RLQ - Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Bloody Beauty
From the decision to convene the National Assembly to its actual opening, a considerable amount of preparation was required—the Queen's writ had to be sent out of the capital by messenger, representatives had to travel from all over, clerks had to draft relevant bills early, not to mention the undercurrents of negotiation and maneuvering...
In short, this period was long enough for two peculiar "guests" to arrive from Keximia Port.
"I'd bet that Dalton guy is interested in Her Majesty the Queen."
A carriage drove through the gates of the Roland capital. The curtain was pulled back, and a slender hand wrapped in strips of cloth pulled open the window. The hand rested on the sill, tapping out a rhythm familiar to pirates.
"Is... that... so..."
A strange sound, like a rusty gear driving a spring, echoed.
Sitting on the left side of the carriage was a gentleman with deep red hair. He wore a wide-brimmed black hat, his eyes hidden in the shadow of the brim, and a long black coat with brass buttons. People dressed like him usually appeared in theater troupes as magicians. His lips were tightly sealed, and his answer came from a small clown puppet with a large painted smile sitting on his shoulder.
The first mate of the famous "Raven" Pirate group from Keximia Port was just such a self-proclaimed "Magician"... an adventurous merchant.
A freak who sent shivers down the spines of the pirate crew.
And the "Raven" Captain, who could make such a freak his first mate, was the "lunatic" in Dalton's eyes.
"Ah—a knight fallen in love—"
The lunatic captain drew out his words, mimicking the tone of a minstrel, then burst into laughter.
Sunlight streamed into the carriage, illuminating the man. He wore a white shirt, its collar casually loose, and a dark brown vest over it. His long legs were propped up casually, and the sword hanging at his waist had a hilt wrapped like vines. He had changed into relatively normal clothes, yet with just a glance, one could still discern that unique, untamed pirate swagger.
Despite this, his face, tanned a healthy wheat color, was unexpectedly handsome. His black hair was tied back, with only a few strands scattered casually on his shoulders. His eyebrows were dark, their ends sweeping upwards, piercing into people's hearts. His deep brown eyes occasionally held a bright, burning ember-like glint in the sunlight.
Undoubtedly, he was the kind of villain one would both love and hate.
The infamous Captain of the Raven Pirates was not the one-eyed, muscular brute of legend, nor the child-eating bearded man. His full name was Saran Drake, a scoundrel who spent his days with strong liquor.
And a complete and utter lunatic.
Saran let out a cheerful, roguish whistle, crumpled Dalton's letter into a small ball, and tossed it up from his left hand like a clown's juggling ball, catching it in his right.
"I've decided—"
A malicious grin spread across the Raven Captain's face. If they were at sea, the sailors seeing this smile would know their captain was about to stir up some "time-killing" mischief.
"I'm going to see that beauty who has Dalton, that fool, completely smitten."
"Aren't... we... here... to... see... her... anyway..."
The smiling clown on the Magician's shoulder opened and closed its jaw, speaking slowly.
Saran flipped his hand, and the paper ball vanished from it. He pulled back his long, booted legs. He said cheerfully, "No, no, that's different. Before kneeling on a cushion to accept the olive branch from the Empress, I have to see what kind of person she is—a nightingale in a tower? Or something else."
The Magician finally raised his eyes. His dark green eyes were as deep as an ancient well in the shadows. "Don't cause trouble, and if you do, don't..."
...involve me.
Just as the words appeared in the air, the carriage swayed slightly.
It had just turned the corner of a narrow alley, and in that instant, the person who had been sitting in the carriage leaped out of the window with agile grace. Saran rolled in the dust, then quickly stood up. He threw out a grappling hook, stretching his body like a leopard suddenly awakened from rest.
In a matter of breaths, he had scaled the stone wall and disappeared from the Magician's sight.
The clown puppet on the Magician's shoulder closed its mouth.
Saran Drake, current leader of the Raven Pirates, with a bounty as high as twenty thousand gold Rolands.
But at this moment, he was swaggering through the heart of the Roland Empire. Wearing specially made soft boots, he raced across the rooftops like a low-flying raven. The wind ruffled Saran's unbuttoned brown vest, spreading out beside him like wings. He skillfully threw out his eagle-claw grappling hook, leaping from one building to another in gaps barely noticeable to pedestrians.
He had swaggered into the Naval Governor's mansion more than once, taking their ceremonial swords from the walls of that fool's bedroom.
—That very sword now hung at his waist.
The thought of seeing the Roland Queen who was willing to cooperate with them had arisen spontaneously, but once it did, it became particularly tempting.
Even pirates at sea knew the rumors of the Queen being blessed by heaven.
In the pirates' daily banter, they even said it would be great if they could steal that heaven-blessed Queen from her tower—as pirates, creatures born to accompany storms, they truly wished they could command storms like the Queen.
Saran had seriously considered this matter according to his own logic and found it somewhat appealing.
—That was the Imperial Rose, rumored to be unparalleled in beauty!
Surely such a living divine blessing was more pleasing to the eye than a wooden figurehead?
"God Save the Queen!"
He shouted happily into the wind, disappearing onto another tower before pedestrians could look up.
The guards at the Summer Palace were Dalton's men; they patrolled diligently, but there were always gaps between patrols. Saran exploited these gaps and agilely entered the palace. However, the palace was simply too large, making it difficult to find the Queen's chambers immediately.
Saran thought for a moment and hid in a corridor.
When an unlucky guard walked by, he received a heavy blow to the back of his head.
A few minutes later, a black-haired guard walked out openly.
Adele walked down a long corridor, accompanied by Archbishop Rhodri.
As he walked, the Archbishop reported to the Queen on the specifics of the property confiscated from the St. Lorrain Sect monasteries recently.
Before the relevant documents were compiled, he had personally reviewed them all, and the more he read, the more indignant and regretful he felt. Just as the Queen had pointed out earlier, the St. Lorrain Sect monasteries had become a festering rot in the Empire. If not for this purge, it would have continued to spread.
"The total immovable property under the name of one hundred and thirteen monasteries amounts to one thousand three hundred and seventeen hectares of land," Archbishop Rhodri said. "Among these, the land source for seventy-five monasteries violated the Empire's laws on church land, and some were 'purchased' from farmers."
Adele frowned slightly, listening to Archbishop Rhodri's report.
As the Empire's oldest feudal class, the Church's land holdings had been continuously expanding, and she knew that the methods these monasteries used to expand their land were probably not so "aboveboard." But seeing the actual compiled figures still made it hard not to be angered by it.
"A fine bunch of dedicated saints," she scoffed.
Archbishop Rhodri couldn't help but feel ashamed, but he still had to continue reporting: "Some nobles hope to reclaim the land they donated to the monasteries."
"Reclaim it?" Adele laughed in anger. "Fine, let them exchange their heads for it."
When she was angry, it was as if flames danced in her rose-colored eyes. The decisive killing intent emanating from her gentle tone was chilling, yet it also gave her a unique charm.
Archbishop Rhodri averted his gaze from her face, thinking that throwing those people onto the guillotine was exactly what they deserved.
As they spoke, they turned a corner and came face to face with a guard wearing a sword. Seeing them, the guard immediately stepped respectfully to the side but did not lower his head.
As they passed, the Archbishop casually glanced at the guard.
The next moment, his hidden sleeve blade suddenly slid out, stabbing like lightning towards the guard's throat.
Comments
Post a Comment