Andesha returned to the bed, and her father sat beside her.
Everything felt like a dream, and even the pain from the wound did not convince Andesha that it was real. She felt dizzy again. That kind of dizziness that made her feel weak and unbalanced came in waves. Was this a sign that she was about to wake up from her dream?
She raised her head and looked at her father's face, confirming all the details again and again. It was as if she wanted to completely engrave every wrinkle, every strand of hair, and every subtle change in his expression into her mind, and then carefully compare it with the appearance in her memory from more than ten years ago. She did not know the meaning of doing this, but she had to find something for herself to do to calm herself down a little bit.
Her father was completely different from the one in her memory. Other than his eyes, Andesha could not find any details that matched her memory. Was it because she had forgotten the details of her childhood? Or was it because the experience of living in the past few years could really change a person so much?
"You're completely different from the one in my memory," Andesha could not help but say. "I remember that you have a very high forehead … and a nose that's wider than it is now …"
Bard reached out and touched his face.
Yes, his face had definitely changed a lot, and it was a change that could not be explained with the passage of time. There was a price to pay for embracing darkness and corruption. He could no longer remember how many forbidden and dangerous powers he had come into contact with, and how much he had sacrificed for those powers … Flesh modification, Abomination DNA testing, mutation, poison — his face had changed between human and non-human time and time again, being reshaped over and over again. Even if he had tried his best to maintain his original human appearance, his face had ultimately changed beyond recognition.
There were probably not many people in this world who could still recognize him.
"This is the price of living to this day," Bard said self-deprecatingly. "Fortunately, it's all in the past, and I'm doing well here."
Andesha was silent for a moment, and finally asked the question she had been wanting to ask since the beginning. "So you've been in Cecil … Ansu all this time? You're not dead, you were just captured by the Ansu, and then became one of their people? "
There was a questioning tone in her words, but she was somewhat lacking in confidence. Because she was now just a prisoner of war who had chosen to surrender, she did not seem to have much qualifications to question her father.
But she was obviously still a little angry, almost angry. That was the emotion that came from the impact of the outlook on life that she had persisted for a long time. She stared at her father as if she was not only looking for an answer, but also hoping that he would have a complete set of words that could convince her, so that this "betrayal" would not be so shameful.
Bard had long expected this question, and he had been preparing for it for a long time. But when the moment came, he remained silent for a long time before mustering up the courage to speak. "Andesha, I … … have experienced many things. In the past few years, I've done some … things that are more terrifying than you can imagine. "
…
Marguarita came to a tower on the west wall of Solin Fortress. Although the world 'outside' was already cold in the winter, the wind blowing from the top of the tower was still as warm as spring. She brushed away a strand of hair that was blown by the wind on her forehead and looked in the direction of the giant tree trunk. She sighed softly.
This was the highest place in the entire Solin Castle. But even here, the magnificent crown of the Solin Tree was still a distance away from Marguarita. She looked up at the layers of green 'dome'. Between the dome were countless glowing vines and mycelium that hung down like gauze. It was as enchanting as the night sky. If she did not know the secret behind it, who would have thought that such a dreamy wonder was actually rooted in the abyss of flesh and blood of the Dark Order?
Rustling sounds came from nearby. Some of the flower vines that were originally clinging to the outside of the tower wriggled to Marguarita's back. Beltilla slowly walked out from the flower vines. "Good day, General Marguarita."
Marguarita did not turn back. "Did the reunion between the 'young lady' and her father go well?"
"The atmosphere is not bad … … Although it's a little bad now, I think it will go well in the end," Bertilla said, and then paused for a moment. "Actually, I don't think it's a good choice for Bard to tell his daughter about his experience in the past ten years, especially when she has not recovered from her injuries. But he doesn't seem to think so."
"… … They haven't seen each other for a long time. Perhaps Mr. Bard couldn't find a better topic to talk about. And in my opinion, Miss Andesha Wendell doesn't look like someone who would lose control over such things."
"Perhaps," Bertilla said softly after a moment of silence. "I haven't had family and friends for too long. I don't quite understand this kind of thing … … The experience and memory of hundreds of years ago probably doesn't apply to the people of this generation."
Marguarita took a deep look at the ancient druid who could no longer be considered a human, and said in a seemingly casual manner, "You should have received the news as well, right? The Solin region will send a mixed support force consisting of combat, construction, and medical personnel to the frontline of Winterwolf Fort to deal with the increasingly powerful counterattack of the Tiphons there.
"Ah, of course I have. After all, I'm responsible for a lot of work here." Bertilla was indifferent. "It's normal. A considerable number of the production and construction corps in the Sorin District were recruited from the Eastern Region last year. They know the situation of the Tempest and Winterwolf Fortress."
"… … Don't you have any thoughts?" Marguarita could not help but ask.
Bertilla asked her back. "What are you trying to say?"
"You used to be from the Typhon, although that was a long time ago." Marguarita looked at her seriously. "Strictly speaking … … you're one of the ancestors of Rosetta Augustus, Typhon's royal family. Now that Typhon is facing a divine calamity and Cecil is in a state of war with them, I thought you would pay extra attention to this. "
"You said it too, that was a long time ago." Bertilla suddenly smiled, although the smile was a little stiff. "I left Typhon much longer than Bard and his daughter. It was so long ago that I have forgotten what the faces of the Augustus family look like. Now, there's no one I know there, no city or street that I know. Even the Aulandale in my memory has sunk into the depths of the earth 200 years ago … … Now that it's a foreign place to me, I don't think there's anything for me to feel emotional about. "
Marguarita was stunned for a moment before slowly revealing a smile. "That's true."
A gust of wind blew from the far north. The canopy of the Solin Tree rustled for a long time in the wind. The branches stretched for kilometers. Bertilla's vision extended between the branches and looked towards the far east. However, outside the perception range of the giant tree, all she could see as a plant was endless darkness.
… …
Fog, endless fog, the fog that shrouded the whole of Oldenheim.
Every year during this month, the fog would always shroud the city that stood on the plains. The people of Oldenheim were used to this season of thick fog and were used to living under the cloudy sky for months. In the eyes of poetic people, the fog that floated between the buildings and the silhouettes of rooftops and towers in the fog was a kind of intoxicating scenery. Poems about the Imperial Capital of the Fog could be seen everywhere for two centuries.
However, during the Month of Fog in Cecil's 2nd year (Typhon's 739), the people of Oldenheim felt the most nervous in this familiar fog.
An atmosphere of panic spread in the city along with all kinds of rumors. The strange noises that kept coming out, the Church of the God of War that was said to have been occupied by evil spirits, the frequently mobilized troops, and the news from the frontline were all provoking the nervous nerves of the people of Typhon. And on the last day of the first week of the Month of Fog, another major event happened.
Compared to the vague and worrying rumors before, at least this event was unmistakable: His Majesty the Emperor had temporarily closed the Imperial Council after all the members of the Imperial Council voted unanimously.
No one knew what kind of future the city — or the country — would face.
But for the people living at the bottom of the city, they had not reached the level where they could worry about such a 'major event'. The factories were still running, and there was still a need for a large number of employees at the Exchange, the station, and the docks. Due to the outbreak of this inexplicable war, the machines in the factories were spinning faster than usual, and the people working in the factories … they had to work harder to keep up with the faster gears and bearings.
Bonn wrapped his old coat tightly around himself and hurried to the magic train station. He had walked this route many times. Almost every day, he would set off from here and go to the station or the warehouse next to the station to load and unload things. Only after sunset would he set off on his way home, and from there, he would return to the shabby apartment on Lower Cross Street. And he was not the only one walking on this road. There were many people who were also going to the station to work. They walked fast and slow in the fog in silence. Only the sound of their footsteps could be heard, just like the silent gears and chains in the factory.
The bell of a two-wheeled vehicle rang from nearby. Bonn glanced to the side and saw the young postman riding through the fog. His big black bag was placed on the back seat, and it was already wet from the fog.
The postman seemed to be in high spirits as he passed through the workers, even with a kind of arrogance. Apparently, he thought his job was better than the coolies who could only carry goods.
Bonn shook his head and thought nothing of it. He just continued on his way.
But another sound broke the silence in the fog. It came from mid-air, as if some kind of sharp resonance had swept through the whole city in an instant. Then there was a short and high-spirited melody in the air. It was so sudden and loud that even the fog in Oldenheim seemed to be shaken by the sound and flowed in the winter sun.
Bonn was startled for a moment, but he soon realized what it was. It was the sound released by the magic towers set up all over the city, and these magic towers were directly connected to the Obsidian Palace. The citizens of Oldenheim knew very well what the sound of these "powerful magic-controlled gadgets" meant. Obviously, a big shot who was qualified to speak above the city was going to speak, and the whole city had to listen.
The next sound would even appear in the newspapers and be sent to all parts of the country.
Bonn subconsciously shrank his neck, and then he heard a dignified, low male voice suddenly sounded. The voice startled him.
"... Greetings to my hardworking and loyal people. I am your protector and loyal servant of the Empire, Rosetta Augustus...
"... The Royal Family has noticed the tension in the city, but please relax, the situation is under effective control, and in the near future...
"... The Empire has entered a wartime state of emergency, and the Royal Family will spare no effort to protect the rights of every citizen during this difficult period. I am now announcing the following bill in person:
"... The rights of the workers in the factories will be protected, and the income of all posts will not be less than... For the workers who work overtime and actively contribute to the Empire, corresponding rewards will be issued...
"Regarding wartime food supply and medical supplies..."
...
The magic broadcast reverberated over the city, and every corner of Oldenheim could hear it clearly.
"Crazy... Crazy... Crazy!!"
A short and stout man walked angrily in the hall covered with a dark red carpet. His expensive and delicate leather boots sank into the thick carpet, making only a small sound. His expensive suit was wrinkled by his rough movements, and even one of the buttons at the collar had fallen off. It was pulled off by himself in an angry display of his attitude.
Several high-grade combat mages in short black robes stood near him. These combat mages were looking at the disgraceful man with indifferent eyes. There was neither pity nor ridicule on their faces.
"He can't do this! Listen, he can't do this, even if he is the Emperor! " The short and stout man's face turned red, and he shouted at the mages in black robes, "He has no right to deprive me of any honor and title. These titles were given to my family by his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather! What did I do? I didn't do anything! I was just trying to maintain our glorious tradition! You go and reply to the person living in Obsidian Palace. He has no right to — "
"Sir Jules, you have one minute left to arrange your family affairs," a black-robed mage suddenly said calmly, interrupting the man's angry shouts. "If you're sure that you've arranged everything, please come with us. Other than going through the formalities, you have a lot of things to tell Prince Hadilon."
"What do I have to tell him? I have nothing to tell him! "
"For example, the three illegal manors under your name, or the extra golden words in your vault," the black-robed mage said quietly, "or the missing people in your family castle?"
The short and stout man's face turned even redder. He looked angrily at the rogue mage in front of him and said, "Listen, I don't know where these gratuitous accusations come from. And even if they do exist, what does it mean to a noble like me? Do you want to take me away just because of these accusations?! "
"Unfortunately, you do have only one choice — to go to Obsidian Palace with us. At least this will prove your loyalty to the Empire and His Majesty the Emperor himself."
The short and stout man's eyes widened, and then he suddenly seemed to calm down. He took half a step back, tugged at his coat, and said word by word, "Let that immature Hadilon Augustus come to see me in person, or let his father come!"
The combat mages looked at each other.
"Well, Sir Jules, then it's the second plan."
A mage said as he took a step forward.
"You are not loyal."
(Book time! "The Earthlings Are Too Fierce," from Crouching Bull, sci-fi. Crouching Bull probably doesn't need much introduction, right? The old book, "40,000 Years of Cultivation," should know a lot. The quality and updates are guaranteed. It's worth a look.)
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