Chapter 723: Act 82 – The Ball of Yesteryear III
What is happening? Whose memory is this? Brendel’s memories of Erluin’s royal city are not very deep; he remembers the luxurious palace engulfed in flames, the city collapsing, and living beings trapped in the sea of fire.
He can still recall the wails and screams that lingered in his ears.
But it is not this cheerful rhythm.
Brendel glanced at the Prince Younger beside him and thought that this must be Haruz’s memory. Princess Grifian and her brother lived in Minstros for quite some time in history, so he must be familiar with it; this may be a summer festival from his memories.
Brendel looked up and saw the Lyra constellation in the southern sky, confirming that it must be a summer night.
However, he was slightly puzzled as to why the Prince’s memory was linked to that of the Nameless Ones. How could the scene of assassination in a collapsing dream be associated with such a joyous dream?
Brendel continued walking forward without revealing his thoughts. Many people had gathered along the avenue, diverse in appearance, but most seemed to ignore Brendel and the Prince. This was also normal; everyone’s memories are often vague in details. These people exist in memory but are fleeting, often not recalled clearly in appearance.
He led Haruz through the crowd, paying attention to the details of the celebration. Just then, a dark coach emerged from the shadows in the distance. It was a black aristocratic carriage that glided by like a ghost. Brendel noticed the emblem on the carriage and couldn’t help but narrow his eyes.
“Teacher, that’s Viscount Begning—” The Prince recognized it as well. It seemed he still vividly remembered the one who betrayed his sister. He anxiously tugged at Brendel’s clothing, quietly reminding him.
Brendel nodded.
Haruz still looked puzzled; he frowned slightly and murmured, “It’s strange; the emblem of Viscount Begning shouldn’t have holly leaves on it. I… I remember it should only be the Earl’s decoration…”
“Oh… This is a dream; I… I forgot again, sorry.”
This careless remark made Brendel’s heart skip a beat.
His brows furrowed suddenly. He distinctly recalled a detail about Viscount Begning. In history, there truly was such a title. After the Princess’s victory in the northern war, Erluin welcomed the hope of peace. Then there were five years of revival, with occasional conflicts with Madara, but the timeline still transitioned smoothly into another segment of history.
Then came the Second Black Rose War as scheduled.
Brendel felt a sharp pain in his heart. After the Battle of Crimson Valley, the Valkyrie fell in battle. The situation became increasingly unfavorable for the Princess. To bolster her power against Duke Anlek, shortly afterward, she summoned Begning back to Minstros.
At that time… Brendel silently reflected. Begning had not inherited the title of Duke of Siphai back then but was instead granted the title of Earl.
“Right…”
“This celebration.”
A chill rose up Brendel’s spine as he suddenly recalled the origin of this celebration. Yula and Aike defeated Madara’s army in the Manowell region; at that time, Erluin and the players’ coalition seemed to seize a moment of breath, and Princess Grifian hosted a banquet for the emissaries of the Temple of Fire, hoping the Crusian people could offer their aid.
The Summer Festival.
The Feast of Scrolls.
Time froze at this historical node. Brendel suddenly understood that this was not Haruz’s memory at all, but his own. He was present when Princess Grifian was assassinated.
Brendel clenched his teeth suddenly.
History was playing out before him once more.
“Teacher?” Haruz noticed Brendel’s color fluctuating and couldn’t help but feel strange.
Brendel took a deep breath and replied, “It’s nothing, Haruz—” He was about to say they needed to find a way into the city. But at that moment, he suddenly felt a slight warmth radiating from the piece of paper in his hand.
He quickly picked up the paper.
It had changed its form in an instant. He realized it was a letter-sized note, about the size of a palm. He opened the envelope, and a card slipped out. The text on the card was blurred, but one sentence stood out prominently: ‘Invitation for Viscount Kartel and his fiancée Miss Bessd to the banquet—’
Brendel’s heart suddenly understood. So this section of the Nameless Ones’ memory was linked with his own; it turned out this fellow was going to the banquet when he was assassinated. However, he was puzzled about how this related to his later memories. And why did that person meet with assassination; what was it that he regretted?
Moreover, there was another question. Only Viscount Kartel was in the carriage, but the invitation stated it was for Viscount Kartel and his fiancée to attend the banquet. So where was his fiancée?
“Wait, fiancée?”
Brendel froze suddenly.
“Teacher?” The Prince naturally noticed Brendel’s motion. Seeing the piece of paper in Brendel’s hand transform into an envelope, he recalled what Brendel had previously said. “Teacher, has it remembered something new?”
Brendel fell silent and handed the note to his student. Haruz picked up the delicate piece of paper, examined it closely, then paused: “Teacher, should we take the place of Viscount Kartel to attend the banquet?”
Theoretically, that should be the requirement of the task. Brendel carefully recalled every detail from the strategy guide, and his conclusion did not differ much.
“But what about this esteemed viscount’s fiancée? Should we find her first?” the Prince asked.
That was a possibility. Brendel pondered for a moment but felt that such a likelihood was slim. As the fiancée of Viscount Kartel, he suspected she was the core figure of this task. But the key was, according to the characteristics of the Nameless Ones’ collapsing dream, the clearer the memory, the earlier it should appear.
Just like the piece of paper in his hand.
Yet this fiancée remained elusive; either she was a trivial figure, or she had already, like Viscount Kartel, perished.
But regardless of which scenario it was, finding this so-called Miss Bessd in this dream had become nearly impossible.
“We probably won’t be able to find her,” Brendel replied.
“Ah? So, do we just go to the banquet? But the protocol officer said that such noble families can’t go without a lady, or they will be ridiculed—” Haruz exclaimed, worried.
“This is not a matter of ridicule.” Brendel shook his head. The ridicule in the dream had nothing to do with him; he couldn’t help but admire the Prince’s concern over such matters at this time. The key issue was that this invitation was clearly very important to this viscount, or he wouldn’t remember it so clearly.
For him to forget all the other text on the invitation and only recall the line ‘Invitation for Viscount Kartel and his fiancée Miss Bessd to the banquet—’ showed how greatly he valued this matter.
In other words, according to the setting in “Amber,” if he couldn’t meet this condition, then the future task would be utterly unfeasible.
Brendel certainly didn’t want to be trapped in this dream for the rest of his life.
But what frustrated him was that in this cursed place, who could he find to dress up as this wretched fiancée Miss Bessd? In this dream, apart from the major characters, most memories were fragile; the people outside were like a backdrop, unable to interact with him and Haruz.
But then he suddenly stopped.
Brendel’s gaze fell on Haruz—
The young prince of Erluin, the future king. Haruz was only twelve years old this year; due to long sword training, he had begun to grow taller and was now just about at Brendel’s waist. He resembled his sister—Princess Grifian, possessing an inherently adorable face, rosy cheeks, and large, watery silver eyes, with soft hair sticking to his forehead, making him often appear like a delicate young girl.
The key was, due to his half-elf bloodline, he was not as physically strong as human boys, but rather quite slender.
Standing there, he looked pitiful and fragile. In terms of temperament, he even seemed more gentle and serene than his sister.
Brendel hesitated for a moment as wicked ideas flooded his mind. The young prince seemed to sense something bad and cautiously looked at him, asking, “Brendel, teacher?”
Brendel raised a finger, and with a mere thought, the previous Viscount Kartel’s signet ring materialized in his hand perfectly. This was the advantage of dreams; as long as something existed in the memories of him, Haruz, and Viscount Kartel, it could be effortlessly replicated.
Then he lowered his head and earnestly said to the young prince, “Haruz.”
“Huh?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?”
The young prince’s face reddened instantly; clutching the Lion’s Tooth, he stared blankly at his teacher, momentarily unsure of what to think. “T-teacher?”
“If you change into women’s clothing, it should be fine, right?”
The matter is significant. Haruz, gripping his sword, shook his head frantically. Then he lowered his head, his face flushed, almost turning beet red. Seeing this, Brendel couldn’t help but sigh, honestly thinking that this young prince was even more like a girl than his sister.
He took a deep breath, and honestly, he felt this idea was quite absurd. However, he felt an inexplicable thrill of mischief, especially since it seemed like the only possible way.
“Haruz—”
He spoke.
…
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