Chapter 870: Act 48 – Two Letters XIII
When Freya returned to the manor, night had already fallen. However, Antinna had been waiting for this moment after sending off the young boy.
Upon hearing Freya’s description, Antinna understood what had happened and was slightly surprised, thinking how coincidental the matter was. With her wit and intelligence, she immediately thought that the people caught by the lord must be the same group that Dian had encountered. She asked Freya to wait a moment while she went inside to grab a shawl and a necklace without a pendant, and then set off to meet Brendel.
By the time they arrived at the hunter’s camp, the patrolling knights had wasted two to three hours and still hadn’t managed to extract a single word from the cultists. They had searched the camp repeatedly, nearly turning it upside down, and found only a 16mo book with a black cover titled “Codex of All Things,” as well as a wooden statue carved with an ouroboros. The statue was clearly frequently used in various rituals, its surface smoothed, yet it was wiped clean, contrasting sharply with the filthy and disheveled outlaws. As for the “Codex of All Things,” Eugen glanced at it before hurriedly tossing it aside; it was a forbidden book that the Temple of Fire had explicitly prohibited from being read or disseminated. He seemed afraid that the book might come to life and bite him, bringing trouble.
On the other hand, the young men under his command were more meticulous. They first flipped through the “Codex,” confirming that nothing was hidden inside, then explored the cover before tearing it open. They indeed extracted a thin piece of parchment, but unfortunately, the parchment was blank. The patrol knights tried various methods—having someone bring a revealing agent to drip on it, using fire to heat it, or placing it under the moonlight—but they couldn’t make any text appear. Brendel tried a few minor magical tricks to no avail, and finally, they could only set it aside.
At first, the young patrolling knights were very eager, hoping to impress the favored Lord Earl. However, after several hours, they could not hold back their yawns. The cultists seemed made of some unique material; no matter how they tortured them and the wails that filled the air, they just wouldn’t say a word. They even killed one to serve as an example, but the remaining ones, though terrified, remained tight-lipped, clearly fearing the torment after death even more than death itself. These people had long ago offered their souls to demons and the twilight; once they opened their mouths, they would fall into hell, and what awaited them was a fate worse than death.
As the dark Moja sank below the horizon and the autumn night sky filled with the half-visible Tardisha, the stars in the northern and southern skies shifted, and the night drew to a close. Everyone was exhausted, but they had achieved nothing. Eugen couldn’t help glancing apologetically at Brendel, but Brendel indicated that it was fine. He held some hope, but this result was within expectations. He looked at the young men, who were now wilted like frostbitten eggplants, satisfied despite knowing they were just flattering him. He planned to conduct one last search of the camp after dawn; if that didn’t work, he would think of other methods—after all, these people would leave behind traces.
Just then, Antinna, accompanied by Freya, finally arrived at the camp.
The clever aide saw the chaotic camp and the patrolling knights who looked like they hadn’t slept in at least a week, and she understood that it was all due to her. Otherwise, why would the lord go to such lengths to deal with a group of mere cultists? He wasn’t the constable of Bruglas, who wouldn’t necessarily handle such trivial matters personally. She slightly bowed to Brendel before inquiring about the events of the night. She glanced at the cultists to confirm she had never crossed paths with them and then inspected the scattered items found in the camp. However, when she heard Brendel mention the blank parchment, she lifted her head to say to him:
“Lord, let’s have Captain Eugen take these wrongdoers away first. As you’ve seen, they probably won’t speak.”
Brendel looked at his aide. Having worked together for quite a while, he could discern the hidden meanings behind her words, so he nodded.
The patrol knights, feeling greatly relieved, hurriedly tied up the remaining living ones—of course, they also bound the dead, regardless of whether they could still breathe or lay on the ground as corpses. Ultimately, it was all their merit. Since this lenient lord had indicated that he was willing to grant them the credit, they naturally did not hold back. Although they didn’t necessarily need these merits for themselves, a single cultist could fetch quite a bounty, enough for them to lavish.
While the patrol knights busied themselves, Antinna pulled Brendel and Freya aside and quietly said, “Lord, I think I might know why they came.”
Brendel looked slightly taken aback, confused by his aide’s words. Antinna met his gaze and recounted what had happened with Dian. Then she added, “Do you remember the last will that my father left?”
Brendel nodded.
“…‘Martha above, I may not have long to live. Should anyone fortunate enough to see this testament upon my death, I wish to legally bequeath all my personal belongings to this person. Additionally, I have a secret inheritance; I wish to divide this wealth into three parts: one part for this person, one part for my wife, Sidi, and one part for my daughter…’”
Antinna recalled for a moment and recited the contents of the will word for word, as if reading: “If the reader of this will is interested in this wealth, please deliver this will along with my token to my wife, and tell her of the ‘date at the Baden Ball.’ She will understand the meaning I wish to convey.”
Finally, she paused for a while and read silently, “In the end, I am sorry to Sidi; may Lady Martha punish me—”
Brendel looked at Antinna, knowing she would not act without reason and waiting for her next words. Antinna took a gentle breath: “My father, during his younger days, was very poor, and it was during that time he met my mother at a ball. They quickly fell in love, and they purchased a dwelling in the old town of Bruglas; it was only after I was born that he bought the larger yard once he earned some money. I think I understand where my father left his inheritance.”
Brendel chuckled softly, realizing how earnest his aide was. He had once valued the testament left by Antinna’s father because he needed money, but now, regardless of how much fortune Borge. Neison left behind, it was merely a drop in the bucket for Toniger, whom he considered a minor noble: “Antinna, since you’ve remembered where your father’s belongings are, find a way to retrieve them, as a keepsake—” He suddenly paused, looking at Antinna in surprise: “Are you saying these people are after your father’s belongings?”
Antinna nodded gently.
This could explain part of the issue; only those lowly cultists would care about such a small fortune. They might have received some wind of it from somewhere and wanted to hit the jackpot. But it didn’t explain the interest from Test and Meigus; perhaps what they cared about wasn’t the same thing. However, Brendel glanced at the two bound deserters from the White Wings Cavalry; their connection to Meigus was clearly not coincidental, and he felt internally that his assumptions were not entirely accurate.
If only they could speak; unfortunately, that was impossible.
Seeing her lord frowning deeply, Antinna softly said, “Lord, I think I might have a clue about that blank parchment.”
“You have a way?” Brendel returned to focus.
Antinna shook her head: “It’s only a guess; I need to check first to be sure.”
The parchment was placed together with the “Codex of All Things,” and the patrol knights had tucked it between the pages of the book. Brendel had a young man bring the forbidden book, and after Antinna took it and pulled out the parchment, she unfolded it and began to look thoughtful. After hesitating for a moment, she hesitantly said to Brendel, “Lord, this is a letter, and I think I can make the text appear, but… but can I have some time alone to complete it?”
“A letter?” Brendel was taken aback slightly, looking at his aide with some confusion, but he still nodded.
“Thank you, Lord.” Antinna felt grateful; Brendel did not question her intentions, which was a form of silent trust that made her feel both satisfied and comforted. She left Brendel’s side, taking the parchment to a wooden hut where she raised her hands behind her neck and removed a necklace that hung from her neck—it had the key to the house at 52 Grave Digger Street attached to it. She placed the parchment and necklace together on the ground and knelt down, biting her finger to let blood drip onto where the pendant had originally hung. At that moment, a miraculous scene unfolded: the blood flowed down the necklace, as if suspended in the air, outlining the shape of a crystal. This imagined blood-red crystal emitted a faint glow, and when Antinna shone the light upon the parchment, lines of text gradually appeared.
Antinna gazed at the words, letting out a sigh of relief. She waited until the blood light on the necklace gradually dissipated, then put away the parchment, put on the necklace again, and carefully covered it with the shawl.
Brendel waited a moment before his aide came out. She approached him and handed over the parchment. “Did it succeed?” Brendel asked, and Antinna nodded gently.
He scrutinized her closely, thinking that his aide might also have some unknown secrets, but he believed she would never harm him, so he did not press further. Everyone has their privacy; he respected Antinna’s choices. He unfolded the parchment, his gaze quickly scanning the first couple of lines before his eyebrows slightly raised.
The letter contained a unique purple text that read:
“Dear Pamid, my brother—
We have never been so close to the truth of reality. The fragmented riddles have finally formed a complete picture in front of me. I have properly kept the Marshal’s belongings. Next, I will set out to find that truth, and I believe that one day, you, I, and everyone will receive just treatment. The nightmare images we witnessed for thirty years never leave my mind, but to this day, I still firmly believe that our choices back then arose from justice and selflessness, and soon, I will prove this.
Regarding the princess’s instructions, I think the Marshal may disagree, but there are some things we must accomplish. You, I, and Charles have long agreed to uphold this promise, and I have the honor to preserve part of the evidence, which I believe will serve as a testament to honor in the near future. Additionally, I have sealed a portion of the fragments in the same place, as part of my inheritance to leave for my descendants—because we both understand that the undertaking we are to complete is filled with the unknown and danger. I hope that if one day misfortune befalls me, these fragments can still be preserved through my wife’s hands. By the way, we haven’t corresponded in years; I forgot to tell you that I have married—my wife, Sidi, is the most beautiful girl in the world. I love her as I love myself, my parents, and those I respect the most. If possible—I truly wish you could meet her. You would surely like her; she is a tranquil and gentle girl, knowledgeable and poised, wise and reserved. Sometimes I wish she were the only princess in this world, and I were her knight; but I am often away, owing her too much, which makes me feel very guilty.
Sidi and I have a child of love; that is my daughter, and I have named her Antinna, which means the flower of hope in Elven tongue. My daughter resembles my wife, but I believe she will grow up to be a knight like me. She is smart; I could tell that from a young age, just by looking into her eyes. The spark of wisdom I have only seen in the Princess’s eyes before. I am extremely certain of this. I often think how suitable it would be if Lord Scott had a son to marry Antinna; they would surely be the most radiant star of Erluin in the future. Haha! You must be thinking I am daydreaming, but I have heard that Lord Scott, like me, has already married. His fiancée is the beautiful and gentle Lady Cardilego that you and I have both met. What a pity that I have never known where they reside; otherwise, I would definitely attend their wedding. Just think about it; what an honor it would be.
Lastly, I wish you good health, strength like an ox, and hope that all we do will live up to the Marshal, the Princess, and all those involved.
May the black pine remain evergreen, may Erluin persist; may faith shine as before, and may the sword remain sharp as ever—
—Ever since the Water Lute, I have missed you dearly, Siphai, your brother.”
Brendel carefully read the final sentence before raising his head to look at his aide in front of him. Antinna’s face showed a slight blush, clearly having read the entire letter before; she nervously twisted her fingers and answered softly, “Please don’t mind it, Lord. That was just my father’s one-sided fanciful wish. You have a contract with the Princess, and there’s Miss Romaine… you… just consider it a kind joke I made, I…”
Originally, the letter wasn’t a big deal; anyone could see it was merely a family letter, and the contents could be seen as playful banter between family members. However, since it emerged through her hands, it felt different; Antinna felt somewhat uneasy, fearing that her lord might think she had pulled some small tricks within it. But in fact, Brendel was indifferent to such a matter; he was more concerned with other content in the letter. He looked at Antinna with a wry smile: “Antinna, this is a letter from your father, right?”
Antinna was taken aback and instinctively nodded her head.
“Do you know this Pamid person?”
This time, the aide shook her head. She frowned, showing a contemplative expression, but after a moment, she gently shook her head again.
“Your father’s real name was Siphai, right?” Brendel asked. It was a name he had never heard before; after all, it was a story from forty to fifty years ago, and the game passed over this history merely in a single line.
Antinna shuddered slightly and then nodded softly: “Perhaps so; he might have mentioned it once or twice. My father was from Siphai. In their culture, it’s common for children to have two names—publically, they use one name while between brothers and family, they often use the name from their childhood as a nickname.”
Brendel thought for a moment; it seemed indeed to be the case. He looked at the letter in his hand, and his mind began to form a rough outline. From the content of the letter, it could be seen that his grandfather had perhaps had a hierarchical relationship with Antinna’s father; based on the titles used in the letter, he should belong to the same generation as his father and Charles. The Pamid mentioned was clearly another of these officers and likely trusted by his grandfather. This realization greatly surprised him; he had never imagined there would be such a connection between him and Antinna. He had never believed in fate before, but he couldn’t help but feel some credit to it now, as if an invisible thread tied him to this aide.
