Chapter 873: Act 51 – The Third Letter
The gray gemstone, under the light, appeared both dim and dazzling; this contradictory feeling was mixed so naturally on this gem that it seemed to captivate one’s heart at first glance. Anyone seeing this gemstone would know at once that it was anything but ordinary. But to Brendel, this gray gemstone looked so familiar that he opened a dimensional rift and took out another nearly identical gray gemstone in his hand. As he slowly opened his palm, Freya let out a soft gasp.
“Brendel, the gemstone in your hand is exactly the same as the one your grandfather left behind. Is this a gift from Lord Darus?”
Brendel glanced at the Valkyrie from Erluin, startling her; Freya had never seen him show such an odd expression and instinctively wondered if she had said something wrong.
Brendel took a gentle breath and then put the gemstone back—he actually had another one just like it. He had encountered similar items twice before. The first time was at the Loop of Trade Winds. The second time was beneath the glaciers of the Frostdeath Forest. At the Loop of Trade Winds, the high priest Amann and Queen Saint Ausoor referred to this gemstone as the Sealing Stone, while beneath the glacier, in that strange dream, the Minren revered it as a sacred object. But he understood deep down what this thing truly was—a fragment of the Dark Dragon’s soul.
This gray gemstone emitted an unusual radiance because its interior was already transparent, proving that the inheritance within the gemstone had been extracted.
And this gemstone—
Was his grandfather’s legacy.
Was Sword Saint Darus the Dark Dragon? Brendel startled himself with this sudden thought; it seemed to explain why Darus had been judged by the Temple of Fire, exiled, and chose to leave the power center of the kingdom to live in obscurity. It also clarified why the allied forces had suddenly turned against him during that holy war—because the Sword Saint Darus was the Dark Dragon. With this truth, everything seemed to make sense. He shook his head again, but that did not explain why, during the third holy war in the game, they would be attacked from behind by Madara’s Undead Army.
Moreover, if his grandfather was the Dark Dragon, the Temple of Fire would unlikely let him go; after all, the Dark Dragon was the sworn enemy of the four great temples.
Another doubt arose from his grandfather’s lifespan. In Brendel’s memory, his grandfather died of illness, but it was also due to the gradual aging and decline of his bodily functions. His ultimate lifespan could only be considered long among ordinary people, but from the strength and level of Sword Saint Darus, that was early death. He had suspected this point long ago, not to mention that receiving the inheritance of the Dark Dragon would greatly extend one’s lifespan. He understood very well what the Dark Dragon’s inheritance meant—it was the blood of the gods.
Brendel lightly tapped his knuckles on the desk, his mind filled with questions, as though there was a faint thread of thought, yet he could not grasp its beginning.
At that moment, Freya suddenly spoke, “Brendel, Antinna, take a look at this map.”
Brendel already had some guesses and conclusions in his mind, so he raised his head to look at the crude map. But upon looking closely, he was slightly startled. The papyrus map was outlined with some kind of hard-to-fade ink, with several simple lines sketched, along with scribbled annotations. It was almost indecipherable at a glance, but he suddenly felt that he had seen this map somewhere before.
In the game?
He quickly shook his head; there were few secret maps in the game, and Sophie had encountered a few, but most of them were clearer than this one. The secret maps he had come across in this life were even fewer, almost non-existent—he had an impression of this map, but could not recall where he had seen it.
Freya glanced at him and Antinna before saying, “These annotations are also in secret script; it seems to mention a place called Osopaba.”
“Osopaba?” Antinna remarked in surprise, “There’s no such place in Erluin.”
“Nor is there in Cruz,” Brendel replied, taking a deep breath. “This is a place name of the Minren; they once fought a great battle there against the Cruzans and the Wind Elves.”
Suddenly, it clicked for him. It was like an image unconsciously surfaced in his mind, overlapping with the crude map and sending a shiver down his spine as he suddenly remembered where he had seen this map. The Minren, Tumen, Tumen had once hidden a map in his mind when he first embarked on his journey as a spellcaster. That map occasionally appeared in his mind, yet he could not recall it when he actively tried, which was why he had felt that mix of familiarity and strangeness before.
At that moment, he completely understood; the map Tumen had given him had only the undulating lines of mountains and rivers, while Antinna’s father had marked notes on it; the place Freya pointed to was indeed the Osopaba plain—what is known today as Cloverland. However, there were other places—Brendel thought they must also be Minren place names, corresponding to today’s names. Still, there was a large blank space on the map left by Antinna’s father. Though he did not know why Bog Neison had drawn such a map, he vaguely suspected the latter was likely searching for something, and that thing not only related to the ancient war between the Minren and the Dark Iron Folk but also to his grandfather.
“Grandfather, what kind of person are you really?” Brendel couldn’t help but sigh in his heart.
Looking at the three items on his desk, his doubts grew far deeper than when he had not found these clues, as though he had cleared mist only to find thicker clouds behind it, obscuring his vision; his heart struggled with uncertainty, and he finally could not help but open a mental link to Charles and Medisa, saying, “Charles, Medisa, are you there? I have a question to ask you.”
Just as he opened his mouth, Charles’s surprised voice came through, “Ha! Lord, I was just trying to find you. I can’t believe I heard your voice; we really are in sync…”
“Cut the nonsense,” Brendel interrupted his teasing with irritation. “Charles, do you know the names Pamid and Xiphad?”
The other side immediately became excited. “Heavens! Lord, why are you asking about them?”
“So you do know them?”
“Of course! They are your grandfather’s servants. Pamid hails from the Anna family, the second son of the Gray Mountain Earl. Xiphad comes from a little noble family in Siphai; he was a well-known genius back in the day.”
Charles paused for a moment before continuing, “Brendel, have you found them?”
Brendel shook his head. “I just heard about them by chance.”
“Did your father tell you?” Charles sighed. “I’ve been looking for them too.”
“So you have no idea about their situation?”
“Lord, after receiving Princess’s order, they disappeared without a trace. I know they must have found out something, which is why I’ve been trying to locate them,” Charles replied.
Brendel furrowed his brow and asked sharply, “The Princess?”
Charles’s voice suddenly lost its cheer, and after a moment, he replied, “Ah, you must have misheard, Lord.”
“Charles, I heard Husher say the scenery of the Gem Plain was beautiful; I think it’s time to give you a vacation,” Brendel threatened silently.
Charles’s voice nearly sounded like he would cry. “Okay, okay, Brendel! Just don’t lock me up! Let me explain… Well, that princess… you know, your father almost became the betrothed to one of Princess Grifian’s aunts.”
“One of them?”
“I can’t disclose her name; I have to maintain a lady’s reputation, and besides, she may not even meet you.” Charles said helplessly.
“Is what you’re saying true?”
“Absolutely!” the young servant mage assured vigorously.
Brendel frowned, feeling he couldn’t fully trust what this guy said, but if what was said were true, it seemed another lead had broken.
He shook his head, suddenly recalling, “What did you want to find me for?”
“Ah, ah, don’t you still have something to ask Medisa?” Charles, covered in cold sweat, hurried to change the subject, but when he heard Brendel’s cold snort, he quickly replied, “Fine. I mean, if your matters aren’t urgent, you might want to hear some news from here first.”
“What news?” Brendel asked in confusion.
“It’s a magical message delivered to a certain lady countess by her subordinate, which was handed to me.”
“Dierphir?”
…
The princess placed a silver brooch before her, lifted it up, and examined it carefully before quietly putting it down.
She still remembered the situation of that afternoon—
The sunlight in the afternoon seemed to hold a flavor of warmth; the leaves swayed softly; apart from that was the soundless silence. She gently rose to her toes, slowly pulled back, her cool lips just nearly touching. Brendel stared wide-eyed, looking at the princess in confusion.
“Brendel, I truly appreciate it. It’s great to hear you are still advancing along this path; however, I hope you can seriously consider our engagement.”
“Why?” Brendel asked, frowning.
“Erluin is a small country; to resist potential enemies, we must concentrate the forces of the entire kingdom and even restore ancient systems.” Grifian took a step back, her pale silver-gray bright eyes measuring him closely. “But this ancient kingdom has undergone two successive rules of Siphai and my family; I understand it too well—nobles under my father’s reign have various different ambitions and short-sightedness; only a few hold ideals—such people are unworthy of trust.”
As if to reinforce this statement, she shook her head lightly. “The kingdom must centralize power again, re-establish the local tax system that has been interrupted since Anson’s time, and weaken the military strength of the nobles. However…”
Suddenly, Brendel grasped the implication hidden behind this ‘however’—the Southlands had already laid the foundation for restoring royal authority, but the decision-making power of the entire Southlands would ultimately fall on him. If he fully supported the princess, regardless of whether Duke Lantonrand, Duke Vieiro, or Duke Golan-Elsen opposed it, it would not change the final outcome—one could clearly see the decisive military power held by the Earl of Toniger after the Battle of Autumn Veil.
But if he opposed, or even merely maintained the status quo, then the local nobles would take him as their leader and remain indifferent. Indeed, Duke Vieiro was the princess’s maternal grandfather, and Duke Lantonrand at least nominally was an ally of the princess. The Highland Knights stood outside it all. Yet the local nobility and the central royal family naturally had opposing properties; Duke Vieiro would never risk losing power to support his granddaughter, nor would Duke Lantonrand; they would be pleased to see a royal family close to them but would not allow it to rise above them.
This was the inherent conflict between the princess’s ideals and the core interests of the dukes.
But what could he do?
The kingdom must re-centralize power; Toniger and Valhalla could not be exceptions—one could even say they would be the foremost. Did the princess hope he would set an example? But could he trust this half-elf maiden? Toniger and Valhalla were established by him; they were the hopes and futures of many—the veterans who had experienced the November War in the Bronzesteel Dragon Mercenary Corps, adventurers persecuted by Grudin, the residents of Viridien Village, and even Antinna, and Carglis; their visions entwined him, a responsibility brought by power. Could he transfer this responsibility to others?
He silently weighed all this in his heart; emotionally he wanted to believe in this princess—she could persist in her ideals and possessed the heart to pursue mercy and justice. She was Erluin’s eldest princess, the saintly white princess who had moved countless players throughout history. But after all, no one is perfect; would she still be swayed by the noble mentality in her nature, hesitating and compromising with conservative forces? This concerned the fate of many; reason told Brendel that there was a weakness lurking in the princess’s nature; she was not a true reformer.
And all this depended on the gentleness in her nature.
History had already commented on everything, and today depended on his choice. Brendel knew very well the difference between himself and the princess; he had no foundation in this world, the only ties being his parents that he had only just met; yet Princess Grifian had an unbreakable connection to the old nobility. She was not the cold and ruthless Silver Queen.
Brendel looked at Princess Grifian, who was half a head shorter than him, tilting her head slightly. Her pale silver-gray eyes met his gaze openly; her lips were pursed, her silver curls cascading down, sparkling beautifully in the sunlight, with a hint of pointed ears peeking from beneath her long hair, revealing her elven bloodline. No one would doubt the beauty of this princess, blending the nobility of a human royal with the nature and intimacy of the forest.
Brendel certainly would not forget the fragrance of the maiden lingering on his lips.
“I know what you’re thinking, Brendel,” Princess Grifian said, noticing his understanding as she spoke. “But if someone destined to decide the future of a kingdom is too naive, it may not bode well for either you or me.”
Brendel caught the double meaning in her words and asked, “Then what do you think I should do, Your Highness?”
Princess Grifian looked at Brendel. He could indeed take the same path as Anlek, usurping power from her and Haruz, declaring himself king. His strength was actually superior, and he had the ability and time to do so. But if he took this path, he would lose the reputation that accompanied him and his rightful position. If all he needed was a throne and supreme power, he could completely choose this route. But if he chose the latter path, the losses would vastly outweigh the gains.
Princess Grifian’s eyes sparkled slightly as she looked at this distinct nobleman—Lord Earl—calmly replying, “Marry me.”
“I am Haruz’s sister. In truth, my claim to the throne is legitimate, and you, as my husband, could formally manage and rule this country according to royal tradition. At that time, Toniger and Valhalla would be royal territories, and it would be completely reasonable for Vieiro, Lantonrand, or even Golan-Elsen and Karasu to submit to you.” She paused, “But one day, when you no longer desire the throne, it would be only Haruz or his descendants who could inherit this position.”
This was just like Anlek, but with much harsher conditions. After hearing the princess’s words, Brendel couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “Your Highness, this doesn’t sound like I’m marrying you; it sounds more like I’m being married off to you…”
Princess Grifian smiled teasingly, clearly seeing that what Brendel cared about was not the power in his hands.
“But I already have a fiancée,” Brendel could only reply. “Let’s postpone this for now.”
“That’s alright; I’ll wait for your answer.” Princess Grifian was not at all upset, smiling slightly.
Brendel could only flee in embarrassment.
Princess Grifian’s fingers brushed against the brooch, as if she returned to her memories. She lifted her gaze to look at the sunset scenery outside the window, where the evening glow blazed like fire, hanging far below the golden clouds.
At that moment, a knock echoed from outside. She was slightly startled, listening to the sound, and then said, “Come in, Mrs. Hill.” The door opened, and indeed her maid, a woman in her forties, stood outside holding a letter respectfully, saying, “Your Highness.”
“It’s so late; is there something urgent?” Princess Grifian asked her.
“There’s a letter from Varlanden,” Mrs. Hill replied.
“Is it for me?”
“Yes, it’s a personal letter from Mr. Overwell.”
Princess Grifian took the letter, opened the envelope, and unfolded the letter inside, reading it carefully. Initially, her brow arched slightly before her expression changed.
‘—To inform Your Highness, the Silver Empress of the Cruz Empire has recently granted a title of nobility to a female countess. According to reliable information, this newly appointed lord comes from Erluin and has a close relationship with the Earl of Toniger—’
