### Chapter 46: Time Flees, Evening Passes, Morning Comes
After the Festival of Five Moons, the weather in the Royal City was sunny for about six or seven days. Then it turned gloomy again, with gray clouds blocking the sun and the evening winds feeling damp and heavy. Soon, it poured down rain like a waterfall.
The rain lasted for several days, raising the water level in the Sabel River. The water became murky and turbulent, strong winds knocked down small trees on the banks, swirling leaves fell onto the water’s surface, and they floated away with the waves. A few fishing boats swayed helplessly in the downpour, returning empty-handed. The entire city was covered in rainwater, with puddles nearly reaching people’s ankles—market trading was nearly paralyzed, and it became quite a hassle for people to go out. Rumor has it that even the reconstruction of the houses in the southern part of the city was halted. What had been a bustling Royal City just days before suddenly turned somber in the wind and rain, with most citizens staying home to pray and wishing for the rain to pass quickly.
The Royal Academy, situated on higher ground with a good drainage system, wasn’t too affected. Classes continued as usual, with only some minor adjustments, such as shortened daily class times and an increase in scheduled subjects. The library and training grounds became part of the monitored timed assessments to urge students to study independently after class… and so on. Gradually, these changes were being implemented, and rumors had it that new textbooks were being printed as well—all of this had nothing to do with the rain.
Sarah sometimes complained about it.
“Classes have been so packed lately! First it’s body training, then theology, followed by the Abyss… I’m exhausted… I can barely breathe, and my head feels like it’s going to split…”
But complaints aside, the girl was up early every morning, heading to the training grounds to swing her sword.
Since that day of the duel with Rect, the rumors about me seemed to have multiplied, and they were getting more outrageous.
Besides more people insisting that I was actually Miss Silvya, there were ridiculous rumors claiming that I was the illegitimate daughter of Emperor Valen, the third princess of the royal family, the heir to Ethanbel, with my mother being the late empress’s sister, thus a cousin of Queen Elizabeth.
To make matters worse, some speculated that my audacity to hit others, even Rect, without fear of retaliation was merely because of some backing I had. People even thought that Alex had actually died after offending me and getting a nosebleed, and that he’d been drowned in the Sabel River, with his body still not recovered…
The gossip was a mix of good and bad ideas, swirling around the academy and the four towers, sparking endless debates. In some unnoticed corners, people even got into brawls over it. Most of what I heard was from Sarah.
According to her, the rumor that I had drowned Alex originated from a third-year female student in the Emipling Tower, who had been secretly in love with him. Now that Alex wasn’t coming to the academy anymore, she was devastated, and since she couldn’t stand me being the center of attention, she concocted lies to intentionally smear my reputation—going as far as claiming that her crush had been drowned by me. The twisted reasoning behind that little brainwave of hers was beyond my understanding.
When I found out about it, that girl had already been called out by Sophia, had her hair cut off, and was publicly humiliated with a sign reading “Liar” on her forehead as she paraded back to the tower. After that, she didn’t show her face around for several days.
I honestly had no clue Sophia had done all that; I hadn’t heard a whisper.
Sarah told me not to mention to Sophia that I knew about everything, nor to think that what Sophia did was too extreme, because it was frustrating. Had Sophia not acted first, Sarah would’ve gone to give that girl a beating herself.
I just nodded.
Though I didn’t agree with such methods, the damage was done, so I didn’t say anything further. I reminded her to consult me if anything else came up next time.
After thinking it over, Sarah agreed.
In truth, those rumors, regardless of whether they were good or bad, didn’t bother me much. If Sarah hadn’t told me, I might not have known and wouldn’t have wanted to know; I had my mind set on more meaningful matters.
For me, the current situation felt much quieter than before, as there weren’t that many people bothering me anymore. Whatever they said was merely gossip behind my back; few dared to act out in person. Take that girl who spread bad rumors about me—if she could get dealt with by Sophia like that, if she ever did see me, she would probably avoid me altogether. So honestly, it didn’t impact my good mood at all.
The only male student who still popped up in front of me regularly without any reservations was Beiyard.
This annoying guy, I didn’t know if he had gained a sudden burst of courage, but he became increasingly friendly with me lately, constantly finding excuses to come and chat, sitting next to me in class, and even wanting to tag along to the library at night. The worst part was he talked a lot; sometimes I really wanted to sock him one on the nose.
But…
He often brought me delicious food from outside, almost every time with something different, unaffected by the downpour. While he rambled in my ear, he occasionally shared knowledge about theology, the power of faith, amusing stories about the Holy City, and even tales about the dragon bones he had seen… Beiyard was quite knowledgeable and wasn’t just some spoiled noble. Aside from being chatty, he was actually a decent person. Plus, many things he shared couldn’t be learned in class, so…
He was quite useful.
If he wants to tag along, let him. Having a friend like him isn’t such a bad thing.
On the evening of May 21, Goat Cheese returned.
This increasingly fat and silly bird burst in through the window of Room 1504 with its wings wide open while the girls were in the middle of their baths. It started pecking the window frame with a thud, thoroughly scaring everyone.
Once they recognized it was my raven, they immediately let it in, gathering around the table to tease it and feed it bread crumbs. But Goat Cheese was acting all high and mighty, unusually silent and refusing to squawk. With its neck held up high, it looked completely indifferent, leaving the three girls feeling disappointed and a bit irritated, like they’d been looked down upon by a bird—quite a blow to their pride.
The silly bird brought back a letter from Shanter Castle.
The letter’s content—well, the first half was written by my mother. She shared a lot of mundane stuff, assuring me that everything was fine in Winter City and not to worry. This was surely just maternal instinct, wanting to shield me from concern, so she skipped over the important bits—like me hitting the tabloids again. Likely, she hadn’t received the news while writing.
What surprised me was that the latter half of the letter was written by my father.
It seemed he had already returned to Shanter Castle…
In the letter, he informed me that the war had begun and had achieved preliminary victories. The North would soon stabilize, with no more threats. Next, he would finish this dispute as quickly as possible; it was a promise he made to me, and he was determined to fulfill it.
During this, he also mentioned establishing trade relations with the royal family of Ethanbel, praising my cleverness and foresight for it.
The breach of contract with Fuske Castle had cost the central workshop a chunk of wealth, but after conquering Eagle City, the city’s rich gold reserves had already filled the gap and even yielded some surplus. Thus, he purchased a large quantity of high-quality iron ore.
Eagle City was currently managed by Lafael, but insufficient manpower made matters complicated, especially food supplies, which would take considerable effort to resolve. Overall, things were progressing in the expected direction.
My father asked me not to reply for now, as he might be traveling across much of the North soon, and he couldn’t be certain when or where. My mother was also heading to Erin Castle and the New City of Kaliye for discussions, making replies inconvenient.
So, no reply for now…
Upon finishing the letter, I let Goat Cheese out to wander.
That night, I had no dreams.
…………
By the end of May, the heavy rain finally stopped.
With the sun rising, the Royal City returned to its previous prosperity. The Sabel River receded, and the markets resumed operation. Citizens eagerly rushed out to buy grain, vendors pushed their carts around selling goods, and fishermen were out in greater numbers by the riverside. The repairs in the southern part of the city restarted, with people believing their prayers had worked, and their faith became increasingly fervent.
Soon it was rest day again.
That evening, I bid farewell to Sarah, Sophia, and Daisy, sprinting out of the academy’s main gate. I flagged down a war chariot and hurried home, worried about the state of our manor— with Sharman there, I certainly didn’t need to fret about flooding, but what about the flowers and the new honey fruit tree saplings in the courtyard? Would they hold up against the torrential rains? Who could say?
When I finally reached the front of the manor, I was left completely jaw-dropped by the enormous changes—I mean, it was no longer merely called the “No. 3 Manor.”
It was now 2 + 3 Manor.
Originally, there were two walls between the No. 2 and No. 3 Manors, with a gap of nearly ten meters in between. But now, they had been torn down! Not only was the entire wall demolished, but the fences were taken down, and even the stone slabs on the ground were upturned. It looked like they were transforming the area into a garden or something; the connecting walls behind both manors had been perfectly merged, turning the two courtyards into one vast space.
The large iron gates of Manors 2 and 3 had also been removed, and in the center of the new wall, between the two lodges, a grander, fancier black iron gate was built—simply put, the courtyards of the two manors had been combined. From now on, whether heading to Manor 2 or Manor 3, there was only one grand entrance.
The new iron gate was wide open, and I could hear chaos coming from the courtyard.
Dazed, I stepped inside. I saw many burly men, all sweating and shoveling dirt in the courtyard, with their pant legs rolled up and shoes smeared with mud. The maids were bustling around, moving this and that. From the looks of it, they were merging the lawns of both courtyards, even shifting the flowerbeds of Manor 3.
When I found Sharman, she was in conversation with a middle-aged woman who seemed to be in charge of building or garden design.
“…keep the gazebo, but expand it… there should be at least a two-person-wide path here, tear down everything else… the entrance needs to be wider, the fountain… the fountain can’t be moved, so let’s make a symmetrical one… we’ll talk about the stone sculptures later, need to reserve a space for a honey fruit tree garden…”
I stood a distance away, dumbfounded, and only walked over after she finished. “So… this is what you call… a minor adjustment?”
“You misinterpreted,” Sharman replied with a straight face.
I realized I’d been tricked.
And judging by the progress, it seemed that even during the heavy rain, they hadn’t stopped working… as if they were afraid that there would still be room for negotiation when I returned.
Whatever’s said now is too late.
With the manor in disarray, I might as well let Sharman finish her designs. When Victoria returns, I’ll come up with some way to give her a good smack.
Anyway, Rect said that the battle at Fuske Castle was going smoothly, and she would be back before long.
…………
At night, once all the workers had left and the courtyard fell silent, I changed into my pajamas and sat down at my bedroom desk to delve into the handwritten notes Grandma Bersa had given me.
I had already flipped through the book twice at the academy; this was my third time.
The booklet recorded numerous techniques for exerting strength, stances, counter moves… and many other very practical and clever content. Not just swordsmanship, it even had drawings, making it feel like something out of a story—a legendary manual! I couldn’t contain my excitement and dove right into studying that night. Some concepts were immediately understandable; after a bit of practice at the training field, I could make them work decently enough. With consistent effort day in and day out, I’d master them eventually.
However, some remarkably advanced techniques were a different story—no matter how hard I scrutinized the words, I couldn’t grasp their essence. My limbs struggled to coordinate, and without any guidance, I simply couldn’t learn them in a short time.
But once mastered, those techniques would rival the special Moon Step.
So during my rest days, I did nothing but eat and peruse the booklet, mimicking the moves, turning the pages, and racking my brains to recall the actions I couldn’t comprehend or perform well, planning to ask Victoria about them when she returned.
In the meantime, Angel visited me once.
There wasn’t anything significant; he merely checked on my condition and asked about that day when I looked for him, then informed me that he had support from the empire regarding the West Coast defense battle. Some heretics had escaped, and it seemed they had managed to seize a bl**d pearl before fleeing, but the church was already in pursuit; retrieving it would be a cinch.
He seemed busy and had to leave shortly after.
“…Oh, right, there’s something odd.”
Just as he was about to head out, Angel seemingly remembered something and turned back to tell me.
“It’s a small thing, but… even though Teresa is dead, because she had a high reputation among the people, St. Zayeli has set up an altar in her memory for citizens to mourn. Little Black Charcoal, you know about this, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“There are no ashes or gravestones—just a cross and the gospel book she used in life… who in the world would steal that?”
“…Steal?”
“Yup. The items are missing. It happened the day you went to the church… did you see anything strange then?”
I tilted my head thoughtfully, then shook it.
“Nope.”
That day, apart from the clerics and nuns, I was just focused on Aili; I didn’t notice anyone else.
Maybe some overly enthusiastic fanatic of Teresa simply took them away…
This incident didn’t pique my interest much.
On the last day of the rest period, I went to visit Grandma Bersa.
This was my second time seeing her.
The first time was when I had asked Teacher Melville for Grandma’s address, discovering it was not too far from Longdoll Street, less than half an hour’s walk.
That day, I applied for an outing from the academy. I actually had some questions I wanted to ask her about the booklet while visiting.
But once I arrived at her little house and saw her, those questions just froze in my throat…
Because Grandma took my hand again and nearly repeated everything she had said to me last time. She had completely forgotten that we had met before. Her frail body slouched against the bed, eyes wide and unfocused, gazing at my face while she muttered about the things she cared about: “Little Olivia… we treat her as our daughter… she’s been hurt so badly… wanting to d*e… yet never says a word of regret… she has inherited that fire… she’s a good child…”
“Xi… ah… Ryan’s notes… for swordsmanship… I wanted to give you… but I can’t find it… I copied a new version for you… give it to little Viki to see… and if I made mistakes… I’m afraid I wrote it wrong… but she will know…”
“Grandma is feeling… just fine… don’t tell the Sword Saint Grandfather… don’t disturb… him while he’s working…”
When I left the little house, I had a brand-new handwritten notebook in hand. Flipping it open, I found it filled with Grandma’s shaky handwriting and drawings, with the last few pages of ink still wet. I wondered how many nights she had spent writing and illustrating this, given her frail state, and the contents were nearly identical to what the Sword Saint grandfather had written.
I felt a bit touched.
I thought to myself, I’d come back again in a few days… must visit Grandma more often.
As for Grandma Bersa’s illness, so many doctors in the little house couldn’t do anything, and I even asked Angel if there was a miracle that could help. He hesitated for a couple of seconds before telling me that even the greatest healing miracles could do nothing to stop a person from aging.
I couldn’t save her.
No one could.
Grandma was simply growing old, growing weary; her mind was becoming muddled, and her body was thinning. She no longer remembered a lot of things, but one thing she did understand was that her life was nearing its end.
Thus, she became quite fond of chatting.
I could see that Grandma especially enjoyed, even relished, the act of sharing her thoughts with others. Since I couldn’t cure her illness, I figured I’d spend more time talking with her; I had to do something for the elderly.
With that thought in mind, when I saw Grandma Bersa for the second time, she could hardly speak anymore.
The old woman lay in bed, her hair tousled, a thin blanket draped over her body, waves of weak decay emanating from her. One side of her face had sagged, her mouth crooked, her tongue stiff; upon seeing me, she looked like she was happy, but all she could produce were soft moans, as if she were groaning.
Grandma was no longer elegant.
But she still remembered who I was.
“Ugh… Xi… ugh… ah…”
The fading old lady gripped my hand tightly, her pale eyes straining to look to one side, as if trying to signal to me that something was over there.
I followed her gaze and noticed on the nursing table, besides a bunch of bottles and jars of medications, there lay a wrinkled, yellowed thin book.
I froze in place.
In that moment, I felt my nose suddenly go sour, and tears welled up in my eyes.
I guessed what it was.
Slowly walking to the table, I gently lifted the thin book with trembling hands and flipped it open, staring at the crooked, smudged ink on each page, which was remarkably similar to the previous book. I couldn’t help but choke up, with tears dropping like rain, dampening the wrinkled pages.
This notebook only had the first half completed by Grandma Bersa.
She could no longer hold a pen.
To this, Grandma seemed to feel regret.
“Ah… Xi… Ji… min… ugh… need… you…”
These were the last words the old lady spoke to me.
This was also the last time I saw her.
