Chapter 23 Chapter 3 The Salt Shaker and the Teapot

Even though it was only afternoon and dusk, the snow had brought darkness to Merilon early.The family saints had conjured the lamps in Lord Samuels' mansion to cast a soft glow, which gave Lady Rosamund and her daughter, and Mary's joyless house, The drawing room brought in some cheerful light; light also shone into the guest room, where the servants were busy drying the linens, warming the beds, and strewing rose petals here and there to drive away the musty smell of long disuse.As they worked, they kept whispering about the few people who had come back from the dead. The only unlit room in the whole house was Lord Samuels' study, where the assembled gentlemen preferred the darkness, as it suited their private and shady conversations.

"This is the situation we are facing now, Lord Samuels." Joram said looking at the heavy snow that was still falling outside the window. "Those enemies are trying to conquer our world and unleash magic into the universe. We have made them understand that this is not an easy goal, and they will pay a heavy price for it!" He just spent an hour describing the battle that took place on the battlefield of glory in as much detail as possible.Lord Samuels listened dumbfounded.Creatures from the afterlife, steel monsters that can kill with a glance, and metal-skinned humans!Saryon looked from Joram to Lord Samuels, knowing that he was struggling to process what he had just heard.But it was clear from the bewildered expression on his face that he was confused, as if he was going to catch a cloud of fog.

"So, what should we do now?" He asked helplessly. "Let's wait," Joram replied. "In the realm of the afterlife, there is a saying that hopes for the best and prepares for the worst!" "What's the best hope?" "According to reports from the Dukes who were monitoring them, the invading army fled in a hurry. It was a rout, which was better than I had expected. Also, they seemed - according to the sorcerers - to be at odds with each other. , disorganized. I knew the commander elected to run this expedition, his name was Major James Polis. Probably in any other situation he would have been a good commander because he was a man of logic and common sense. But , sending him into this world is definitely a wrong choice. This world is completely beyond the scope of his brain can comprehend. There is no way for him to deal with such a war that - for him - only appears in horror novels .I bet he will retreat and take his people out of this world."

"and then?" "Then we have to find a way to seal the border, once and for all. It shouldn't be too difficult..." "The Dukes are already doing this work," Garrod said. "But it takes an inestimable amount of life force, about a little life force from every living person on Simharon—they estimate that it's about that much." "And the worst?" asked Lord Samuels, after a pause. Joram pursed his lips and replied, "If Polis calls for help, but we don't have the time and energy to go to the border to stop them. We must strengthen Merilon's defense system, wake up this sleeping city, and mobilize all the people Defend it!"

"First, someone has to take control back from the man who was trembling in a pile of aspic, huddled in the Crystal Cathedral, crying out for Emin to protect him!" Jarod pointed out. "Forgive me, Father Saryon." The priest smiled wryly and shook his head. "Of course you are right, Your Highness. But with whom will the people go?" At this moment Lord Samuels stirred in his chair and leaned forward.This is politics, something he still knows a little bit about. "There are some - like the Duke of de Chabury - who can wisely put aside their differences and join together against a common enemy; but there are others - like Sir Chesney, who are thick-headed mules. I doubt He wouldn't believe this other world at all. Good Emin!" Lord Samuels ran his fingers through his gray hair. "I'm not even sure if I really believe it, but I have the evidence right in front of me..."

Saryon turned his eyes away from the study where the men were discussing, and drifted to the adjacent living room.Through the half-open door, Saryon heard Gwen's voice from this cold and formal room with many elegant furniture, which could hardly be seen outside.The sad, haunting music was just—so it seemed to him—the perfect accompaniment to this intimate talk of war and death. "Please don't get me wrong," Gwendolin said to her distraught mother. "Earl Devon is very pleased with the changes you have made to his house. He just doesn't understand the use of so much new furniture. There is too much furniture here! He doubts whether it is necessary to put so much, Especially this kind of small table!" Ge Wen raised her hand. "Wherever he turns, there's another little table, and he keeps bumping into them at night! But just as he's getting used to the little tables, you move the china cabinet. It's been years It's in the same spot - against the north wall of the restaurant, right?"

"It...it...blocks the morning light...from the east window..." Mrs. Rosamund faltered, almost fainting. "And in the night, the poor man bumped into it!" Gwen said again. "He broke a salt-shaker—it was an accident, he assures you! Still, the Count wondered if it would be a trouble to get the china cabinet back in its place." "My poor boy!" wailed Lord Samuels.With a sudden wave of his hand, the door between the study and the living room was automatically and quietly closed. "What is she talking about?" he asked in a low voice of pain. "She doesn't recognize us! But she does know that... that china cabinet... and the salt shaker! That salt shaker! My God! We thought some servant broke it!"

"What was the name of the previous owner of this house?" Joran asked.He was listening to his wife too, his eyes filled with pain, just as his voice said. Saryon tried to comfort him, but Samuels had already opened his mouth to answer Joram's question, so he quickly shut up and turned around in his chair, fidgeting.He rubbed his deformed fingers as if they were suddenly aching.How can he comfort him?It was nothing more than those few empty, feeble words! "The former master? He's dead, and his name is..." Samuels stopped suddenly, staring at Joram with terrified, enlightened eyes. "Earl Devon!"

"I tried to make you understand it," said Joram, with a sigh. "She can talk to the dead. In this world, people are called necromancers." "However, the necromancers have disappeared! Their kind of people were completely wiped out in the 'Iron War'!" Lord Samuels moved his painful eyes to the living room, and her daughter's voice could still be heard through the tight faintly heard through the closed doors. Joram smoothed her hair absently with his fingers, and said, "In the afterlife, they all thought she was insane. They didn't believe in necromancy. The doctors concluded that Gwendelyn suffered from severe trauma. The psychological trauma of her life has prompted her to escape herself in a small fantasy kingdom full of her own imagination. Only there can she feel truly safe. But only I believe that there is something sober in her madness, that That is, she can actually talk to the dead."

"You're not alone..." Saryon corrected him. Joram frowned. "Yes, you are right, Father," he whispered. "It's not just me, but Manju, the magician--I mentioned that in the record--he also believed she was a necromancer. And when he realized that this ancient ability was He wanted to abduct Ge Wen when he was so precious, and it was only then that I realized the true nature of this person for the first time." "Precious?" Jarod moved in his chair.He had been sitting at Lord Samuels' desk looking at Simharlan's map just now, but it was too dark, so he turned to listen to their conversation. "How precious? What can the dead do for the living?"

"Have you never studied the writings on necromancers?" Saryon asked. "Not much," Jarod said coldly. "They can soothe the souls of the dead, atone for their evil deeds, close their unfinished business, that sort of thing. And it's not a big loss that this type of sorcerer has been extinct since the 'Iron Wars' according to the history books. " "Forgive me, Your Highness, I don't agree with you." Saryon said seriously. "When the necromancers died, it was the church that made it look like a small loss, but it seemed to me a great loss. For a while now, I've been with Gwendolin, and she's seen and only she can see it. , to those who could hear, and discovered that the dead possessed something unique that the living could never possess." "Then this thing is..." Jarod got a little impatient, obviously he wanted to turn the conversation to more important matters, but he was too polite to offend the Catalyst Saint. "It's completely easy to understand, Your Highness! When we die, we will follow the Creator's side. We can know His various plans for the universe, and finally we can see the plans of the entire universe!" Jarod suddenly became interested. "Do you believe it?" he asked. "I—I don't know!" Saryon blushed.He looked away, staring down at his shoes. "It's what we've been taught," he whispered, and the question of faith that had always haunted him—a question he thought answered by Joram's death—was brought up again. to him. "Just say it's true," Jarod pressed. "Can the dead tell the living about the future?" "Whether I believe it or not, Your Highness." Saryon said with a wry smile. "That is impossible in my opinion. The world seen by the undead is beyond our comprehension, just as we cannot understand the world seen by Joram. We can only look at one through a door. The windows open in all directions to see the time, but the undead can see the time through hundreds of windows opened in all directions." The priest spread his scarred hands, trying to express this extremely inexplicable sight. "Then how can they hope to describe what they see! They can, however, give advice - through necromancers! In ancient times, the dead were allowed the opportunity to give advice to the living. And the living It is to worship the dead, keep in touch with them, and benefit from the insight of the incomparable god that the dead have seen. This is what we have lost, Your Highness." "I see!" Jarod looked thoughtfully at the closed door. However, Saryon shook his head. "No, Your Highness," he said calmly. "She can't help us. For all we know, perhaps this unfortunate duke, babbling on about china cabinets and salt shakers, is trying to get our attention and tell us something important. But, even so, Gwen Delin has no way of conveying that information to us. She can only communicate with the dead, not the living!" The prince wanted to continue the subject, but Saryon—looked at Lord Samuels, and then Joran glanced at him—and shook his head slightly, reminding the prince: at least for two people, this is a sad topic.The father looks at the closed door with confusion and utter sadness written all over his face; the husband looks out the window at the lifeless, snow-covered garden with bitterness and despair.So Jarod suddenly cleared his throat and changed the subject. "We still have to discuss and discuss. Merilon needs a leader. Someone must gather the people." He said hastily. "As I mentioned before, the only candidate I can think of..." "No!" Joram turned instantly from the window with a gesture of impatience. "No, Your Highness!" He added more gently, trying to soften the tone that was too rude just now. "Joran, listen to me!" Jarod leaned toward him. "You are the best..." At this moment, a teleportation corridor opened in the middle of the study, interrupting the prince's words.Everyone in the room stared at it, but after a while, nothing came out.But Saryon heard something inside that sounded like a struggle. "Get your hands off me, idiot! You've crumpled the velvet! I've got another week to live with this stained finger print on my sleeve! I—" Then, wearing a green velvet bodysuit , wearing bright green shorts and an orange hat, rolled out of the portal and fell into a ball on the floor.Immediately behind him were Mosiah, who was still wearing the uniform of a Saraken archer, and two Duke Xis in black robes and hoods. Apparently, Simkin was a little embarrassed by his inelegant appearance.He stood up, bowed to the gentlemen present, raised the orange silk scarf in his hand pretending to be elegant, and said, "Dear Your Highness, congratulate me quickly! I found them!" Mosiah ignored Sim Jin who was bragging about his latest victory, and went straight to Prince Jarod, saying: "Your Highness, we have captured him, and he is in the enemy camp. As you ordered, Song Li- —the Portal Guardians—caught him and delivered him to me. With their help—" he was referring to the two Dukes. "I dragged him here." "This is exactly where I want to come!" Xin Jin said with a hurt expression on his face. "Or, if I had known it was here earlier, I would have come here long ago! Oh, Your Highness! I searched everywhere, and seeing your handsome face, I would have been exhausted! Do you know? I have a terrifyingly important I have news for you..." "According to Songli, this guy is on his way to the cathedral." Mosiah interrupted him sarcastically. Sim Jin snorted and said, "I thought His Highness was there! After all, everyone is in the cathedral. The peasants are brewing a riot..." "Riot?" Jarod looked at the Dukes for confirmation. "Yes, Your Highness." A black-robed sorcerer folded his hands in front of him. "We are here to report the news to you, and it happened that Mosiah asked us for help. The serf mages have rushed out of the sacred forest, and are flocking to the cathedral at this moment, demanding to see the bishop." When he said, his black pocket The hat drooped a little, and he put out a hand to support it. "We can't stop them, Your Highness. Although there are only a few catalyst saints among them, they still have strong magic, and our strength is weakened." "I see." Jarod said in a low voice.He exchanged a startled look with Lord Samuels, and Saryon saw that they both looked at Joram.But Joram refused to meet their eyes, and turned to look at the garden, barely visible in the gloom. "What is the bishop doing?" "He refused to see them, Your Highness. He also ordered all the doors leading to the cathedral to be sealed by magic. At present, the members of our Duke Xi's regiment have only the power to hold the cathedral with a spell." "So the cathedral is safe for the time being?" "yes--" "They will not attack it, Your Highness!" cried Mosiah. "They didn't want to hurt anyone! They were just too scared and demanded an explanation!" "Mosiah, is your father among them?" Jarod asked softly. "Yes, Your Highness." Mosiah blushed. "My father is their leader. He knows what really happened on the battlefield yesterday. I told him. Maybe I did something wrong." He replied half proudly, half ashamed. "But they have a right to know the truth!" "They do!" said Jarod. "And I hope we can tell them the truth." He glanced at Joram, but the latter was still staring out the window, expressionless and uncompromising.Jarod pushed the map away, stood up, and paced the room with his hands behind his back. "Well, Simkin." He turned suddenly to the young man in green. "Have you seen the enemy?" "My God! Of course!" said Simkin, and with a wave of his hand he conjured a couch out of thin air. "I hope you'll forgive me?" he said wearily, stretching out on the couch in the middle of the study so that Garrod would bump into it if he continued pacing. "You don't mind if I change my clothes? I've been wearing this green for hours. I don't think it suits my complexion. It feels like I have jaundice!" As he said that, the shorts and jacket on his body turned into a red cotton-woven nightgown with black fur rolling on the cuffs and a fur collar.A pair of red slippers with raised toes covered her feet.Simkin evidently liked the slippers very much, and he held up one foot, admiring them with great pleasure. "The enemy?" Jarod reminded him. "Oh, yes! Well, my lord, is there anything else for me to do? I trotted the field for a little while, but—admittedly I found it very amusing to see — It occurred to me that maybe this is also an opportunity for me to see the light, but only in a very painful form. Burning a hole in a person with the light, in my experience with the light I have never thought about it. However——" Sim Jin pulled out the orange silk scarf from the air, gently applied it to his nose, and continued: "So I decided to do something for my country. So, regardless of the great personal danger, I decided to—" I raised the orange silk scarf vigorously. "Be a spy!" "Keep talking!" Jarod ordered. "Of course! By the way, Joram, my dear companion," continued Simkin, reclining among the pile of silk pillows. "Did I tell you I'm glad to see you?" He waved the silk scarf on his hand again. "You look very nice, though I have to say you're getting better with age." "If you have been to the enemy camp, then tell me what you saw!" Joram asked. "Of course I've been!" Simkin twirled his mustache with a long thin finger. "Do I need to prove it to you? My king? I'm just your jester! Do you remember? Those two death cards? You died twice? They laughed at me then!" He slyly He glanced at Mosiah and Saryon. "But I think they won't laugh now. The experience going to the enemy's camp was really scary! The whole teleportation corridor is full of dark crawling things." He gave Duke Xisi a stern look. "Enemies are ambushing everywhere..." "By the way, it's almost over." Sim Jin said indifferently. "An old friend of yours, a sorcerer who calls himself 'Doo Dog' or something, sealed off the teleportation corridor..." Seeing Joram's blue face and pale lips, Saryon came to his side and put a hand around his arm for support.That's it, Saryon thought, what Joram had been dreading all along, finally happened! "Manju!" Qiao Lang's voice was so small that he could hardly hear it. "What did you just say, Manju? That's it! What a disgusting name! But a charming guy! Going around, with a rough guy - stocky, thick necked, typical soldier look , no tea drinker. Nevertheless, I turned into a very fine teapot and sat on his table. The rude guy got me out by a rough guy, but a no-brainer .It was so simple that I sneaked back when he wasn't looking. I said, my dear boy, are you listening to me?" Joram didn't answer.He gently pushed Saryon's hand away, and walked to the fireplace blankly.His white robe brushed the floor, and he gripped the edge of the mantel, staring at the dying ashes, his face so haggard and worried. "He's still here!" he said. "Of course I expected that. But how did he get here? Did he run away, or did they let him go?" He turned, eyes burning brighter than the smoldering coals, Stare at Simkin. "How would you describe that man, what does he look like?" "A handsome devil! At least sixty years old, but dressed like thirty-nine, tall, broad shoulders, gray hair, and very nice teeth. By the way, I don't think those teeth are his , dressed in the most tasteless clothes..." "That's him!" murmured Joram, beating hard on the mantelpiece. "And now he's in charge, my dear boy. Seems like that Major Polis has been left all over the place and—aha, ha! There's a very funny thing, I must say by the way, the magician  … ...ha,ha...mutated one of the major's hands into...turned into a chicken paw! That poor man's face...is so funny that you can't pay for it, I promise you! Oh, um Wiping the corners of his eyes, Simkin continued, "I wish you had been there. Where did I say that? Oh, yes! The major tried desperately to shake off the 'chicken paw', and the yelling stopped, but that— What's your name, Manju? Yes, but this fellow Manju turned poor Polis's hand into a drumstick again and scared the crap out of the major- pardon me for the expression method." Simkin was clearly pleased with his own joke. "And then?" Joram asked again. "Then what? Oh, yes. The major isn't going to leave." "Joran..." Garald said with a serious face. "What's their plan?" Joram asked, motioning Jarod to be silent. "They used a word." Simkin stroked his beard, thought for a moment, and said, "A very exact word to describe it. Let me think about it... Uh! I remember! Genocide! " "Genocide?" Jarod repeated, bewildered. "What means?" "It is to completely wipe out a race." Joran replied word by word. "Of course. Literally. Manju wants to kill us all!"