The sun hangs in the west, and orange light falls through the clean-lined windows into Dalton's mansion in the port of Cohemia.
Before being appointed Marshal of the Empire, Dalton served as the Governor of Kehemia for a long time. Apart from the Governor's Palace, he also had a small mansion here.
No one has ever been invited to step here. Compared with the splendor and luxury of the Governor's Mansion, which is full of high-society atmosphere, this mansion is actually more like Dalton himself. There are no clusters of flower carvings, nor bas-reliefs of creeping ferns on the pillars. There are only simple and clean lines, square doors and windows, and gray rocks. No matter how bright the sun is, it can't warm it up, and it always seems unreasonable.
There are very few servants in the mansion.
Unlike those nobles who wished to have their servants do everything from dressing to eating, from head to toe, Dalton was not used to having people close to him. There are no virtues such as thrift, just out of suspicion and vigilance-who can guarantee that they will not hide a knife for assassination in their hands
Standing in the gorgeous Governor's Mansion, Dalton always feels that all those exquisite things do not belong to him, they are just things he stole for a short time, and they may be taken away by others at any time. The fear of losing, the fear of falling back into the stinking ditch from the magnificent dream, drove him to climb up without stopping. Like a never-ending curse, he always needs something more to keep what he's got from losing.
Only in this secret house can Dalton break free from the oppression from all sides.
The young officer lowered his head slightly, leaning against the cold and hard wall.
In the slightly cold late spring, he didn't wear a coat, only a clean white shirt with the corners neatly tucked into his belt. The slender figure cast a long paper-like shadow on the study floor. The lines of the face are too sharp in the dim light, and the thin lips that make people feel cold are slightly pursed, like a wolf standing alone on a rock, looking at the hustle and bustle that it has never owned from a distance.
He thought about the words that the adjutant muttered in the afternoon, "Wouldn't you say something nice in front of His Majesty?" He reached out his hand and took out the dazzling golden rose from his pocket, and held it up to his eyes.
The main body of the rose is made of gold, and rubies as transparent as wine are carefully inlaid on it. A goldsmith's carving knife carves out the queen's personal emblem little by little. It was once worn on her shoulder. When people see a rose, they think "ah, it's Queen Adele".
Dalton pressed the thorn on the rose branch. When it was given to him, it may not be from the heart-it was a bitter contest. Sometimes when he knew that she was playing the trick of inseparable and balanced inside and outside, he wanted to take it off in annoyance. But for so long, it's been sitting on his shoulder perfectly - except this time.
He lightly held his hands, and the palms were engraved with metal and gemstone bumps, which were both cold and hot, like ice and fire.
A thin, subtle sensation.
It was as if her mark was branded on him.
When people mentioned him later, they would no longer lightly refer to Dalton. He was a poor boy who got lucky. They would say that he was a dependent family of the Queen, and they would draw his coat of arms on the map that belonged to her, and there would be his name under her name.
Then a kind of secret joy arose, as if there was a little more connection between them suddenly, as if he suddenly got something that belonged to him.
Given his background, it was an unimaginable gift to receive so many gifts.
How many people want this golden rose and can't get it.
He should know that he is satisfied, but he cannot be satisfied.
Mostly liking is such an extremely greedy thing, if you don't burn your loved ones or yourself clean, you won't give up. He didn't want her to be reduced to ashes, so he could only reduce himself to ashes.
It was a scorching, wordless fire that scorched the pulse and could not be tossed or turned.
In the end, there is no limit.
Dalton pursed his lips, covered his forehead with the back of his hand, and raised his head helplessly.
The wind came in, and the pages of the book on the table beside him were flipping, and one of the pages was turned.
A rose with every petal carefully preserved is sandwiched in it, and the dried aroma dissipates. In the lines of the cursive script, the poet is chanting:
… so confused and drunk, so nervous and greedy
Grave of kisses, there is still fire in your grave
The plentiful fruit is still burning, being pecked by birds. [1]
……………………………
Falcons cast hunting shadows.
The murderous Xiuler warriors surrounded the tent where Prince Arthur temporarily lived. General Musa of Siul cut off the curtain of the tent with a cold face,
"When did you get so impatient? General Musa."
Prince Arthur asked in feigned surprise.
General Musa's voice was as low as thunder: "You used me, outsider!"
"That's not the way to settle accounts," Prince Arthur said in a friendly tone, spreading his hands with a smile on his face, "Didn't I get rid of General Moray for you? Oh, when that hapless man was hanged by Maharaja Catur , I think you are quite satisfied, don't you?"
"But you lied! The information you sent is false. St. Telefus II has no intention of going on an expedition at all. His real goal is Roland, Root and Jager, not Siul!" General Musa was tall and burly, with veins on his arms like horned dragons, and fierce eyes, "You want the knights of Ule to pay for your ambition."
"You can't say that."
Prince Arthur sat comfortably on a chair propped up by metal animal claws, with bright blond hair hanging over his shoulders, and azure blue eyes with a bit of joy.
"It was you who convinced Maharaja Katur that St. Telefus II hated the Holy Land, and you were the one who persuaded the elders to send troops. And I... aha, I just came from afar, and my allies were killed Strangers who were hanged. Do you think I or you were the first to be hanged when things were revealed?"
"Of course."
Prince Arthur leaned forward and clapped his hands as if he suddenly remembered something.
"You can also kill me now, and then take my head to plead guilty to Maharaja Catur. However, since your country's army has already gathered, St. Telefus II has given up the original due to your actions. Your eyes have moved to the east, and even if you want to stop, those who hold the cross will not believe that this is just a misunderstanding. Then, you go and tell the majesty that since these days, Ule has interrupted ties with the west trade, mobilizing countless manpower and material resources, just because you want to get rid of a companion who threatens you... Alas! I will be very happy to meet you in the underground soon."
"What good does war do for you?" General Musa's expression turned ugly. "You have already been deprived of the right to inherit the throne of the Root Empire, and even if we go to war with the Papal State, it may not affect Root."
"Why don't you sit down and have a drink?"
Prince Arthur didn't answer directly. He crossed his fingers and squinted at the two glasses of wine on the table.
General Musa's expression changed for a moment, and he waved his hand, causing the warriors outside the account to retreat quietly.
"What the hell are you trying to do?"
"What do I want to do?" Prince Arthur pressed his pale fingers against his chin, restrained the smile on his face, and looked rather regretful, "No way, who made me rejected. So, I had no choice but to invite her to a Dating... Let me think, let the cornerstone of the whole old era be the stage for our reunion, and the most intense collision of two ancient beliefs be the accompaniment of our reunion... This scene is destined to be remembered, yes!"
He stood up happily, on his feminine and handsome face like a dark creature, a pair of blue eyes were occupied by frenzied colors.
"Whether it is the scorching sun flying into the sky or the crown falling to the ground, it is destined to be a beauty that shocks history!"
Prince Arthur laughed wantonly.
The innocence of a child and the cruelty of a madman are intertwined on his delicate face at the same time, and his slender pale hands dance gracefully in mid-air like conducting an orchestra. In his nervous chant, it seemed as if a dangerous door was pushed open by him suddenly, and the bloody storm rushed towards his face.
General Musa looked at him in horror, he could hardly hold the wine glass in his hand, the wine splashed out, leaving bloody marks on the carpet.
He didn't even know what he was afraid of, he just blurted out in an instant:
"madman!"
The lunatic put one hand on his chest with a smile and bowed gracefully to him, just like a playwright thanking his audience before the opening of a play:
"Sir, you should be lucky, because you will witness the birth of the scorching sun, or the death of the sun!"
"Never come closer to a legend of destruction and rebirth!"
…………………………
The sun slanted across the port of Cohemia.
In the half-moon-shaped harbor, warships waited quietly, the water surface was sparkling, and the army troops responsible for attacking the fortress were quickly boarding the warships. Looking down from the lighthouse, it looks like pieces of white shells displayed on the sea, like an epic oil painting by a painter.
"Earl Boli thinks it's best for you to stay in the port of Cohemia."
Abigail was lying on the railing of the lighthouse, a little lazy in the sun, her eyes were half-closed, her face was half pressed on her arms, and she turned to look at Adele.
"Did he even ask you to deliver the message?"
Adele looked amusedly at the lack of a good-looking friend around her, and felt that she looked like a big cat melted by the sun. He didn't have the majestic and resolute look when he inspected the fleet just now, the difference is equivalent to the cheetah patrolling the territory and the cat by the fireplace.
Thinking about it carefully, when Abigail met Prince Arthur that time, the way Abigail jumped up and drew a knife as soon as she pressed the railing, she really looked like a big cat.
Moreover, this big cat has red hair that looks extra warm in the sun, making people want to reach out and rub it a little.
Adele loves red.
"He thinks so, but I think..." Abigail was basking in the sun, her eyes that were about to close suddenly opened suddenly, "Eh?!!"
Adele withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened.
She pretended not to see her friend's surprised eyes: "I can understand Earl Boli's concern, but you know, since 'God Bless' has been used as a call, personal conquest has become a must—otherwise, how can our soldiers believe Are they really blessed? And if I stay in the country, those stubborn guys will have a lot... "
Abigail stared at her without blinking.
"...they have a lot to do, and St. Telefus II's 'Papal Commission' can also take this opportunity to explode."
Abigail didn't speak, just looked at her.
"Okay, okay," Adele couldn't go on. She couldn't help it, the corners of her lips curled up, and she coughed dryly a few times, then her voice dropped, "I didn't mess with your hair either..."
Also, they are inherently a bit messy.
Adele found a reason for herself.
Only then did Abigail quickly show a sly smile, and raised her hands to grab two handfuls of hair that had been messed up by Adele.
"I'm just passing on a message for him. If you want to directly participate in the battle on the island, then I will definitely stop you—I don't want me to attend your funeral the day after your royal expedition. Before heading to Senglei Island On the route, near the Baijiao Bay, there is an Iris Island, where you can camp."
As she said that, Abigail turned over and leaned her back against the railing instead, with the sun shining on her head-on.
She narrowed her eyes comfortably.
In charge of the mobilization of the entire naval fleet, and everyone's link so that no one can find any mistakes, Abigail has been exhausted to the limit during this time. Occasionally, she also misses the days when she was the head of the pirate regiment, and she can rest on the deck and mast at will, without worrying about the etiquette image of being an imperial general. Just now, on this lighthouse, she was able to remove the support of the navy, revealing the casualness that belonged to pirates.
But honestly...
Adele carefully looked at her red-haired friend.
She looks more like a big cat like this, the kind that basks in the sun and turns its belly out.
"I heard them say you used to sleep on the mast with the sail rolled up—wouldn't it fall?"
Adele asked solemnly.
"...I'll let them scrub the decks." Abigail really wanted to know what her bunch of idiots had poured out of that gamble. Abigail touched her nose and shrugged before her silver-haired friend pretended to be serious and asked, "It's actually quite comfortable, a bit like a cradle... Don't laugh!"
Adele blinked her eyes and restrained her smile graciously.
She was so cooperative that Abigail was a little overwhelmed—well, she didn't mind making her friends laugh about her business at all. It's just a little, a little unaccustomed... The mutual teasing among friends also seldom appears to her.
"By the way," Abigail had no choice but to change the subject, "I heard you sold several of your castles—for this war?"
"No way, the construction of the necessary docks and ships has consumed more than half of the property obtained from the previous search of the Saint Lorraine Sect. Congress has already provided military expenses once. If they want to ask Congress for money again, they are likely to respond to it. The trade policy with Elmia puts forward conditions, and Roland has no conditions for turning Elmia into a colony, and I don't want to do that either."
When it comes to military spending, the relaxed look quickly disappeared from Adele's face.
The relaxed, joking young Adele disappeared along with her, and standing there was the honored and worried Queen Roland, who had a heavy responsibility on her shoulders.
Or in other words, she has always been Queen Roland, and only in very few moments, very short moments, will she open the shackles at the bottom of her heart and let the lively Adele who can really smile come out.
As the head of the Iron Cross Pirates, Admiral Roland, Abigail follows the majestic and quiet Queen Roland.
But just as Abigail, she likes Adele who will stand with her in the lighthouse and bask in the sun.
As soon as Abigail's heels touched the ground, she stood up lightly and lightly touched Adele with her shoulder.
"Look at that boat over there," she said.
Following Abigail's instructions, there is a small boat with a mermaid statue on its prow parked at a corner of the harbor.
"Perhaps you have heard of the legend of the Iron Cross Pirates and the Treasure of the Mist," she winked at Adele mysteriously, "A gift from the previous owners of the Iron Cross Pirates—a gift for them who almost Your Majesty who sold all his castles."
The author has something to say: [1] Pablo Neruda's "Song of Despair"