Chapter 940: Act 113 – The Wise One Varla
The young officer from Yani Lasu seemed to have injected a glimmer of hope among everyone. If they could easily reach Ruin, according to Brendel, they should have a good chance of escaping Anziluwa. Everyone thought that as long as they boarded a ship and ventured out to sea, the Jotungrund people would fall far behind. At least above the water’s surface – it was still the empire’s territory for those creatures from the underground. The discussion quickly became lively, but while everyone else was considering how to escape, the Merchant Miss from Yan Fortress thought about subsequent matters.
She asked, “After we leave the port, which route do we take? To Mezi or Cloak Bay?”
The others fell silent for a moment, and finally, Oni replied, “I think we should go to Cloak Bay. Mezi is under the control of the White Legion, and we cannot enter her sphere of influence so easily before confirming Her Majesty’s stance.” She seemed to have finally accepted the possibility of the queen betraying the empire, leading the conversation into this speculation.
“No, no, no,” QiYala shook her head vigorously. “Cloak Bay has always been the domain of the Cecil family, under the control of the Temple of Fire. It may seem on the surface to be the farthest from the queen’s control, but in reality, since everyone understands this reasoning, then surely that Queen understands it as well. Under normal circumstances, it is the farthest from the empire’s supreme authority, but now, I think it might actually be the center of the vortex.”
“That does make some sense…”
“So we go to Mezi, but what about the White Legion?”
“Let’s not worry about the White Legion for now. In the north, besides the White Legion, there are also the territories of Duke Ludwig and Duke Helix. In such a place where powers are complicated and deeply rooted, it is precisely where royal authority struggles to intervene. Especially at this moment, Her Majesty is unlikely to have the time to untangle the intricate relationships there, so going there is, in fact, safer,” QiYala answered.
The others turned their attention towards Brendel, who nodded gently, thinking that these noble heirs were not entirely useless; at least the plan they proposed was highly feasible. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “Let’s go to Mezi.”
QiYala was right; the noble powers in the north were complex, with several grand duchies mingling with military nobles. No matter how strong Her Majesty the Queen was, she could not quickly untangle them all in a short span of time, making the north the best place to take advantage of the chaos. But there was one idea that QiYala did not guess: Brendel wanted to wait in the north for the situation to become clearer. As he said, the matters concerning the Silver Queen were of little concern to him – except for Xi, regardless of the Temple of Fire or some duke, he did not need to stand in opposition to anyone. Therefore, he was most unwilling to get caught up in this vortex.
Opposing the Queen of Dragons was an unavoidable obligation, but regardless, he already knew of Her Majesty’s “conspiracy.” His goal now was to avoid entering any sensitive areas, lest he provoke Her Majesty into taking some extreme actions. To him, Mezi was perfect – controlled by Her Majesty, yet also distant enough to be safely outside her grasp, preventing either side from making any misjudgments.
In fact, civil strife within the empire was undoubtedly what Brendel most hoped for, as long as the flames did not touch him. He felt that the best-case scenario was to watch Her Majesty and the Temple of Fire inflict mutual damage from this safe distance, then find an opportunity to rescue Xi. Of course, this was a bit difficult, but dreaming a little wouldn’t hurt in easing his mind.
After considering, he continued, “There’s one more thing. I think you all wouldn’t want a situation where, after escaping from Anziluwa, we get sunk by the imperial navy, right? So we must contact the empire beforehand. We need to assume we can dock at any port in Mezi. Who can manage this?”
“My lord… if you’re at ease, I might give it a try,” just as Brendel finished speaking, a stammering voice responded. Turning around, he found it was the portly young man Afram, who in his memory rarely spoke up in such occasions. He was somewhat surprised as he looked at the guy. “But,” Afram added somewhat awkwardly, “it might only be a commercial port…”
“That’s enough.” Brendel waved his hand. “Well done, Afram. I didn’t expect your family to have connections within the empire; Duke Karasu certainly deserves his reputation.”
His praise wasn’t empty flattery. Within the empire, besides Yan Fortress, noble families in touch with the empire during this era were few and far between. Even powerful figures like Duke Anlek often went unknown in the empire. Outside of a few regions to the south of Anzeruta and some informed individuals within the empire, not many had even heard Anlek’s name.
The fact that Duke Karasu was still maintaining contact with the empire at this time, even keeping what seemed to be a decent network, could certainly be described as extraordinary.
Afram was somewhat embarrassed by Brendel’s compliment, unable to stop himself from grinning. Since the embassy group set out from Erluin, this was the first time he felt a sense of achievement in a formal situation, and for a moment, pride swelled within him. Although earlier he might not have thought highly of Brendel, a country bumpkin from a remote area, after these series of events, he felt that being praised by such a legendary earl was a considerable skill in itself.
Brendel was also surprised that matters progressed so smoothly; he originally didn’t hold high hopes for this group, only to find that the noble heirs among the embassy were more capable than he had imagined. Of course, it should be like this; having been born into noble families, their education and vision were far superior to contemporary commoners. Except for a few geniuses, in such an environment, they weren’t genuinely incapable but merely complacent. However, once they had the motivation, their knowledge and experience could become outstanding capabilities, and the combination of these abilities leading to the current situation was not something unbelievable.
After they concluded discussions, everyone began to take action – organizing plans, arranging routes, counting food supplies, and checking the weapons and ammunition reserves of the embassy group. Of course, the most important task was to appease the Crusian nobles without letting them catch on. Everyone was busy, moving like the wind, except for the three ladies: Romaine, Princess Margadale, and the Silver Dragon Misreale, who appeared particularly relaxed. The Merchant Miss’s idleness seemed innate; she always found ways to slack off. Meanwhile, Lady Misreale curiously observed the ways of the human world, asking Brendel ridiculous questions like, “As a lord, is this how you normally command your subordinates?”
“Wasn’t it like this for humans a thousand years ago?”
“A bit different,” Misreale responded, staring at the members of the Erluin embassy and the Crusian nobles in the woods.
“Lady Misreale, have you not returned to the human world in the past thousand years?” Margadale asked, somewhat surprised as she turned to look at her.
“As a fully grown dragon, we try to minimize our interference in the mortal realm. Besides, we’re mostly quite lazy and don’t bother leaving Dragon Valley. If it weren’t for special circumstances, I wouldn’t have met Marlaxias and the others,” Misreale answered candidly.
“I see…”
The three of them fell silent for a moment, but Princess Margadale, being wise, naturally understood that Brendel had another purpose in keeping her behind. She paused again and asked, “My lord, do you want to know some things about the Temple of Fire?”
Brendel was slightly surprised, having not anticipated she would guess his thoughts so accurately. He hesitated for a moment and nodded slightly.
“You’ve heard what we discussed; Her Majesty’s actions are very unusual. I want to know why the Temple of Fire appears to have no reaction.”
“My lord, that question puts me in a difficult position,” Princess Margadale frowned slightly after hearing it and then forced a smile.
“Is it related to some secrets?” Brendel inquired. “If so, Your Highness need not answer.”
“Not exactly.”
Princess Margadale sighed lightly.
…
The current weakening of the Temple of Fire truly began one hundred and fifty years ago, during the reign of Emperor Grandtoddy’s son, when under the suggestion of the Old Nidwen Chancellor, they nurtured and courted local and military nobles, gradually forming the trifold structure of today’s empire. The once transcendent position of the Temple of Fire, held for nearly six centuries since the Age of Enlightenment, began to disintegrate. The emerging nobility and greedy military nobility pressed in, dividing the empire into the north and south, allowing the royal family to finally catch a breath in between. When the eleventh son of Emperor Grandtoddy – today’s Silver Queen’s father – passed away, this renowned sovereign held a sword in one hand and a scepter in the other on his sickbed, seemingly to signify his life’s accomplishments.
After the emperor’s death, the Silver Queen ascended the throne, gradually reclaiming the excessive powers accumulated by local nobles. On one hand, she continued suppressing the Temple of Fire; on the other hand, she began to be wary of the northern noble lords. The hidden dangers planted by her father’s extreme measures were resolved one by one in her hands. This iron-blooded queen, although poorly reputed among the nobles, was also one of the most tenacious female emperors in Crusian history.
It could be said that she paved the way for reforms in Cruz. Behind her, Crown Prince Rainwright had the empire’s eagle soaring high into the sky – at the height of the empire’s glory, it was even the only nation in the Vaughnd continent capable of competing with the even more powerful Madara of the era. This was the empire’s redemption from the humiliating defeat it faced in the White Year’s four territories, and after that, the Crusian Empire welcomed its most prosperous period of royal power.
This was the historical narrative Brendel was familiar with—the rise of Crusian royal power and the decline of ecclesiastical power. But in this world, only a few knew that this history had already been thoroughly altered from the moment the Jotungrund first set foot on the surface world.
Neither saints like Detais, who could foresee the future as clearly as Wade, nor wise figures like Varla from the Lion’s Holy Palace could perceive this fact.
However, for every cleric of the current generation, born during the vibrant years and having experienced the entire rise and fall of the Temple, the past history was filled with unusual weight and resentment. Many archived documents in the Hall of Candles that recorded this history were laden with helplessness and lament; every cleric who read them would inevitably feel a surge of “what ifs.”
If the previous generation of clergy hadn’t been so arrogant and self-important, if the priests of Rosha’s generation could have faced the realities of their power against local nobles earlier, if the Temple hadn’t placed such blind trust in its supposed absolute control over believers and faith over the centuries, perhaps today’s Cruz would be a different place.
Like some low-ranking clerics, Lava also enjoyed reading about the Temple’s past in the Hall of Candles’ corridors. As the supreme seat of the Lion’s Holy Palace, he did hold some small privileges—such as a designated spot, a comfortable chair, and a special candelabrum; the monks were well aware of the high priest’s little habits and arranged everything in advance. This esteemed individual, having wielded ecclesiastical power since the Year of the Lyre, also enjoyed this minor special treatment.
This had little to do with comfort; it represented a symbol of power.
Unique and supreme.
Lava was not a power-hungry person. Compared to those truly lost in the dream of power, his life mirrored that of a genuine ascetic, lacking many pleasures and even a little too austere for someone in his position. He rarely appeared before followers, and although famous in the imperial capital, not many truly understood him; amongst his few rivals and allies, perhaps Her Majesty the Queen could be considered one.
However, Lava was very conscious of his authority, believing it to be one of the most vital things the Temple lost in the past century due to negligence.
Today, as usual, after reading the last paragraph, he placed a silk bookmark, closed the book, gently flicked his finger, causing the flame on the silver candelabrum to flicker before extinguishing. He meticulously returned everything to its original place but did not stand from his chair, resting his hands on the red monk’s robe, quietly waiting.
Moments later, the lady referred to as the Saint of the Lion’s Holy Palace, Sidney, glided down the corridor like a ghost.
The lady first glanced at the books on the shelf that had been touched—as usual, the books Varla frequently read were still some records related to that history. She slightly frowned with a blank expression but said nothing further, replying with an academic tone, “Duke Helix was only injured in an assassination attempt and is currently staying at the Rose Garden. As for those rumors, they were fabricated by someone named Nicole.”
“Who is that?” Varla asked.
“A trivial character, he’s recently been hiding in Accordion Alley.”
“And now?”
“He’s in the dungeon of the tribunal—”
“Have we extracted any information yet?”
“This person met with Eugene half a month ago.”
Varla seemed to be pondering a question, fixating his gaze on the silver candelabrum motionlessly. After a while, he asked, “Is he the high priest Eugene of the Kochan territory?”
Sidney nodded.
Varla’s lips pressed tightly together, his white eyebrows furrowing; Sidney’s answer hinted at a schism and betrayal from within the Temple. The high priest of Kochan was located around Rustra, underscoring the importance of this area’s high priest to the Temple of Fire: “The first to respond to Her Majesty’s call was also him, along with eleven others who arrived at Rustra to investigate them.”
“Caesar has already set about to handle this.”
“Have we clarified who the assailants against Duke Helix were?”
“Seemingly the same group.”
Varla subtly furrowed his brow, sensing a whiff of conspiracy. This was no longer mere betrayal; someone was targeting the Temple, and he keenly detected this point.
The adversaries hunting the Temple within the empire came from three factions: the unruly military nobles of northern Mezi, the southern nobles led by the Parut family in south Anzeruta, and Her Majesty. Who acted?
“Recently, Her Majesty has been getting closer to the Nidwen Chancellor,” Sidney added.
Varla raised his eyebrows, “Who told you this?”
“Duke Cecil.”
“What else did he say?”
Sidney remained silent; she was not one for many words, but Varla seemed to have grasped her meaning.
What does Her Majesty have planned now?
“There is one more thing.”
“Hmm?”
“About a month ago, the daughter of Nidwen went to Anziluwa,” Sidney quietly replied.
“The daughter of Nidwen,” Varla pondered for a moment before realizing Sidney was referring to Young Nidwen. He felt a momentary daze and, puzzled, asked, “That stubborn young girl… what was her name again? Delphine, yes, that’s it.” Varla tapped his forehead and suddenly frowned, “She went to Anziluwa. What was she doing there a month ago?”
