The Bell of Dusk rang in the sky above Nabosius City. The sound of the bell echoed in the empty twilight. Near and far, the setting sun shone through the fiery glow of the sunset onto the dome of the Golden Palace, reflecting an orange-red glow.
Teams of Golden Armored Praetorian Guards lined up on the slope outside the palace walls to change shifts. From afar, the uniform commands of the Ceremonial Knight could be heard. The noise passed through the copper-plated treetops and even into the inner court. In the Winter Solstice Palace, Pope Petyan III hurriedly finished his dinner. Half a carefully cooked roasted lamb, a silver sea crab, and exquisite pastries were all served on a snow-white porcelain plate. The meat dishes were made with basil leaves and snow tree leaves from Saint-Ausol. The surface was covered with sauce and black pepper. The meat was tender and fragrant, but the diner himself had no appetite. After tasting it, he put down the silver knife and fork and wiped his mouth with a square handkerchief embroidered with golden silk. Only then did he order the attendants to arrange a carriage for him to go to the Emerald Hall.
Fanzin's religious authority was unified. Although the nobles would still have grudges against the Holy Cathedral because of the unequal distribution of benefits, from the secular power upwards, the secular laurels and the Holy Scepter were all in the hands of one person. Because of this, the election of the Pope was often not hereditary. Usually, it was chosen from the eight cardinals. After the abdication of the previous Pope, he took the title of Saint and lived in the Emerald Hall. He did not ask for secular power, but he was still the spiritual leader of the Holy Church. Therefore, for thousands of years, this empty position also had great power. Today, although the current Pope could make arbitrary decisions, he was still subject to the restrictions of the Pope.
These days, Petyan III's uneasiness stemmed from this. He sat in the carriage and looked at the shadow of the Emerald Hall from afar. It was like a giant beast entrenched in his heart, eyeing him covetously, making him uneasy. The former Pope, Asebantus XI, was his mentor on the Holy Road. He had trained him to where he was today. Although the teacher-student relationship was harmonious, they were always separated by a throne. Pei Dian knew that this was due to their respective positions. All the previous Popes were like this, and it was understandable. He had always advocated a Holy War against Cruz in the south. Asebanto the Eleventh had always known his thoughts. Now that the people of Cruz were in chaos without a fight, and that crazy queen dared to restore the Dark Reign, this was a heaven-sent opportunity for him to fight against Cruz. He had even contacted the Wind Elves and the envoys of the Gretius Knight Order, and had stockpiled troops and provisions at the border, preparing for a grand plan to leave a mark in history. But at this time, an edict of ceasefire had dashed his hopes. This edict came from the Emerald Gold Sacred Hall in front of him.
This kind of thing might not happen even once in a hundred years. The last time it happened was during the time of the Rimador Rebellion, when Gloria I used the power of the Holy Knight Order to remove the reigning Pope from his position. This association made Petyan III's face gloomy. He looked gloomily at the seven-foot-high golden palace gate of the Emerald Sacred Hall that was slowly opened by the guards on both sides. No one knew what kind of thoughts were running through his mind. The deeper uneasiness in his heart came from the reactions of the bishops. The bishops and the Knight Order did not seem to react as fiercely as he had expected. The interior of the Empire was as calm as a mirror, without the slightest ripple. He knew that the old man behind the palace gate must have used some unknown power to make all parties submit to him respectfully.
As a superior, he could not tolerate power that was not in his grasp, especially when this power was so great that it was beyond his expectations.
Accompanied by his attendants, Petyan III walked through the corridor and stopped in front of a dark walnut door. He then raised his hand to dismiss his attendants, and at the same time, stopped his servants from announcing his arrival. Facing this walnut door, the supreme ruler of the Holy Inquisition found a trace of hesitation in his heart. But this trace of hesitation was as light and weak as a spider's web. His Holiness the Pope broke free with a light struggle, put his slender palm on the doorknob, and pushed the door open.
Since old age, Asebanto XI liked to light the fireplace in his study, sit on a low chair, and read the scriptures and documents of the church all day long. Although Petyan III doubted how much true meaning there was in it, he was more or less envious. Since he had taken control of the secular power, he inevitably alienated the divine will. 'The Holy See is inferior to the ascetics.' This proverb was not a rumor in Fanzin.
A warm breath hit his face, and the hot wind hit his cheeks. He could not help but squint his eyes. The flickering fire in the fireplace seemed to flow through the gap of the door. It was like a flowing warmth, flowing over his golden shoes and the end of his holy robe.
Asebanto XI was not alone in the room. In addition to a servant in his forties, there was also an old man with white hair and a white beard and glasses. Petyan III recognized this man at a glance. He was a famous scripture scholar in the Holy Sanctum. Asebanto XI was still wearing a plain robe today, but he wore a hat, which was rare. He looked quite formal and serious. Sitting opposite him was a woman. Petyan III was a little surprised and could not help but take another look at the woman. But after another look, he could not take his eyes off her. The woman had long, dry brown hair and a pair of eyes that shone like jade embedded in a mountain rock. The reason it was called 'embedded in a mountain rock' was because her skin looked extremely dry and dull. Her cheekbones were high, like steep rocks. Her lips were sharp and angular, as if they were carved out of them. It was obvious at a glance that this woman had an extremely firm character.
There was only one woman in the world who had such a face, and only one woman who had a lifespan of a thousand years. Petyan respectfully greeted, "Your Excellency."
Asebanto XI looked at his student with a smile as he closed the book in his hand. It was a scripture that described the early teachings of the Holy Sanctum. The person who recorded it was buried under the soil about three or four hundred years ago, although he was posthumously canonized as a saint after his death. He waved his hand, indicating that Petyan did not need to be so courteous. It was as if he had already foreseen that the pope would come. "Your Excellency, are you here today because you have a lot of questions?"
The situation was out of Petyan's control. The current pope pondered for a moment and nodded solemnly.
"Let me answer you," Eranta the Sage said. Her voice was unexpectedly soft and pleasant, completely unlike her face. "I asked His Excellency Asebanto to issue that edict."
"Why?" Petyan III asked.
"Because I hope that Fanzin will not participate in this war, Your Excellency."
"Why?" Petyan still asked the same question.
Asebanto XI continued with a smile, "Your Excellency, for half a century, the Holy Sanctum has been in turmoil, and the old and new doctrines have been in dispute. You have seen all of this with your own eyes. The reason for this is nothing more than to discuss the issue of justice. The root of this problem is the great war sixty years ago. We saw many things behind the scenes of that war, so much so that we began to question the foundation of our existence. What do you think of this? "
Petyan did not answer. Instead, he glanced at Eranta.
"I can't give you an answer to who is right and who is wrong in history, Your Excellency." Eranta calmly replied, "Although I have experienced it myself, I, Gil, Saint-ausol, and your predecessor Fanzin can't answer this question. Odin believes that he is wrong, but this only represents his own opinion. He can't judge history and everything in the past. In a certain period of history we are in, no one can judge himself correctly, not to mention there were countless sages before him. Many people were involved in it. Anyone in this part of history, whether it is a person who experienced it or a bystander, can only observe a fragment of it, so we can only experience it ourselves and witness it. I have lived for a thousand years just to see the result with my own eyes. "
Petyan III frowned. "But do you think that the Queen of the Cruz people has made the right choice?"
Eranta shook her head. "No, it is because we can't be sure whether we are right or wrong that I want to see another path in history. You know the prophecy: the lost moon takes away the light, the light is lost, the Silver Generation is lost to the earth, walking forward in the darkness and obscurity, the chance encounter between the Emperor and the Fool, the rusty clockwork is being restored, the sword that changes fate — Wohnde is waiting for this sword that changes fate. "
"Do you believe in the Dark Prophecy, Sage?" Petyan III asked, "Everything will be born from the darkness?"
"This is what the Miirna people are unwilling to give up, Your Excellency," the sage replied. "This is the Age of Black Iron, the Age of Heroes. Martha gave power to the mortals, believing that heroes will be born from the mortals. But in the eyes of the Gold and Silver race, how can the weak save our world? What's more, there is the failed work of being lost in the Dark Forest. Everything seems to be a warning to civilization that this is a wrong path. The descendants of the Azure Knight quarreled endlessly over this, and the fire of civilization declined day by day, to the point that it could not continue. The Dark Dragon Odin made a last resort choice to save all of this, and today will be the time for it to show the results. "
Eranta looked at Petyan III and replied, "The millennium of history seems to have returned to a cycle, but this may not be the beginning and starting point of everything. I will observe the agreement with Odin to witness the end, but in any case, I still hope to preserve a little fire for civilization, and not pour all of our power into just one answer. Therefore, I hope that the people of Fanzin can leave this mortal stage, because there is a more important war that needs your strength. "
Petyan III raised his head slightly. "Sage, what do you mean?"
Eranta raised her head, and her emerald eyes seemed to be able to penetrate the palace walls of the Emerald Hall. In the direction she looked, across the vast hills and plains, under the fiery clouds, the waves of the Emerald Sea tirelessly washed the towering white cliffs for thousands of years. On this vast land, the alliance known as the Ten Cities took root and multiplied. About 530 years ago, mercenaries and merchants from the Inir and Makeson regions came here and spent a hundred years to build the first city here. After half a century, a new kingdom was established. Its people were humans, mountain people, elves, and dwarves. The teachings of the Templar were widely spread here, but the faith of nature was not rejected by the people.
This was a paradise of freedom, where money and the sound of swords echoed each other all year round.
But today, under the White City, the fishermen who went out to sea suddenly stopped their work. Some of the sailors were cleaning the nets and ropes, some were still climbing on the masts, some were drunk and had just walked out of the cabin onto the deck, some were raising the sails, and some were raising the anchor by the capstan. But all of them stopped and looked back in the direction of the sea and the sky.
The turrets on the city wall were firing warning shots, and groups of guards swarmed onto the city wall. The sea was blue, and the intersection between the sea and the sky was calm, as if nothing unusual had happened.
But in the blink of an eye, dense black dots appeared in that direction.
Rand hastily put on a suit of armor and hurried to the top of the city wall. His squires escorted him to the edge of the battlements. He raised his hand to stop the noise around him, and then raised the monocular in his hand. What he saw was a white triangular sail, and it almost blinded his eyes. He cursed under his breath and looked down. The silver oak emblem on the sail shone in the sun, and then he saw the elegant white hull of the elves.
"The fleet of the Wild Elves —"
Rand sighed and put down the monocular. "There are at least three hundred ships, and this is an army of thirty thousand people. Is Eleranta crazy?"
The Eleranta he mentioned was naturally referring to the kingdom of the Wild Elves. He took another look to be sure that he was not hallucinating. At this time, the alarm bells in the White City were already ringing, and the ships outside began to file into the harbor. Rand glanced at the harbor and estimated that the harbor would be closed in about half an hour. He looked back. He was just a small captain, and he could not make any decisions on this matter. He handed the monocular to his deputy, and then said to a squire, "Go and inform the Faraway Eagle and the City Lord, and let them decide. If the elves are serious, White City will not be able to hold. We must immediately seek support from other cities —"
The retainer glanced at him in panic before trembling as he took the brass token and stumbled down the stairs.
"Look at that ship —" Suddenly, a squire pointed in the direction of the sea and shouted.
Rand looked back and saw a light boat coming out of the Wild Elves' fleet and approaching White City at an extremely fast speed.
"It's a messenger."
"They sent a messenger."
"What do the elves want?"
… …
(PS: A new month has begun. Everyone, keep up the good work ~)
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