and invite him to the bar to meet us. You need to pay attention to his reaction to figure out if he’s reliable,”
“Freya, look at me.”
Freya caught the slight change in the man’s expression immediately, Brendel’s and Sue’s words ringing in her mind, causing her heart to chill.
“Who are you, and what do you want from me?” the short man stammered after a moment of confusion.
Freya was silent for about a second, just looking at him coldly. Then, as the short man was about to step back, she swiftly drew her sword and pressed it against his neck, her gaze slightly darkening.
Before the man could react, the situation suddenly changed. Sue noticed several people on the street instinctively moving. But they quickly calmed down and resumed their previous state—the movements were so subtle that only the girl hiding around the corner could witness everything.
Freya had no idea what was happening behind her; she just tried to calm herself while holding the sword and said in a steady tone, “Are you one of the witch’s accomplices?”
“Don’t kill me! It was them that—uh… the witch?” The short man, frightened by the sudden threat, fell to the ground and only then realized what the cold-faced ponytailed girl had asked.
At this moment, Freya thought of Brendel’s wizard apprentice and the words of the young man named Charles:
“Your aunt knows quite a lot. There’s a secret among wizards in this world, a book called ‘Dark Epic’, detailing events that happened over countless ages…”
“But not necessarily. Those related to magic. Some rural witches also know some rumors about this.”
In truth, she hadn’t expected herself to respond so quickly before drawing the sword, or one might say her mind was in a state of clarity. She spoke coldly: “You should call her ‘Jennie.’ Forget it… that’s not important. First, let’s teach you a lesson.”
As she spoke, she raised the sword, and the man named Hood immediately cried out, “Wait! No, no, my lord, I have nothing to do with her… No, I mean I’m not one of her party. I mean she’s just a distant relative—!”
“Oh?”
“Really! You have to believe me! She only comes to the city occasionally to collect goods—yes! She’s a witch! She does collect some odd things—right! She lives in Buche, with her niece!”
Freya looked at the man, suppressing her disgust. She lifted him with one hand: “But my informant told me she came into the city a few days ago. You best not deceive me! As a wizard, I can extract your memory at any time!”
The little merchant, already paralyzed by the sword at his neck, completely missed the flaw in Freya’s words: “I tell you, she left Ridenburg for the north two days ago.”
Freya scrutinized his eyes and then disgustedly threw the guy aside. She took a deep breath but then heard Sue whistling at the corner of the alley. She realized her commotion had drawn the attention of those people, and she needed to get out of here quickly.
But she didn’t expect Aunt Jennie wasn’t here; she went north? The north was Bruglas—what was she going there for? But this man didn’t seem like he was lying.
She grit her teeth, momentarily uncertain.
*
The afternoon sunlight spilled into the room from the arched floor-to-ceiling windows of the castle, illuminating the space decorated in soft hues. A girl clad in a silver princess gown sat by a small Rococo-style round table, resting in a standard posture on a high-backed chair, her slender hand steadying a cup of black tea, while the other held a silver spoon, motionless, with her gentle light silver-gray eyes fixed ahead—as if entranced by a story.
She had beautiful silver curls, with pointed ears peeking through her hair. She was the most beloved daughter of King Obergo VII, known as Erluin’s recognized first beauty.
In Brendel’s time, whether players or NPCs, everyone referred to her as the Regent Princess. If anyone in Erluin could rival the Valkyrie’s prestige, it would be this still somewhat youthful princess.
“What a clever little girl; the Everton family truly produces remarkable individuals.” After a moment, the princess set down her teacup and quietly asked, “And then, Lord Overwell?”
The middle-aged man with a stern expression standing before her would certainly be recognized by Brendel if he were here. He was none other than the ‘Earl Duun,’ whom Brendel had silenced with a single sword. In fact, among the noble circles in the capital, few knew this Earl, but compared to that, he had a nickname far better known:
‘Sir Wolf’ Overwell, a close aide to His Majesty, one of the core leaders of the royal faction, who had a good personal relationship with Everton and Woodrow.
Overwell surveyed the princess, knowing she was not simple, yet she was the apple of His Majesty’s eye, so he didn’t dare to treat her lightly.
This time, he had borrowed the name of Earl Duun from the Lyleisburman family to come to Ridenburg—because both were connoisseurs with extremely similar hobbies in collecting. Although they didn’t quite resemble each other, it was not a major concern in an era of information scarcity—his purpose here was to perform a task for King Obergo VII, a secret mission.
With this thought, he became aware that the princess was asking him a question, realizing, “Naturally, the daughter of Earl Everton seems at least as talented as her father; what a pity…”
He originally intended to say, “What a pity she’s a woman,” but suddenly remembered the young woman in front of him was the crown jewel of the royal family and hastily swallowed his words.
The girl understood what he meant but didn’t press further. She merely shifted the topic and said, “But, Lord Earl, I have some doubts about your previous story. It seems somewhat unnecessary for you to deliberately trouble that young man.”
Overwell thought, ‘Of course you can’t comprehend,’ but still replied respectfully: “I merely worry about his intentions. A Highland Knight appearing in Ridenburg, alongside his retainer, beside the daughter of Everton. Princess, you know those white knights from Karasu do not stand on the same side as your father.”
“I know, but they haven’t opposed us either.”
“Exactly, which is why I thought I could test him; after all, he’s just a shadow. It’s clear to me which is more important. For the sake of His Majesty, why shouldn’t I personally put it to the test?” Overwell replied.
“I thank you on behalf of my father, Lord Overwell.” The princess thought to herself that her father and this man wanted to handle things in the Karasu Province, but would they succeed? She had a strong suspicion about their intentions; it was nothing more than creating something out of nothing.
She contemplated that the recommendation quota for the Royal Cavalry Academy of Bastia might increase again. However, she wanted to remind him of something but thought of her identity and decided against it.
Finally, she spoke, “And then, Lord Overwell. I want to continue hearing the story. I still have about enough time to listen to you narrate a few more sections before my history class begins.”
“Of course, I would be delighted.”
