Chapter 16 Chapter Fourteen Separation
The snow catches the breath of the wind, the sky opens and the clouds clear, and the forest is completely silent, but there is a certain tension that is far from peaceful, as if a giant sucked away the wind, cloud, rain and snow in one gulp, holding his breath and preparing to get angry.In the next few days, although the sky was high and the clouds were clear, the color was light and light blue only in winter, and there was no sign of reappearance of wind and snow, and this tension could not go away.
Everyone in the camp knew there was a storm raging, but only in the heart of one young man.The dark clouds of this storm never manifest clearly.
Ever since he came back early that morning, Joram had always looked the same—cold and indifferent, silent and solitary.He only speaks when it is not necessary, and he always responds to others with a few short sentences, absent-minded, as if he didn't hear what others said at all.He was away from camp frequently and spent most of the day with the prince.Every time he came back, he became more and more withdrawn.To those watching him, his taut nerves were like strings on a badly out-of-tune instrument.
Saryon could only hope (he prayed no more) that some skilled musician would loosen the strings slowly before they snapped, and find the sweet tune locked in the dark soul of the young man.Will Jarod be that musician?Saryon grew to believe that he was the one, and this hope lightened his burden.He didn't know what they were doing or talking about when they were together. Joram said nothing about the meeting, and Jarod only said that he was giving Joram a sword practice.
after. One morning during the "Training Week", the Catalyst Saints were invited to go with them to the place that the prince jokingly called the "Arena".
"We need your help in conducting an experiment on the Dark Sword, Father," explained the Prince as Jarod and Joram shook the Catalyst Saint out of his intermittent sleep.The three stood outside the cardinal's tent and talked for a while, speaking in low voices so as not to wake the others.
Seeing Saryon's serious, disapproving expression, Joram tried to sigh impatiently, but was suppressed by a slight gesture from Jarod.
"I understand how you feel, Father Saryon," said the prince kindly. "But you wouldn't let Joram just go to Merilon without knowing the power of the sword, would you?"
I wouldn't let Joram go to Merilon at all.The catalyst saint thought so, but didn't say it.
Still, Saryon agreed to go to the clearing, and he had to admit that the prince was right.Besides, the Catalyst Saint himself is also curious about the Dark Sword.He took a warm cloak from the prince, wrapped it tightly, and accompanied the two into the woods.
"I'm sorry to trouble you, Father," Jarod apologized as the three walked through the icy woodland. "Of course I can ask Cardinal Radisovik to come, but Joram and I both think that the fewer people know the true power of the Dark Sword, the safer it will be."
Saryon couldn't agree more.
"Besides." Jarod smiled. "Although Radisovik is actually very open-minded and tolerant—too lenient for your bishop—I fear that the Dark Sword has strayed a little too far from his principles."
"I will do what I can to help, Your Excellency," Saryon said, tucking his frozen hands into the sleeves of his robe.
"Excellent!" Jarod exclaimed sincerely. "We'll try to keep you out of the cold, and that won't be a problem for Joram and me."
He and Joram exchanged glances, and Saryon was startled to see a slight smile on Joram's stiff mouth, and a gleam of warmth in his dark eyes.At that moment, Saryon felt relieved and warmed up.
The "arena" is a well-cleared hard field in the forest, a little distance from the camp.Although Saryon knew that Duke Xisi, who was watching, must be around, but since the wizard couldn't be seen, at least the three of them still felt alone.Perhaps Duke Xisi is not here at all, and perhaps the prince really wants to protect the secret of the Dark Sword.
Jarod summoned an upholstered nest where the Catalyst Saints could sit comfortably.He would have liked wine and other goodies too, but Saryon embarrassingly declined.
It was hard for Saryon not to like the Prince.Jarod has great respect for the Catalyst Saint, is courteous, always concerned about his comfort, but never overbearing.Not just for the Catalyst Saints, but Jarod for everyone—from Simkin to Mosiah to Dukexis and Joram.
How his people will love this prince.The catalyst saint thought.Seeing the elegant and courteous nobleman conversing with the clumsy and shy young man—he listened to Joran with respect, treated him like a person of the same status, and would not hesitate to correct him when he found something wrong.
Joram seemed to be watching Jarod as well, and perhaps that was what caused his inner torment.Saryon understood that Joram was willing to pay some price in exchange for the respect and love that the prince received. Perhaps he was gradually understanding that others will treat you as you treat yourself.
Joram and the prince stood up on the field, but did not immediately put on a fighting stance.
"Give me your sword for a while," Jarod said.
Qiao Lang's eyes flashed, his brows frowned slightly, and he hesitated.Saryon shook his head, alas, one should not expect miracles.he thought.Jarod stared at the sword as if not paying attention, just waiting patiently.
Finally, Qiao Lang handed over the sword and said bluntly, "Here!"
Jarod tried his best to look indifferent, pretending not to notice such rude words, he took the sword and looked at it intently.
"The other day, we just used it for fencing," he said. "However, I always feel like it's holding me back, sucking my magic, so at the end of the day, I always feel weak. But it doesn't work for me sometimes, such as when I go back to camp, I don't pay attention at all. to it."
"I think it only has the effect of absorbing life force when it is swung," said Joram, completely forgetting himself when he spoke of the sword's function. "I noticed the same thing when I was fighting the sorcerer. When the black lock just approached the furnace, the sword didn't respond; but he attacked me, and when I raised the sword to defend myself, I could feel it start itself. fight."
"I think I get it," Jarod murmured thoughtfully. "It must react when it senses some of your power, such as anger and fear, these strong emotions caused by fighting. Here!" He casually unhooked his saber, and put the beautiful and handed Joram his weapon. "Take mine and use it first. If you can use it, it doesn't matter even if you are the living dead. Its magical power can be aroused with a single word." sword. "Wish someone taught you the craft of swordmaking," he muttered. "The weapon is clumsy and unsuitable after all, but don't mind that now, say 'Eagle, strike.' and attack me."
Joram joyfully held the hilt of the prince's saber, and raised it facing Jarod. "Eagle, attack." After speaking, he stepped forward and stabbed.Jarod raised his sword to block, but his own sword, fast as lightning, broke his shield and wounded him in the shoulder.
"My God!" Joram saw the blood flowing from the prince's arm, and dropped his sword to the ground. "I don't want this, I swear! Are you all right?"
Saryon jumped up.
"It's my fault." Jarod said in a deep voice, raising his hand to press the wound. "It's all right, it's just a flesh wound, that's what the actors say before they fall down dead—you're kidding, Father, it's a flesh wound, look." He showed the wound.Saryon heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it, the sword just scratched the skin.He could stop the bleeding with a healing spell for minor wounds, so the two continued their "swordsmanship class".
Saryon thought fearfully, at least this proved that Duke Xisi was not around, otherwise Joram would have been torn into hundreds of pieces by now.He was also very happy to hear the tone of genuine concern in Joram's voice just now, but seeing the young man's expressionless face now, the Catalyst Saint almost thought it was just an illusion.
"It's all my own stupidity," Jarod said despondently. "I might be killed by my own sword!" He glared at the Dark Sword angrily. "Why don't you move?" He shook the sword in his hand.
Saryon suddenly understood what the answer was, but—he was a mathematician—he was not willing to say a conclusion until he had verified it to his satisfaction.
"Give back the sword to Joram, my lord," Saryon suggested. "You attack him with your own sword, with the same magic."
Jarod frowned. "That spell is very strong, as you have seen, I will kill him."
"You won't," Joram retorted calmly.
"I agree with Joram, my lord," said Saryon. "Please do so, I think you'll be interested in the results."
"Very good." Although Jarod said so, he was obviously reluctant.He exchanged swords without saying anything, and joined Joram in posing again.
"Eagle, attack." Jarod ordered.
His silver sword immediately sliced through the sun and swooped down on his opponent like an eagle.Joram raised the dark sword to defend himself, his movements clumsy and clumsy compared with the swiftness of the prince's magic blade.The silver sword pierced Joram's heart, but at the last moment it swayed aside like an iron shield.
"Oops!" Jarod yelled, lowering his weapon and rubbing his numb arm.He looked at Saryon. "I think this is the result you intend to show me. Well, why can he use it? Will this sword recognize its owner?"
"Not at all, my lord," replied the Catalyst Saint, glad that his experiment had worked. "Now I understand what I saw in the ancient texts. It is said that the sword made of dark stones is equipped by the army of death. I misunderstood it, thinking it was a legend of ghosts and ghosts. Now I understand that the ancient demon artisans refer to It is an army of the undead like Joram. Only people with little or no magic of their own can wear such a sword, otherwise the swordsman's own power will cancel out the sword's."
"Very interesting." Jarod looked at the weapon in awe. "This makes people who can't fight into a strong fighting force against mages."
"And little training is required, my lord." Saryon's interest in the subject grew, his thoughts racing like quicksilver. "Unlike sorcerers - they have to start training from birth, warriors equipped with dark swords only need to practice for a few weeks to master combat skills, and they don't need catalyst saints..." Saryon stopped talking suddenly , he found himself talking too much.
But Jarod quickly understood the point.
"No, you're wrong!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I mean, you're right—in a way. A weapon forged by the Dark Stone doesn't need the help of a catalyst saint to wield it, but you said that when it's forged, it's going to give life to the sword. The power of life, Saryon. What if you gave it life force now? Wouldn't it increase its power?"
"Sure!" Joram said anxiously. "You can try."
"Good!" Jarod agreed, raising his sword again.
"No!" Saryon yelled.
"Father, I know this is hard for you—" Jarod began to persuade him.
"No." Saryon repeated, his voice soft and hollow. "No, sir. You ask me to do other things, which I would have done if I could, but I won't do that again, never again."
"Sworn to your god?" Joram couldn't help sneering.
"I swear to myself," Saryon whispered.
"Oh, because of love—" Joram had just opened his mouth when Jarod took over.
"It's just curiosity, it's nothing." The prince shrugged, and he turned to Joran and said, "Of course, this won't affect your ability to wield a sword. When you want to swing a sword, there may not be a catalyst saint just right." Beside. Come, let us try its power with more powerful magic. I will cast myself a magic barrier and see if you can pass through. Father, can you give me the power of life..."
Saryon was truly glad that he bestowed upon the prince the power of life, pouring the magic of the world into such a noble body.Even seeing Joram trying to control his temper and finally suppressing his anger gave him satisfaction.The Catalyst Saint sat back on the cushion, happily watching the two fight back and forth, and at the same time learned more about the Dark Sword.But he knew in his heart that he had left a rift in Jarod's evaluation of himself.The prince was a true warrior, and he could not understand why he was so obstinate in refusing to bestow life force on the sword.
To Jarod, a sword is just a tool, nothing more.He didn't understand that when Saryon looked at the ugly weapon, he saw something dark, a destroyer of life.
As for Joram's thoughts, Saryon thought sadly that his position in the young man's heart could no longer be any lower.
After hours of hard practice, Joram, the Prince, and Saryon returned to camp.Jarod continued to entertain the Catalyst Saints during their stay, but he never invited Saryon to the arena with him and Joram again.
This week passed very quietly and peacefully. Joram and Jarod practiced swords, and Saryon and Cardinal Radisovik happily discussed some philosophical and religious topics that they cared about.Simkin teased the raven (the annoyed bird ended up pecking off a piece of Simkin's ear, much to everyone's amusement for a while).Mosiah spent his days devouring the books he found in Jarod's tent, studying the pictures inside, and being fascinated by the mysterious symbols inside, so he talked at length to Joram, but it was all incomprehensible to Joram nonsense.In the evening, the prince would play tarot cards with the guests, or discuss how to enter Merilon and how to survive in that city. "Sinkin can take you through the gates," Jarod said the night before they set off.Mosiah and Joram sat in their princely tent, resting after a hearty meal. Their carefree time was drawing to a close, and both young men thought with regret that they would have to deal with Chietto next night, and perhaps other more terrible monsters in this strange and ominous woodland.Merilon's splendor suddenly seemed like a distant dream, and the dangers to be faced on the way to this distant city were not easy to overcome. Seeing the concern on their faces, Jarod's tone became more serious. "Simkin knew everyone in Mallilone, and they all knew him - and that made things really interesting sometimes." "Are you saying that... all the strange things he said are true, my lord? You really brought a live bear into the masquerade?" Mosiah asked without thinking. "Excuse me, sir." He blushed. But the prince just shook his head. "Ah, he told you, didn't he? Poor dad." Jarod grinned. "Even now, he won't wear a bib in the presence of a naval officer or a bear in disguise. But let me talk about something more serious..." "Saryon was right in telling you not to go to Merilon, it is dangerous there," said the Prince. "You must not let your guard down. It is not only Joram who is in danger, but the living dead like him are in danger of a real death sentence. You are also in danger, Mosiah, you will be considered a traitor because you ran away from home, I used to live with the demon craftsmen who know the dark crafts. You have to make up an excuse to enter Merilon. If you are caught, you will be sentenced to be imprisoned in the dungeon of Dukexis. So far, few people have been able to come out from there. Saryon In great danger to himself, he lived in Merilon for many years and was easily recognized—” "No, Joram, I'm not trying to stop you." Garald cut himself off when he saw the young man scowling angrily. "I'm telling you, be careful, be cautious. In short, be careful yourself, especially in front of someone." "You mean Catalyst Saints?" Joram retorted. "I already know that Saryon was sent by Bishop Vanya..." "Sinkin, I mean." Jarod said sullenly, without a hint of a smile. "Look, I told you!" Mosiah whispered to Joram. As if knowing they were talking about him, Simkin raised his voice, and everyone in the tent turned to look at him.He stood by the fire with the Catalyst, and Simkin volunteered to prepare a Malilon disguise for the Catalyst, lest he be recognized.Simkin was playing tricks with Father Saryon, and was making the poor man miserable. "I see!" shrieked Simkin. "You will not be noticed by coming and going like this. Another advantage is that you will carry our luggage for us." He said a word with a wave of his hand, and the air around the catalyst saint immediately trembled. Saryon's appearance began to change, and beside the fire, where the unfortunate saint had been, stood a large donkey, covered in gray hair and looking downcast. "That idiot!" Mosiah jumped anxiously. "Why can't he just leave the poor man alone, I'll go—" Gallo took Mosiah's arm and shook his head. "I'll handle it," he said. Mosiah reluctantly sat down and watched the prince gesture to Cardinal Radisovik who was sitting on the sidelines. "What did you say, Father?" Simkin asked. The donkey babbled. "You're not happy? I'm in big trouble! My God, good man!" He lifted the donkey's soft gray ear. "Your hearing is amazing! I bet you can hear a bale of hay falling fifty paces away, not to mention you can now look forward and back and see where you're going at the same time and the place I just walked through." The donkey stopped babbling and bared its teeth. "Children will like you too," Simkin coaxed. "You can give these cuties a ride, um, if you're not such a nagging old...forget it." The donkey disappeared, and changed back to Saryon, but in a rather awkward state—he was kneeling on his hands and knees. "I've got to think about something else," said Simkin angrily. "I figured it out!" He snapped his fingers. "Goats! We'll have no shortage of milk anymore..." At this point, Cardinal Radisovik intervened, claiming to discuss some theological matters with Saryon, and helped the Catalyst Saint to his feet and dragged him into his tent.Unfortunately, Simkin followed suit. "Another advantage is that you don't have to worry about running out of food." He was talking nonsense, his voice weakening. "You can eat anything..." "You know something about Simkin, don't you, sir?" Mosiah turned to the prince. "You know his tricks. What is he going to do?" "His trick..." said the prince thoughtfully, interested by the question. "That's right," he said after a while. "I think I know Simkin's trick." "Then, tell us!" Mosiah urged. "No, I don't think I will," said Garald, keeping his eyes fixed on Joram. "You won't understand, and it might lower your guard." "But you have to say it! I... I mean, you should... Your Excellency." Mosiah stammered an apology, realizing that he had just given orders to a prince. "If Simkin is dangerous..." "Come on!" Joram frowned in disgust. "Oh, he is indeed dangerous, yes." Jarod said calmly. "As long as you remember this." The prince stood up. "Well, excuse me, I'd better go and rescue the unfortunate Saryon before our friends let him grow horns and eat the cardinal's tent." The false identity of the Catalyst Saint was quickly settled—it was not necessary to turn him into a goat. According to the prince's suggestion, Father Saryon became Father Dunstable, a low-ranking man according to Simkin. The family saint, left Merillon a decade ago. "A submissive and unobtrusive man," Simkin recalled. "A person nobody remembers five seconds after you meet, let alone ten years from now." "If anyone still remembers him after ten years of disappearance, they should also think that he will change." Jarod comforted Saryon, seeing that he didn't completely like the idea. "You don't have to try to look different than usual, Father. You have a different face and a different shape, and that's it, in your heart, you're still the same." "But I have to be at church, Your Excellency." Saryon argued stubbornly.He was obviously not willing to disobey the prince, but his fear was too deep—and the prince noticed it, and wondered again what a great secret the catalyst saint was keeping in his heart. "The coming and going of the catalyst saints will have complete supporting documents—" "It's not necessary, Father," Radisovik interrupted mildly. "I've heard that there are many people who take advantage of bureaucratic loopholes. It doesn't matter that a lowly family saint like Father Dunstable has gone to remote areas with his family. It is likely that he will not talk to his family for many years." Church contact." "But why should I—I mean Father Dunstable—go back to Merilon? Please forgive me, Your Excellency." Saryon's words were firm, though humble. "But the prince has emphasized our danger..." "You hit the point, Father," said Jarod. "You have many reasons for returning to the city. For example, the mage you serve is considering joining the untouchable ranks of Saraken's rebellion and wants you to fend for yourself." "We're talking about serious business now, my lord." Radisovik dared to lighten the blame. "I'm serious." Jarod replied indifferently. "But that might draw too much attention to you, Father. How about that? The mage died, and his widow went back to Jessair to live with her parents, and there was no room for you in her father's house, so they Discharged from your - Father Dunstable's - service. And, of course, with my heartfelt thanks and a letter of acknowledgment for you." Cardinal Radisovik nodded in agreement. "If they want to check your statement." He saw Saryon's expression of wanting to argue again. "Although I doubt whether they will check the hundreds of catalyst saints who come in and out of the cathedral every day, even if they want to check, it will take several months to track down the lord before they can find out the truth." "By that time." The prince concluded with a tone as if everything was ready. "You're already with us in Saraken." Saryon could hear the angry tone in this heroic voice, so he bowed in acquiescence, for fear that further arguments would arouse suspicion.He had to admit that the prince and the cardinal were right. He spent fifteen years in the cathedral, and Saryon had countless nights watching the new catalyst saints line up and slowly climb up the crystal stairs, directly into a There are crystal doors.Under the supervision of some poor bored deacon, each Catalyst saint signs a register that is seldom ever looked at again.If they had passed the scrutiny of Ken Hana, the Mallillon janitor, what would the Church want?For them, it was unimaginable and ridiculous for a catalyst saint to sneak into the city in disguise. However, there is one more reason to believe that Saryon will return to Merilon.The catalyst saint thought anxiously, reaching out to touch the dark stone around his neck.He was terrified thinking about what measures the Bishop of Fanya would take to find him, and he almost regretted it and decided to turn into a donkey...
The next morning, everyone was up early before the sun was up.When the time came to part, they were both eager to continue their separate journeys.Several young men and Saryon were preparing to bid farewell to the prince and his entourage, and the prince and his party were also leaving for the village of the demon craftsman that day. "Everything will be fine if it ends well," Xin Jin said after everyone had finished their breakfast. "The Count of Orleans said that about Madame Magda. Of course he said it behind her back." "Simkin is a fool!" cried the raven, landing on Simkin's head. "I think this is not the end, but just the beginning." Prince Jarod said to Joram with a smile. The young man seemed to respond with a smile, but didn't. "All right," the prince continued. "Before parting sadly, I'll happily distribute the gift of travel..." "Your Excellency, you don't have to." Saryon murmured, his guilt stabbing himself again. "You've done enough for us—" "Don't deprive me of this joy, Father." Jarod interrupted him, taking the catalyst saint's hand. "Giving gifts is one of the best things about being a king's son." The prince walked up to Mosiah, clapped his hands, and reached out to catch a book that appeared in midair. "You are a powerful wizard, Mosiah, stronger than many Albanaras I have known. This is not unusual, and in my travels I have found that many truly powerful wizards were born in the backcountry , not the halls of greatness. But magic, like Emin's other gifts, requires rigorous study to perfect, or it slips through you like a drunken man's drink." The prince glanced at Simkin, who was busy pulling the raven by the tail. "Study hard, my friend." The prince put the book on the young man's trembling hands. "Thank... thank you, Your Excellency." Mosiah stammered, her face flushed as if feeling embarrassed. But Jarod knew why, he knew it was shame. "It's still a long way to Marilon," said the prince softly. "And you have a friend who would love to teach you to read." Mosiah followed the prince's gaze to Joram. "Really? Will you teach me?" he asked. "Of course! I never knew you wanted to learn!" Joram replied impatiently. "You should have said it earlier." Mosiah took the book and held it tightly in his hand. "Thank you, sir," he repeated. The two looked at each other, and in an instant, the serf mage and the prince completely understood each other's intentions. Jarod turned around. "Sinkin, my old friend—" "Don't give me anything, put it down, lol, put it down, that's what Duke Dill's gardener called him. I know, it's a silly joke, but so is the duke. No, that's exactly what I meant, I won't accept anything. Well..." Simkin sighed just as the prince was about to speak. "Maybe a piece of expensive jewelry or two, if you insist..." "Here you are," Jarod finally found a chance to interject, and handed Simkin a deck of tarot cards. "It's beautiful!" Xin Jin tried to suppress a yawn. "Each card is hand-painted by my artisan," says Garrod. "This is made with ancient crafts, not a card shaped by magic, so this deck of cards is very valuable." "Thank you very much, old chap," said Simkin listlessly. Jarod held up a hand. "I have something in my hand, something missing from your deck." "The Fool's card." Xin Jin looked at it carefully. "really interesting." "The Fool's Card." Jarod played with that card. "Lead them the way, Simkin." "I assure you, Your Highness." Xin Jin promised seriously. "They're not going to have a better card." "Neither will you," Garald said, and he folded his fingers around the card, and it disappeared instantly.No one spoke, and the two looked at each other uneasily, and then the prince laughed loudly: "I was only joking," he said, patting Simkin on the back. "Ha, ha." Simkin laughed back, but it was fake. "Then, Father Saryon." Jarod walked up to the catalyst saint, who looked down at his shoes. "I don't have any worldly things for you." Saryon raised his head reassuringly. "I think those things would be annoying to you. But I do have a gift for you, though it's more like a gift for myself. When you and Joram return to Saraken—" Saryon noticed that the prince always put Take this matter as an established fact. "I want you to join my family." Royal Family Saints!Saryon unconsciously looked at Cardinal Radisovik, who encouraged him with a smile. "This—" Saryon choked, and after clearing his throat, he said: "This is an unexpected honor, Your Excellency. It is too much for a person who breaks the precepts of faith." "But there is no praise for a loyal man, a compassionate man," said Prince Jarod softly. "As I said, this gift is more like a gift for myself. I look forward to that day, Father Saryon, and I look forward to asking you to give me the power of life again." Jarod walked away from the Catalyst Saint, and finally walked towards Joram. "I know, you don't want anything from me either." The prince said with a smile. "As the Catalyst Saints said, you have given us enough." Joran said calmly. "'Enough is enough for us, Your Excellency,'" the cardinal corrected firmly. Joram's expression darkened. "Ah, yes—" Jarod tried hard not to laugh. "Looks like it's your turn to draw the lottery of fate, Joran, please continue to accept things from me." The prince stretched out his hand again, a faint light flickered on the outspread hands, and the light spots condensed, revealing a handmade leather scabbard, engraved with gold letters indicating strength, but other than that, there was no other mark, The scabbard is blank. "I left it blank, Joram," said the prince. "You can engrave the family crest on it in the future. Alright, let me show you how to use it. "I designed it especially for you," Jarod said proudly, showing the details of the scabbard. "These straps go around your chest like this, and allow you to carry your sword on your back, under your clothes. The runes on the leather make the sword shrink and lighten when it's sheathed, so you can carry it with you at all times. "This is especially important, Joram." The prince looked at the young man sincerely. "The sword of darkness can give you the most powerful protection, and it can also bring you the most dangerous threat. Keep it with you at all times, don't mention it to anyone, don't let anyone discover it, only in yourself Use it when you are in danger, when your life is at stake." He glanced at Mosiah. "Or to protect the lives of others." The prince's clear brown eyes looked at Qiao Ran, and found that for the first time in history, the rock was shattered. Qiao Lang looked at the scabbard intently, with emotion, hope and gratitude in his eyes. "I... I don't know... what to say." His voice was trembling. "'Thank you, sir.' How does that sound?" said Jarod softly, putting the scabbard into Joram's hand. Joram took a deep breath of the leather's fragrance, stroked the smooth leather surface with his hands, touched the complicated runes, and carefully played with this exquisite leather product.He looked up and looked directly into Jarod's eyes, seeing him smiling happily with the expected triumph. Joram smiled. "Thank you, friend. Thank you, Jarod."
Notes:
This week passed very quietly and peacefully. Joram and Jarod practiced swords, and Saryon and Cardinal Radisovik happily discussed some philosophical and religious topics that they cared about.Simkin teased the raven (the annoyed bird ended up pecking off a piece of Simkin's ear, much to everyone's amusement for a while).Mosiah spent his days devouring the books he found in Jarod's tent, studying the pictures inside, and being fascinated by the mysterious symbols inside, so he talked at length to Joram, but it was all incomprehensible to Joram nonsense.In the evening, the prince would play tarot cards with the guests, or discuss how to enter Merilon and how to survive in that city. "Sinkin can take you through the gates," Jarod said the night before they set off.Mosiah and Joram sat in their princely tent, resting after a hearty meal. Their carefree time was drawing to a close, and both young men thought with regret that they would have to deal with Chietto next night, and perhaps other more terrible monsters in this strange and ominous woodland.Merilon's splendor suddenly seemed like a distant dream, and the dangers to be faced on the way to this distant city were not easy to overcome. Seeing the concern on their faces, Jarod's tone became more serious. "Simkin knew everyone in Mallilone, and they all knew him - and that made things really interesting sometimes." "Are you saying that... all the strange things he said are true, my lord? You really brought a live bear into the masquerade?" Mosiah asked without thinking. "Excuse me, sir." He blushed. But the prince just shook his head. "Ah, he told you, didn't he? Poor dad." Jarod grinned. "Even now, he won't wear a bib in the presence of a naval officer or a bear in disguise. But let me talk about something more serious..." "Saryon was right in telling you not to go to Merilon, it is dangerous there," said the Prince. "You must not let your guard down. It is not only Joram who is in danger, but the living dead like him are in danger of a real death sentence. You are also in danger, Mosiah, you will be considered a traitor because you ran away from home, I used to live with the demon craftsmen who know the dark crafts. You have to make up an excuse to enter Merilon. If you are caught, you will be sentenced to be imprisoned in the dungeon of Dukexis. So far, few people have been able to come out from there. Saryon In great danger to himself, he lived in Merilon for many years and was easily recognized—” "No, Joram, I'm not trying to stop you." Garald cut himself off when he saw the young man scowling angrily. "I'm telling you, be careful, be cautious. In short, be careful yourself, especially in front of someone." "You mean Catalyst Saints?" Joram retorted. "I already know that Saryon was sent by Bishop Vanya..." "Sinkin, I mean." Jarod said sullenly, without a hint of a smile. "Look, I told you!" Mosiah whispered to Joram. As if knowing they were talking about him, Simkin raised his voice, and everyone in the tent turned to look at him.He stood by the fire with the Catalyst, and Simkin volunteered to prepare a Malilon disguise for the Catalyst, lest he be recognized.Simkin was playing tricks with Father Saryon, and was making the poor man miserable. "I see!" shrieked Simkin. "You will not be noticed by coming and going like this. Another advantage is that you will carry our luggage for us." He said a word with a wave of his hand, and the air around the catalyst saint immediately trembled. Saryon's appearance began to change, and beside the fire, where the unfortunate saint had been, stood a large donkey, covered in gray hair and looking downcast. "That idiot!" Mosiah jumped anxiously. "Why can't he just leave the poor man alone, I'll go—" Gallo took Mosiah's arm and shook his head. "I'll handle it," he said. Mosiah reluctantly sat down and watched the prince gesture to Cardinal Radisovik who was sitting on the sidelines. "What did you say, Father?" Simkin asked. The donkey babbled. "You're not happy? I'm in big trouble! My God, good man!" He lifted the donkey's soft gray ear. "Your hearing is amazing! I bet you can hear a bale of hay falling fifty paces away, not to mention you can now look forward and back and see where you're going at the same time and the place I just walked through." The donkey stopped babbling and bared its teeth. "Children will like you too," Simkin coaxed. "You can give these cuties a ride, um, if you're not such a nagging old...forget it." The donkey disappeared, and changed back to Saryon, but in a rather awkward state—he was kneeling on his hands and knees. "I've got to think about something else," said Simkin angrily. "I figured it out!" He snapped his fingers. "Goats! We'll have no shortage of milk anymore..." At this point, Cardinal Radisovik intervened, claiming to discuss some theological matters with Saryon, and helped the Catalyst Saint to his feet and dragged him into his tent.Unfortunately, Simkin followed suit. "Another advantage is that you don't have to worry about running out of food." He was talking nonsense, his voice weakening. "You can eat anything..." "You know something about Simkin, don't you, sir?" Mosiah turned to the prince. "You know his tricks. What is he going to do?" "His trick..." said the prince thoughtfully, interested by the question. "That's right," he said after a while. "I think I know Simkin's trick." "Then, tell us!" Mosiah urged. "No, I don't think I will," said Garald, keeping his eyes fixed on Joram. "You won't understand, and it might lower your guard." "But you have to say it! I... I mean, you should... Your Excellency." Mosiah stammered an apology, realizing that he had just given orders to a prince. "If Simkin is dangerous..." "Come on!" Joram frowned in disgust. "Oh, he is indeed dangerous, yes." Jarod said calmly. "As long as you remember this." The prince stood up. "Well, excuse me, I'd better go and rescue the unfortunate Saryon before our friends let him grow horns and eat the cardinal's tent." The false identity of the Catalyst Saint was quickly settled—it was not necessary to turn him into a goat. According to the prince's suggestion, Father Saryon became Father Dunstable, a low-ranking man according to Simkin. The family saint, left Merillon a decade ago. "A submissive and unobtrusive man," Simkin recalled. "A person nobody remembers five seconds after you meet, let alone ten years from now." "If anyone still remembers him after ten years of disappearance, they should also think that he will change." Jarod comforted Saryon, seeing that he didn't completely like the idea. "You don't have to try to look different than usual, Father. You have a different face and a different shape, and that's it, in your heart, you're still the same." "But I have to be at church, Your Excellency." Saryon argued stubbornly.He was obviously not willing to disobey the prince, but his fear was too deep—and the prince noticed it, and wondered again what a great secret the catalyst saint was keeping in his heart. "The coming and going of the catalyst saints will have complete supporting documents—" "It's not necessary, Father," Radisovik interrupted mildly. "I've heard that there are many people who take advantage of bureaucratic loopholes. It doesn't matter that a lowly family saint like Father Dunstable has gone to remote areas with his family. It is likely that he will not talk to his family for many years." Church contact." "But why should I—I mean Father Dunstable—go back to Merilon? Please forgive me, Your Excellency." Saryon's words were firm, though humble. "But the prince has emphasized our danger..." "You hit the point, Father," said Jarod. "You have many reasons for returning to the city. For example, the mage you serve is considering joining the untouchable ranks of Saraken's rebellion and wants you to fend for yourself." "We're talking about serious business now, my lord." Radisovik dared to lighten the blame. "I'm serious." Jarod replied indifferently. "But that might draw too much attention to you, Father. How about that? The mage died, and his widow went back to Jessair to live with her parents, and there was no room for you in her father's house, so they Discharged from your - Father Dunstable's - service. And, of course, with my heartfelt thanks and a letter of acknowledgment for you." Cardinal Radisovik nodded in agreement. "If they want to check your statement." He saw Saryon's expression of wanting to argue again. "Although I doubt whether they will check the hundreds of catalyst saints who come in and out of the cathedral every day, even if they want to check, it will take several months to track down the lord before they can find out the truth." "By that time." The prince concluded with a tone as if everything was ready. "You're already with us in Saraken." Saryon could hear the angry tone in this heroic voice, so he bowed in acquiescence, for fear that further arguments would arouse suspicion.He had to admit that the prince and the cardinal were right. He spent fifteen years in the cathedral, and Saryon had countless nights watching the new catalyst saints line up and slowly climb up the crystal stairs, directly into a There are crystal doors.Under the supervision of some poor bored deacon, each Catalyst saint signs a register that is seldom ever looked at again.If they had passed the scrutiny of Ken Hana, the Mallillon janitor, what would the Church want?For them, it was unimaginable and ridiculous for a catalyst saint to sneak into the city in disguise. However, there is one more reason to believe that Saryon will return to Merilon.The catalyst saint thought anxiously, reaching out to touch the dark stone around his neck.He was terrified thinking about what measures the Bishop of Fanya would take to find him, and he almost regretted it and decided to turn into a donkey...
The next morning, everyone was up early before the sun was up.When the time came to part, they were both eager to continue their separate journeys.Several young men and Saryon were preparing to bid farewell to the prince and his entourage, and the prince and his party were also leaving for the village of the demon craftsman that day. "Everything will be fine if it ends well," Xin Jin said after everyone had finished their breakfast. "The Count of Orleans said that about Madame Magda. Of course he said it behind her back." "Simkin is a fool!" cried the raven, landing on Simkin's head. "I think this is not the end, but just the beginning." Prince Jarod said to Joram with a smile. The young man seemed to respond with a smile, but didn't. "All right," the prince continued. "Before parting sadly, I'll happily distribute the gift of travel..." "Your Excellency, you don't have to." Saryon murmured, his guilt stabbing himself again. "You've done enough for us—" "Don't deprive me of this joy, Father." Jarod interrupted him, taking the catalyst saint's hand. "Giving gifts is one of the best things about being a king's son." The prince walked up to Mosiah, clapped his hands, and reached out to catch a book that appeared in midair. "You are a powerful wizard, Mosiah, stronger than many Albanaras I have known. This is not unusual, and in my travels I have found that many truly powerful wizards were born in the backcountry , not the halls of greatness. But magic, like Emin's other gifts, requires rigorous study to perfect, or it slips through you like a drunken man's drink." The prince glanced at Simkin, who was busy pulling the raven by the tail. "Study hard, my friend." The prince put the book on the young man's trembling hands. "Thank... thank you, Your Excellency." Mosiah stammered, her face flushed as if feeling embarrassed. But Jarod knew why, he knew it was shame. "It's still a long way to Marilon," said the prince softly. "And you have a friend who would love to teach you to read." Mosiah followed the prince's gaze to Joram. "Really? Will you teach me?" he asked. "Of course! I never knew you wanted to learn!" Joram replied impatiently. "You should have said it earlier." Mosiah took the book and held it tightly in his hand. "Thank you, sir," he repeated. The two looked at each other, and in an instant, the serf mage and the prince completely understood each other's intentions. Jarod turned around. "Sinkin, my old friend—" "Don't give me anything, put it down, lol, put it down, that's what Duke Dill's gardener called him. I know, it's a silly joke, but so is the duke. No, that's exactly what I meant, I won't accept anything. Well..." Simkin sighed just as the prince was about to speak. "Maybe a piece of expensive jewelry or two, if you insist..." "Here you are," Jarod finally found a chance to interject, and handed Simkin a deck of tarot cards. "It's beautiful!" Xin Jin tried to suppress a yawn. "Each card is hand-painted by my artisan," says Garrod. "This is made with ancient crafts, not a card shaped by magic, so this deck of cards is very valuable." "Thank you very much, old chap," said Simkin listlessly. Jarod held up a hand. "I have something in my hand, something missing from your deck." "The Fool's card." Xin Jin looked at it carefully. "really interesting." "The Fool's Card." Jarod played with that card. "Lead them the way, Simkin." "I assure you, Your Highness." Xin Jin promised seriously. "They're not going to have a better card." "Neither will you," Garald said, and he folded his fingers around the card, and it disappeared instantly.No one spoke, and the two looked at each other uneasily, and then the prince laughed loudly: "I was only joking," he said, patting Simkin on the back. "Ha, ha." Simkin laughed back, but it was fake. "Then, Father Saryon." Jarod walked up to the catalyst saint, who looked down at his shoes. "I don't have any worldly things for you." Saryon raised his head reassuringly. "I think those things would be annoying to you. But I do have a gift for you, though it's more like a gift for myself. When you and Joram return to Saraken—" Saryon noticed that the prince always put Take this matter as an established fact. "I want you to join my family." Royal Family Saints!Saryon unconsciously looked at Cardinal Radisovik, who encouraged him with a smile. "This—" Saryon choked, and after clearing his throat, he said: "This is an unexpected honor, Your Excellency. It is too much for a person who breaks the precepts of faith." "But there is no praise for a loyal man, a compassionate man," said Prince Jarod softly. "As I said, this gift is more like a gift for myself. I look forward to that day, Father Saryon, and I look forward to asking you to give me the power of life again." Jarod walked away from the Catalyst Saint, and finally walked towards Joram. "I know, you don't want anything from me either." The prince said with a smile. "As the Catalyst Saints said, you have given us enough." Joran said calmly. "'Enough is enough for us, Your Excellency,'" the cardinal corrected firmly. Joram's expression darkened. "Ah, yes—" Jarod tried hard not to laugh. "Looks like it's your turn to draw the lottery of fate, Joran, please continue to accept things from me." The prince stretched out his hand again, a faint light flickered on the outspread hands, and the light spots condensed, revealing a handmade leather scabbard, engraved with gold letters indicating strength, but other than that, there was no other mark, The scabbard is blank. "I left it blank, Joram," said the prince. "You can engrave the family crest on it in the future. Alright, let me show you how to use it. "I designed it especially for you," Jarod said proudly, showing the details of the scabbard. "These straps go around your chest like this, and allow you to carry your sword on your back, under your clothes. The runes on the leather make the sword shrink and lighten when it's sheathed, so you can carry it with you at all times. "This is especially important, Joram." The prince looked at the young man sincerely. "The sword of darkness can give you the most powerful protection, and it can also bring you the most dangerous threat. Keep it with you at all times, don't mention it to anyone, don't let anyone discover it, only in yourself Use it when you are in danger, when your life is at stake." He glanced at Mosiah. "Or to protect the lives of others." The prince's clear brown eyes looked at Qiao Ran, and found that for the first time in history, the rock was shattered. Qiao Lang looked at the scabbard intently, with emotion, hope and gratitude in his eyes. "I... I don't know... what to say." His voice was trembling. "'Thank you, sir.' How does that sound?" said Jarod softly, putting the scabbard into Joram's hand. Joram took a deep breath of the leather's fragrance, stroked the smooth leather surface with his hands, touched the complicated runes, and carefully played with this exquisite leather product.He looked up and looked directly into Jarod's eyes, seeing him smiling happily with the expected triumph. Joram smiled. "Thank you, friend. Thank you, Jarod."
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