Chapter 827: Act 8 – September
The carriage compartment was as quiet as it had been on the way there. Antinna sat opposite him, and after a jolt, Brendel asked, “Antinna, what do you think about this matter?” Antinna did not respond immediately; the impact of the issue on her was too significant, and it seemed she took a moment to recover from her unsteady feelings. She answered with as calm a mind as she could muster, “I think it’s a bit hasty, Lord. We should at least wait until after the battle with Rendener before agreeing to this. To be honest, this matter has more benefits than drawbacks for Erluin in the future, but given your current standing, it seems a bit inappropriate. While Her Highness may not suspect, words can be perilous, and in the eyes of the unscrupulous, it signals your future arrogance. Times have changed; you must now pay attention to your relationship with Her Highness.” The secretary lowered her long eyelashes as she spoke, her voice soft and rational.
Brendel was unexpectedly delighted by her response. He had always thought of Antinna as somewhat rigid yet endearing, and he had expected her to chastise him for putting their territory at risk for his own whims. However, she did not. The outlook and wisdom in her heart far exceeded his expectations; she had already seen through his arrangement and intentions. Her words were something he had never considered before, as he had been so focused on strategy that he nearly forgot the most important factor: people’s feelings.
Brendel looked at his secretary, filled with curiosity. It was as if he were witnessing a noblewoman who had previously followed him with a mundane and meticulous demeanor transform into someone akin to Overwell or Makarolo, capable of providing genuine counsel to those in power. Could it be that this noble girl could also level up? He looked at her, feeling a sense of having stumbled upon treasure.
“What is it, my lord?” Antinna felt slightly uneasy under his warm gaze. However, she was neither Xi nor Freya; she could only blush and look away. Remembering her duty as his secretary, she tried to maintain her composure and asked seriously.
“Call me Brendel.”
Antinna opened her mouth, and her face flushed.
“Is there any remedy for this?” Brendel asked again. He suddenly found it quite amusing to see his secretary appear flustered yet trying to remain composed. She certainly had not detected her lord’s mischief; she took a gentle breath, nodded, and replied, “At the very least, inform Her Highness and explain the situation. After all, this matter is entrusted to you by Lady Veronika. Your choice is not without reason… She should understand your difficulties…”
Brendel nodded, turned his head, and quietly gazed out the carriage window. The carriage was passing through a grove outside Port Gris, where the leafy canopies split the sunlight into fast-moving shards of golden light and shadow. After some contemplation, he shifted his gaze to his companion, Shi Ta, who was busy gnawing away at the pastry Antinna had prepared for him, with crumbs scattered all over his shirt. He was rummaging below the table, looking for any leftover morsels. “Enough searching; there’s nothing left, Shi Ta. I have a question for you. Have you ever heard of someone named the Silver Queen or Constance?”
The chubby dragon looked disappointed and shut the drawer. “Who is that?”
Brendel had expected this reaction, so he asked, “What about treasures within the dragon clan that can make one regain their youth?”
“Regain youth?” Shi Ta wiped his mouth with his sleeve, smearing the crumbs onto his expensive vest: “There are plenty of those kinds of things. The Fountain of Youth is priceless for you mortals, but we have several of them. By the way, Alorze even has one.” Brendel noted that Antinna’s eyes brightened slightly. He sighed internally, realizing she must be thinking of the young dragon’s treasure. Girls tend to be enamored by the idea of everlasting youth, and even a seemingly rigid noblewoman like her was no exception. But he shook his head. “I don’t mean such a concept of regaining youth, but a real item that not only restores appearance but revitalizes the body to its prime.”
Shi Ta’s expression froze in place. Naturally, he replied, “How could such a thing exist? If something like that were true, our dragon race would be immortal!”
“Immortal isn’t likely, but even if it worked just once, would such a thing exist?”
“There isn’t,” Shi Ta shook his head vigorously. “That would violate Martha’s most basic laws.” He glanced at Brendel incredulously. “My lord, you look young; you should cherish the present. There’s no need to pursue these elusive things. I’ve heard that those kings among you humans who seek eternal life are all foolish tyrants. But if you’re truly interested, I could recommend you consult those skeletal figures in Madara.”
“Get lost,” Brendel kicked him lightly. Then he turned to Antinna and said, “Write a letter.”
“To Her Highness—”
…
As summer faded into autumn, this statement was apt for the current state of Vieiro. Freya had arrived at Varlanden just a week prior, and the lush greenery that once characterized the castle now bore hints of yellow. Grifian stood on the corridor, her silver eyes reflecting the undulating hills at the southern foot of the Gon Mountain Range. The autumn breeze had begun to blow, and the maid behind her had already draped a shawl over her. The warm, thick fur shawl only accentuated her elfin fragility. But she stood tall and straight, like her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. The mountain wind named Shalmin lifted the silver strands by her forehead, and the princess unfolded the letter in her hands. The paper rustled in the wind, her fingertips slightly pale. She felt as if a fire of anger simmered within her. She read the words on the letter, one by one, and could not help but crumple the paper tightly.
The motion startled the maid behind her, one of them cautiously asking, “Your Highness?”
“Nothing, that detestable Rendener.” Grifian felt as if she had a piece of paper in her heart with Brendel’s name written on it, which she punctured repeatedly with a knife. That vile man! It was infuriating that she could not openly express her disdain. If news were to spread of her falling out with Earl Toniger, she could hardly imagine what a disaster it would spell for the newly stabilized Southlands.
Her grandfather’s ability to assist her was limited; after all, Duke Vieiro was foremost a duke, a noble of the realm.
“Shall we invite Lord Overwell or Lord Earl?” the maid inquired cautiously, thinking the letter contained news from the south. Yet she dared not speculate further; she was merely a small maidservant.
Grifian knew the “Lord Earl” her maid mentioned referred to Ouding. She shook her head in vexation. “No need; it’s not a big deal.” Then she glanced at the crumpled letter in her hands, itching to throw it to the ground and stomp on it. But after hesitating for a moment, she uncrumpled it and smoothed it out again. The paper was now wrinkled and no longer flat, much like the once-perfect image of the knight in her heart that could never return to its initial dreamlike admiration. The half-elf maiden suddenly felt an inexplicable pang of sorrow. Why was it always like this? Makarolo, Livwz, Anlek, and now this detestable man. Was there truly no one she could trust in all of Erluin?
But how could she dare to reveal such feelings to others? Each word in Brendel’s letter weighed heavily on her chest, laden with the gravity of meddling in the empire’s succession. Acting unilaterally was reckless. She bit her lower lip until it turned white, even finding Brendel’s actions to be not as contemptible as before. Did that man truly understand how frightening it would be to provoke the empire? This was the dragon’s reverse scale; touch it and one will die.
How could she even discuss this with Overwell and Ouding? The wolf knight, while her teacher and core ally, had not yet earned her full trust. Fortunately, Overwell understood this bottom line, addressing their discussions with subtlety, and she was wise enough not to need further reminders. Earl Ouding, while slightly inferior to her teacher in political sensitivity, was loyal to the kingdom, which gave her some comfort. But neither of them was the candidate she deemed most suitable for her trusted inner circle.
For some reason, an odious shadow lingered in her heart. She suddenly crumpled the letter and walked towards her study.
“Your Highness?” several maids looked on, confused.
“I need to write a reply.”
Just five days later, the princess received a second letter from Toniger. Unlike the first, which was formal and bureaucratic, this letter detailed the circumstances surrounding the political asylum request for Prince Rainwright, along with Brendel’s thoughts and the potential troubles and benefits it may entail. Grifian sat at her desk, tracing her fingers over Brendel’s apologies written in the letter, staring blankly for a while. “It seems I misjudged him,” she thought. “But he promised Veronika, and there’s no benefit to his own territory; does he merely want to clear his name at the cost of his reputation?”
This time, the half-elf maiden carefully checked that the magical seal on the letter was intact before gently folding it and placing it in the silver-forged box, a birthday gift from King Obergo VII, for which only she and Haruz had the key. She would take this box wherever she went. She then wrote a reply.
The first half of her response overflowed with a regent princess’s reassurance and encouragement to her subordinate, expressing that she did not mind the matter and hoped Brendel would not harbor any grudges. However, at the end of the letter, the princess wrote in elegant script, “Lord Earl, while it may be impertinent to ask so directly, I would still like to hear your views on the future of this kingdom and the relationship between myself, Haruz, and you in the future, hoping for an answer from a kind and righteous knight I once encountered.”
When Brendel received this letter, he couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed the princess truly had no leverage over him and resorted to the card of affection. However, he had no ambitions; upon receiving the letter, he felt an unwavering determination. Without any hesitation, he returned a letter to the princess, with nothing written on it except a page of blank paper. He placed the brooch she had gifted him on top of the white paper.
A week later, he received her response.
On the reply was only one sentence.
“Mr. Brendel, please proceed with confidence; the future of Erluin and Haruz is now in your hands.”
…
The forest rustled softly.
Princess Margadale lay quietly on a bed that seemed to have naturally grown from the tree walls, her golden hair cascading over the white sheets. Her eyelids were peacefully closed, resembling the sleeping beauty from a fairytale. Yet everyone in the room could feel the returning rhythm of her breath; her chest rose and fell gently, and her long eyelashes occasionally fluttered, as if she would awaken at any moment.
Brendel sighed with relief. He gestured to the others, signaling Charles, Himelam, Shi Ta, and the pair of twin “sisters” to leave first. Then he turned to the cold-faced girl standing beside him and said, “Thank you so much, Miss Flourfa.”
Shi Ta had hidden the Heart of the Dragon in another lair of the Frostdeath Forest, which had been destroyed in the great explosion. The one implanted in Margadale was brought from the dragon clan by Alorze; although the young female dragon had been somewhat reckless, she had kept her word. Originally, it was supposed to be she who personally implanted the Heart of the Dragon in Margadale, but she was now confined and unable to leave, so her entrusted cold-faced dragon girl completed the promise instead—one Brendel had encountered before at the Relic of the Saints, that girl known as Flourfa.
He had worryingly wondered if something might go wrong, but unexpectedly, she was much more reliable than her predecessor; not only was the implantation clean and smooth, but so far, there had been no issues at all.
Thus, his gratitude was sincere. Ever since the battle with Ampere Seale, he had regarded Princess Margadale as a friend. If it weren’t for them, she would not have found herself in this predicament. Every time he recalled that night when the princess ventured out in the rain to gather information only to be discovered and executed, he felt immense pain. The nun princess must have been frightened and desperate then, but for her friendship with Princess Grifian, she had fearlessly ventured forth. In this era of Erluin, the bond between Margadale and Grifian could be seen as the most illuminating aspect of humanity amidst darkness.
It’s just a pity that such a gentle and kind girl did not meet a good end in history.
Flourfa’s outfit was still similar to when they last met. She glanced at Princess Margadale on the bed, then turned back to Brendel, saying nothing but extending her hand, palm open.
What does this mean? Brendel was momentarily taken aback.
“Earring,” Flourfa’s voice was as crisp as water dripping onto ice.
The slightest sense of goodwill he had just cultivated towards Alorze evaporated in an instant. He inwardly cursed that little female dragon repeatedly, as if from the moment he met her, she had been scheming to entrap him, and now, the greatest ticking time bomb was right next to him, ready to detonate at any moment. He had completely forgotten this detail. But that wasn’t the core of the problem; Flourfa’s earring had already been damaged in the battle against Ampere Seale. How could he produce it now?
Gathering his courage, he looked at the cold-faced dragon girl and recalled Alorze and Shi Do’s words about the symbolic significance of dragon clan earrings. He couldn’t help but feel his ears turn red. Yet, after experiencing so much, his composure had been somewhat refined. He tried to muster some thick skin, hesitating several times before responding, “Uh, Miss Flourfa, I, um, might have been a bit careless and lost your earring.”
The dragon girl stared coldly at him.
Brendel felt as if a sharp sword was hanging over his head, ready to fall. “Um… what I mean is,” he stammered, “I actually think personal relationships shouldn’t be tied to an object. Although customs are important, uh… you see, you are a dragon, and I am human; the customs we adhere to are different. You should understand my meaning, right, Miss Flourfa? I mean, actually, I wasn’t aware of it before.”
Truthfully, Brendel could fight with Alorze or even a young dragon like Flourfa. However, he felt that he was already in the wrong, and if they were to brawl, he would inevitably lose face as a lord. With such defeatist thoughts hovering in his mind, he naturally felt dwarfed before the dragon girl in front of him.
Flourfa listened for a moment with a stony expression before speaking indifferently.
“So you mean you don’t want to marry me?”
“What the hell!” Brendel stared in shock, unable to understand how she interpreted his words in such a way. He opened his mouth, taking a long time to squeeze out this response: “Uh… that’s probably not what I meant.”
The dragon girl looked at him, her gaze turning unnervingly cold, making Brendel feel as if he had already become a dead man in her eyes. “I didn’t expect you to be such a person, Mr. Earl. I detest those who toy with young girls’ hearts. Do take care of yourself,” she said, turning on her heel and exiting through the door, slamming it shut behind her, leaving a bewildered Brendel standing there.
Brendel felt he might go mad. “Alorze, you bastard, what on earth have you done!” he shouted inwardly.
