### Chapter 49: The Cycle of Sun and Moon – The Queen Returns
Under the cover of night, at the seaside.
Splash—
Foaming waves crashed onto the shore, drowning a crab that was sprinting for its life. The crab curled up in the water, freezing like it was in a game of freeze tag, and once the tide receded, it shook its legs and dashed into a nearby sand hole.
Just then, figures began to rise from the coastline not far away.
One, two, three, five…
They emerged from the water, wiping their faces dry before moving towards the shore. The tranquil moonlight illuminated the unsheathed long swords at their waists, glimmering in silver.
“…and that’s why I hate the sea. I hate it a million times more than those snake-rat things in the sand gullies…”
The leading man, with dark red hair and a face pale enough to resemble someone slathered in lead paint, complained as he walked. He bent down to wring out his soaked clothes, which were clinging to him like a wet second skin, droplets falling from the hem with each step. His hair was also drenched, still speckled with bits of sand.
He scratched his head vigorously, then looked at the hand he used to scratch, bringing it close to his nose. His expression shifted drastically: “Whoa… what is that foul smell? Did those knights just urinate all over this coastline? d*mn… this has to be the stench of urine…”
Looking grim, he stopped and turned back to the others.
“I told you we shouldn’t have come this way; this place looks like a giant water toilet… over there, there’s even feces! No way I can let this slide. Whoever has anything stored up, hold it in. We gotta get revenge for this, we absolutely must… What’s that commander’s name? I’m gonna give him a hot water bath… Anyone holding it in?”
“……”
Silence.
The man became a bit annoyed.
“Not a single one?”
After a brief pause, someone hesitantly spoke.
“Sorry, Mr. J, I just let it go in the sea…”
As soon as he finished, several others chimed in.
“Me too.”
“Yeah, took care of it in the ocean…”
The man named Mr. J opened his mouth, pointed a finger at his ear, paced back and forth, scratched his head, and smelled his hand again, his face filled with indignation.
“d*mn, so it was you guys.”
“Hehehe…”
A few of them burst out laughing.
“Mr. J, should we still give the knight commander a bath?”
“…Yes.”
“Let’s move, the patrol will be coming soon…”
Soon, they traversed the coastline and climbed up a sand dune through the thick green forest, crouching down to gaze at the brightly lit campfire in the distance.
“Look at those foolish knights…”
“Are there a lot of them?”
“Quite a few.”
“Oh, didn’t fall for it…”
“Means the knights who chased us into the sea aren’t as many as we thought; some of them played right into Fog Hidden’s hands…”
“But there could also be Pope Knights over there…”
“If it’s just one, then it’s not a big deal…”
“That cowardly knight who ran back must’ve told them the truth.”
“Of course he did… he put on quite the self-inflicted show, and you got a good laugh, so he deserves to get the message out, right? No worries, as long as the messenger makes it back alive and tells the knight commander I’m coming, it’ll scare them into suspicion. That’s all that matters… They must be feeling pretty rough right now, not knowing where I might pop up, worried I might really send the Tears of the Goddess back to the Eastern Continent.”
“So, how do we want to play this?”
“How many knights are in that camp by the shore?”
“Two… no, three thousand… at least three thousand.”
“And us?”
“Nine.”
“Oh, that’s enough.”
In the darkness, the man’s smile looked sinister and mysterious.
“Let’s go down and say hello.”
He said, as if preparing to visit a long-lost neighbor.
…………
At the same time.
Far away in the prosperous green city of Ethanbel, an inconspicuous funeral had just come to an end.
Under the starlit night sky, a small figure clad in silver armor stood by the banks of the Sabre River, removing her helmet to gaze at a small boat drifting away on the water. Her long, dark hair fluttered in the wind, and the flames lit on the boat danced in her dark eyes.
Beside the girl stood renowned warriors of Ethanbel—Melville, Rect, Lucia, Master Aiden, Knight Hossler… and the singing Pope Angel in front of them.
In addition, there were a few scattered individuals standing behind the girl, with hands clasped in silent prayer. One thin old man dressed in plain cloth gazed forward, quietly watching the flames on the lake grow ever brighter, tears welling in his eyes.
That was Fat Grandma’s partner.
Above them, countless stars twinkled.
After several days, I reluctantly donned the hated armor again to bid farewell to the aging hero.
Principal Bersa’s funeral wasn’t grand by any means; this was a request from Grandma before her passing.
No announcements, no fanfare, just simple and quiet.
She forbade the church from publishing her obituary and didn’t allow the palace to notify the public for her send-off. She feared this would alert the Sword Saint Grandpa way over in the Eastern Continent. Grandma didn’t want him to know, worried it would mess with important matters.
Grandma said, once she’s gone, just let a few kids see her off. As for Ryan… wait until he feels he can set things aside, leave the Eastern Continent, and return to the Royal City. Then tell him to come and see me.
Of course, no one opposed her wishes.
She even neglected to inform the students of the Royal Academy. Traditionally, when a principal passed away, classes were suspended for three days in mourning, but starting with Grandma, that custom was abolished. She believed it was extremely self-important and foolish to make so many young people waste their valuable time.
So it was only I who took an afternoon off.
Although the ceremony was simple and not many attended, nearly everyone Grandma wanted to see was there.
Except for her little Viki.
Victoria couldn’t make it back in time.
I figured that was Grandma’s greatest regret.
After the funeral ceremony, I returned to the mansion, taking the notebook Grandma left for me—two and a half books in total—storing the last two as cherished mementos safely into Captain Gray’s suitcase and carrying the first one with me for diligent practice.
And the improvement was evident.
Later on, I faced off against Rect twice—once outside the city and once in the mansion.
In the outside match, we ran deep into the forest, claiming to go all out, using almost everything except for fatal moves, and I won pretty easily. When the Frost Order was nearly fully activated, Rect couldn’t even get close to me and ended up getting clobbered.
Afterward, he couldn’t take it and rushed to the mansion to challenge me to a technique duel without using the Power of Order. I was conveniently deep into my studies, so having a free sparring partner seemed nice, and I accepted.
Of course, I lost to him.
However, contrary to Rect’s expectations of an easy victory, I hit him three times—two punches to the gut and one to the eye, plus a kick to the rear. According to Sharman, the next day Rect showed up at the palace with a black eye, waddling like a duck.
I laughed for two whole days.
After that, I truly recognized how exquisite and practical the Sword Saint’s skills were.
I had merely grasped the surface… or rather, not even that; I was just starting to get the very basics down from the notebook, practicing fundamental moves, stances, power application, and combat thinking… just managing to get the hang of those, nothing more.
Beyond that, I could recall the higher-level content, but memorizing it doesn’t mean I could effectively use it in battle. As for those named techniques—like the “Air Slash” used by Carlos and Victoria, which could slice distant enemies with a single wave of the sword—I still couldn’t wrap my head around it, let alone use it.
But it’s said that even if the Sword Saint Grandfather casually snapped a soft twig and lightly waved it, his “Air Slash” could slice through rivers; that’s the pinnacle of human physical mastery.
And “Air Slash” is merely an entry-level technique among profound moves, or basic skills if you will.
If one day I could grasp about seventy to eighty percent of the content in the notebooks, perhaps taking down ten Rects wouldn’t be a problem—provided that was without using the Power of Order. By then, I’d be on a whole different level, capable of achieving even greater things.
I hope that day comes soon.
I wish to turn the things Grandma left for me into solid memories, etched deeply in my heart.
………
With the sun and moon flowing, July arrived in the blink of an eye.
The repairs and renovations of the mansion were nearing completion.
The courtyards of Homes 2 and 3 had been thoroughly merged. After demolishing the old gate, Sharman promptly had the house number changed, hanging a sign that read “Longdoll Street, Vilo Garden” at the new entrance—thus, there would no longer be a 2 or 3 on Longdoll Street.
As for the silly name “Vilo Garden,” it wasn’t worth worrying about what it meant, and realistically, I had no choice since Sharman had already organized everything quietly while I was still at the academy, casually notifying me upon my return: “Oh, by the way… I changed the address, Miss Silvya, take note.”
I was utterly helpless against her.
After all, I couldn’t go handle all that myself, let alone beat her up in frustration—nobody would believe Sharman did it without Victoria behind the scenes.
Almost a month later, the mansion had already transformed into something new.
The courtyard of former Home 3 had practically turned into a garden, with the paths all removed, leading a five-meter-wide road straight from the front door to a 90-degree turn that branched out towards the doors of the two inner houses. To the left of the road was the garden, and to the right were a pavilion, lawn, and orchard. The fountain was symmetrically placed, situated in the center of both the garden and the fruit trees.
The expansive courtyard buzzed with life, filled with the sounds of birds and the scents of flowers, refreshing to the senses.
Sharman said some details still needed perfecting; not every idea had been realized. For example, she wanted to erect a stone sculpture at the entrance of the road, but hadn’t decided on what yet. She needed to wait for Victoria to return for discussions. The inside of the surrounding wall was to be planted with roses; the seeds had been ordered but hadn’t arrived yet… and so forth, these tasks would be slowly fulfilled.
She even mentioned completely connecting the living rooms of the two houses with a grand hall in the middle, creating a unified access door for convenience—an idea I firmly rejected.
As if…
Who knows what you mean by “what’s the matter”?
In any case, I was scared…
On July 2, 1187, Her Majesty the Queen triumphantly returned.
