Chapter 33 Chapter 4 The Champagne Fountain

"The name of Emin!" Joram murmured tremblingly, covered in cold sweat. "dead!" "My dear boy, if you cherish your life and mine, keep your voice down!" Xin Jin said softly, greeting a few acquaintances passing by with a reassuring smile on his face.The two were standing by the champagne fountain, and Simkin said that Gwen or Saryon would definitely meet them here.Here is the other end of the hall, facing the emperor's throne, and there are more and more people around, because people flock here to call friends and have fun.The champagne fountain was, as Simkin said, a natural meeting place, and there were constant loud greetings and raucous laughter around them.

The fountain is twenty feet high, manned by a team of Pol Aban mages dressed as guards.Made entirely of ice to keep the drink cool, it's shaped like a fish.The ice-sculpted seahorse standing on the icy waves gushes champagne, the glassy-eyed puffer pouts and shoots wine, and the frozen sea fairy holds wine for guests to taste in its cold hands.Crystal goblets are layered in mid-air around the fountain, filled with people's beckoning or instructions, rushing to quench their thirst.These people have been standing for two hours, waiting to see the emperor and his late wife. "This kind of thing is treason just to think about it, let alone say it publicly." Xin Jin continued.

"How long has it been?" Joram asked with a certain unnatural curiosity, the same curiosity that made him unable to take his eyes off the direction of the Crystal Throne. "Oh, about a year. Nobody knows exactly when. She's been sick for a long time, and I must say she looks a little healthier now than she ever did." "But...why...I mean, I understand how he loves her, but..." Joram raised a glass of champagne to his lips, and drank it in one gulp, his hands shaking. "The emperor must be crazy!" he finally concluded with a guilty conscience. "It's far from madness," Simkin said coldly. "Do you see that man in the red robe standing next to the emperor now?"

"A Dikonduke? See." Joram's gaze broke away from the corpse of the woman on the throne, and looked at the man who leaned forward and said something to the emperor.Although it was far away, Joram felt that this tall, well-proportioned man in the red robe was Simharon's war expert. "Not a Diconduke. It is a Diconduke—the Prince of Xavier. He is her brother, and if her death is officially proved, he will be Merilon's Emperor." Simkin raised the champagne to his lips, Toasted sarcastically. "Goodbye, Boring Your Majesty. He has to go back to the rolling pastures of Dlegacy, or back and forth. Whoever messed with that Dikonduke always walked into the teleportation corridor in a strange way, and then Never came out again." Simkin drank the champagne in one gulp.

"If he's so powerful, why didn't he just usurp the throne?" Joram looked at him suspiciously, thinking that the new world he entered might be extremely interesting. "The emperor has a strong counterforce, maybe I should say counterweight. Bishop Fanya. Speaking of which, it's strange that His Excellency Fatty didn't show up, especially when the food is taken casually. Oh , I forgot. He never came to the anniversary party. Said it was against the teachings or something. Where did I say it?" "emperor?" "Ah, that's right. In short, it is said that the sun of Vanya rises and sets with the emperor. That Dikonduke has his own people, and he is happy to replace Vanya with others-that's three positions. .catalyst saints and illusionists make it look like the empress is alive and able to attend the banquet, if you don't care about the look on her face. Also, it's treason to mention her health in any way. She runs the court as ever Well, Merilon and the dignitaries of the other city-states are all polite, no one looks at her directly, and everyone looks ignorant when facing her. But sometimes even that doesn't work."

Simkin motioned for another glass to be filled with champagne and floated into his hand.In one corner an orchestra of magical instruments began to play a waltz, so that Simkin leaned close to Joram and went on: "I shall never forget the night Lord Dunsworthy and the Emperor fought After the Tarot, the Emperor asked him: 'Don't you think the Queen looks particularly spirited tonight, Dunsworthy?' Dude Dunsworthy stammered, looking at the dead body in the chair: 'I— —I don't know. I think His Majesty looks a little gloomy.' Well, of course Dukes jumped at the hapless man, and that was the last we saw of him." Simkin took a sip of champagne and wiped his face with a silk scarf. Wipe your mouth. "I followed his hand and won a silver coin from His Majesty the Emperor."

Joram was about to say something when he heard someone calling his name.As soon as he turned his head and saw the blue eyes full of joy and love, he immediately forgot all about death or politics. "Joran!" Gwendelyn called to him timidly.She stretched out her tender little hand towards him, and noticed that several young people in the crowd cast admiring glances, but what she really cared about was only the one she loved. Gwendelyn spent hours, almost all day, busy preparing her gown with Mary and Lady Rosamund.She changed colors so frequently that the whole room should have been moved to where Sihana created the rainbow.The flowers on the cuffs were replaced with broken feathers of a bird, and then not only the feathers, but also the whole bird appeared, but Mrs. Rosamund stopped it immediately.She was crying and going around for a while, and she was still crying in panic before getting into the car: "I can't see people in clothes!" Finally, Gwendelin came by car, and every dream in her young heart seemed to be at this moment. It's coming true.

What is the effect of the painstaking efforts and tears spent on clothes, and the effect of those tears that were rushed out just for Qiao Lang?Unfortunately, it was largely for naught.Qiao Ran only had a chaotic impression: the snow-white broken flowers on the blond hair exuded a baby-like fragrance, the white neck and smooth shoulders, and the soft and thought-provoking trace of dried snow, like the foam on the sea, slightly blue and swelling. Out of the curved curve.Her beauty captivated him, but it was her beauty, not her clothes.Even in a sack, Gwendelyn attracts admirers she never notices herself.

"Miss." Joram took the little white hand and held it for a little longer than etiquette allowed, then kissed her hand reluctantly, and reluctantly let go. "I—we—" Gwendoline blushed. "Worried that you might not be able to come. How is Father Dunstable? We are all very much concerned for him." "Father Dunstable?" Joram looked at Gwen in bewilderment. "What do you mean? He's not—" "Forgive him, sweet boy." Sim Jin stepped in naturally, standing between Joram and Gwen.With his back to Qiao Lang, he took Ge Wen's hand.He seemed to be about to kiss her hand, and then obviously decided that was going a little too far, so he just took her hand casually. "Your beauty has made him completely dizzy. I can still see a smarter expression on the face of a catalyst saint. Not often, just occasionally. Speaking of catalyst saints, it seems from your greeting , our bald brother is obviously not very good. Fuck, it surprises me."

"But, didn't Joram tell you?" Gwendelin wanted to look at Joram, but Joram was half blocked by Simkin and the other half by the fountain. "Oh dear," cried Simkin, once again blocking the lovers' gaze from each other. "Champagne? Didn't drink it? Okay, then I'll order you a glass, if you don't mind." Two wine glasses floated over. "Where did we go? I can't remember—ah, Father Dunstable. Yes, you see, I've been stuck in this dreary palace all day, listening to that Dikonduke complain about somewhere Wars, emperors complaining about taxes, my bones ached from boredom. Then I found Joram here, well, dear, you won't blame me if I never thought to talk about a priest's health ,Right?"

"No, I don't think so..." Ge Wen said, her face flushed with embarrassment and confusion.Simkin's words drew a great crowd, and they gathered to hear what startling words he had to say next, and the young lady felt keenly the eyes fixed on her and her companion. Qiao Lang struggled to get closer to Gwen, only to find himself pushed away, and then, in time, remembering that he couldn't attract attention, had to take a step or two back.Simkin, meanwhile, was the center of attention. "Well, what happened to our bald brother?" he asked listlessly. "Oops!" His eyebrows were raised so high that they almost sank into his hair. "Didn't Bishop Fanya treat him like a stool in the church?" A muffled laugh came from the audience, and he nudged the person beside him tacitly. "It's happened before, the saint who happened to be called Sister Suzanne. It's been flattened, poor man, and now it's called Brother Fred..." The crowd laughed louder. "Really not!" Gwendelin wanted to break free from Xin Jin's hand. But he grabbed her without changing his face, looking at her with such annoying anticipation that the audience began to snicker. Gwendelyn had to say something. "I - we were woken up in the night...by Zeldalla who had been to see Father Dunstable earlier. She said he was getting worse and was going to move him to the Druid Grove to the rehabilitation home." "Worsening, huh? I'm in so much pain. Heartbroken, really. Give me some more champagne!" Simkin yelled.The crowd burst into laughter. "Simkin, let me pass—" Joram tried to push him away again.But Simkin stopped Joram inadvertently, and stretched out his other hand to grab another young man—a random one in the crowd next to him. "Marquis Antu. So handsome." The young Marquis was indeed handsome. "This young lady is eager to dance with you. It's your shrimp-red dress that fascinates the ladies. My dear, this is the Marquis." Before Gwendelin had time to protest, her The hand was handed over by Xin Jin to the Marquis, who was as surprised as she was. "But I—" Ge Wen protested feebly, looking back at Qiao Lang. "Sinkin, you're damned—" Joram tried to intervene again, with a look of impatience and frustration and a flash of exasperation on his face. "I'd love to dance with you—" stammered the Marquis. "Fantastic couple. Go!" Simkin exclaimed cheerfully, actually pushing the astonished Gwendoline into the marquis's shrimp-red arms. "Oh, there you are." He looked back at the angry Joram, pretending to be surprised. "Where were you, dear boy? Your sweetheart is going to dance with another man." The crowd laughed even louder. Joram glared at him furiously. "you--" "—Come to comfort your distressed heart? Of course. Let's be alone for a while, everyone?" Simkin asked the assembled crowd, and they kindly dispersed to find other fun. Everyone was making fun of Joram. "Champagne, come with me!" Simkin motioned to the glasses hanging by the fountain, took Joram's arm and pulled him to the wall. Three bubbling champagne dutifully followed him. "What have you done?" Joram asked angrily. "I've been looking for Gwendolin for hours, and now you—" "Dear brother, keep your voice down." The cheerful smile on Xin Jin's face disappeared. "It is necessary to have a private conversation with you immediately about the Catalyst Saint." "Poor Saryon," said Joram, his face hardened and his brow furrowed. "I shouldn't have left him last night, but Zelda assures me he's fine—" "He is well indeed, my dear boy," interrupted Simkin. Joram tensed up. "What's the meaning?" "I mean, they've got him, man." Simkin smiled, but it was a smile away from the crowd.He moistened his lips with champagne and scanned the hall nervously. "And then we are." Joram suddenly found it hard to breathe.The air in the room seemed to have been robbed by other people's lungs.His heart was beating violently in pain, as if trying to squeeze the last breath of oxygen out of his chest.There was a buzzing in his ears, so that once again he couldn't hear anything. "I said, calm down, take a sip. People are watching everywhere, be happy, remember?" Joram watched Simkin's lips squirm, and then he stuffed a glass of wine into his hand.He was very thirsty, so he raised the glass to his lips, and the bubbles of the wine burst on the tongue, bringing a burst of coolness to his throat. "Are you sure?" He wanted to ask, and took a breath before regaining his composure. "If he's really sick..." "Forget it! The Catalyst Saint was fine when we left. Even if you ignore this, I have never heard of a Zelda La who would rush to see a patient in the middle of the night. But if it is Duke Xisi?  … "Xin Jin's voice gradually became smaller, making people feel very ominous. "He will not betray me," whispered Joram. Simkin shrugged. "He has no choice." Joram pursed his lips and clenched his fists. "I'm not leaving!" He decided decisively. "I won't go until I meet the druid that Lord Samuels mentioned! Let's talk about it." He stretched his eyebrows and raised his head. "It's all right. Soon I'll be a Baron. Then everything will be fine." "Of course. Well, if you're satisfied, I just wanted to explain what's going on." Simkin said softly, and suddenly changed back to his smirk. "Like you said, what's that? It's nothing more than making the Catalyst Saints miserable for a few hours. From what I've heard, they're happy with it. Martyrdom, it makes them righteous. Ah, pretty lady back - from the look in her eyes, going to take you to daddy, yeah, i see her staring at me now, absolutely unfriendly eyes. don't say anything, i'm going. let me know when to celebrate, Kill fat cows or something. We should use Bishop Vanya for this kind of occasion. Remember, dear boy, you had an exhausting night with sick catalyst saints last night. See you later!" Simkin left Joram--to the youth's delight--and rose into the air, disappearing at once into the crowd. "Do you like it?" His voice drifted toward Joram. "I call this the return of the dead..." The hall was getting hotter and noisier.The ceremony for the audience to the emperor was over, and the people around the throne began to disperse, changing the color of their clothes from mournful gloom to one more suitable for revelry.Joram leaned against the crystal wall and gazed into the night, wishing so much that he could be outside in the cool darkness; the darkness was more alluring than the harsh light and heat inside.His conscience pricked as he thought of the Catalyst Saints.The word "martyrdom" that Simkin uttered made him shudder.He closed his eyes at the thought that Saryon might be suffering for his sake, guilt cutting its sharp blade into his soul. After a while, however, Joram was able to ignore the pain and cover the wound with bitter ointment.He has treated many wounds like this in his life, never caring about the ugly scars left by those wounds.One day he would be able to vindicate Saryon.He'll take care of that catalyst saint for the rest of his life... "Joran?" It was Gwendelyn who spoke, looking at him with blue eyes, seeing his wounds and longing to heal him.He stretched out his hand to hold her two little hands, and pressed them to his hot face, finding comfort in her cool touch. "Qiao Lang, what's the matter?" She was frightened by the gloomy and disturbed expression on his face. "Nothing." He said softly, kissing her hands. "It's okay, you're with me now." Gwendelyn's face was blushing, and when she thought of Mrs. Rosamund floating nearby, she quickly pulled out her hand. "Joram, father sent me to bring you news, but Simkin—" "Yes, yes!" Joram said hastily.His face was darkly red, and his eyes looked at her eagerly. "what news?" "He...he wants you to meet him in a private room." Seeing the change in the young man's expression, Gwendelin stuttered.But the next moment, she was so excited that she forgot all her reserve. "Oh, Joram!" she cried, taking his hand. "The druid is with him! The druid who delivered your mother!"