Chapter 876: Act 54 – The Slowly Rising Curtain
The autumn wind, referred to locally as Ankaral, sweeps gently across the vast, white plains south of the Anfer Mountain Range, where waves of varying depths ripple as if traversing an expansive sea. Undulating low hills resemble the crests of waves, and a lionman youth, riding atop a golden lion, stands proudly at the peak, gazing towards the shimmering horizon to the north of the plains.
The lion beneath him dons splendid armor, its mane adorned with beautiful ornaments. Standing within the shoulder-high, white, withered grass, it occasionally shakes its massive head and sneezes lightly. The white fields symbolize Toquinin and are the origin of the name of the Saintly White Plains. This plain stretches from the Silver Sand Coast in the west to the borders of the human kingdom in the east, while to the north, underneath the boundless mountain range, lies the powerful empire known as Cruz.
The lionman youth fixes his gaze intently in that direction.
“Nale, we should head back. That’s the limit of today’s patrol. If you go any further, I can’t take that responsibility,” another lionman shouts from beside his mount behind the hillock.
The lionman youth replies without turning: “It’s okay. Tomorrow we will cross over there.” His emerald-like eyes glint with determination. Even by human standards, he is a remarkably handsome lionman, with a golden mane flowing like tassels. He has a well-proportioned physique—stronger than most humans but with fluid muscle lines—and he is bare from the waist up, wearing heavy shoulder armor on his right shoulder and arm, with a necklace made of beast fangs across his chest.
The lionman below cannot see the scenery beyond the hillock, but he knows there used to be a grand fortress there, constructed from pure white stones brought from the plains, now only scattered rubble in the grass proves it once existed.
“Nale, humans will pay the price,” he says.
“Yes, Amon,” the lionman youth responds.
…
With assistance from her maids, Xi takes quite some time to navigate through the long corridor, finally arriving at a fragrant courtyard filled with birdsong, where she meets “that person” mentioned by Sidney. Unlike what she had imagined, the person before her is neither a stern noble nor a luxuriously adorned lady, but a girl slightly younger than herself—if one can call her that, because besides the coldness on her face that does not fit her age, she has the body and features similar to a fifteen-year-old human girl, with waist-length golden hair and a face that looks as exquisite as a doll. She wears an extremely masculine silk robe, the edges lined with a collar of mink fur, the robe is oversized, almost dragging on the ground.
The girl looks in this direction with sea-blue eyes, a single authoritative glance rendering the maids silent. They step back half a step, releasing Xi, and bow respectfully, leaving her awkwardly standing there, unsure if she should comply.
“You are the one they brought back from the south?” The Silver Queen Constance speaks, her voice like a series of silver bells falling onto the marble of the corridor, ethereal and crisp. She looks at Xi, a glimmer of intrigue in her eyes: “What a beauty.”
“My name is Xi. May I ask… where exactly is this place?” With the initial discomfort lessened by facing a girl a few years her junior, Xi quietly asks. She did not expect her question to horrify the maids behind her; although Her Majesty is a woman, her coldness is more severe than a man’s. They had never seen anyone dare to speak so casually before Her Majesty, fearing this noble earl could inadvertently anger the whimsical supreme being.
However, Constance does not mind; instead, she rarely smiles lightly: “This is my palace.”
“You say… what?” Xi stares blankly at her.
The previously chattering maids turn pale. The Queen’s declaration is so explicit, yet this girl seems oblivious, still inquiring “What did you say?” How does that differ from calling the Queen by name directly? They can almost imagine Her Majesty’s furious expression, followed by punishment and retribution, and they tremble, resembling leaves caught in the wind.
Unlike their expectations, Constance finds it quite amusing. After decades of palace life, she has never encountered such a pure-hearted girl. Watching Xi look as if she is going to faint, she feels a surge of pride and teasingly says: “You heard correctly; this is the White Rose Garden of the Holy Contipal Palace. I presume you have heard of this place. And as for me, it’s fair to say that the entire palace, and even the broader land outside of it, belongs to me. I doubt anyone would disagree with that.”
Constance thinks this statement should thoroughly confuse the poor girl, but to her surprise, the impact of the previous line on Xi far outweighs the latter—because the mountain girl’s understanding of “this is my palace” represents something significant, while she might not know the deep implications of the White Rose Garden of the Holy Contipal Palace. In the Temple of Fire’s jurisdiction, any knowledgeable person should have heard of Cruz Empire’s power center—the White Rose Garden of the Holy Contipal Palace. Unfortunately, Xi, raised in the Shubli Woodlands, is the rare exception, and this politically charged place has no more meaning to her than 35 Front Gate of Valhalla or the barracks of Baron Coldfir Street.
Constance looks at the mountain girl blinking and, feeling a bit uneasy, asks her: “But how did I end up here?”
“It was I who sent for you to come here,” Constance, being a queen, nonchalantly replies, the failed whim turning like a vortex in her heart, disappearing in an instant.
This statement leaves Xi silent.
Constance’s words seem to inject countless jumbled memories into her mind, connecting the fragmented pieces of memory into a complete chain. She finally recalls what happened after Avina sealed her in the invulnerable barrier to protect herself and all that truly existed in that dream. She was transported from Lantonrand to the sea, then passed through Gray Wind Harbor and the Swallow Fortress, traversing halfway across the empire, arriving at the political center of the empire, and ultimately liberated from the crystal within the temple.
Though she still finds it hard to comprehend how she inexplicably became a noble earl, she is not foolish and suddenly realizes who this “girl” standing in front of her really is.
“Your Majesty,” she replies with a noticeable unease.
Constance nods in satisfaction.
Meanwhile, the maids behind Xi finally breathe a sigh of relief, almost ready to pat their chests in gratitude; it seems that this noble earl is not too foolish after all. However, Xi clearly intends to finish opposing them, as her next words immediately drag the hearts of the maids, which had just climbed from the abyss, back down into despair.
Constance watches Xi fall silent before her, her brows tightly furrowed, fists clenched. She raises an eyebrow and asks, “I called you here to make you the earl of the empire; you seem quite reluctant?”
“I don’t want to be any earl, Your Majesty. I just want to return to Erluin.”
The maids gasp at their noble earl’s words, nearly fainting—if they were allowed to—but after all, the queen is still before them, and they can only tremble, biting their teeth, hoping that their noble earl doesn’t say anything else treasonous.
Constance seems rather displeased and asks, “Why do you wish to return to Erluin? Is it to go back to your lord? I’ve heard that noble earl is the young man, yes—the young man, charming and dashing. It’s only natural for a girl like you to harbor feelings for him.” She shakes her head: “But you must understand, there is no future for you and him. He has a bright future ahead, how could he possibly look upon you? The one to end up in his bed in the future will either be a duke’s daughter or your princess; you are destined to be merely an inconspicuous mistress. Ask yourself, is that what you want?”
Xi’s eyes widen as she looks at this girl who appears younger than herself. She wants to rebut, but finds she cannot speak. No, her lord is certainly not that kind of person, but what difference does it make for her? The lord already had a fiancée, and all she can do is silently watch everything unfold. The Silver Queen’s words pierce her heart like a sharp thorn; she suddenly realizes that this idea of being the lord’s mistress is something she might have entertained. “No, no, Xi, you mustn’t think that way.” She hurriedly shakes her head, telling herself.
The mountain girl lifts her head, her cheeks burning.
Constance watches coldly and asks, “Do you still want to go back?”
Xi nods.
Constance’s expression turns cold: “Do you think I will allow the Azure Spear to leave the empire, little girl? I would rather destroy it than allow such a thing to happen.” Her voice is chilling, the accumulated aura of supreme authority frightens even the mountain girls behind Xi, making them tremble like aspen leaves, seeming as if they might collapse at any moment.
But Xi stubbornly looks at this Queen, her gaze seemingly already answering the question—she would rather die than be apart from Brendel.
Constance can sense this stubbornness and snorts coldly: “Oh, you seek death; but are you not afraid of implicating your lord? He has a bright future ahead.”
The mountain girl shivers, her fists trembling with anger as she gazes at her.
Constance observes Xi’s state, unable to resist shaking her head. She raises her head and says to the now startled maids: “You all may leave.”
The maids feel as if they have been granted amnesty, hastily bowing and retreating. But they cannot help stealing glances at Xi before they exit, as though fearful that this girl, oblivious to the world, might offend Her Majesty too gravely, truly risking their lives. Even the round-faced maid dares to take the risk to grasp Xi’s hand tightly—a small gesture that, of course, Constance notices, but she pretends not to see. Once the maids have all departed, she says: “Though it’s our first meeting, it’s clear they care about you. Do you know the situation of the mountain folk in the empire?”
Xi is not a puppet; she can sense the concern of these fellow girls from her kin. She feels a slight warmth in her heart but remains silent.
“What a stubborn little girl,” Constance replies. “But maintaining this standoff with me is of no benefit to you. You are an earl of the empire today and will forever be one. Regardless of whether you accept this identity or not, you must swear loyalty to me in exchange for your sword.” She warns: “I can make it clear to you, Xi, from today on, if you dare to step a single foot out of the White Rose Garden, I will send troops to attack Erluin and hang your beloved earl.”
Xi’s face pales, disbelief written all over her as she looks at her, but the empire’s queen remains unfazed and continues: “Of course, once you oath your fealty to me, I will promise to grant you the land of the Four Wildernesses as your fief. But remember, you don’t have much time; you wouldn’t want to risk your lord Brendel’s future, would you?”
Hearing Brendel’s name from her lips, Xi’s entire body sways, feeling dizzy and lost; but she doesn’t know where the courage springs from, suddenly gritting her teeth to raise her hand. The emerald holy spear appears in her grasp, and she lets out a beastly growl, thrusting the spear towards Constance’s abdomen. With a soft sound, the Azure Spear nearly pierces the Silver Queen right through, and at that moment, Xi feels utterly exhausted, breathing heavily. But when she lifts her head, she sees no pain on Constance’s face, only an icy gaze fixed on her: “… Noble earl, is this your answer?”
“You…” Xi stares blankly at the spear in her hand.
Constance raises a hand and places it on the Azure Spear, then slowly pulls the blade from her body inch by inch. She glances at her blood-stained abdomen and then at the mountain girl, disappointment flooding her gaze as she shakes her head: “You are recognized by the Azure. You and your Azure Spear cannot harm me. Go down now; you need to wake up properly. But remember my words, if you dare to make any reckless moves again, I will strike at Erluin first.”
Xi stands there, almost in shock, her face reflecting confusion.
“Guards!” Constance presses her hand against her abdomen and coldly shouts: “Take Count Mitra away.”
Moments later, as the Silver Queen watches the guards carry Xi away, an unwilling expression finally surfaces in her eyes. She lightly bares her teeth and releases her hand from her abdomen, finding the palm stained with blood. Yet she does not summon priests or doctors; instead, she glances toward a thicket in the garden, coldly stating: “Come out; how disgraceful to skulk around.”
In an instant, the bushes rustle, and a person clad in servant attire nervously steps out. The person fearfully glances at Her Majesty, greeting: “Your Majesty, are you alright? Do you need…?”
“Who told you that you could play the flatterer before me?” Constance interrupts. “What are you hiding there for? Have all the messengers outside died?”
“Your Majesty, of course not; it’s confidential dispatches from the Four Wildernesses.” The person jumps at the interruption and hurriedly replies.
“Confidential dispatches from the Four Wildernesses,” Constance frowns slightly: “What are the elves up to now?”
The person hastens closer and whispers a few words in her ear.
Once Constance finishes listening, her expression slightly darkens. “Is this letter genuine?”
“Totally genuine, Your Majesty.”
…
To the north of Yanilasou and Gray Mountain Region, the incursions by Toquinin lionmen are gradually decreasing, a situation that appears quite unusual under the circumstances of escalating tension in the north. Human scouts are advancing northward and soon discover an unprecedented army gathering from all directions, advancing toward the Anfer Mountain Pass—this news swiftly crosses the Shimmering Sea, traverses south to Ampere Seale, and penetrates inland, reaching those who need it.
“My Lord Brendel.” As Princess Grifian calls to Brendel in the courtyard, he is preparing a saddle for his horse. Upon seeing the princess emerge from the house, he can’t help but be slightly taken aback: “Your Highness, I was just about to come see you.”
“Here to say goodbye?”
Brendel, lacking noble grace, scratches his head. Although he indeed intended to do so, being called out like this is somewhat embarrassing. This is his home, and the princess is his guest—it feels slightly impolite to leave a guest behind while he rushes to return to his territory. However, this is not the time for him to care about courtesy.
“Sorry, Your Highness. My subordinate has been missing for quite some time, and I must act fast,” he can only respond.
Princess Grifian appears slightly displeased: “You didn’t seem this polite that evening when you stormed out of my study.”
“I stormed out?” Brendel is startled. To slam the door before the princess would surely cost him his title of power; that night he simply didn’t want to waste words with Makarolo and left first. How did it turn into slamming doors?
Princess Grifian quietly watches him: “Lord Brendel, aligning with the royal faction is no issue, and I understand your ideals—but the influence of the old nobility in the kingdom is deeply rooted, and the royal faction is part of them. If you repeatedly offend them, they won’t just let it go.”
Brendel scoffs. He knows too well from his past life that these old nobles were utterly useless people; the royal faction could achieve some results among them, but that was all. He shrugs and says: “I’m just stating my position. As for Mr. Makarolo’s desperate resolve, I greatly admire it, but I can’t commend it. Today Cruz can take one person from the kingdom; tomorrow they can take more. If Erluin can’t even protect its own citizens, then what dignity does this ancient kingdom have left?”
“I understand,” Grifian replies. “But what’s your plan? Are you truly going to declare war on the empire?”
“Are you here to dissuade me, Your Highness?”
Grifian lightly shakes her head: “I can’t dissuade you, but I trust you will know your limits, right, Lord Brendel?”
Brendel detects the helplessness in the princess’s tone, and his imposing spirit weakens a bit. It seems indeed not appropriate to flaunt power before a lady. He falls silent for a moment and nods: “I’m not so blind as to rush into war; it depends on the empire’s attitude. But I must retrieve my subordinate from the Cruz. After that, whether Her Majesty will rage against me is uncertain. Regardless, Erluin must prepare for war.”
The princess breathes a slight sigh of relief.
“I knew you would know your limits.”
She pauses: “Then I appoint you to be the leader of the upcoming envoy to the empire for Erluin. How does that sound, my lord?”
Brendel sees the princess lift her head to look at him, a glint of cunning hiding in her pale silver-gray eyes. He can’t help but be taken aback: “Envoy? What envoy?” His mind momentarily fails to grasp it. Is the princess forming an envoy to demand the return of captives from the empire? Wait, that seems too absurd. He had originally planned to sneak a small group into the empire to rescue Xi, but the princess’s impressive idea is practically leagues beyond his.
This is essentially a slap in the face to the empire—
“Your Highness, this… doesn’t seem quite right,” Brendel replies cautiously, weighing his words.
“Why not?”
“Well…” Brendel thinks for a moment and feels the princess might be too idealistic. He must explain: “Cruz values face quite a bit, and that Silver Queen even more so. If we do this, won’t we embarrass them?”
“Where is your mind at, Lord Brendel?” The princess looks at him in astonishment: “I’m sending you as the envoy of the Holy War to the Temple of Fire to assist in the battles with the empire.”
“Holy War?” Brendel can’t help but exclaim: “The holy war has begun?”
