Chapter 956: Act 128 – Memory?
Stars like dust.
The silver-robed wizards disappeared one by one behind the light gate. Turiman looked at Brendel, who had his hands braced against the railing, leaning forward to stare at him. He smiled slightly before turning and stepping into the light gate; he was the last of the Bud people to leave. The circular light gate on the transverse bridge rotated half a circle clockwise behind him and then quickly shrank to a pinpoint, slowly falling to the ground like a speck of dust.
Ruins Port under the night sky appeared battered after the violent daytime battle, the silent city now devoid of any people. Ruins Port was not large—except for the nobles who were unwilling to abandon their estates, most commoners had already evacuated during the initial stages of the war. The remaining refugees had all been arranged onto ships by Brendel with the help of the Erluin embassy. The Crusian nobles were quite unhappy that these commoners occupied their limited survival resources and space, leading to constant quarrels, but Brendel paid them no mind; this was Valhalla, and it belonged to his fleet, and he did not need to care.
The silver fleet hovered above the docks like a shoal of fish, with various sized escort ships surrounding a number of distinctly larger main ships. At the very center of the fleet was the flagship, Akhenaten. Under the clear starlight, sailors tightened mooring lines under the orders of the first mate, while a number of silver-glinting sails were beginning to swell with the wind. Listening to the commands, Brendel felt a wave of calm wash over him. He saw aboard the deck that Marjory, an officer from Yanirasu, was directing sailors to roll barrels filled with fresh water and food down from the deck. The young men setting sail for the first time lacked experience, but they were quick on their feet.
The gangway leading from the ship to the transverse bridge was not only left down; an additional gangway had been added. A certain lady, accustomed to posing as Erluin’s business envoy, stood at the end of the gangway, dressed in a thick fur coat and a mink fur shawl, topped with a cute round hat. She seemed unable to withstand the bone-chilling high-altitude winds, constantly rubbing her hands together, her bare face turning a rosy red.
Nevertheless, she earnestly instructed the sailors around her, “You’re all so clumsy; it worries me. Be very careful; that’s a truly noble and elegant lady. You mustn’t scare her!”
“No problem, Miss Romaine.”
“Yeah, Miss, you should head down to the cabin below; if you catch a cold, the Lord will surely get angry again.” Unfortunately, the sailors were quite familiar with her temperament and were not afraid at all, responding with laughter instead.
“Don’t speak nonsense; our lord has a wonderful temper and wouldn’t get angry,” Romaine hurriedly retorted. Though she said this, she cast a guilty glance towards Brendel, seeing him in a distracted state. She finally breathed a sigh of relief. She patted her chest and angrily declared, “If you keep talking nonsense, I’ll send you to swab the decks!”
The sailors immediately closed their mouths, still snickering.
Brendel waited for her to turn around before retracting his gaze, shaking his head and chuckling softly, while feeling a hint of realization—
The Bud people and the Four Great Temples had already realized their mistakes, for using deceit could not achieve the aims of justice. If the initial direction is misjudged, the resulting goals would only yield bitter fruits. But was the Queen on the opposing side of the Four Great Temples correct as well? Brendel felt perhaps not certainly so.
Because the Bud people, the dragon race, and the Four Great Temples were at least correct on one point: crazy actions can only lead the order to destruction and cannot bring rebirth from the ruins. No one is qualified to decide the fate of others, and no one is entitled to drag this world into war; blood cannot bring revolution, only an endless wave of hatred can be awakened.
“Perhaps I don’t know how to stand on the side of justice.”
“But I at least know what is beautiful and invaluable in this world.”
“I also know how to wield the sword of a knight,” Brendel murmured, “So the Queen is indeed growing more and more delusional on this path.”
A black coach appeared ghost-like on the transverse bridge, silently making its way toward Akhenaten before stopping by the gangway. While the sailors had been jokingly laughing, they suddenly became serious, for beside the coach stood three Valkyries—these female knights, riding flaming warhorses with long spears clad in armor, had demonstrated astonishing prowess in the previous battle, and yet there was someone in the embassy that required their protection? Everyone was shocked.
Not only the sailors, but nobles aboard distant ships also instinctively felt puzzled, many of them directing their gaze to the flagship—since the mysterious Lord Earl had boarded, who could be inside the coach? Could it possibly be Princess Erluin herself?
Even members of the embassy exchanged glances. Oni could not help but elbow Marjory’s arm: “Did you see Princess Margadale?” she asked. The young officer shook her head, “She’s on the ship, she came on with Juliette.”
“What about that lady from the Yanbing family?”
“Miss Dierphir? I just saw her.”
“Who could it possibly be, is it actually the princess?” Duke Vieiro’s daughter frowned, biting her nails in a rather impolite manner, revealing she was the type of woman with an exceptionally strong controlling nature, feeling very uneasy whenever unexpected matters arose.
“You’re overthinking it, Miss Oni.” Marjory was surprisingly calm; she glanced at the former and answered nonchalantly.
The coach stopped at the gangway, then the door opened. Juliette jumped out. Those who witnessed this first paused in slight surprise, then quickly recognized her as the female aide of Earl Erluin. There was someone so important that required her personal protection, thus everyone’s curiosity rose another level. They fixed their gazes on the coach, as if waiting for someone to emerge. Finally, someone slowly descended from it.
But it was a man.
“Ah!” Oni nearly cried out upon seeing the man.
On the other ships, the Crusian nobles looked as if they were ducks being choked, staring at that person as if gazing upon a demon. Some with lower nerves stepped back a few paces, and some even stepped in a line and fell onto the deck. Regardless, it didn’t take long for them to regain their senses; their faces were as pale as paper, completely drained of color.
Earl Orkans was frowning as he took out his pocket watch from his clothing to check the time in the moonlight, but at that moment, he seemed transfixed, standing there blankly, not even noticing as the watch slipped from his grasp onto the deck with a crash, shattering the glass cover.
“What’s wrong?” Marjory seemed to notice the different atmosphere just then; she turned to the Duke’s daughter and inquired.
“It’s him…” Oni’s jaw trembled. Despite her best efforts to suppress the shameful feeling, she could hardly stop the jittery sound: “It’s that person, the captain is actually with him, no wonder… no wonder he seems so confident…”
If there was one person throughout the history of the Empire that could make all the nobles tremble and was known throughout the Empire, yet the powerful Crusian Empire still held no sway over him after a hundred years, that person would only bear one name, one title.
His name is Mephistopheles, and his title is the Gray Saint.
Mephistopheles slowly descended from the coach, an extraordinarily elegant middle-aged man; his earlier affluent life as a fallen noble left a distinct mark upon him, like a prince wandering through foreign lands, drawing attention wherever he went. Clad in a dark coat, the infamous gray sword was strapped across his back. His features were somewhat stern, but what was most striking were his cold, starlit eyes. As he raised his head and cast an observing glance at everyone in the fleet, every Crusian there felt a chill run down their spines.
Time seemed to freeze.
Juliette and Mephistopheles boarded the ship one after the other; they crossed the gangway with ease and approached Brendel. Brendel looked at the pair, unable to stop a sigh of relief, smiling, “Thank you for coming, teacher; I didn’t expect to pull you into this.”
The Gray Saint looked at his student. During this diplomatic mission, he had actually been trailing behind the embassy, moving alongside the Valkyries and the puppets of the Bud people. Originally, according to the plan, he was not suited to appear unless in the direst of situations. However, plans change faster than anticipated; after Brendel shared the plan with Juliette, he had considered it for only a moment before leading to the current scene.
Mephistopheles understood that his student intended to use his reputation to draw the flag, but he did not mind; first, he was proud of Brendel, his only student, and secondly, he had never intended to hide from the Crusian people.
As long as he had not crossed into the Extremity Sphere, the Empire could do nothing to him, much less now.
Thus, he merely replied, “Do as you wish; you are my student, and I will naturally stand behind you.”
Brendel was momentarily taken aback, feeling somewhat touched. He gazed at this weathered middle-aged man—his surrogate teacher. Although in his mind their relationship bore the hue of a transaction, as it had been maintained through equivalent exchange from the beginning, he never anticipated that after experiencing so much, the other party genuinely viewed him as a student. He nodded slightly and solemnly answered, “I understand, teacher.”
Mephistopheles remained his usual unsmiling self, merely nodding, “I’ll head down first; seeing these hypocritical Crusian people is genuinely unpleasant.”
Brendel could not help but smirk; the world viewed him as the Valhallan Earl, audacious enough to slap the Crusian Empire in the face, yet Mephistopheles, an old foe of the Empire, was even bolder. Even he would not daringly insult the Crusian nobles for no reason. After all, Earl Orkans was not far away. Although Mephistopheles was speaking to him, his voice was far from quiet, suggesting he did it intentionally for Orkans to hear.
Yet that was not all; even those arrogant Crusian nobles, who always grumbled about this and that, suddenly seemed to suffer from selective mutism, each one lowering their heads and pretending not to see this scene.
Though Earl Orkans seemed to change colors from blue to white, he dared not utter a word.
What is deterrence? This is deterrence.
Brendel watched Mephistopheles striding down the deck, and he could not help but furrow his brow, recalling that he had not heard any news about Veronika for quite some time. Although she was a Crusian, she was one of the few people he respected, and he found himself feeling concerned.
At that moment, the black coach was arranged to board Akhenaten under Romaine’s direction. The sailors could not help but feel confused: “Miss Romaine, didn’t you say there was a noble and elegant lady in that coach? She doesn’t look like a lady.”
“How could there not be?” the Merchant Miss argued, “Did you not see?”
“Miss, you wouldn’t be referring to Juliette, would you? She’s the mercenary leader, not someone to be called a noble, elegant lady,” the sailors began to chatter in excitement, “Merchants must honor their credit, you know.”
“Of course we must honor our credit, but loopholes in language exist to be exploited, don’t you think?” Romaine replied with a smile.
“Tsk.” A chorus of disapproval erupted.
However, the Merchant Miss was unbothered; she instructed the sailors to retract the gangway before coming to Brendel’s side and smugly made an ‘OK’ gesture.
Brendel remained unaffected, pinching her small nose before turning to Juliette and asking, “Have all the supplies been loaded onto the ship?”
Juliette nodded, “The puppets and gargoyles have already been loaded, but Lord, there are few gargoyles left. If the dragon beasts attack again…”
“They will surely come again. Behind us should be that Modest; I know her character well,” Brendel glanced at the expansive plain under the night sky, scattered stars twinkling against the dark fabric, but the most striking was the constellation of the dragon king Bahamut on the eastern horizon. Next to this grand and majestic celestial arrangement was a patch of darkness, said to belong to the dark dragon’s star constellation before the Saints War.
It had fallen millennia ago—
“Uh, uh,” Romaine was arching her brows, tilting her head, trying her best to shake off Brendel’s grasp, but as a pitiful little witch, it was unlikely she could match a warrior like Brendel. Before long, her eyes turned watery as she looked at the detestable guy, “Brendel, if you don’t let go of me, I will bite you!”
As if to amplify the credibility of this threat, the Merchant Miss revealed her sharp little canines.
Brendel smiled slightly and finally released her, while she quickly stepped back and rubbed her reddened nose, eyeing him warily.
“Can they catch up to us?” Juliette asked, watching the little couple with interest.
“They can. The speed of dragon beasts exceeds that of the oldest escort ships by a large margin, especially since we’re also carrying refugees,” Brendel replied.
“If we set sail now, will they not catch up to us on the sea?” Juliette frowned slightly.
“It’s fine.” Brendel speculated that Modest would likely enter the fray upon learning of the Bud people’s interference, but he answered calmly, “They can’t stop us. Juliette, go inform Charles and Marjory to join me in the mapping room; oh, and that fat guy as well.”
Juliette nodded and was about to leave when Brendel called out, “Wait.”
“What’s wrong?” the mercenary band leader turned back in confusion.
“Juliette,” Brendel hesitated for a moment before inquiring, “I recall you seem to know my grandfather.”
Juliette slightly stunned, and then her eyes brightened with respect as she answered, “Yes, Lord, in Erluin, how could anyone not know your grandfather? Lord Darus, in that era, he was one of the kingdom’s twin pillars. However…” she looked at her lord with admiration, thinking this must be what they refer to as noble family heritage, two generations of excellence.
But why do some nobles degrade so badly over generations? She had pondered this question more than once but could not find the answers.
“But what?”
Juliette seemed to have taken her time before mustering the decision to continue with the topic, answering, “But the era of your grandfather’s fame was before I was born. In fact… I actually met him after he had retired. Lord…” she looked at the young man in front of her and replied, “You know, it was near Bruglas, actually I met you then as well.”
“What!?” Brendel was taken aback, never having dreamed he shared such a connection with the mercenary band leader.
“…Lord, you still remember when I mentioned my past?” With memories flooding back, Juliette’s tone grew more somber, “At that time, my sister and I were still adventurers, but after being persecuted by the nobles, we had no choice but to flee everywhere. It was your grandfather who saved my life; unfortunately, my sister wasn’t so lucky and didn’t survive until that time. It was then that I met you and your grandfather.”
She couldn’t help but smile warmly, indicating a height, “You were only this tall back then.”
Brendel paused for a moment before catching on; there indeed was such an incident in his memories. However, before Juliette mentioned it, he had considered it just a minor episode from his childhood, already fuzzy and indistinct. He deeply looked at the mercenary band leader, “You recognized me from the start?”
Juliette shook her head: “That was long after it happened that I realized that elder was the renowned Sword Saint Darus. Later, I intentionally sought out information about him, but I didn’t dare to spread it. When I encountered you later, I actually didn’t recognize you at first; after all, you were so small then,” she couldn’t help but chuckle, “Who would have thought that such a cute little fellow would grow to become a towering hunk. Compared to you, I seem quite insignificant; and then…”
“And then?”
“Then, it was only after the incident in the underground of Schafflund that I confirmed your identity through Lord Kuran. From that moment on, I decided to follow you wholeheartedly,” the mercenary band leader reminisced with some emotion, glancing instinctively at her sword.
“Lord,” she raised her head, “Is there anything else?”
Brendel shook his head, feeling somewhat regretful; he originally wanted to learn about his grandfather from Juliette, only to find that she probably knew no more than he did. “Nothing,” he replied, “Off you go, Juliette, thank you.”
“It’s my honor, Lord,” the mercenary band leader replied cheerfully. Suddenly she seemed to remember something and asked, “By the way, Lord, how is your aunt?”
“My aunt?” Brendel was momentarily taken aback; he had several aunts on his mother’s side, but almost had no contact with them due to their few interactions. Having not seen those distant relatives since childhood, he was puzzled as to why Juliette would suddenly inquire about them.
“Yes, the lady who was with your grandfather; she was the first to save me,” Juliette replied, “I haven’t seen that kind lady in a long time and can’t find an opportunity to thank her.”
“What?”
Brendel was frozen for a moment because he had no memory of such person. He rubbed his forehead, questioning whether his memory had become too vague and missing many details. All he remembered was practicing swordsmanship at a lumber mill by the riverside when his grandfather had conveniently rescued a woman. Whether it was Juliette, in fact, he could not clearly recall; whether there had been another woman at that time was even more beyond his knowledge.
However, in his memories, there weren’t many outsiders who frequented their family; besides his father’s business friends, his grandfather hardly interacted with anyone, as he spent most days supervising him in practicing swordsmanship.
Could it be he was mistaken?
Brendel felt a headache brewing, rubbing his forehead.
“Lord?” Juliette looked at him with some concern.
“It’s nothing,” Brendel shook his head, “My aunt… um, she’s fine. I’ll take you to meet her when I have the chance.”
The mercenary band leader nodded in satisfaction, completely missing any hint of insincerity in his remarks.
