Free Web NovelChapter 1185: Chapter 298: Maelstrom I_2
To put it in the most pessimistic terms, once the army sets out, there is absolutely no turning back.
Otin cast a somewhat contemptuous glance at the Chief Wizard. He himself belonged to another faction, and likely harbored prejudice against everyone present except Princess Griffine—especially against surrender‑mongers like Liwu. He had never heard of Erune handing over its interests before war had even forced its hand.
"Even if the Earth Temple agreed, the Lion-men would not. To mobilize the army is no trivial matter, Teacher." The Princess also shook her head. "Since what is done cannot be undone, we should rather consider what to do next."
"My lords?" Her gaze swept across them all.
"Find a way to mobilize the Southern troops, and at the same time state our position clearly. Duke Viero has yet to declare himself. He and Count Denier are mortal enemies. Beyond Anlek Province, the Temple’s actual control over the South is extremely weak—we can try to win his support." Lord Macaro answered at once.
"Who would board a sinking ship?" someone asked.
"No. If we still have the three Territories, we still have strategic room to maneuver. The Lion-men have already launched the first attack; the North will then be assailed from front and rear. The Temple will not stand by and watch."
All in the room fell silent. Princess Griffine gave the Cunning Fox a long, penetrating look. At first glance this plan seemed like wild fantasy, utterly unfeasible, yet on closer thought, there was not no chance at all.
Macaro had likely seen through the crux in a single glance. If the army from Tonyger and Viero were to pincer the Jandener Territory, and if, in private, they reached an accord with the Royalist faction, then the three Southern Territories would fall into the Princess’s camp.
Adding to that the still‑uncommitted Karasu and Golan-Elsen, the Royalists would, in effect, share rule of North and South with the Temple. Though with Anlek refusing to join, the unification of the North had become a distant luxury, given the current situation, once Tonyger’s forces and Viero actually came to blows, the Temple would no longer dare move against the Royalists still in Ambeser.
In the end, the Temple might even be forced to compromise with the Royalists. But in that case, Erune would have only one road left—partition.
It was the prudent choice; yet Count Oting, off to the side, furrowed his brow. Everyone present was clever; none could easily deceive another. Several of Lord Overwell’s men had already placed their hands on their sword hilts. He could not help but glance at Macaro. Words like these had no need to be spoken before outsiders—what was this fellow playing at?
Was he declaring his position?
More likely, it was Duke Lantoniyan’s position he was declaring. Once North and South were split, life in Anlek, caught between them, would become exceedingly hard; and everyone knew the Duke of Lantoni and Anlek were mortal enemies.
The Princess gently shook her head. "I reject this proposal. The Royalists may fail, but Erune must not be divided."
Their faces all changed at once; only Lord Overwell’s brows drew together slightly. Otin lifted his head, carefully studying this Princess, fair and beautiful as a flower, as though noticing for the first time some latent Strength within her.
"Your Highness," Macaro could not help but remind her softly.
"After we die, there will still be those who remember the radiant banner of Former King Ai Ke. But if Erune is split apart, it will never again have a chance at unity." The Half-Elf Girl’s silver eyes seemed able to see through the mists of the future as she sat there, answering faintly.
Such was the sorrow of a small Kingdom. To lay it bare, Erune’s Destiny still lay in the hands of the Cruz people. This Kingdom had survived until now by virtue of internal unity. Yet once it fractured, the Cruz people would likely never again give it an opportunity to mend.
The Princess, and indeed every person present, understood this perfectly; only some chose to feign ignorance.
"Let us speak first of our present situation," Lord Overwell interjected.
"There is no need." Griffine suddenly understood. She sighed. "Go out first, all of you. Let me be alone for a while. Tomorrow’s council of nobles, and all that follows, I leave in your hands."
The room fell still.
They exchanged glances, then nodded, and withdrew one by one. The last to leave was Otin. He gazed long at the Princess, then bowed before he quietly closed the door and departed.
The footsteps faded into the distance—
Only when all was perfectly quiet did the Half-Elf Princess rise to her feet—she was not tall, her petite frame inherited from her Elf blood, giving her a frail, delicate look. She went around behind the chair, gripped the back with both hands, and with some effort dragged it over to the window.
She drew a breath, then sat down leaning against the window, staring out at the view of Ambeser in the midst of the storm.
Between Heaven and earth all was murk, as though in the next instant this harbor would be swallowed by the Dark.
After a long time.
The door behind her opened, and a voice said, "Your Highness, Lord Macaro and the others have gone to see the Little Prince. Only Lord Overwell and Count Oting have left together."
Griffine bit her lip, her face deathly pale. They were ready to stake everything on a single throw, but should she stop them? Could she bear to drag Haruz to death with her? Besides, what power did she have to stop them?
She had long foreseen this moment. The Royalist faction was already acting according to its own Will; whether that Will was still as pure as at the very beginning, none could say.
She lifted her head; Lightning bathed her face in a cold, translucent white. Eck Exile, is everything that is Erune to end here, in this moment? Her eyes fixed on the endless Dark to the East. She knew that there, a newborn Empire was rising.
In the end, Erune would become its nourishment.
The door softly closed again.
But Princess Griffine seemed not to hear. She stared in a daze at the scene outside the window, as though she wished to take it all into her eyes. However Dark it was, that land was still Erune’s soil—at least, for now.
Her face was deathly pale, yet neither joy nor sorrow touched it, as if she were a wooden puppet.
"At a time like this, it would be better for your health if you simply cried," a gentle voice said.
Griffine started violently. Her reaction was swift; with a backward motion she drew a silver Short Sword from beneath her skirt. With a sharp clang, the Short Sword struck against a black, heavy Longsword.
The Princess fell back a step and finally saw clearly the young man before her, his whole body wrapped in a dripping Cloak. At the same time, Brand also let out a breath of relief. He had not expected this Princess’s reaction to be so quick; she had almost succeeded in cutting him down.
If not for the vast gulf between their Strength.
Yet even in his wildest dreams Brand had never thought Griffine would refuse to pull her blow. She gritted her teeth, face filled with grim resolve, and rushed straight at him. Ah! Brand woke as if from a dream. He suddenly realized that this Princess must now be bent solely on death.
She wants me to kill her! She wants me to kill her?
Has the Princess gone mad? Brand’s heart sank; for a moment even the movements of his hands slowed.
... (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, you are welcome to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast a recommendation ticket or Monthly Ticket. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
