Chapter 12 Chapter Ten Your Excellency

"So these are your friends, Simkin?" The prince glanced at Mosiah and then at Joram intently.Qiao Lang was trapped by the fire wheel and dared not move for fear of being burned.But there was no fear on that determined face, only pride and anger, and the shame of losing face and defeat. "Better than a brother," Simkin said. "Do you remember how I lost my brother? Sweet little Nate? When—" "Ah, I remember." The prince quickly interrupted him, and he said to Duke Xisi: "You can let them go now." The sorcerer bowed, chanted and waved his hands, and the magic cleansing technique on Mosiah was lifted.Mosiah breathed a sigh of relief, rolled over on his back, and gasped.The steamer disappeared beside Joram, but he remained motionless, his arms folded, and he gazed into the sun-bathed forest.He wasn't looking at something, he was just expressing his determination to stand where he was, until he died.

Garrod curled his lips. He covered his lips with his hand to cover his smile, and said to Sim Jin, "Where is this catalyst saint?" "This bald man is also my friend," said the young man, looking around. "Where are you, Father? Oh, there. Prince Jarod, this is Father Saryon. Father Saryon, this is Prince Jarod." The prince bowed gracefully with his hand on his left chest, which is the custom in the north.Saryon returned the salute, a little awkwardly.His mind was still in a mess, and he barely knew what he was doing. "Father Saryon," said the prince. "Let me introduce the Cardinal, Cardinal Radisovik, my father's friend and advisor."

Saryon stepped forward, knelt down humbly and kissed the finger of the white-robed cardinal.But the other party took his hand and pulled him up. "We in the north do not have such etiquette to humiliate people," the cardinal said. "Nice to meet you, Father Saryon. You look exhausted. Would you like to come with me into the clearing? The warmth of the spring is much more pleasant, isn't it?" Saryon suddenly realized that he was dead cold, and realized that walking from the spring into the woods was like stepping from spring into winter.He remembered Simkin's words: This clearing should not be here.There is no doubt that the open space was not here in the first place!The prince has magically built a camp, and they stumble into it!unbelievably stupid idiot...

"I think you've had a great adventure, Father," Radisovik said as he walked toward the clearing. "I'm very interested to hear how the person in the robe is like this..." The cardinal seemed to be distracted for a while. "Uh... interesting companions together." The cardinal's words could not have been more polite, but Saryon had already seen the wink between him and the prince before the cardinal officially welcomed him.Now Radisovik was leading Saryon into the clearing, while the Prince and Simkin went to help Mosiah. Saryon understood.We will be questioned individually, and then the prince and the cardinal will be confronted.Without even saying a word, the two settled everything quietly.This is court etiquette, court intrigue.Saryon felt a pang of terror as he remembered his terrible secret. He had never been good at plotting.

Saryon followed the cardinal, absentmindedly listening to the polite words, and then it occurred to him that Radisovik must also be a traitor, the priest Vanya mentioned, who forced the church to exile important members. How strange that they would meet!Was this an answer to Saryon's unspoken prayer?Or is it just another sign that the world is just a cold, empty, unforgiving nothingness? Only time will tell the truth, and Saryon has no idea how much time he has left. "How are you feeling, sir?" the prince asked Mosiah. "Okay...much better... Your Excellency... Your Excellency." Mosiah said intermittently, blushing in embarrassment.Seeing that the prince was about to kneel down and help himself up, he hurriedly tried to stand up. "Please... don't bother... my-lord. I'm fine now, really."

"I hope you will forgive us." Jarod's voice was peaceful and concerned. "You also understand that we are particularly wary of such alien places." "Understood, Your Excellency." Mosiah helped Xin Jin to stand up, his face flushed as if he had a fever. "We... we also thought you were... someone else..." "Really?" Jarod raised his soft eyebrows in surprise. "Excuse me, sir," Duke Xi said. "But night is near, and we should go back to the safety of the clearing." "Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me." The prince waved his hand gracefully. "Which of you kindly helped this young man to the open space where he rested?"

One of them, Duke Xisi, approached Mosiah quietly, his black robe slightly floating on the ground.He didn't touch the young man at all, just stood aside.His arms were still folded across his chest, but Mosiah—like Saryon—realized that this was an order, not an invitation, and that failure to do so would be dangerous.So he walked toward the clearing, and the wizard floated after him, sullen and quiet as his shadow.Joram was still standing a little distance from them, staring at them vaguely.Another Duccis stared intently at the stubborn young man. Jarod looked at Joram, and whispered to Simkin, "This friend of yours, the one with the sword, interests me. Do you know him?"

"It is said that he was of noble blood and had a son out of wedlock. His mother was disgraced, ran away from home, and raised her son as a serf mage. He was rebellious by nature, killed the supervisor, and fled to a place of alienation. But things are weird, brother bald He was sent to bring him to the Bishop of Vanya, and he got into big trouble before he could do it. Both of them." Xin Jin finished counting without thinking, quite satisfied with his conclusion. "Hmm." Jarod stared at Joram thoughtfully. "What about the sword?" "The Stone of Darkness."

Jarod took a deep breath. "The Stone of Darkness? Are you sure?" He pulled Sim Jin to his side and asked in a low voice. Simkin nodded. The prince let out a long cry. "Praise Emin," he said reverently. "Come with me, I want to talk to this young man, and I need your help. So, you are from the village of the Fairy Craftsman?" The two walked towards Joram, and he said loudly to Simkin. "That's right, your noble and powerful lord." Simkin said cheerfully. "I have to be honest, I'm so relieved to be out of there." The orange silk scarf flew from the sky to his hand.It reflects the sun like a dancing flame. "The smell there, my lord." Simkin put the silk scarf to his nose. "It's unbearable, I can assure you. The sulphurous fumes of burning charcoal, not to mention the ghastly beating noises day and night."

The two came to Joram, but Joram looked straight behind them as if they were not there. "Your name is Joram, sir?" Jarod said politely. Joram pursed his lips and looked at the prince. "Give me back the sword." His voice was vague and hoarse. "'Give me back the sword, Your Excellency,'" Simkin corrected, pretending to be a cardinal. Joram shot him an exasperated look.Jarod coughed to hide his smile, and cleared his throat in a mock manner.At the same time, he also seized the opportunity to take a closer look at Qiao Ran, taking advantage of the afternoon sun to see the young man's face clearly.

"Not bad." He whispered to himself. "I believe his claim of noble blood. He has noble blood, but he doesn't have noble temperament. I do recognize this face!" Garald felt puzzled. "This hair...beautiful! Those eyes...proud and sensitive, intelligent. Too clever, dangerous young man, I think he's the one who discovered the Dark Stone. What is he going to do with it? Does he know what he's given What deadly force does the world bring? But then, who knows?" "My sword!" Joram repeated stubbornly, his face becoming more and more gloomy as the prince looked at him. "Excuse me, my throat is a little itchy, it's all these flying flowers..." Jarod bowed slightly. "The sword is yours, sir." He glanced at the fallen sword. "Please accept my apology for this action. You made a surprise attack, so we reacted hastily." The prince straightened up, smiled deeply, and looked at Joram. Qiao Lang was completely overwhelmed in momentum. He looked at the prince, then at the sword, and then at the prince.He blushed immediately and frowned.But this is no longer anger, his anger has long since dissipated with his strength, leaving him only shame and shame.For the first time in his life, Joram noticed his ragged clothes sensitively, noticed his tangled hair, and hated it.He looked at the prince's silky hands, and at his own stiff and dirty hands in comparison.He wanted to stir up anger in his heart, but the fire was fleeting, making his soul icy cold. Joram thought Garald was playing tricks, so he didn't look at him, and walked slowly to where the sword fell-there was darkness among the grass under the sun.The prince remained motionless, and Du Kexisi, who was watching from the side, was also motionless.Joram stooped to pick up his sword, and hastily sheathed it, flushing with rage when he saw the prince looking at him--he thought the prince was laughing at him. "Can I go?" Joram asked harshly. "You can go, although I think you are still our prisoners." The prince replied tactfully. "However, if you can stay as guests tonight, I will be very happy, as we apologize to you for the attack just now..." "Stop laughing at us!" Joran said with a sneer. "Your Excellency." He heard sadness in his voice. "You have every right to attack—or even kill us. As for this sword, it's really rough, and it's worthless compared to yours." Joram blurted out, and he looked at the prince's sword enviously. Put the sword in a leather sheath processed by magic—"But I made it myself." His voice became soft, like a sad child. "I've never seen a real sword before." "I don't think it's worthless," Gallaud said. "The sword made of the Dark Stone can absorb magic, so it won't..." Qiao Lang gave Xin Jin a hard look, and Xin Jin smiled innocently. "Come with me into the clearing," Jarod continued. "It's warmer there than here, and as my guards said, the Transfiguration is dangerous at night." Jarod stepped forward, placing a brisk hand on Joram's shoulder. This gesture is very affectionate, as if to show friendship, or to comfort a beast of prey.Joram avoided Jarod's touch. He saw the look of pity in the other's eyes, and he barely suppressed the idea of ​​waving his hand away.Why would he suppress such thoughts?Why is he bothered?Joram didn't know why he thought that, but he knew that Jarod would respect the avoidance of "refusal to be pitied" but would never forgive a fist.Earning the man's respect suddenly meant a lot to Joram. "Where are you from, Joram?" Jarod asked. "What does that matter?" Joram asked angrily. "I mean, where does your family come from?" the prince said differently. Joram cast another sullen glance at Simkin who was stalking beside them, and Jarod smiled. "Yes, he mentioned something about you to me. To be honest, I am very curious. From Simkin's brief introduction, I know that your life was... very difficult." He said gracefully, "You may think It is inappropriate for two gentlemen to discuss such subjects. If so, I hope you will understand. However, I have traveled around and know most of the famous families here, and I think you look very familiar. Do you know your last name?" Joram blushed enough to let the prince know the answer, but Joram held his head proudly. "I don't know." That was all he wanted to say, but the earnest concern on Jarod's face made him say more. "I only know that my mother's name is Anya, from Marilon. My father is... a...catalyst saint." After speaking, he pursed his lips and looked towards the open space.There, Saryon was standing in the grass among the flowers, talking to the cardinal. "The blood of the way of life!" The prince followed his gaze. "You don't mean—" "Of course not!" interrupted Joram, knowing that Jarod had misunderstood. "It's not him!" Then there was a sad tone in his words. "My birth was the sin of my father. He was sentenced to transformation. Now, he is a living statue standing on the border." "My God." The prince sighed in a low voice, there was no pity in his words, only sympathy. "Then you were born in Merilon." He looked at Joram again in the sunlight. "That's right, it fits in a certain way, but... still..." He shook his head irritably, trying to remember, but his thoughts were interrupted by a big yawn from Simkin. "Hate to interrupt such a charming little reunion. I'm very, very happy to see you again, man Jarod, but I'm going to take a nap before dinner." Another yawn. "It's not easy being a wooden barrel. Your two black-robed guards didn't tell the truth at all. In fact, these two big fools tripped over me in the grass. If it were me, I would never be able to recover." He snorted angrily, and dabbed his nose with an orange silk scarf. "Anyway, rest in the clearing, friend." Jarod smiled. "You do look a little pale." "Oh!" Xin Jin shrank back. "That's not kind of you to say, Prince. I wish you a sweet dream. You too, a gloomy man." With a casual wave at Joram, the bearded young man flew out of the spring. The warm air flow drifted away, and this air flow was around the magic camp. "How did you know Xin Jin?" Qiao Lang asked unconsciously as he watched the green coat and green hat and the swaying pheasant feather go away. "Know Simkin?" The prince glanced at Joram and raised his eyebrows amusedly. "I don't know if anyone actually knew him."
"So, Radisovik, what do you know?" Night—real night, not magical night—falls on the clearing, and a campfire is lit on a cleared spot among the grass.The fire, which had formerly been used to roast the hares the Prince had caught that morning, now cast a cheerful, warm light over the peaceful clearing.Prince Jarod can use magic himself, and there are two guards under his command. There is no need to make a fire or hunt. The rabbit will cook itself and send it to the door.But Garald is willing to practice wilderness survival skills. No one knows that one day they will be forced to live without magic, especially in these uncertain times. Tonight the Prince and the Cardinal wandered in the woods, within sight of the camp, within the boundaries of which Duke the Black Robe could watch and protect.The Catalyst Saint sat a little away from them, drowsing by the fire with a cup of hot tea.Mosiah lay asleep beside him, curled up in a soft blanket conjured by the Prince's own spell.Joram slept next to his friend, but he was very conscious.His eyes followed the prince and the cardinal, the sword was at his hand, ready to reach at any time.Jarod wondered if the young man was going to stay up all night on guard, and he smiled and shook his head.When he was seventeen, he looked like this himself, not so long ago, and he is twenty-eight now, but he still remembers how it was before. Another of their guests, Simkin, had spread the blanket on a flowerbed a little distance from his companions.He changed into pajamas trimmed with lace, and even the hat was fringed.He was snoring loudly, but whether he was really asleep or faking it was anyone's guess.Jarod didn't know either, of course, but he knew Simkin well enough that he didn't need to speculate about Simkin's actions anymore. "Your Mightiness?" "Oh, I didn't hear clearly, Cardinal, I lost my mind, please continue." "This is very important, Your Excellency." The cardinal said with reproach. "I am listening attentively now," said the prince gravely. "The Catalyst Saint Saryon has been in direct contact with Bishop Vanya." "How to contact?" Jarod was immediately interested. "Prudential Chamber, there is no doubt about it, my lord. Although the poor man has no idea what it is, I can recognize it. According to him, Bishop Vanya is actively preparing to destroy us..." "Bad news," Jarod muttered, frowning. "No, my lord. In fact, Heisuo used to be a double agent, which is really bad news. Yes, Your Highness." The prince was stunned, so the cardinal explained. "That person was Vanya's minion before, and he was sent to the village of demon craftsmen to lure us into war. Once we start relying on the weapons forged by demon craftsmen and dark crafts, Black Lock will turn against us and them. We will Repulsed, defeated by the enemy, and the demon artisan will be destroyed." "Heisuo is really a cunning bastard." Jarod's face darkened. "But I see you say he 'used to be.'" "He's dead, Your Excellency. The young man." Radisovik glanced at Joram. "kill him." "Killed a Duke?" Jarod didn't believe it. "Just use that sword, my lord, and the catalyst saints will assist you." "Ah, the sword made of the dark stone." Jarod stretched his brows.Then he frowned again, staring at Joram. "What a dangerous man." After speaking, he fell silent, lost in his own thoughts.The Cardinal walked beside him, also silent. "You believe in this catalyst saint?" Jarod asked suddenly. "Yes, my lord, to a certain extent," Radisovik replied. "What do you mean, 'sort of'?" "Saryon was a scholar at heart, Your Excellency, a mathematical genius, and so he was lured into learning the dark craft of ingenuity. He was simple, and he longed for the safety of the Holy Mountain to spend his life buried in books. . But something changed him, something cast a shadow over his life." "Something about that young man?" "Yes, sir." "Sinkin said the same thing—that Vanya sent this Catalyst Saint to bring Joram back to the Holy Mountain." Jarod shrugged. "But . . . that's what Simkin said. I don't believe most of what he says." "The Catalyst Saints testify to Simkin's claims, Your Excellency. According to him, Bishop Vanya sent him to take Joram back to stand trial." "And you think—" "He told the truth, my lord, but not all the truth. In fact, my lord, I believe that's why he didn't hesitate. Saryon seemed anxious to tell me about the black lock, more than I want to know more. The poor man knows no tricks. Like a bird guarding his nest, he waved this wounded wing deliberately to keep me from touching what was hidden in the nest." "Van Ya wants to arrest that young man, what is the reason he said?" "That's the most obvious reason: Joram was a dead man and a murderer, and the young man killed an overseer. According to the Catalyst Saints, Joram was only enraged. The overseer killed the young man's mother. " "Hmph!" Jarod frowned. "Vanya wouldn't take such a small crime to heart, he would leave this kind of thing to Duke Xisi. The catalyst saint insists on this unreasonable statement?" "He will remain so, my lord, until he dies. I have noticed another interesting thing about the Catalyst Saints, my lord." "What is it?" "He's lost his faith," Radisovik said softly. "He wanders alone in the darkness of the soul, without the guidance of the gods. Such a person, such a person with a secret in his heart, will stubbornly hold on to the secret, because it is all he has." The cardinal shrank his shoulders and said in Shivering slightly in the cold air in the forest. "I'm not sure though, maybe wizards can use their special tricks to learn from him—" "No!" Jarod shouted in a deep voice, unconsciously looking at the two pitch-black figures standing by the campfire, keeping silent. "Let this kind of thing be left to Vanya and his Merilon puppet emperor. If the man's secret will be known to us, and it is Emin's wish, then we will discover it; if not, we should not know it." "Amen." The cardinal murmured, seemingly relieved. "After all, Emin has already let us discover Heisuo's betrayal in time." Jarod said with a smile. "Praise the Creator," replied the cardinal. "My lord, now that you know about this, do you still want to go to the village to meet the demon artisans?" "Go, of course. I mean, if you want," Garald added hastily.The young prince, accustomed to making quick decisions, forgot for a moment to seek the opinion of the older and more experienced cardinal.This is also the reason why his father asked the two of them to perform the task together. "I think it's a very sensible thing to do, Your Excellency. Especially now." Radisovik stifled a smile. "Once the leader dies, the demon craftsmen will not know who to follow. The catalyst saints told me that there is one faction that advocates harmony, while the other faction is more powerful and advocates war. When the sorcerer dies, we can easily intervene and control it rights and to cooperate wholeheartedly with them.” "Yes, that's exactly what I thought." Jarod smiled. "At this time, I don't think I should hurry too much?" The cardinal looked a little surprised. "Ah, no, I don't think so, Your Excellency. We need to get to the village before the villagers can establish firm leadership—" "A week late isn't much difference, don't you think?" "Uh, no, my lord." The cardinal was a little confused. "I do not think so." "Where are our guests going? Where are they going?" "It is Merilon, Your Excellency," said the Cardinal. "Ah, that's right," said Jarod, speaking more to himself than to a companion. "Qiao Lang wants to get family recognition and property, that's easy..." "Your Mightiness?" "Nothing, just talking to myself. I'd like to camp here for a week, if you don't object, Radisovik." "What are you going to do here, my lord?" asked the Cardinal. "Be a fencing instructor. Good night, Cardinal." Jarod bowed, turned and walked toward the campfire. "Good night, Your Excellency." Radisovik muttered, staring at the prince's back in surprise.