Sword of Dawn

Page 212

"Brother, good evening." Veronica bowed slightly with a calm smile that seemed to never change on her face.

"Veronica..." Wales Moen looked at his talented sister in surprise, "Shouldn't you be praying in the cathedral?"

"Today is Remembrance Day, the first Remembrance Day after my father passed away," Veronica said flatly, "The Lord will be tolerant."

This is not something that a "saint princess" who is as devout as a textbook in the eyes of outsiders can say, but Welsh Moen knows that his sister has been an extraordinary person since she was a child. She always has her own ideas and always has her own ideas. There are countless ingenious reasons to make his behavior seem logical, so he just nodded slightly, without asking any more questions.

After an embarrassing moment of silence, Wales took the initiative to speak: "The Duchess Victoria came and she told me something."

"You're going to be king."

Wales was a little surprised: "How do you know?"

"It's not difficult to guess, the situation is like this, the Duke Regent can't make many choices, and today just happens to be Remembrance Day, in front of the ancestors, she told you these are just right," Veronica said calmly, and then slightly He bent over, "Brother, congratulations."

Wales frowned imperceptibly, this was not what he wanted to hear, he looked into Veronica's eyes, those eyes had a gentle and trustworthy smile as always, but in his eyes, those eyes were It was like a lifelike fake carved out of precious stones—magnificent, beautiful, but lifeless. It was a look that was neither malicious nor kind, which made him turn his head awkwardly.

It seems that no one has ever felt the slightest difference in the temperament of this virgin princess. Everyone regards her as a treasure from heaven, as a symbol of all the good spirits of Ansu, but Veronica was always in Wales when she was very young. He would feel a kind of unreasonable weirdness when getting along with this sister. Under the pressure of this weirdness, he would try his best to avoid being alone with Veronica—but today is Remembrance Day, and he has no reason to leave early patio.

So he can only stay here, and try to change the topic: "I heard that after the Crusaders went to the battlefield, the situation of the Kingdom Army is gradually improving..."

"It's only getting better to the point where we can stand in a stalemate with the Eastern Rebels," Veronica replied, "and a large part of the reason for the stalemate is that the weather is getting colder—winter combat is not good for both sides."

"...Well, I didn't think of this," Wales laughed at himself. "You see, I'm not fit to be a king. I didn't even think of these."

"No one is born fit to be a king, you just left Silver Castle for too long," Veronica said while looking at the bonfire in the courtyard. After a few seconds of pause, she suddenly said something that seemed headless If you don't think about it, "...the number of bonfires lit on the Remembrance Day this year is double that of previous years."

Wales froze for a moment, then realized: "It must be because of the war."

"Dead believers will return to the kingdoms of the gods, and unbelievers will all fall into the mansion of the god of death. Souls have their own places, but people are willing to firmly believe that those lost souls will go home and live together on the petals of the death chrysanthemum. As soon as the souls gather... Brother, do you believe that those spirits will come back and look at us in the light of the fire?"

Wales couldn't help looking at the big fire in the courtyard. Those bright flames were jumping in the night sky. There was actually nothing in the hazy curtain formed by the flames and smoke, but he couldn't help thinking about it, thinking about the moment in those shaking curtains. The face of Francis II emerged, the old king leaning on a scepter, looking at himself indifferently, without any expectation in his sight.

"I hope they can rest in peace in the kingdom of God," Wales said, and looked at Veronica beside him, "What about you? As a living saint of the God of Light, you can see our The father and the ancestors?"

Veronica was silent for a moment, then turned and left: "I can't see anything."

Me too—Wales Moen said inwardly.

Then he raised his head and watched the smoke rising from the bonfires drifting straight into the night sky, merging with more smoke at a high, far distance, the smoke from countless bonfires merged into a huge cloud of smoke, and the stars all gradually blurred.

In the night, on Pioneer Square, the largest square in Cecil City, a huge bonfire was burning blazingly.

The mechanical clock in the city center chimed eight times, and a huge evocation hand floated over the bonfire, sprinkled the powder made of black stone and pyrophosphate into the fire, and accompanied by a slight explosion, the flames of the bonfire suddenly burst into flames. The room became very bright and grand.

The crowd gathered around the fire cheered loudly, and along with the cheers that shook the city, the large magic net terminal installed in the square was activated, and a huge holographic projection appeared above the square.

It was activated together with the magic net terminals located in several other squares in the city, in several surrounding cities, and in every town square along the cross axis of the Principality of Cecil.

On this night, almost all the people gather around the bonfires, and almost all large bonfires are located in the squares of various towns.

The Cecilians were no strangers to this "miracle of magic". They didn't make a fuss or dodge in panic. People just raised their heads curiously and looked at the figure gradually emerging from the projection.

The figure of Gawain Cecil appeared on it.

"Good evening, citizens, I am your lord."

The crowd was a little surprised. Some people took off their hats and saluted the holographic image in the square immediately after reacting, while some innocent children shouted happily. Some bold children pointed at the holographic image: "Look! Lord!!"

The reckless child was immediately stopped by the adults, and the voice of the lord continued to come from the holographic projection:

"Today is Remembrance Day, the day we commemorate the dead. The origin of this festival is to commemorate a nobleman, but today, we use it to commemorate our parents and brothers, and commemorate our deceased relatives and friends...

On the Pioneer Square, Betty stared blankly at the big bonfire in front of her. She listened to the voice of the lord coming from the holographic image behind her, and she was silently in a daze.

"In the early spring of 375, a disaster befell Old Cecil, and countless people left this world on that day..."

The smoky night wind blew, awakening Betty from her daze. She watched the people around her start throwing branches into the fire, so she also picked up the twigs she had prepared and stepped forward a few steps, slightly Clumsily threw the branch into the fire.

The small branches were quickly engulfed by the flames, and the little maid stared blankly at the bright flames. In her dim mind, the beating of each beam of flames seemed to be turning into a face.

"Mrs. Hansen...Mrs. Morris...Uncle Taylor..."

Betty murmured softly, chanting the names that she had tried so hard to finally remember, then suddenly bent down and bowed vigorously—in that signature way, as if she was about to throw herself out He bowed imposingly.

"I survived!"

A figure crossed over Betty, it was Rebecca who was also holding a branch in her hand, the heir of the Cecil family also threw the branch into the fire, the flickering fire reflected on her face, this always reckless The girl at this moment was also rare to be quiet. She stood quietly for a while, and then said softly: "We survived 880 people...Father, I tried my best."

Hetty did not know when she came to Rebecca's side: "Everything is developing very well now, and Rebecca has grown a lot..."

Behind them, Gawain's holographic projection was still floating above the square, his voice vibrated the air and spread far and far away: "...to all civilians who unfortunately died, may your souls rest in peace, and to all sacrificed soldiers , I salute you all... may the deceased rest in peace, rest assured Cecil will move on, I assure you all...

"To all living and dead, good night."

The holographic projections on the square gradually disappeared, and people were silent in the solemnity. In the "studio" of the magic web control center, Gao Wen walked down the platform for collecting holographic images.

Amber came over from the side, and the half-elf had a smirk on his face: "Are you deviant again—it's always commoners who commemorate the nobles, and it's the first time a nobleman commemorates the commoners when you come here, and Also 'salute'..."

Gawain breathed a little: "From now on, at least in Cecil's land, Remembrance Day will be a thorough and ordinary commemorative day... Even scholars who specialize in history will not Remain obsessed with the original origin and meaning of Remembrance Day."

"So your purpose is really to hope that everyone will stop singing and dancing to celebrate your death day~~"

Gao Wen quietly glanced at Amber, who seemed to be begging for a beating again, but saw the unnaturalness in the depths of the half-elf's eyes.

He asked, "Do you have no relatives to commemorate?"

Amber turned her face away: "I don't even know what my parents' names are, and I'm not even sure if they are really dead. Who should I commemorate."

"What about your adoptive father?"

Amber didn't make a sound, and only whispered after a few seconds: "...he is a thief wanted by the nobles. When he died, he was purified by Priest Shengguang...in the bonfire on the Feast of Souls...how can he be found? Location."

Gawain looked at Amber's profile, and he finally understood why this half-elf was so persistently hostile to all priests of the Holy Light.

"What crime did your adoptive father...commit?"

"I just wanted to find a book from the church, but accidentally knocked over the candles enshrined in the church by the local lord. As I said earlier, he is a crappy little thief..."

The room fell silent for a while, and after a moment of silence, Gawain broke the silence: "I can't reverse the purification, but as the ruler of the southern border, I can pardon your adoptive father. What's his name?"

Amber looked at Gawain in surprise, and then realized: "Surrey...his name is Sally Randolph..."

Gao Wen was a little surprised: "Does he have a surname?"

"Well, he has a surname. I asked him, but he didn't say anything... After that, I also investigated many family trees in the southern border, but I couldn't find this surname."

"That's right..." Gawain exhaled, "Maybe it's a vassal of a declining nobleman. In short, Sally Randolph is innocent."

A sentence of pardon cannot bring the dead back to life, let alone recall the sunken souls from the bottom of the kingdom of the dead, but many times, what people want is not the actual meaning, but just a peace of mind.

Gao Wen patted Amber's shoulder lightly: "Go while the bonfire is still burning."

In the next second, the figure of the half-elf had disappeared into the air.

Chapter 0504 Mass Burials

Whitsunday Plains, East.

It rained all night, and there are puddles of all sizes and slippery mud everywhere in the field. The tenacious white-stemmed grass fell to the ground under the washing of the rain. You must be extra careful when walking on it. just work.

Taka, the corpse dragger, drove the cart carefully on the wilderness. He had to concentrate on picking those solid places without water accumulation to prevent the cart's wheels from getting stuck in the mud. In such a place far away from the camp , once the wheels get stuck in the quagmire, it will be a very troublesome thing.

A gust of cold wind blew, and the unshaven burly man couldn't help shivering. He raised his yellow and cloudy eyes, looked at the low sky in the distance, and couldn't help muttering: "God of blood— —what a hell of a weather.”

Rain on Remembrance Day is a bad omen, especially for superstitious draggers.

From the perspective of mysticism, the rain on the night of soul reunion will seriously affect the effect of the bonfire, and even make some small bonfires unable to burn smoothly. The souls of the lost ancestors will wander in the curtain formed by water vapor and flames. Most of the terrible legends about evil spirits of the mountain people and the mountain people come from this.

But from a practical point of view-the rain on the An Ling Festival often means that the weather will turn cold quickly, and winter will come earlier and more rapidly.

No matter which one, it is not a good thing for ordinary people.

The cart seemed to have run over a rock on the road, and the whole car suddenly shook violently. Taka hurriedly manipulated the reins to maintain balance. Amidst the neighing of several pack horses, the car stabilized again. This strong corpse dragger He hurriedly looked back - on the car board behind him, a dozen humanoid "goods" wrapped in linen were still firmly fixed there, and the ropes showed no signs of loosening.

"You guys have to stay well," Taka muttered, "on the Feast of Souls next year, someone will light a bonfire for you."

Of course, the corpse will not respond to the dragger's words, but like every eccentric and shunned corpse dragger, Taka also has his own eccentricity. He is used to talking to his "cargo" and pretending that they are able to The "passengers" who understand his own words, he believes that it is necessary for him to establish a good relationship with the "passengers". Only by maintaining a good relationship can these "passengers" avoid troubles for him in the future.

Especially since these "passengers" died on the battlefield and were the remains of soldiers who were rumored to be most likely to turn into evil spirits, it would be even more sloppy.

The road ahead was very slippery, and the puddles were difficult to bypass. While carefully controlling the car, the corpse dragger cursed in a low voice: "I don't know how long this bloody civil war will last. You say yes?"

Although he was swearing so much, Taka knew very well that if it weren't for this civil war, his "business" would not be so good.

War will create a lot of corpses, soldiers, civilians, and even occasionally knights and mages - of course, the latter are noble dead, and it is not up to low-level corpse draggers like Taka to contact, but the former It's different, those who died on the battlefield and on the edge of the battlefield will become the main source of income for the corpse draggers.The commanders of the two warring parties and the people in the village will hire professional corpse draggers to dispose of those corpses that are too late to restrain or cannot be identified. The corpse draggers do not need to seriously bury them, but only need to transport them to the designated pit , Avoid polluting water sources or generating evil spirits.

This is a lowly but well-paid job, and corpse draggers are usually engaged in it for generations, and they often do this kind of work with the dead, and corpse draggers will naturally form their own set of rules and taboos, such as absolutely The dead must not be insulted, and the name of the god of death must not be chanted when collecting the remains (this is to prevent the dead who should have entered the kingdom of other gods from being targeted by the god of death), and the corpse must be sent to the destination.

It was precisely because of this rule that Taka had to rush on the muddy and slippery plain to prevent his "passengers" from being furious because they missed the "Day of Return" after the Feast of the Soul.

When the giant sun was gradually flying into the sky, Taka finally arrived.

This is a place far away from the front line of the battle, and it is also far away from any camp of the Eastern Borderers or the Kingdom Army. It is a natural pit, and it has become stinky now.

The corpse dragger put on a heavy scarf and hood, and wrapped his hands with cloth strips. He jumped out of the cart nimbly, and then looked at the empty place.

Frankly speaking, this is not a very suitable cemetery. It does not meet the teachings of the gods of death, nor does it meet the requirements of the blood god, but this is the place designated by the client, so Taka, who is the dragger, does not I will delve into why I have to throw all the corpses in this big pit.

Some scattered wooden carvings and metal frames can be seen around the big pit. Those are simple altars set up by the priests to appease the souls. They are very crude things, but they are enough to deal with the lowest level of evil spirits.Taka walked towards one of the wood carvings next to the edge of the big pit, and then took out a crumpled death chrysanthemum from his arms according to the rules of the corpse dragger, and placed it at the root of the wood carving.

The small white flowers lie quietly in a piece of mud, and the petals shake slightly in the cold wind. This small flower that can be seen everywhere in humid and dark environments has amazing vitality. It can grow and bloom almost all year round. , Even after being picked off, they can survive tenaciously for several days. The Ansu people firmly believe that this incredible vitality is the evidence that they can communicate the kingdoms of the living and the dead, and the Ansu people also believe in another thing: every flower The death chrysanthemum grows in the kingdom of the living and the dead at the same time. The moment it withers in the world is the moment when it blooms in the underworld. Contact successfully reached the "other shore", and embarked on the road to various kingdoms of God on the other shore...

"Little Hua, I hope you can guide these lost people to find their destination..." The corpse dragger whispered, drawing the mark of the Blood God on his chest, "Oh...it's really hard for you, a flower needs to be picked up." Attracting so many people..."

After saying this, Taka turned around and was about to go to the cart to carry the corpse.

However, before taking a step, his eyes suddenly noticed another thing not far away.

It was the embers of a campfire, and a small one at that.

The corpse dragger was a little curious, he stepped to the embers of the campfire, and smelled a little smoke in his nostrils.

The bonfire was actually extinguished not long ago.

"Someone mourning the dead here?" Taka murmured, circling the small campfire. "Could it be a relative of some lucky guy in the mass grave who came and took the body..."

Halfway through the words of the corpse dragger, he suddenly stopped.

It rained a lot last night, and I heard that it was especially heavy on the Dakeng side.

In the continuous rain, such a small bonfire is difficult to burn smoothly. Even if it uses the bark of the black-grained tree that can burn in the rain, it should not burn so thoroughly.

There was no trace of moisture around the campfire. It wasn't that it was dried by the fire, but it seemed that there was no rainwater falling on the ground with a radius of more than ten meters.

In addition to the smell of smoke and dust in the air, there is also a strange sweet smell, which seems to be some kind of flower fragrance, but it is not the smell of death chrysanthemum.

Taka has been a corpse dragger for half his life, and he knows all about the spices that will appear on the Feast of Souls, but he has never smelled anything like it...

Although he couldn't tell what was going on, the corpse dragger instinctively felt a little weirdness. This weird feeling made him uneasy, and reminded him vaguely of the rumors circulating among the corpse draggers recently ...

It is said that there are ghouls haunting the night... There are monsters devouring flesh and blood moving in the dark land... The corpses in mass graves seem to be inexplicably decreasing... Remains that are too late to bury often disappear for no reason...

In the cold wind of late autumn, the corpse dragger couldn't help shivering, he felt something malicious was moving under his feet - although he couldn't see it, that thing seemed to have seen him.

He is not an extraordinary person, but he is a corpse dragger who has dealt with the dead for half his life, and he is also a relatively devout follower of the blood god. He knows that he has some intuitions that ordinary people do not have, and this intuition has been true in his past life. Indeed, he escaped several evil spirit attacks.

He began to step back cautiously, moving as gently and naturally as possible, trying not to show panic.

However, a rustling sound suddenly came to his ears. Accompanied by the rustling sound, he saw some turf and clods shaking in the mass grave below, and several people wrapped in sackcloth The humanoid figure he had thrown in three days ago was wriggling strangely.

The corpse dragger's eyes widened. He clearly saw several vine-like things suddenly grow out of the soil, piercing the corpses, and then the ground fluctuated like water, swallowing the corpses into the dark depths ...

Tremendous panic hit him, and he finally couldn't control the exclamation, and after the exclamation, he ran away.

But the weird sweet smell permeating the air came out again, and it was more obvious than before. In this sudden sweet smell, Taka, the corpse dragger, was in a trance for a while, and then fell into a long and deep battle. dream.

Vine-like things spread out from between the soil and blades of grass, and wrapped around the limbs of the corpse dragger. Amidst a low grunt and rustle, the soil fluctuated like water, dragging him into the ground bit by bit.

The cold wind in late autumn blew across the plains and the deserted mass graves. It was quiet here, as if nothing had happened.

A moment later, a sudden gust of wind blew across the plain suddenly, and the wind rolled up a large number of fallen leaves that came from nowhere. Amidst the flying leaves, a woman wearing a green priest's robe appeared.

Bertila frowned, looked at the position where the dragger was swallowed by the earth, and sighed slightly: "Unlucky guy..."

"Your pile of bonfires to commemorate the dead caught his attention," a deep and indistinct voice came from the depths of the earth, accompanied by the rustling sound of shuttles, "I'm curious, who is it that deserves it?" A patriarch lit a bonfire on Feast of Souls... Do you believe in the return of the dead like those ordinary people?"

"Master Heaton, don't forget why you were punished to come here to collect biomass - just do your job."

"Ha...you are probably the most boring woman in the world..."

There was an indistinct grunt from the ground, and then the sound gradually sank, and the rustling and shuttling sound gradually weakened—the person who made the sound seemed to have returned to the deeper soil.

Bertila stood there quietly for a while, as if thinking about something. After standing still for a few minutes, she took a step——under the priest's long skirt, the "legs" composed of countless roots and vines Wriggling, he brought her to the extinguished bonfire.

A blooming chrysanthemum fell in the embers of the campfire.