Azure Scepter

Page 67

good chance!

Fatiya immediately quickened her pace and squeezed her way over there.

The crowd was bustling with noise, and they seemed extremely excited. Despite the torrential rain, they didn't seem to care at all—according to Futia's observation, most of them appeared to be so-called "guild representatives."

The elf didn't know much about guild systems; she only vaguely knew it was a common system in human kingdoms, its purpose seemingly to ensure product quality and prevent malicious competition. But she always felt something was off about this explanation...

"Make way, make way!" With her extraordinary strength and agility, Futia easily pushed through the crowd, and this time she completely shook off Williams' pursuit.

"Drive all the refugees out!" shouted a businessman wearing a red tricorn hat. "Listen to our demands!"

"The undead plague is a hoax! There is no plague at all! Lift the city's restrictions!" Another fat, bald man angrily waved his fists.

Suddenly, a thin man in a bright pink cloak slapped the fat man across the face: "Are you out of your mind, you idiot! There's no regulation at all! It's just that there aren't enough boats and carriages! The officials are even encouraging transportation!"

The fat man seemed to snap out of a dream: "Really?"

"I think you're going to go bankrupt! You should think about how to save your life first! You say the blood plague is fake, why don't you say Snow White is black?" the skinny man in the pink cloak sneered.

"The cost of labor is so low right now... I don't want to leave."

Fythia shook her head, finding the place even more suffocating than a fine wine brothel, the stench of sweat mingling with the dampness of the rain...

Suddenly, Futia keenly sensed an indescribable fluctuation in the air.

She immediately turned her head, and among countless boots, a strangely shaped black circular object flashed by.

It's the Arcane Eye! Frya was horrified—she immediately realized that Williams wasn't just a rogue, but a mage! His tracking was just a second layer of disguise; his real goal was to attach the Arcane Eye to herself!

The time he attached the secret eye should have been when he dropped his pipe.

The next moment, Futia pushed aside the talkative, skinny man in the pink cloak and stomped on the Arcane Eye.

"Snapped!"

"Snapped!"

A thunderclap ripped through the air. In front of the dark gray window, Williams, his face grim, slowly shook his head.

"Quite cunning," the scarred man sighed. "No wonder he's a scout for the investigation team."

Williams fiddled with the wire in his hand. He didn't speak immediately. After a long while, he said in a gloomy tone, "That's not necessarily true. This elf didn't notice my spell—a very powerful mage just interfered with my casting—there's no chance now. There's no need to follow anymore. Prepare to report to Lord Nordman."

"Thud!" The carriage jolted, as if it had hit a rock.

The carriage was extremely spacious, with a portable fireplace burning magical incense by the armrest, and a lifelike red-haired angel carved on the colorful stone stove.

Trier sat upright on the soft cushion, seemingly resting with his eyes closed. Sister Neue beside him did not close her eyes, but she held the holy emblem in her hand, as vigilant as if she were a believer in a god of vigilance.

The head of the intelligence agency, Nordman, tried to speak several times, but he didn't get a chance, so he simply slumped back in his chair.

"I want this damn crisis to pass quickly, I want to rest! I've been working non-stop for a month... May all the Silent Whisperers and demon worshippers die!" Nordman thought angrily. "Now the Duke is critically ill and Earl Cohen is not here. I hope Trier comes back and can reunite that group of idiots who are fighting each other to the death."

Trier was not simply resting with his eyes closed; in fact, he was observing Fythia through a secret eye that had been attached to the boy's severed arm wound.

—The one who revealed Williams's secret eye was naturally him.

The opponent's magical skills are not very sophisticated. When passing through Dragon's Kiss Pass, he is very likely to be discovered by the mage in charge of guarding it. If the inspection is strengthened at that time, he may also bring out his Arcane Eye. Therefore, it is necessary to destroy it in advance.

Moreover, from another perspective, Trier did not want anyone to plot against Fudia. Although stalking was not an extremely hostile act, as the understanding of the person being stalked deepened, the local nobles were more likely to choose Fudia as a breakthrough point.

“Fodia is kind; she shouldn’t be caught in this power struggle,” Trier thought to himself.

The time traveler was initially worried that Fudia would kill the stalker, adding fuel to the already tense situation, but Fudia was very kind and seemed to have no intention of killing him at all.

Trier sighed silently.

It's obvious to everyone that riots are imminent. The city of Erlav is now a giant powder keg, with conflicting parties secretly working against each other, and the fuse for a massive explosion has been lit.

Despair and numbness filled the air as refugees scrambled for food and clothing; disgruntled locals thronged the streets; furious guild merchants raged; cultists of the Silent Whisper, demon worshippers, and those infected with the plague; even the nobility was divided into two distinct, hostile factions, each further subdivided into countless smaller groups...

Even without considering the obscure struggles at the divine level, as well as the various external forces eyeing the situation, the contradictions at the mortal level of Eraf, viewed in isolation and static terms, are already extremely complex and difficult to handle.

In a way, Oris was also a rare genius—it was indeed very difficult for him to pile up so much explosives. If it weren't for the fact that Trier already had a clear understanding of Oris within the game's history, he might now even suspect that the other party was not a useless person with insufficient abilities at all, but a purely scheming and cunning conspirator with ulterior motives.

“The situation is complicated, but that’s just the surface. There are only a few key threads.” Trier tapped the armrest lightly with his fingers. “First, I’ll see Vercingetorie, then Edith and Oris. I don’t have many resources at my disposal right now. It’s time to put my skills to the test. Let’s continue to look at Feudia.”

With this thought in mind, Trier once again immersed himself in the vision of the Arcane Eye.

"Smack!" Futia grabbed a dirty little hand, which was stuck in her deerskin bag.

Caught red-handed, the thief blinked her gloomy eyes innocently—the thief was just a little girl, she looked dirty, and had black pigtails.

"Sister," the girl blinked timidly, "I...I'm just too hungry."

Fytia sighed, released her grip, and took out a silver wolf from her deerskin bag. But after a moment's thought, she put the silver wolf back and took out a standard piece of dry rations.

In this situation, the little girl who was a pickpocket could not protect the silver coins. Whether they were confiscated by her superiors or stolen by others, the other party would not benefit from the purchasing power of the silver coins. Therefore, it would be better to give them food instead of money.

"Thank you, kind sister." The little girl seemed to be crying; drops of water, whether from rain or tears, slid down her cheeks as she wolfed down her bread. "Cough cough..."

Futia noticed that the girl's face was pale and there was a red cyst at the corner of her eye, like a beauty mark under her eye—the little girl had been infected with the blood plague and probably didn't have much time left.

Chapter 133 Steel Golem

"Logically speaking, children infected with the blood plague should die quickly..." A strange thought flashed through Futia's mind, but before she could think about it further, the little girl with gray eyes had already finished her bread and hurriedly disappeared into the crowd.

Futia shook her head vigorously, as if shaking off water droplets from her hair after a shower, to dispel the meaningless thoughts in her mind. Then, as if swimming, she pushed through the crowded people and quickly squeezed towards Dragon Kiss Pass.

The raucous, shrill roar of the steel engine drowned out the protests of the guild merchants. Futia stood on tiptoe to look ahead and was taken aback.

Like boiling water poured onto snow, the crowd crowded at the entrance of Longwen Pass hurriedly dispersed to both sides amidst the resounding footsteps.

—The gate slowly opened, and a steel golem meticulously crafted from heavy metal strode out! The black, mirror-like steel reflected the white lightning bolts. Futia raised her hand to shield her eyes, the blinding white light making it impossible for her to open them.

"Lord Oris, Grand Master of the Knights of Saint Seir of Malrod, the Radiant Sword of Saint Seir, the Impeccable Divine Revealer, and the Savior of Cedar Castle, commands: Anyone who has not been authorized and is gathering in front of Dragon's Kiss Pass should leave immediately. Lord Oris and Her Highness the Princess will not have any visitors today." The gears hummed as they turned, and a cold, sharp mechanical voice emanated from the steel golem.

The steel golem cast a shadow, from which several soldiers, knights, and priests strode quickly toward the crowd. Futia's blue eyes swept rapidly over the golem's joints, forged from tincture and a mixture, and she couldn't help but wonder how many of these steel golems she could handle.

The answer is 2-3. This heavy behemoth just looks scary, but it's actually very suitable for dispersing crowds.

"To reiterate: Please do not gather in front of Dragon's Kiss Pass. Those who violate this rule will be considered to have broken the sacred code."

"Boom!" Lightning lashed across the night sky. The golem pressed forward relentlessly, and the crowd retreated step by step. Anxiety and panic rose and spread like a curtain of rain. To Futia, the noisy and dense crowd was like fallen leaves in water, and the golem was like a rough oar that parted the leaves.

Faldia took a deep breath, quickly walked out of the crowd, and mimicked Trill's posture, slowly approaching the tall steel golem.

The steel golem's eerie blue observation port instantly turned a blinding crimson. Gears and hinges whirred rapidly, and the heavy iron head plummeted downwards at a speed disproportionate to its size. Due to the excessive speed, the crimson light almost transformed into a dazzling, swaying stream of light, like a cloak.

This golem is even faster than the one in my mother's lab! Futia was secretly alarmed.

"Ding-ding."

The next moment, the blinding scarlet turned back into a cold, dark blue.

"It's Lady Futia!" A tall knight, almost as tall as the steel golem, stepped out from behind it. "By the Radiance of Light, you're still alive. Uh, why is the person behind you dragging Akasha along?"

Fytia blinked. She instinctively felt that how she answered this question would affect many things, but time was limited and she didn't know how to explain it. So she had no choice but to bite the bullet and answer in a forced tone, "I need to see Prince Edith immediately, right now."

She knew that she would act very tough whenever she felt overwhelmed, but that was just a subconscious reaction to her own inner unease.

"As you wish." The giant knight nodded.

Fatiah breathed a sigh of relief. She stepped toward Dragon's Kiss Pass, and the crowd behind her, which had suddenly fallen silent, became active again, their protests once more drowning out the Iron Golem's announcements.

"Slap!" Suddenly, a hand slammed onto Fytia's shoulder.

Faldia's pupils contracted sharply, and she felt her heart stop for half a second in shock. She initially thought it was that persistent Williams again, but then she heard familiar Elvish language behind her.

"Little Deer, it really is you!" The elfin voice revealed undisguised surprise.

Futia didn't turn around immediately; she narrowed her eyes slightly—Little Deer was her nickname when she was a child in a public elementary school.

Generally, the elves of Evergrande Island will participate in a public education program led by the Royal Court and Council when they reach the age of 40. This public education usually lasts for ten years, and based on their academic performance during this period, the students will be recommended and assigned jobs by education officials known as "Leaf Staff Bearers".

Futia slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Her mother always believed that there was no difference between humans and elves in terms of the speed at which their abilities grew. The reason why elves' abilities grew slowly was simply due to excessive comfort and the laziness and disorganization caused by comfort. Therefore, if high-pressure education was chosen, the speed at which elves' abilities grew would completely surpass that of humans.

In order to put his unique educational theories into practice, he forced Futia and her sister to participate in public education when they were teenagers. Due to their young age and the resulting lack of experience and knowledge, Futia and her sister never got along well with their classmates—that's a euphemism; in fact, they were often ridiculed and teased by their classmates.

"Little Deer" is the least offensive of all the nicknames, and it means that Fydea is as easily frightened as a deer.

Later, due to their poor performance in public education, their mother had to admit the failure of her educational strategy. So, Fythia and her sister were taken back by their mother and raised by her personally.

It's all in the past, don't dwell on it... Futia told herself silently.

She suddenly opened her eyes, then slowly turned around.

Behind him was a female elf wearing a cloak and carved, openwork plate armor, with the crown-like emblem of the Sage of the Setting Sun on her chest.

The moment she saw the other person's face, Futia felt a cold hand with sharp black nails grip her heart. The shadows of past memories crawled into the crevices of her brain like withered vines—it was the person who had always mocked and bullied her!

Jasmine Believe, Believe means laurel leaf in Elvish.

Even when Williams was chasing her, she didn't break out in a cold sweat, but now, facing her past psychological trauma, a bead of cold sweat slowly seeped from Fythia's forehead.

Although she rationally knew that the other person was insignificant, her breathing still gradually became rapid.

"Think about what Trill would do—he would definitely use his Aura of Courage, but unfortunately, Futia, you don't have that ability. Be brave, don't be afraid!" Futia said to herself, encouraging herself.

The next moment, she mustered her courage and looked the other person in the eye.

—Emerald green eyes, reflecting her own expressionless face.

At that moment, Futia was shocked to find that the once strong, easily angered, and rather arrogant Jesmin was looking at her timidly, her eyes darting around and avoiding her gaze, as if she was afraid to meet her eyes.

A warm sense of courage gradually returned to her heart, and Futia suddenly realized that the other person didn't seem so scary after all.

"Is something wrong?" Futia blinked stiffly, only then realizing that her eyes were a little sore.

Jasmine said softly, "Could you introduce my husband to His Highness Edith? He can provide outstanding military service."

“Absolutely not.” Futia enunciated each word clearly and without mercy.

She felt a strange sense of pleasure.

Through his Arcane Eye, Trier saw an extremely muscular half-elf wearing a double-breasted wool coat with a longsword from the Gordes region—few half-elves could be so robust, his bulging muscles could almost be described as arrogant.

"Good heavens, a famous historical figure." Trier looked at the half-elf, his mind racing. "This seems to be the first famous historical figure I've seen since I woke up."

Chapter 134 Steel Golem (Part Two)

Trier knew that although the half-elf was muscular, he was not a warrior who fought with brute force, but a powerful magic mage who would rise rapidly in the future—Ceres Schwartz.

In the original history of the game, under Lorsevie's conspiracy and manipulation, the Kingdom of Orco was defeated one by one with almost no effective resistance and became a dead land. However, there was an exception: a Crusader army that had retreated from the front line of the Demon Rift to rest and recuperate. They stood on the front line against Lorsevie from the beginning of the Blood Plague Crisis and fought until the day the kingdom was destroyed.

Although they are called the Holy Crusade, they are actually just hired by the church to fight. Their retreat to the southern duchy of the Kingdom of Orco is called a rest, but in reality, they are also looking forward to a new employment contract in the new region because the previous contract has ended.

The leader of this mercenary Crusader is the half-elf standing before the Arcane Eye, Cyrus Schwartz.

Despite the rejection, Cyrus's expression remained largely unchanged, but his elven wife's eyebrows shot up sharply. The elf, named Jasmine, seemed about to lash out in anger, but Cyrus held her shoulders firmly.

"Ungrateful!" Jasmine's expression changed drastically, from a timid, pleading look to undisguised rage. Her tone was resentful, like a chili pepper burning, sharp and piercing. Even through the Arcane Eye, Trier felt as if a file was scraping against his brain...

Fythia ignored her and turned away without hesitation, as if bidding farewell to the past. The cold rain spread along her swirling emerald cloak, splashing into puddles like newly blooming blue roses.

Rainwater slid down the ranger's hood, and as the ranger turned around, Trier keenly caught the sadness in Fythia's eyes. That sadness was fleeting, quickly replaced by a heartfelt peace and joy.

The boy, possessed by the arcane eye, was brutally dragged along by the hanging corpse. Soon, the half-elf Seres and his elven wife disappeared behind the metal wall made up of armored warriors.

"Da da da..."

Trier placed his hand on the armrest and tapped his index finger knuckles rhythmically, producing a dull sound from the ebony armrest.

This was the first time he had seen Futiya so resolute and heartless.

At this moment, the transmigrator suddenly realized that he might not know anything about Fytia. He knew that the elf was very strong and had a stubborn but soft heart, but that seemed to be all he knew.

“Fodia was the first person I saw after I woke up, but I don’t know anything about her.” Trier shook his head silently. “Fodia…”

He took a deep breath, the fragrance of incense dispelling his aimless thoughts, and he immediately began logical thinking.

“Ceres Schwartz and his mercenaries are a good opportunity. I can try to hire them. I estimate that he has about 500 men at his disposal. These men are certainly not as good as knights and professional sergeants, but they are definitely much stronger than militia.”

"After hiring them, my ability to intervene openly in Eraf City will be much stronger. After all, although the Corpse Demon Army is strong, in this era where dead people are everywhere, most people will still have doubts about the Corpse Demon Army."

"However, the problem is that although I have a lot of money to buy food, a lot of money is only a relative concept. It is definitely not enough to hire more than 500 professional mercenaries on a long-term basis."

Trier opened his eyes and looked across the carriage.

Chief of the intelligence agency, Nordman, had his head down, arms crossed, and was actually asleep—he was even snoring quite comfortably.

“We can’t bring in anyone else.” Trier closed his eyes again and connected to the Arcane Eye. “Funding is an issue, but not a major one: generally speaking, military contractors like Cyrus Schwartz can provide bridging loans or even loans, but then the return he demands might not be pure gold, but feudal land, which would be very profitable for me.”

"Crack!" The carriage was well soundproofed, but the sound of the coachman cracking the whip was too loud, and the carriage lurched violently before slowly slowing down.