Chapter 20 Chapter 3 The Home of the Guild Master

"Mom." Gwen said. "Let me present Father Dunstable." "Father." Mrs. Rosamund handed her fingertips to the catalyst saint and bowed her knees slightly.The saint bowed and muttered something like thanking the lady for her kindness, and the lady replied sincerely, though somewhat vaguely.Her eyes gazed expectantly at the gate behind the saint.Lady Rosamund received her guests, according to Merilon's custom, in the front garden, a garden of which the Lady was proud, with its bright ferns and rose bushes. "This is Mosiah and...and Qiao Lang." Ge Wen continued to introduce, her face flushed.The young lady heard muffled laughter from her cousin, and tried to pretend she didn't notice that his name came out of her mouth like a cheerful song.A mother as perceptive and doting as Mrs. Rosamund would have noticed her daughter's blush and should have guessed the truth when she introduced the young man, but Mrs. Rosamund was nervous and agitated.

"Gentlemen." She held out her hand to them, looked around them, and looked around them at the door. "But where is Simkin?" she asked after waiting a while, when no one had come in. "Lady Rosamund," said Joram. "We thank you for your hospitality, and hope that you will accept our gratitude." While talking, Qiao Ran pulled out a tulip that was a little flattened and injured from the inside of his coat, and handed it to the hostess. She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, as if suspecting that she was being teased, Madam Rosamund held out her hand coldly——

— touched Simkin's fluttering purple silk sleeve. "Good Emin!" she cried, stepping back in horror.Then she murmured: "Forgive me, Father, for speaking disrespect." She blushed almost as red with shame as her daughter. "An understandable reaction, ma'am," Saryon murmured, casting a glance at Simkin.Simkin reeled in the garden, gasping for breath, fanning himself with the orange silk scarf. "Emin's blood! my dear boy," he said, turning to Joram. "It's necessary to take a bath. Oops." He held his forehead with one hand and rolled his eyes. "I feel like I'm going to pass out."

"Poor man!" Mrs. Rosamund winked, and the servants gathered around her. The mistress issued orders one by one in a calm and calm tone, directing the servants' actions with the talent of a sorcerer.At the same time, she displays the gentlest concern for Simkin, who is even more languid in human form than when he was Tulip.The lady called for the strongest of the family mages, and told them to take Simkin into the best drawing room.With a wave of her hand, she summoned a couch and rushed to Simkin's side.Simkin fell down, looking miserable. "Mary," ordered Lady Rosamund. "Casting spells to make herbal tonic..."

"Thanks, honey," Sim Jin said softly, wrinkling his nose when he smelled the tea. "But brandy is all it takes to keep me from being startled. Ah, ma'am!" He looked up mournfully at Lady Rosamund. "If only you would know what terrible suffering I've been through! Oh, I say." He called to a servant. "It's from the year of the Frost grapes, will you, my dear? Is there any from the vineyards of the Duke of Montaigne? What, only homemade? Yes, I think that will do." The servant reappeared with the brandy bottle.Simkin rested his head on the silk upholstery of the couch, and let Mary bring a glass of wine to his lips, and took a sip. "Ah, this works." Mary took the glass away.

"Then have another sip, honey..." Simkin took the glass, sat up straight, drank it in one gulp, and emptied himself back into the cushion. "May I have another drink, dear?" he asked in a voice as weak as telling Mary to write his last will and testament. As Mary offered another glass of brandy, Lady Rosamund waved for a chair.As soon as she gave an order, a chair floated over and settled next to the couch. "What are you going to say, Simkin? What terrible pain have you been through?" Simkin took her hand. "Dear madam," he said. "Today—" There was a tragic pause. "Let me die, I was arrested!" He threw an orange silk scarf over his face.

"Merciful E—Jesus," Mrs. Rosamund stuttered in astonishment. Simkin removed the silk scarf from his face. "The most disgusting misunderstanding! I've never been so humiliated, and now I'm on the run, and I'm an ordinary criminal!" He lazily fell back, looking powerless from despair. "Ordinary criminals?" Madam Rosamund's voice suddenly became cold, and her gaze shot to the plainly dressed Mosiah and Joram, and even quickly glanced at the robes of the Catalyst Saints without family emblems. "Alfred," she said hurriedly to a servant in a low voice. "Go to the Three Sisters and ask Master Samuels to come home immediately..."

"You are very kind, ma'am." Simkin propped himself up on shaking arms. "But I really doubt what this master can do. He, after all, is just the guild leader." Madam Rosamund's expression was suddenly as cold as ice. "Master." She said. "yes--" "—I'm afraid I can't be of much help, my dear," sighed Simkin.He lay back again, folded the silk scarf, and wiped his forehead carefully. "No, Lady Rosamund." He did not give her the opportunity to speak. "If Alfred wants to go out, please send him to His Majesty the Emperor, I think this will clarify everything."

"Go...to find His Majesty the Emperor!" "Yes, of course." Simkin was a little annoyed. "I think Alfred should have permission to enter the palace?" The coldness on Mrs. Rosamund's face suddenly turned into embarrassing heat. "Well, frankly...we just never—I mean, had an investiture ceremony, but—" "What? No way into the palace? Let me die!" Simkin muttered, closing his eyes in despair. During the course of this conversation, both Mosiah and Saryon stood in corners with extreme unease, feeling forgotten and terribly uncomfortable.Especially Mosiah, he was in awe of the charming city he saw and the residents in the city. The people in the city far surpassed him in appearance, upbringing and knowledge, almost like angels.He doesn't belong here, he's not needed here.He saw Gwen and her cousins ​​smile every time he spoke.They were well-bred, and all tried, but not particularly successfully, to hide their smiles at his coarse manner of speaking.

"You're right, Father," he whispered chillingly to Saryon, taking advantage of Simkin's exaggerated performance. "We are so foolish to come to Merilon, let's go now!" "I'm afraid it won't be that easy, child." Saryon sighed and shook his head. "Kenhana will check all the people who leave from the gate of the earth one by one, just like checking all the people who enter the city. We will never be allowed to leave now, we have to find a way to survive." "Live?" Mosiah said, thinking that Saryon was joking, and then he saw the saint's expression. "You mean it."

"Prince Jarod said it would be very dangerous." Saryon replied with a sullen face. "Don't you believe him?" "I don't think so," Mosiah murmured, squinting at Simkin. "I thought he was, uh, overreacting. I never thought it would be... so... different! We're outsiders! At least, the two of us are," he added softly, glancing at Joram.Mosiah shook his head. "How can he do it, Father? He looks like he's a part of it all, like he belongs here! Like he fits in here better than Simkin! That clown is just a plaything, he's self-aware, so he's grandstanding. But Joe Lang—" Mosiah made a helpless gesture. "He's got everything these guys have—elegance, good looks." His voice fell ruefully. Yes.thought Saryon, looking at Joram.he belongs to The young man stood a little away from the corner where Saryon and Mosiah huddled, closer to the wall.This distance was not intentional, but it seemed that he was aware of the difference between himself and them.He raised his head proudly, and looked at Xin Jin with a slight smile on his lips, as if the two were enjoying a joke that made fun of other people in the world. He belongs here, and he knows it now.Saryon looked at Joram with a sudden pang of grief.beautiful?That word would never have occurred to me to describe him, he was cold, mean, withdrawn.But look at him now.Of course, it was largely the influence of that young lady.Under the curse of first love, which man is not a handsome man?But more than that, he's a man in the dark, staggering after the light.In Malilong, the light fell from the sky, bringing a ray of brilliance and enthusiasm to his soul. What would he do, Saryon wondered sadly, if he could see that the bright light concealed only a darkness deeper than himself?He shook his head, saw Mosiah touch his arm warningly, and looked back at their predicament. The people of Mrs. Rosamund's family, who were moving around efficiently, suddenly stopped halfway.Simkin lay limp on the couch, groaning miserably about "docks and gallows, shackles and thumbtacks," with an air perfectly calculated to arouse the sympathy of his mistress.Mrs. Rosamund was hovering in the living room, apparently too dazed to know what to do next.Servants stood around, some with teacups dangling in front of them, others with brandy bottles or bed sheets, all waiting for their mistress to give orders. Cousins ​​Lillian and Marjorie retreated into opposite corners of the room, knowing that they were of no use, and wishing earnestly that they should be at home.Ge Wen stood beside Mary, the catalyst saint, and tried her best not to look at Qiao Ran, but her eyes kept getting lost in his direction.The sudden turn of events caused her to lose her blush, but that paleness made her even more charming.The big blue eyes were full of tears, the water shone brightly, and the fragrant lips trembled slightly. But she is our only hope.Saryon thought, an idea flashed through his mind, and he decided to carry it out.Things couldn't get any worse, and it seemed increasingly clear that Lady Rosamund was going to send for her husband, who was "only" the Master of the Guild, but Lord Samuels would certainly deliver them all. To Duke Xis.Saryon could lose everything, but suddenly he decided to put all his eggs in one basket.Plus, he was surprised to discover a dark desire to unravel Simkin's deceit. So he quietly stepped forward inconspicuously, and stood beside Gwendelin. "Child." He asked softly. "What do you think about sending Winged Messenger?" Gwen blinked—she was on the verge of tears, she knew her mother's intentions as well as Saryon—and then her face lit up, and a blush crept back to her cheeks. "Of course," she said. "Mom, Father Dunstable has an idea, we can send winged messengers, and they can bring news to His Majesty the Emperor!" "That's true." Mrs. Rosamund hesitated. Saryon stepped back, disappearing against the wall, watching Gwen rush forward to plead with his mother. "What did you do?" Mosiah asked, almost petrified, as Saryon stood back to him. "I'm not sure," the catalyst saint admitted reluctantly, pulling his hands back into his robes. "You don't think that clown really has some nonsense to say to the emperor, do you?" "I don't know," Saryon said suddenly, beginning to feel a little worried. "Since he knows Prince Jarod..." "A prince who is close to his age and admits that he likes to have some entertainment from time to time is far from Emperor Merilon." Mosiah said with a sullen face. "Look at him!" He pointed to Simkin. The young man approved of the idea with his usual poise. "Winged Messenger? Excellent idea, I can't believe I wasn't the first to think of it. Sincere thanks to the bald brother in the corner, nice." Simkin smiled broadly, but Saryon felt that there was something particularly hypocritical in the cheerful laughter. "Well, you've made at least one person happy," Mosiah said sourly. Joram looked at the Catalyst Saint with undisguised admiration, and he even nodded slightly to Saryon, his dark eyes sparkling, which was barely a thank you, but this warmed Saryon's heart, It also deepened his worries. "What effect will this have on us, besides developing that true love?" Mosiah asked softly with a bitter face. "Even if there is no other benefit, it can delay time." Saryon replied. "It may well be several days before the emperor's reply." "I think you're right," said Mosiah darkly. "But Simkin is sure to have something going on in the meantime." "We've got to get out of Merilon before he gets into trouble," said Saryon. "I have an idea, but to do it I have to go to the cathedral, and it's too late today, they should be at vespers." "I'd love to go with you, Father," said Mosiah sincerely. "I came here foolishly. I don't belong in this place. But what about him?" He nodded at Joram, looking at his friend with serious concern, while Joram was staring at Ge Wen look.Mosiah said softly, "How can we let him go? He's just found what he's been wanting all his life." Prince Jarod, what have you done?The Catalyst Saint asked himself.You taught him etiquette, you taught him the etiquette of being a nobleman, but it was just a show—like hiding a tiger's claws in silk gloves.His claws are closed now, but one day, when he feels hungry or threatened, the claws will tear the fragile silk, and the silk will be splattered with blood.I must take him away!It has to be done! You can do it.he reminded himself.Calm down, you have a good plan.Tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, you can arrange everything.Then we can leave this beautiful house.As for the emperor... Simkin is dictating a letter to Mary. "'Dear Bunch—'" Simkin began. "That's his nickname," he added, seeing Mrs. Rosamund turn pale. Saryon smiled lightly, and it seemed that the emperor was not a big problem.
"Do you think they'll have a barn for us to sleep in?" Mosiah asked grimly. "What can a man on the run hope for!" replied Simkin miserably, throwing himself on the bed. The overnight accommodation for a few youngsters was apparently a garage - Lord Samuels could afford a detached garage.Beds and clean sheets were conjured up by servants, but the little house at the back of the main house was completely bare and devoid of anything pleasing to the eye. Lord Samuels had heard of the whole affair of Simkin's arrest and his disappearance at the Sanhedrin meeting that afternoon.In fact it was the talk of the whole Merilon, where people always liked the eccentric and the unusual. Lord Samuels himself thought it a good story—until he came home to find it continuing in his drawing-room. Simkin went out of his way to explain how honored it was to have him as a guest. "My dear sir, there are a thousand dukes, not to mention the hundreds of barons and a marquis or two, who, on all hands and knees, begged me to call on their homes from time to time when I was in town. Of course, I was Didn't make up my mind. And then there was that unfortunate accident." He looked pained and stabbed. "Your lovely child saved me." He blew a kiss to Ge Wen, and the lady just sat down with her eyes down. "How could I refuse her gracious protection?" But it appears the honor has not gone unnoticed by Mr. Samuels. Moreover, the father's watchful eyes saw what the mother's doting eyes did not.He saw at once the danger of Joram's brooding majesty.Following Prince Jarod's advice, Joram cut his hair short and combed it neatly. The shiny hair made his deep black eyes even darker.His shoulder-length black hair hung loose, and thick curls framed a resolute and solemn face.The young man's vigorous physique, polite voice, and elegant hands all had a strange sense of harmony with his plain attire, bringing him a romantic and mysterious aura.The absurd story of the evil uncle and the robbed inheritance strengthened this temperament even more.As if that wasn't enough to catch the attention of every young girl, there was a raw, wild passion about the man, which was especially unsettling to Lord Samuels. Lord Samuels saw his daughter's blushing face and shortness of breath, he saw her come to dinner in her best dress, she talked to everyone but the young man - quite "in love" " sign.This would not have bothered Lord Samuels too much. Gwen has been "in love" with many young men recently, changing one every month. What caught the master's attention was that this young man was very different from the young aristocrats that Ge Wen was fascinated by in the past, so he drove his daughter back to the room immediately after dinner.Those young nobles are just children, just as young and frivolous, as flamboyant and flashy as their lovely daughter.This one is not.Although he was still young, for some reason he had the concentration and affection that a grown man must have. This made Lord Samuels worry that his frail daughter would not be able to withstand such a seduction at all. Joram spotted his enemy at once.The two looked at each other indifferently over dinner.Joram didn't talk much. In fact, he was busy concentrating on maintaining the illusion that he was a "living person", tasting rich food and sipping fine wine with surreptitious skills, and pretending to be using magic.He's doing a good job, though partly because of Mosiah's look for comparison.Mosiah, despite her magical talents, still acts like a peasant when it comes to dining etiquette.The soup bowl that should have floated to his lips spilled soup all over his clothes, the sizzling roast almost put him on the spit, and the crystal wine glass bounced around him like a ball. Lillian and Marjorie, who had been invited to spend the night at Gwen's, laughed so hard at the little accidents that they both hid their faces behind their napkins halfway through dinner, sniggering.Ashamed and embarrassed, Mosiah hadn't eaten, but sat blushing, silent and morose. Lord Samuels had gone to bed early, and in icy tones he begged his guests to do the same, saying that they must wish to rest well before making their conspicuous departure.Simkin promised that His Majesty would give Lord Samuels a dukedom in return for his generosity in entertaining "a man of life whom the Emperor considers intelligent and charming", and the Sir was not optimistic about such a prospect, Just bade them good night very nonchalantly. So the guests got ready for bed, and the servants showed them the way to the garage.That night, Saryon and Mosiah were discussing their plan to leave Merilon; Simkin babbled about vengeance, and planned to ask the emperor to punish Kenhana who guarded the gate; How to defeat Lord Samuels. Joram decides to make Gwendelyn his wife.