无限阅币的韩漫app

The Magister muttered something incomprehensible, words mashed together in her excitement, and then she took off towards the city isolated in the valley.

As Anneliese crested the hill next, she called out to Vasilisa in concern, “Watch your footing.”

Svetlana was the next to come, then Ganbaatar. Svetlana, another member of House Quadreign, had much the same reaction as her aunt, and set off back towards the city with the same disbelieving haste. They were both like treasure hunters that had finally found what they’d been hunting for all these years.

Galamon was the last to come—not because he was the slowest, but because he generally held the back of the line. Argrave stared at him as he came to stand. He was no expert on emotions as Anneliese was, but the man seemed to be in a strange state. Forget jubilation, relief—Galamon appeared to be in a state of frozen grief, of emptiness. It deeply worried Argrave.

“Anne,” Argrave called out, turning his head back to the city. “Diana of Quadreign is going to be cured. Unlike her sister… I think she’ll want more concrete terms of vassalage. We ought to talk about that, among other important things. I learned a lot from the Magister… I hope you did, too. We ought to discuss our findings.”

Anneliese glanced at Argrave as he looked over the valley city, then gave a knowing nod. “That is prudent.”

“Good. Let’s head down, get settled.” Argrave looked at Ganbaatar and inquired, “What’s your plan?”

“To remain with the…” Ganbaatar trailed off, realizing he couldn’t call him a vampire anymore. “To observe Galamon a while longer. I think Svetlana will accommodate me.”

“I hope so,” Argrave nodded, then set off down into the valley. “Even if she doesn’t… sleeping on the streets might not be so bad anymore. The heat’s back on.”

#####

Vasilisa tossed open the poorly maintained iron gates of the palace of Quadreign and stormed inside. The steward Ferrel stood in the courtyard as he did last time, but stepped towards the returning Magister with an urgency to him.

“The flame,” Vasilisa called out. “Is it there?”

The old Ferrel nodded intently to his words as he said, “Yes it is, lady Vasilisa. It reappeared one morning, like a trail of fire across the sky… I thought it was some sort of rift in the world itself, yet it flowed back into the old fire basin! Does this mean…?” he looked nervous and excited in equal measure. “I… everyone was cheering, but I feared to act… I feared…” his words faltered as though he had so many fears he did not know where to begin.

Vasilisa took a deep breath of exuberant triumph and exhaled. “Fear no longer. Get Diana at once, lead her down. I will go ahead and confirm things… and then… Ferrel…” she closed her eyes. “And then, House Quadreign can repay everyone’s steadfastness.”

The old steward’s eyes lit up with a fire of his own, and he gave a steady, certain nod. “I will speak to the baroness.”

Vasilisa sprinted inwards, heading for the path that led deeper within. As he walked into the confines of the tunnel heading deep within the earth, she slowed her pace slightly to breathe through her nose. And she smelled the sour-sweet tang of vinegar just as had been before.

Vasilisa glanced back, worried her sister wouldn’t be able to make it down that descent. She went very deep until the decades-empty chamber that once housed the flame entered her vision. It was empty no longer. The flame, more vibrant than she could ever remember it being, persisted defiantly deep in this chamber. All of the runes inscribed in the stone worked to sustain it, worked to grow it, and worked to fuel the entirety of the city of Quadreign.

The Magister stepped forward, holding her hand out to the flame. Her heart was beating quickly as she recognized it remained exactly as it had. Something scraped behind her, and she looked back to see Ferrel escorting Diana down. She leaned upon him heavily, yet both the wizened steward and her near-incapable sister walked with steady steps.

Once Diana’s eyes laid upon the flame, her blue eyes lit up like the midday sky and she tried to step away from Ferrel’s aid. Vasilisa stepped out to meet her.

“I had… forgotten what this looked like,” Diana said in wonder.

As the baroness left Ferrel’s assistance, she stumbled—by then, Vasilisa was nearby to catch her. “Easy,” the Magister cautioned her, holding her by her arms. “Ferrel… I can handle things from here. There are guests you might have to greet.” She turned her head. “The ones who restored the flame.”

“I’m sorry…” Diana apologized as Ferrel moved to obey. “You catch me… at a bad time. I’m just… quite dizzy. And my legs…”

“It’s the last bad time,” Vasilisa said, helping her older sister walk forward. “Come. We must burn this all away.”

Diana and Vasilisa walked into the flame, the younger supporting the older. Though the flame seemed to do nothing… after a time, it was as though the black flame had found both kindling and fuel within their bodies. The flame within burned brightly, devouring whatever fuel it could find. Vasilisa held her sister steadfastly, yet Diana’s change was more drastic.

The baroness let out a groan that trailed off into a wince as the fire burning within her rose ever higher. Her fingers clenched tightly around Vasilisa’s arms as she put more and more of her weight upon her. She seemed to become a bright ball of the black flame far exceeding her sister’s. At its apex, Diana’s fingers clenched tightly… then relaxed all at once. Diana fell limp.

Vasilisa caught her sister, and the two of them slowly lowered to the floor. Despite the sudden event, the Magister merely held Diana, a relaxed and eased smile on her face. Though the flame was said to burn through stress and anxiety, Vasilisa questioned if that could truly be the sole source of the sense of peace she felt. The bright flame burning out of Diana not moments ago persisted like a dying fire running through the last of its wood.

Another set of footsteps resounded throughout the old fire basin. Vasilisa looked up for a new entry—Svetlana.

“Auntie? Mom?” the young mage called out, short of breath.

“You’re here. Good,” Vasilisa answered back. “I’m afraid I cannot carry your mother alone. I think it will be some hours before she wakes up…”

#####

“If you’re well and content with the accommodations… I would most like to return to the baroness,” the steward, Ferrel, bowed to Argrave.

“Please,” Argrave waved his hand. “Do so at once. We can settle in here.”

Ferrel needed no further encouragement to leave. Once he did, Argrave looked around at the familiar guest house they’d stayed in when they first arrived at this city of Quadreign. Someone new was with them—Ganbaatar.

Argrave grabbed Anneliese’s elbow and gently moved her deeper in the room. “Let’s take the chance to talk. I imagine it’ll be some hours before things are settled with them…”

Soon enough, the two of them were enclosed within a ward. While staring at the wall, Argrave inquired, “Am I out of my depth, or is Galamon not really improving?”

Anneliese stared at him steadily. “You say that like he is dysfunctional.”

“Well… of course not. But I was thinking… I don’t know. It’s like nothing has really changed for him.” Argrave rubbed his chin. “I wanted to help him while keeping his edge over our foes, but did I… make a mistake, pursuing this line of cure?”

“I cannot imagine so,” Anneliese counseled. “I think he merely needs time. Day after day of living cured will change his mentality. And perhaps… a jolt, when the time comes—and it will, considering we need to enlist Veiden’s aid eventually. Galamon is not the sort of person to change his disposition so quickly. He is too strong to bend, if that makes any sense.”

“Things that can’t bend are often brittle,” Argrave pointed out. “And they break because of that.”

Anneliese put one hand on her hip. “Should we make him a vampire again, try another method?” Her snide comment broke the tension and Argrave chuckled. As he did, Anneliese continued, “We stay the course, and we help him where we see the opportunity. That would be the case even if he had turned jubilant, I think.”

Argrave scratched at his cheek, understanding her point about the futility of his train of thought. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted, taking a moment to recompose himself. “But on another note… I don’t think what I said back at the hill was wrong.”

“About Diana, the vassalage?” Anneliese grew serious.

“Precisely so,” Argrave nodded. “Diana… she doesn’t know us as Vasilisa does, and she’ll be able to think clearly about the situation. Objectively.”

“Yet we still healed her,” Anneliese pointed out.

Argrave looked back to the door of the guest house. “She’s fiercely shrewd, and she’ll definitely want the best for the people of the north. She’ll know that Vasilisa helped us as much as we helped Quadreign.” Argrave rolled his shoulders and stretched. “I do wonder what Vasilisa is saying…”

#####

“So, our future king did all that, did he?” Diana asked.

The baroness rested in bed, a heavy blanket atop her. Her daughter, Svetlana, lay just beside her and hugged her fiercely with little regard for anything else besides the joy that her mother was better. Vasilisa sat in a chair off to the side, lounging idly with a drink in hand. An observer might think the three of them were all sisters, considering how young they looked.

“Among other things,” Vasilisa confirmed, perhaps not catching the undertone Diana put out.

“That’s a very interesting tale, Vasilisa,” Diana confirmed, her voice quicker and sharper than it had been not hours ago.

“Please, mother…” Svetlana urged, voice muffled beneath the blanket. “Let us just enjoy things. I never thought this day would ever come…”

Diana did soften for a brief moment, and her thin hand rested atop her daughter’s head. “Vasilisa tells me you’ve grown a lot. Already a B-rank mage, yes? And even without the flame…”

Svetlana looked up. “Well… yes,” she admitted shyly.

“Then you take after her,” Diana’s eyes turned to Vasilisa. “My sister’s magic pool grew faster than mine. And even as my magic size continued to grow, I could never breach into A-rank. I lacked the talent.” She sighed deeply. “I’m proud of you. I’m sure your father would be, too. But I regret… missing so much.”

Svetlana hugged her mother tighter. “You’re better, now. Think of that, instead. It’s much happier.”

“Yes. I am better, now.” Diana’s eyes grew focused. “Archduchess of the North… he’d give me that? It’s because he expects the people to fall in line with Quadreign rule once again. Vasilisa,” she called out.

“Yes?” the Magister answered at once, almost as though conditioned.

“There are thousands of spellcasters just like me in the north. People that benefited from the flame of House Quadreign, but lacked the talent to breach beyond B-rank. It is the great limiter, the great divide. Yet that force of B-rank spellcasters that make their home in the north is so substantial as to draw a king here, personally,” Diana pointed out quickly. “It is an army so potent that the only thing that brought our loss was betrayal.”

“That’s true,” Vasilisa nodded in agreement.

“If people do rally under the banner of Quadreign once again… if indeed they would accept me as Archduchess…” Diana looked to the door. “I will repay that loyalty. I must. And to that end… I must ensure we live well.”

“Well… Diana…” Vasilisa began. “What he did for us…”

“I know. I know,” Diana nodded. “But the north is cold in weather and spirit, and people live short, hard lives. Think, too, of that.” She grabbed the blanket and threw it off, turning her body. “I don’t think I’ve been more excited about the prospect of seeing a Vasquer in my entire life. And now… I need a plan of action. I won’t go into negotiations empty-headed.”

“Mom…!” Svetlana called out, yet Diana was already moving off the bed with a renewed vigor.