Chapter 819: Act 169 – The Great Explosion
“Joey, Joey.”
Old Bead called from the next room. The thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl, propped up on the wooden table, responded and shifted her gaze from the flickering candle. Not far away, the sky outside the window had been overcast for days, dark clouds looming with continuous streaks of purple lightning. She raised her head to glance at the dreadful weather, sighed, and stepped outside to ask:
“Father, what’s wrong?”
“Go get my cloak and bring the carriage out. This weather is no good for work. I’m taking the farming tools to town to have Bertos fix them,” Old Bead answered while putting on his shoes on the bench.
Joey stood at the door of her room, frowning with concern as she observed the bad weather outside the living room. Her pale arms, revealed from rolled-up sleeves, crossed over her apron. “Do we really have to go out in this weather?” she said reluctantly. Old Bead caught the worry in his daughter’s tone, glanced at the weather outside, and laughed, “It’s just a light drizzle, just a light drizzle. After a while, it’ll get worse, and then it won’t be safe to go out.”
Joey sighed, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked across the living room to take the cloak from the rack and drape it around Old Bead. “You should go check on Anse and Alor; they’re still young, and the lightning must have scared them,” Old Bead said, squinting his eyes as Joey wrapped the cloak around his neck, enjoying this shared warmth.
“The road will be slippery; the carriage will surely have a hard time,” Joey murmured softly.
“It’s okay, my good child, in this weather, those bad things won’t be out and about.” Old Bead chuckled heartily.
Joey understood her father was trying to reassure her. Since the local lord began law enforcement back in early summer, traces of goblins and bandits had become rare in the countryside. She bit her lip, silent. “Alright, off you go,” Old Bead said gently, watching as his daughter’s face increasingly resembled that of his deceased wife.
Joey nodded and turned to leave, braving the rain as she crossed the yard. The stable was just behind the farm. She pushed open the wooden gate, and inside the small shed, the light was dim. The two little mares indeed appeared restless in this weather. Joey walked carefully over the hay on the ground to a mare named Anse, gently patting its neck and softly calming it, but today the gray mare seemed unusually agitated, stamping its feet, its large eyes glimmering in the darkness, filled with a strong sense of unease.
“What’s wrong?” Joey frowned, sensing that Anse’s fear didn’t stem from the bright lightning in the sky but from beneath the ground.
She crouched slightly, her bright gaze fixed on the haystack piled on the ground. In her line of sight, the straw began to tremble—at that moment, the girl understood: the ground was moving! A terrible premonition surged in Joey’s heart as she quickly stood and rushed toward the wooden fence enclosing the horses, grit her teeth and pulled the iron pin from its lock, tossing it to the ground, then opened the fence to let the two horses out, urging them to rush out of the stable. Just this moment of delay, the ground had begun to shake noticeably, and the puddles outside were rippling in waves. Joey had just reached outside the shed when a strange buzzing sound came from the north.
She stopped and instinctively turned back. To the north, the seemingly endless Anlash forest lay before her; atop the forest’s peak, a massive sphere of light seemed to rise, penetrating the clouds. It was so bright and glaring that the surrounding world seemed to dim slightly. Then a deafening blast, as if tearing through the air, swept across like a shockwave, lifting strands of her hair—ears filled with a booming sound that gradually melded into a shrill scream, resembling the relentless tide.
But gradually, the noise morphed into a buzzing, almost like garbled white noise, followed by an even louder wave, drowning everything as the treetops swayed, branches and leaves flew everywhere, lightning flashed, and rain mixed with wind, while the surroundings felt like a silent world.
In this silent world, Joey fearfully saw the light sphere growing larger, slowly consuming the sky, the clouds. Its spherical exterior began to collapse as it expanded, the whitish shell shattering in an instant, dazzling flames bursting forth, spreading like clouds to all sides, beginning slowly, as if far in the distance, but suddenly, she saw the flames arrive above Anlash, quickly engulfing the entire forest.
The towering walls of fire continued forward; pointed firs, straight black pines, and undulating hills had already turned into a sea of flames. The scorching heat came rushing at her, her long hair dancing wildly in the airflow. In the blink of an eye, the stable was in ruins before her. Joey screamed and turned to run.
But it was unfortunately too late.
With a tremendous crash, the flames swept across the entire farm like a hurricane, turning everything to ashes.
“Ah—!”
Joey’s face turned pale as she opened her eyes, drenched in cold sweat. She propped herself up from the wooden table, realizing she had had that nightmare again. More than a month had passed since that dreadful explosion, though she later learned it occurred in the Frostdeath Forest to the north, with its impact only reaching the area north of the Golden Sparrow Mountain and east of the Fallen Needle Hills. However, in her dream, she had repeatedly envisioned flames engulfing the Anlash Forest and the farm, a hellish inferno sweeping across all of Lantonrand.
She lifted her gaze to the road leading to Cuckus outside the window, the forest beside it lush and serene, the treetops under the blueness of the sea-like sky, wisps of cotton-like clouds forming white trails. Since that explosion, the weather had gradually improved day by day. Riders occasionally passed by on the road, in groups of two or three, some under the banners of nobility, most likely local knights, while others were simply adventurers traveling together.
These people had begun appearing one after another since half a month ago. Although this month was typically when adventurers gathered, such scenes were rare in small places like Bernichelle, especially since they were heading north.
“Joey!” someone called out.
Joey recognized the person waving at her; it was the hunter living next door, who seemed to have recently returned from town. “Uncle Bacchet, you’re back from the city! Have you seen my father?” she hurriedly asked.
“I saw Old Bead at the blacksmith’s. What’s the matter?” the hunter replied.
“Nothing much, just worried. Do you know what’s going on, Uncle Bacchet?” She glanced at the passing riders and then whispered.
“You mean those noble riders?” The hunter stood by the fence, watching the well-dressed knights. He shook his head, “They’re probably looking for someone.”
“Looking for someone?”
“Yeah, looking for someone.”
…
Valandenburg.
It had been exactly five weeks since the explosion. Aike, Yula, Makarolo, and Earl Ouding could all tell that the princess appeared calm on the surface but was secretly growing anxious day by day. Fortunately, negotiations with the duke had gone reasonably smoothly. On the surface, Duke Vieiro was indeed the sworn enemy of Count Rendener, and they had clashed countless times in public and behind closed doors. With the chance to eliminate his adversary in one stroke, he naturally wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by.
Yet, even a novice like Aike could see that Duke Vieiro seemed to be honoring the old king’s past feelings. The duke’s daughter, after all, was the mother of Princess Grifian. When witnessing Grifian refer to Duke Vieiro as grandfather, even the most seasoned members of the royal faction, such as Makarolo and Overwell, were left standing there in shock; it was almost beyond everyone’s expectations. It was as if everyone finally remembered that this duke had, in his youth, once been quite the dashing figure, marrying an elf as his wife. However, no one had ever seen the face of that duchess, nor did they know that there had once been a silver elf duchess in the Erluin kingdom.
However, amidst the shock, Makarolo and others began to realize that the little girl who had once obediently listened to them was perhaps not as meek as they had imagined. In fact, from the very beginning, Princess Grifian had held onto a trump card.
King Obergo VII’s marriage was orchestrated by the royal family. Though marrying a half-elf might invite gossip, the old king’s stubbornness had consistently shown through in this matter. Furthermore, at least the queen in the kingdom was a human, and the royal faction didn’t want to provoke King Obergo VII over such a minor issue.
However, what nobody could have expected was that in today’s context, Makarolo and others finally understood that the old king’s stubborn pursuit had not been some vain pursuit of love.
On the Highland Knight side, it was unclear what schemes they were contemplating; their eagerness was utterly baffling. Initially, this next war seemed to have nothing to do with them, but not only did they send out a formal delegation including the Black Tower sorcerers, but they also ardently guaranteed that as long as the princess declared war on Count Rendener, they would side with her. This stance didn’t resemble an alliance so much as an act of subservience.
As a result, the royal faction found it difficult to comprehend. The Highland Knights had always maintained an aloof stance in Erluin’s political landscape, only ever respecting the royal family. When did they ever show such a servile attitude?
This was especially noteworthy since theoretically, they were now the more powerful side. After all, Princess Grifian had managed to stabilize the situation in Ampere Seale, relying on nothing more than her small territory and the dubious support of Earl Toniger to reluctantly reach this point. In fact, had it not been for Duke Vieiro’s willingness to side with them, the northern prince seemed to have an even better chance of success.
Yet in this tangled situation, events silently progressed. With the Highland Knights setting a precedent, it was no longer surprising when Golan-Elsen’s envoys came to express loyalty, as everyone understood that this duke had no real ambition. Rather than being a noble, he was akin to a recluse, indifferent to external matters. In fact, before Golan-Elsen’s envoys arrived, some had maliciously speculated that the duke could not possibly know such timely news; the envoys were likely arranged by his aides or retainers.
It later proved this speculation was correct. Of course, the details of this matter were better left unspoken, with mutual understanding sufficing.
But these details at least made it clear to everyone.
The Erluin royal authority was on the rise—
Smooth diplomacy couldn’t mask the steadily growing anxiety of Princess Grifian day by day.
Bud and Overwell had returned to Lantonrand via the same route, as the explosion took place on the border of Lantonrand and Vieiro, and everyone aimed to figure out what had transpired over a month ago during that massive explosion. Most of the reports from the front were disconcerting. According to the scouts, it seemed the entire Frostdeath Forest had vanished completely, giving rise to a new dead magic region east of the Gonn Mountain Range and south of the Violet Fortress, remnants of energy affirming that a catastrophic explosion had occurred there.
Furthermore, a vast, deep pit at the center of this explosion pointed towards a significant event, and to this day, no survivors had been found from the blast.
In higher circles, especially those surrounding the princess and her confidants, the implications of this reality were even more pronounced.
The young prince had not yet returned.
Earl Toniger remained missing.
But what troubled Makarolo and Earl Ouding even more was their knowledge that the first heir of the Crusian was also among the casualties of that explosion, as were their large noble observation delegation and their sky-blue legion commander. In fact, both Makarolo and Earl Ouding had received news through their channels—a delegation from the Crusian had previously departed the empire, heading towards Erluin.
This was undoubtedly a bad omen.
But it wasn’t until earlier that day.
An unexpected guest visited Valandenburg.
Without a doubt, this was a long-awaited visitor for Princess Grifian.
Outside the window, the vines hanging from the castle walls swayed in the green shade, while in the distance, the Silentwind Forest and Gonn Mountain Range basked in a cerulean backdrop. The afternoon sunshine gradually climbed onto the windowpane, filtering through the leaves’ veins and pouring into the room, casting a warm golden glow. Inside, seated behind a precious black wooden desk, Princess Grifian quietly sat on the red velvet seat.
She deliberately tried to calm herself, yet she couldn’t help but ask the time several times. “It’s nearly time; she’s just passed the corridor, Your Highness,” the maid replied with a somewhat awkward smile.
Princess Grifian nodded, taking a gentle breath. Finally, at that moment, the sound of knocking echoed from outside the door, causing the whole room to fall briefly silent before she softly replied, “Come in.”
The door opened, revealing Freya, still donned in Erluin’s military attire, but the composure she exuded far surpassed her previous self. Apart from her slightly flushed cheeks, she seemed almost like another Nemeses. Upon seeing Princess Grifian, she was taken aback, initially thinking that she would be meeting Makarolo or Earl Ouding, but she quickly performed a knight’s salute.
“Your Highness.”
“No need for such formalities,” the half-elf maiden appeared calm on the surface, though she had to take several deep breaths to steady her voice, “Is the earl…? Is he alright?”
“Your Highness, Brendel… he’s not in serious trouble,” Freya answered softly, albeit with a hint of unease.
But it seemed Princess Grifian hardly noticed; she fidgeted slightly, though the subtle changes in her expression were almost imperceptible, yet she still asked urgently, “What about my brother?”
“Prince Haruz is also fine; both he and the earl are doing well.”
Only then did the half-elf maiden feel a shallow sigh of relief escape her. Though she tried her best to suppress any signs of weakness, her face remained taut, yet her mind was in disarray. She sat there for a while, feeling both happy and somewhat hazy, especially concerning Earl Toniger; after a moment, she regained her cold demeanor, “Why doesn’t the earl come here himself?”
“Miss Nemeses and the others were injured; the lord wished to send them back to Vlada or Cold Fir Territory first.”
Princess Grifian lowered her gaze, appearing thoughtful. After a moment, she turned her attention back to Freya, her silver eyes now gleaming with clarity, “Freya, this is an excuse, isn’t it?”
Freya’s face flushed as she realized it was indeed an excuse; the real reason was that Xi had gone missing, and Brendel was doing everything possible to find leads about that mountain girl. But it wasn’t just that; there were deeper reasons. However, with outsiders present, she remembered Brendel’s words, glanced at the maid beside Princess Grifian, and nodded.
Princess Grifian slightly tilted her head to her maid, saying, “You go tell the Highland Knights’ gentlemen that the earl cannot come, but he is alive. Ask them for their thoughts.”
The maid gently nodded and immediately left.
Only then did the princess turn back, speaking, “What exactly is going on? And about that explosion; I want to know what happened.”
Freya took a deep breath.
“It’s like this, Your Highness…”
…
Port Deldaltar—
At dusk, a heavily laden wagon swayed and slowly made its way toward the port amid a throng, but the crowd ahead grew increasingly dense, obstructing the road to the port. Before long, the crowd had indeed converged to the point where the wagon could no longer advance. The driver called back to ask something, and a figure cloaked in a mantle jumped down from the wagon; this person appeared to have recently been injured, moving somewhat clumsily. He limped to the front of the wagon, glanced at the situation outside, conversed briefly with the driver, and then returned to the wagon.
At this moment, a voice came from inside the wagon, “What’s going on, Bai Mo?” It was a dry, scratchy voice, sounding almost like an old man.
“Good news, Baban; we’ve been saved.” The previous speaker’s face lit up with joy, arriving at the wagon’s edge and whispering, “It’s our envoy; they’ve just landed.”
There was a moment of silence inside the wagon.
Lord Baban sat beside a pile of hay, his face pale, as if afflicted with some terminal illness. Upon hearing his companion’s words, he finally couldn’t help but exhale deeply, then painfully got to his feet, using his hands to lift a corner of the black cloth covering something inside the wagon. It was a block of crystal, within which a red-haired girl tightly gripped a spear, her expression still vivid with anger. She was so beautiful—but this time, Baban was not looking at Xi; he was mesmerized by the silver polearm in her hand.
He gazed at it as though enchanted.
