Brando finally calmed himself down, but when he raised his head again, he was surprised to see Count Barre standing in front of him.
What is this guy trying to do?
"You're Mister Brendel, right?" The Violet Count's smile disappeared as he asked seriously.
"What's wrong?" Brando asked in a bad mood.
"Even though we have different opinions, we seem to be on the same side. At least I can be sure that you are not on our side, right? " Before Brando could reply, the Violet Count continued, "Of course, we all have our own way of reviving the kingdom, but there is no need to hate each other. I admit that Mister Makarov's way of doing things is a little extreme, but he is only a mortal."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Are you willing to join our side? Rather than complaining, why don't you do it yourself? I hope to see an excellent young man like you on our side. "Barre seemed to have forgotten his previous unhappiness and sincerely invited Brendel.
[This is in line with your usual style.] Brando thought. But he shook his head. [Nonsense. If it weren't for the fact that we're on the same side, you wouldn't even have the chance to stand here and talk.] Brando knew that with Aloz's help and Scarlett's Ginkgo Leaf, it was only a matter of minutes for him to keep this army here. But he didn't want to be too harsh on them. He had already taught Makarov and Fleetwood a lesson with Scarlett and Sanford, but if he took another step forward, there would be a conflict between the two sides. Brando wasn't a reckless young man who couldn't see the situation clearly. He knew that if he kept Duke Loen's army here, the princess's side would be invaded by Arreck's army. If things went wrong, even Freya would be in danger, not to mention the future.
Since Barre was wise enough not to continue the topic of the Golden Apple, Brendel didn't want to talk about it anymore.
What a joke.
"No," Brendel shook his head and replied coldly: "You will see me very soon. Trust me, but not here, and not in your one-sided way." He rejected him firmly, but his next words made Bali pause for a moment: "You will see me very soon. Trust me, but not here, and not in your one-sided way —"
The Violet Count listened to Brendel's words with a complicated expression, and then he looked at Brendel deeply.
"I'll wait and see."
He answered thus.
*****
The real battle was led by the senior Knight students under the leadership of the reserve officers. When the junior freshmen like Freya arrived, they were only responsible for cleaning up the battlefield. Like the others, when she arrived at the battlefield, she saw the hedgehog-like carriage in the middle of the forest from afar. A row of Knights in silver armor surrounded the carriage. There were many corpses of their companions around the Knights, but even so, they did not allow anyone to get close to the carriage. They insisted on treating the wounds of the dead and their companions.
As a result, the battlefield was clearly divided into two colors — silver and purple. Neither interfered with each other. There were corpses everywhere on the road and in the forest. Occasionally, there would be mournful wails from far and near, or the screams of nobles' daughters and sons. In fact, when the senior students passed by the battlefield, they did not kill everyone. Some of them even deliberately left a lot of seriously injured people behind. But except for the necessary survivors, the rest of the people had to become cold corpses. This job was left to the freshmen who cleaned up the battlefield.
Many of them were too scared to do it. Some even felt disgusted. Young people like Freya, who was promoted from the guards and the militia, were much better. She just guessed the identity of the person in the carriage and then buried her head in her own work. Count Beckberg's second son followed behind him with a pale face. He had vomited all the things he wanted to vomit. Now, the young man could only retch.
He held onto a fir tree as he looked at Freya's clean and efficient actions with admiration. [She really is a girl with character.]
"… Do you know who that is?" He gasped for breath and asked.
"What?" Freya didn't understand and turned around to ask.
"A carriage."
The girl from the countryside of Bucce looked at the carriage in confusion. Her bright eyes showed her confusion as she shook her head.
"The emblem on the carriage is a Sacred Beetle. It only belongs to one person in the kingdom."
"Hmm?"
The young man looked at Freya in surprise. How did she come to the Royal Academy if she didn't even know this? However, he soon realized that she was not pretending to be so innocent. He shook his head and replied, "Grandmaster Fleetwood, the chief court Magus of Erouine."
"Ah!" The girl was shocked.
Count Beckberg's second son shook his head again, "But if Grandmaster Fleetwood is in the carriage, we don't even need to do anything. Therefore, the person in the carriage could be someone else. However, there aren't many people close to Grandmaster Fleetwood. Other than the king, only his students can borrow his carriage. "
"Your Highness?" Freya couldn't help but stare with wide eyes. Although she was just a country girl, she still understood this common knowledge.
The young man nodded.
However, as the two were talking, a black warhorse suddenly swept past them. The Knight on the horse quickly passed through the forest, but seemed to be stunned for a moment. He turned his horse around and came to a stop in front of them. Freya was slightly startled. She subconsciously raised her head with the young man beside her and saw a beautiful but cold face.
The head on the snow-white neck was like an exquisite work of art. Even in the North of Corvado, it was difficult to see such a perfect face. The sharp chin had an arc as if it had just walked out of a painting. It made people think that the so-called beauties of the North that were praised in the bards' poems might have been born from this.
The girl's eyes were like a pair of cold amethysts. The people of the North more or less had the blood of the Miirnas, but it was rare to see such pure blood. Her lips were tightly pursed, and her thin eyebrows under her bangs were slightly raised. Then, she frowned with dissatisfaction, giving people a feeling that she didn't like to smile. Her straight and slender nose seemed to represent the girl's extremely strong character. But at this moment, she only let out a soft snort.
She looked down at the two people, her eyes slowly sweeping over Freya and falling on the second son of Count Beckberg.
"You're Freya?"
She stared at the second son of Count Beckberg, making the latter feel as if he was a poisonous snake in the grass that was locked on by the sharp eyes of a falcon. But when Maynild spoke, his low, cold, and slightly hoarse voice was asking Freya.
"Y-yes."
"Your results in horsemanship and swordsmanship training are very good," Maynild said with a low and magnetic voice, "I've heard about you, but if you want to achieve your wish, it's best to stay away from these scum —" The girl rode on her horse and looked back at the young man with a disdainful gaze, speaking bluntly.
Both of them were stunned.
The second son of Count Beckberg frowned and subconsciously retorted, "Senior Maynild, if you say that —"
But before he could finish his words, he heard a soft clang, and then he felt a slight chill on his neck. Just as the corner of his eyes saw the cold reflection on the snow-white blade, the young man realized that Maynild had already dismounted from her horse, unsheathed her longsword, and placed it on his neck. The whole action was done in one breath, and even his hands froze when he made a gesture of spreading out his hands.
"Did I allow you to interrupt?" Maynild asked coldly.
The young man's back was drenched in cold sweat, and he couldn't say a word for a moment.
"What's your name?" The girl asked again.
"Sang, Sangani …"
"Soldier-rank."
"Ni, Maynild, I —"
The girl's sword came closer and interrupted him, "Reporting to Sir."
The second son of Count Beckberg swallowed his saliva and replied in a trembling voice, "Sir, I'm a second-year student. I haven't reached the rank of sergeant yet." He almost didn't dare to say another word, and used all his strength to force the words out of his mouth.
Maynild sheathed her sword with a clang, so fast that almost no one saw it clearly. She turned around and looked coldly at the young man who was touching his neck and cursing loudly in his heart. Her purple eyes were filled with undisguised disdain, but when she opened her mouth, it was an unquestionable order, "Then, soldier, I order you to shut up —"
Then she turned around and adjusted Freya's collar, which was a little crooked from cleaning up the battlefield, and then she patted her shoulder and said softly, "Remember what I said, it won't hurt you —"
Freya didn't move, and for a moment she didn't know what to say.
Should I say thank you?
But if she's really so powerful, will I become someone like her? One day. She couldn't help but think so.
… …
"Who is that?"
When the half Fairy Princess turned around, she whispered to the young man beside her. Her gaze passed through the window of the carriage and fell on the side of the forest. The whole process of the conflict between the second son of Count Beckberg and Maynild fell into this girl's eyes. She pulled open the curtain with one hand and looked at the two girls in the forest in a daze, feeling a trace of familiarity in her heart.
"Madame Miller's daughter, or rather, she's related to Duke Loen. Her talent is not bad, and she's also a diehard supporter of the royal family, so she should be trustworthy. "Sir Benninger only took a glance and replied.
Hearing the young man's silly look, the girl couldn't help but smile, "Of course I know Maynild, she's my close friend. Benninger, are you too tired?"
"I'm sorry."
Benninger replied awkwardly.
"I'm talking about the other one, do you know her?" The half Fairy Princess asked again, "I think she's a little familiar —"
"That's Everton's daughter —"
A gentle voice came from outside the carriage.
Gryphine was slightly startled, and then a trace of surprise flashed in her pale silver eyes. She turned around and asked in a low voice, "Lord Oberwei?"
There was a moment of silence outside the carriage.
Then there was a low laugh, "That's me, Your Highness. It seems that I'm a little late."
… … (To be continued, if you want to know the future, please go to www.qidian.com, support the author, support the original reading!)
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
