Chapter 987: Act 160 – Tablet of War: VI
The shadowed bell tower stood high in Fatan city, an architectural remnant from the Twelfth Dynasty of the Empire. It brimmed with the religious solemnity unique to that era. From its narrow slit-like windows, one could take in the coastal scenery near Fax, where the turquoise horizon met the sky, headlands and lighthouses reaching deep into the sea. Juliette chose to set up her provisional office here because it allowed her to overlook the entire city and its surroundings. However, Medisa always suspected it was because she favored the security that the confined spaces here provided. It was said that her room in the Cold Fir Territory was similarly small, appearing from the outside like an impregnable fortress.
Working in such a place was not without inconvenience, but Medisa had always been of a compliant nature and agreed. Oni, daughter of Duke Vieiro, had slight objections but did not insistently oppose the decision. As dawn broke, soft light poured into the room, long shadows stretching from the edges of the table. A decorative crystal on the desk sparkled brilliantly under the sunlight. Medisa furrowed her brow slightly and moved it to one side. The crystal grew slightly translucent in the sunlight, casting a burnt-yellow shadow onto a stack of parchments on the table.
This was a letter, written in a cryptic cipher, an ancient language passed down by the Silver Elves, which Medisa now taught. It was exclusively used within the White Lion Guard.
Oni Vieiro and Marjory stood behind her, waiting quietly for the elven princess to decode the message. After a moment, Medisa sighed and put the letter down. The sunlight framed her figure, beside her the window made of dragon-rock wood served as a frame for the harbor view. However, Fatan had long been under blockade and the bay was as still as a mirror.
“What’s the matter, Miss Medisa?” Oni asked after a while, expecting an immediate response as usual. This time, though, the elven princess remained unsettlingly silent.
Medisa put the letter down and shook her head. “There’s no news. The White Legion remains inactive. I’ve ordered our scouts to approach from the areas of Livia Valley and Golden Needle Forest, but they still respond with silence. This silence troubles me.”
“And the mountain folk?” From the corner of the room, Delphine sat in her wheelchair. She was cloaked in darkness, only her calm eyes glowing faintly. The silver dragon lady stood behind her. Since Mistral had saved this young girl, she had grown increasingly appreciative of her intellect, often observing her under the pretense of caring for her health. Delphine, perhaps out of gratitude for her savior, did not protest.
“This is precisely what concerns me.” Medisa folded the paper lightly and handed it to the two people behind her, who then passed it to Mistral, and eventually to Delphine. The Chancellor’s Daughter clutched the parchment between her thumb and index finger, her face silent. Her scars seemed carved with a knife, distinct in the light and shadow. The golden text on the paper began to appear:
The mountain folk show no unusual movements—
“The White Legion, the mountain folk of Valarch, these are the forces Constance can deploy in the Mez region. What’s this weird game she’s playing by staying idle?” The Duchess’s daughter’s brow was furrowed with distress, matching her tone of complaint.
“Is Her Majesty still planning to target Ludwig first?” Marjory asked hesitantly.
“There’s absolutely no chance of that,” Delphine cut him off firmly. Her eyes returned to the feather-light parchment, pausing, then she added, “Perhaps she’s waiting for the right moment.”
“What moment?” Oni asked in return.
“There is a possibility,” Medisa rubbed her forehead, thinking it over before explaining, “I also believe Miss Delphine’s theory to be correct. The Crown Prince is in Fatan Port. As long as he’s alive, he will remain a pillar of faith for the northern nobility amidst the remnants of the Temple. Capture Fatan, and the deadlock in the north will be solved. Duke Wynn has sent us correspondence multiple times asking us to head to the Leaping Horse City in Fawor Forest for this very reason. Constance wouldn’t fail to see this, and our Lord does not wish to move. He prefers to let the battle unfold in Fatan—”
“But Fatan is far from an ideal battlefield. While the eastern side is a narrow mountain path, the northwest has vast and open terrains, the hills favor hiding armies, making it easily offensive but difficult to defend.” Marjory was strongly opposed to this plan; it wasn’t the first time he questioned its feasibility.
Delphine was contemptuous. “Lord has made the arrangements, our task is to ensure they are executed to the best of our ability, not to debate if they’re reasonable.” She chuckled coldly, “My time is limited. I came here to listen to Miss Medisa’s constructive ideas, as for the rest of you, please keep your mouths shut.”
Marjory’s expression was grim, but he was unwilling to argue with a woman. He glanced coldly at the unsightly figure before falling silent. Delphine’s words, however, angered Oni, the Duchess’s eldest daughter, who retorted with sharp wit, “It seems that calling Lord that rolls off your tongue quite easily.”
Seeing the Chancellor’s daughter revealing her true nature, Medisa was somewhat exasperated. “Alright, stop arguing,” she softly interrupted Delphine before the situation escalated as it had in previous instances. “Let’s get back to the subject, any other ideas?”
Delphine, hearing Medisa’s voice, refrained from retaliating and remained silent, no longer speaking casually. Behind her, the silver dragon lady Mistral suddenly spoke, “Are they waiting for reinforcements from the Evergreen Path?”
The armies of Jotungrund and the Lionmen.
Besides Delphine, light sparked in the eyes of the others momentarily, but Medisa’s eyes dimmed quickly. She shook her head, “The armies of dukes are also gathering. For Constance, time is pressing—unless she plans on dragging this civil war for several years. Our Lord thinks the same; he knows that woman would never wait so long. She must seize this opportunity. How could she wait for the armies of Jotungrund and the Lionmen to arrive?”
“She must have a hidden plan,” Delphine answered decisively. “That’s why she can be so confident. We need a way to expose her.”
“What’s your brilliant idea?” Oni countered.
The Chancellor’s daughter’s eyes glowed faintly, like a female leopard preparing to hunt, beginning to bare her teeth and claws. “It’s simple. If Constance’s generals remain inactive, it means their best opportunity hasn’t arrived yet. We mustn’t give them that chance—we’ll make it so it never arrives. We’ll strike first. Attack Owesen, Livia Valley, and the Golden Needle Forest.”
“You’re crazy!” The Duchess’s daughter was alarmed.
Marjory was also surprised, but the professional officer quickly recovered, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
Medisa paused briefly, gently tapping her smooth chin. “This plan has some feasibility,” she mused, “As long as we polish the details…”
“Do we need to inform the Earl?” Oni asked hesitantly, not experienced in military matters.
“Certainly,” Medisa, at that moment, was once again the commander-in-chief of the Forbidden Army Corps. She decisively decided, “We must also inform Constance. Without her authorization, you won’t be able to mobilize the White Lion Guard.” She seemed to realize someone was missing and inquired, “Speaking of which, where’s Miss Constance?”
“…She seemed to have gone to patrol personally, worried about incorrect intelligence.”
Medisa sighed, shaking her head in a mixture of helplessness and amusement. “This lady…”
…
The Golden Needle Valley was shrouded in a shadowy gray sea. Towering flash-silver trees, as soldiers in gray attire, stood with snow-white trunks, branches twisting upward as if yearning for the skies. Autumn had arrived since midsummer, leaving a thick layer of gray leaves on the ground. A number of knights rode their horses to an ancient tree, dressed in full armor, their shoulder platings adorned with a fur-covered white lion. The lead female knight lifted her mask, her fiery red hair cascading from beneath her metallic facade, revealing a captivating face. Her emerald eyes glanced at the tree trunk and raised her spear, pointing toward a part and asked, “What is this?”
At the place her spear pointed to, the tree trunk bore intersecting and intricate marks made by sharp weapons, unsettling in their writhing and creeping shapes.
“It’s a mark left by the mountain folk, my Lord,” one of the knights said gruffly, “For centuries, the descendants of Valarch have used these marks to pass information. Only they know what they mean.”
Juliette looked around; the forest was as silent as a ghost town. Cold winds brushed the treetops, whispering across the woods. She seemed unfazed, raising her spear to draw a circle around herself, “Was this area ever under the control of the mountain folk?”
“This place, as well as the northern part of the Golden Needle Forest, including the Livia Valley, used to all belong to them,” the knight respectfully answered, “For centuries, the mountain folk have hidden here, which was why the White Legion could station their troops so fearlessly in the strategically disadvantaged area of Owesen surrounded on three sides by valleys. With this forest, Owesen became the most significant strategic location in southern Homarin.”
“And where are they now?”
The knight was caught off guard. “This…,” he hesitated, “Some saw them heading north. Local hunters say a week ago, the mountain folk began a mass migration, and now this forest is empty.”
Juliette turned around, her green eyes flashing with dissatisfaction. “Why did they go north?” she asked in return, “The mountains of Valarch are the mountain folk’s yearned-for homeland. Why would they leave the land they reclaimed? Med, you’re a mountain person too, would you leave your homeland? I understand the mountain folk because the blood of the mountain folk flows within me. They would never leave their homeland lightly.”
She furrowed her brow uneasily, “There must be some conspiracy hidden here. The critical question is, where have they gone?”
The knight muttered softly, “…They’ve gone on a pilgrimage. Ratch has reappeared in Vaunte.”
‘Ratch’ was the saint of the mountain folk, the legends of whom the mountain folk passed down from generation to generation. It was said that it was he who in ancient times freed the mountain folk from the clutches of the evil god Tardesian. The winds of Valarch still carried his name, and the forest occasionally whispered the tales of the past. Valarch, which meant ‘holy land of the saint’ in the mountain folk language, was therefore considered sacred land by the mountain folk.
Juliette spat with a smirk. “That woman who pretends to be a messenger of the gods,” she was referring to Constance, her words filled with disdain. “When did the Black Dragon become a saint of the mountain folk? Although the Minren ruled the mountain folk for a time, life wasn’t any better for them back then either.”
The knight shook his head. “This, I’m not too clear about, my Lord.” He looked ahead, the heavy tree shadows causing unease, hesitating, he asked, “Should we continue forward?”
The female knight raised a single finger; the bloodless whiteness of her face suddenly turned ghostly pale. “Shh—” Juliette answered solemnly, “Do you hear any sounds?”
The forest was whispering, footsteps rustling akin to the sound of insects crawling along the ground.
…
This single sentence from Bai had an extraordinary effect.
There was a moment of silence in the underground round hall. A beam of light poured through the dome, scattering in bright dust motes, swirling. In the light-darkness interplay, Roslin’s undead statue stood still like stone, only the soul fire roaring in the hollow of his ribs. A pebble rolled off a broken pillar, echoing in solitude, rolling up to Baijia’s feet. The female knight bent down and picked it up.
Brendel then turned around, staring at Bai from higher ground, his deep brown eyes narrowing deeply. “Negotiate after presenting the item first.”
Bai’s complexion changed. “What thing?”
“You know.”
Bai’s expression shifted several times, finally nodding reluctantly. “Take it!” She pulled out from her bosom a gemstone sparkling like a marble, casting light, and tossed it to Brendel. Brendel caught it smoothly, feeling its chill, but warmth emanated within. There was no doubt, this gemstone was the priceless Rule Fragment from his past life.
“You’ve made a good choice,” Brendel commented, “now talk.”
“What do you want to know?”
“All.”
“But the key point is the deal between Her Majesty and the other party—”
Bai’s complexion darkened. “If I tell you everything, then I would have no leverage left. Human, this is not how you negotiate.”
Brendel chuckled mockingly. If he wasn’t familiar with this woman, he might have been duped. He shook his head, completely unconcerned. “If you truly believe that, Lady Thiassas,” he dragged his voice, “Mr. Crote—”
“Enough—” Bai was practically shouting, the dead robbed of the right to breathe, yet her chest heaved violently, as if recalling her former instincts in the throes of rage: “The key to the deal is in your hands.”
Brendel glanced at the Rule Fragment in his hand. “In my hands? I know it’s in my hands, but what benefit does Constance gain from it?” He was shocked, “I don’t think the Silver Queen is a philanthropist who only gives without expecting returns.”
“You’re asking the wrong question,” Bai sneered, “You should ask, what benefits does Madara gain?”
Brendel opened his hand, the gemstone like a piece of marble glowing softly in his palm center, casting a gentle light, reflecting a pale face. He then retracted his hand, frowning as he realized this question might not be as simple as it seemed. “What do you mean by this?” he asked, “Don’t keep me guessing, you should know that my patience is limited.”
“In White Mountain, there are places where the sun has never risen again. There, a new order arises, where the undead can achieve maximum enhancement.”
“The Land of the Waning Moon.” A sound buzzed in Brendel’s head as he suddenly thought of a possibility.
…
(PS: The plot development took some time, but don’t worry.)
