Chapter 26: Griffon Knight

“I never expected… I always thought, even though I’m not particularly skilled at singing, I had heard all the tunes composed by Elves…” The Blood Elf carried a tray with one arm, clapping with her free hand, a difficult gesture she performed with a lingering trace of lightness and grace. “It seems music truly is, as my old man said, an art vast as the misty sea…”

Ever since that bathroom mishap two days prior, the relationship between the Blood Elf and the boy seemed to have grown even more antagonistic. While the young lady no longer flaunted her seemingly endless supply of small steel darts, now, no matter what Constantine did, he would be met with a barrage of her biting sarcasm.

“Thinking oneself clever is common enough… but I didn’t expect Elves to be above it either…” Constantine was taken aback for a moment, then retorted sharply.

“Those so-called arts of humans are nothing more than plagiarized works hiding behind grand names… Compared to that, even the grating drums of the Orcs at least possess their own rhythm.” Casually placing the tray with morning tea on the table, Miss Nightingale quoted one of the most common Elven perceptions of human music.

“What you said is strange… as if you aren’t human yourself?”

Caterina’s attention was instantly captured by this figure who completely defied servant rules, not only barging into the room but also daring to address the master without any honorifics. Her emerald eyes swept over the Blood Elf’s finely featured face, which, despite some disguise, could still be called exquisite. A look of confusion spread across her small face, making sweat instantly break out on Constantine’s back.

How had this woman managed as a Rogue all these years? Didn’t she know trouble came from careless talk?

Constantine habitually rubbed his nose… Of course, he knew this young lady wasn’t human, but if this fact spread, it would cause considerable trouble. To hide the mess she’d caused recently at Count Feesman’s estate, Constantine had kept her in human disguise, using hair accessories and her hair to cover her ears and making her face appear somewhat plainer… While Constantine wasn’t confident this minor trick could fool everyone, he at least didn’t want it to spread so easily!

“Hmm… Caterina, would you like to hear something else? I know some other very interesting stories…”

Fortunately, the boy still held the Lute. He quickly strummed its strings, using the sound to cover the latter part of the Elf’s and his own conversation… This method seemed effective; the little girl’s attention immediately shifted.

“I want to hear a long one, preferably a hero’s story…” The young girl now seemed to have completely tossed aside her earlier reserve, her big eyes sparkling with starlight.

“A long story? Oh dear… you’ve stumped me, little Princess… I’m not a professional Bard, you know…” “Then just tell the story! I want to hear it…”

Constantine smiled wryly. In his haste to escape the crisis earlier, he had promised something a bit too grand… While, in terms of long stories, probably no Bard in this entire Crystal Wall knew more than he did, the ones he could accompany with a Lute seemed few and far between…

“Hmm… alright, a hero’s story… A brief but violent rainstorm had just swept over Domolga, the Empire’s Imperial Guards… hmm… this… doesn’t seem right?”

“Then… the Odi Temple, situated at the foot of the Alaska Snow Mountain, is one of the nineteen great Temples on the Continent dedicated to the supreme Main Deity of creation. The entire Temple was built from ivory-white marble… Damn, this one’s even worse!”

…

“In the deepest part of the sea, there was a mermaid kingdom. In the kingdom lived a lovely little mermaid named Ariel. She was always with her good friend, the little flounder…”

After sorting through the contents of his mind seven or eight times, Constantine finally adjusted his thoughts to a suitable age level and began to gently pluck the Lute strings. Although it wasn’t the epic poetry popular on the Continent, pairing the story with the music from the original movie version seemed to work quite well.

“And so, Ariel and the prince held a grand wedding, and they lived happily together ever after…”

The Lute’s melody was melodious, deep… finally gradually fading into silence…

“This is simply…” As the song ended, Constantine smiled and set the instrument aside… The effect seemed to exceed his expectations—apart from Caterina’s stunned face, even Miss Nightingale’s pair of crimson eyes had lost their usual liveliness… The boy even saw something glistening there, though only for a moment.

While the young lady was amazed by the pleasantness of the short song, what shocked Miss Nightingale likely ran deeper… The Magic Power possessed by poetry, song, and music was so great that it often surpassed Magic itself, transcending race and language, even worlds and Planes. The Elves’ pursuit of beauty bordered on madness; an extreme example was their willingness to sacrifice defensive capability to create ornate, hollowed-out decorations on their Armor…

One could say, apart from followers of Lolth, all Elves were artists—whether in music, craftsmanship, or painting, all were objects of their passion. Perhaps this was related to their legendary Main Deity… The Elf deity Corellon Larethian, besides formidable combat prowess, was famous for studying Magic, art, dance, and poetry.

Due to the elegant and beautiful pronunciation of the Elven language, Elven literature was also rich and brilliant, with songs and poems being the most renowned. Thus, many Bards on the Continent learned Elvish to incorporate lovely Elven folk songs into their performances. Some Bards even bragged by memorizing Elven songs. Consequently, in the eyes of most, human music was merely at the level of simple folk ditties; even the more pleasing ones easily bore traces of Elven musical patterns.

Because of this, Elves other than the Drow, especially the direct descendants of the High Elves, never believed other races could create music surpassing theirs… especially Humans—while their poetry and music were the most developed among all races, they were also the ones who plagiarized the most.

However, clearly, the piece performed by the boy before them did not fall into that category—in fact, this piece of music existed nowhere in this entire Crystal Wall.

Hmph… Let’s see you look down on me now… A sense of smugness rose in the old shut-in’s heart.

“Caterina, what are you doing here?” However, as the saying goes, good times always pass too quickly… A somewhat sharp voice rang out at the door, disrupting the harmonious atmosphere.

Constantine’s eyebrow twitched, and he directed a displeased look at the one who ruined his plan to enhance his glorious image in the girls’ minds… The stern-faced young master in white stood at the doorway. It had to be said Miss Blood Elf was not a qualified servant, or perhaps a Rogue’s habit was to always leave an escape route? In any case, she never had the good habit of closing the door behind her.

This Mr. Consens was still dressed in similar white attire. Perhaps the perfect tailoring always gave him an air of adult-like rigidity. Actually, his age was probably similar to Constantine’s, or maybe even a year or two younger. But judging by appearance alone, most would probably place him in the fifteen or sixteen-year-old age group. His elegant posture and speech, combined with the fully armed bodyguard who never left his side, absolutely gave him much more of a young Noble’s presence than Constantine.

“As a Mage Apprentice, Elder Brother Constantine is very busy. You can’t always disturb his studies. Moreover, you should have your own homework to complete, shouldn’t you?” This young master’s words sounded like those of a man in his forties or fifties scolding his own child.

“But… Brother Consens…” The girl still wanted to argue, but the latter’s cold stare cut her off. She obediently performed a curtsey and left the room with a reluctant expression.

Constantine sighed inwardly, feeling a pang of pity… The children of these Nobles, compared to those who could freely enjoy media networks, these little ones practically lived in The Nine Hells. Sadly, before Constantine’s moment of mourning ended, the topic abruptly shifted onto him.

“Elder Brother Constantine, though it may be improper to say so… could you please refrain from filling Caterina’s head with things unsuitable for her station?” The youth in white frowned deeply, but his gaze towards Constantine carried mockery and scorn. “How could a prince marry a lowly race like a sea monster as his bride? That’s a story only ignorant slaves would fabricate…”

“Aren’t you being a bit too tense? Keeping yourself strung so tight all the time, don’t you get tired?” Constantine rubbed his nose, finally unable to resist interrupting him. Every time he saw a youngster putting on this old-fashioned, stern face, Constantine’s first reaction was to smile. But this one before him truly had a Noble’s air about him—

Hmm, old Zorro taught us that so-called Nobles are those who say one thing and do another.

“Honesty is a virtue, Consens. If you can’t be honest with everyone, that’s fine, but at least be honest with yourself…” Placing the Lute back in its spot, Constantine eyed the youth who armed himself with a cold expression. “What I just told was my own original creation… It’s not recorded in any fairy tale… Or have you heard it somewhere else? If you truly found it boring, you shouldn’t have waited until after listening to speak up, should you?”

Watching the poker face turn into a flushed, liver-colored hue… This feeling seemed quite interesting… He hoped he wouldn’t get addicted… Constantine told himself.

…

When the Duke’s eldest son, in good spirits, walked out of the mansion’s main door, a carriage adorned with gold borders and painted a glossy brown was already waiting at the entrance. Though it seemed like a high-quality item, it didn’t quite match the title of the son of the Western Frontier Governor. This was also specifically chosen by Constantine. It wasn’t that he liked that hypocritical low-profile style; he simply never got accustomed to the ostentatious, smoky entourages typical of officials’ sons parading through the streets.

But clearly, this notion of his was now shattered—at that moment, beside the carriage stood three men with three mounts. They were three of the seven direct Knights the Duke had brought from the Western Frontier.

Constantine frowned. As a famous elite force on the Continent, the Griffins indeed possessed the capital for their pride. But every time he saw them, for some reason, he always had an ominous premonition.

The three Griffon Knights were indeed imposing.

One was a burly giant. A simple breastplate couldn’t conceal his massive build. His inverted-triangle-shaped body resembled a bodybuilder from the boy’s memories. His rough, dark-red face sported a sturdy beard. Though a Knight’s sword hung at his waist, something like a mace seemed more fitting for him. Another was tall, with a uniform, barrel-like physique, a long horse-face with a pair of round, ox-like eyes. He wore a set of mixed plate Armor that looked quite valuable, and his weapon was the standard Knight’s sword. Both of them were mounted but weren’t wearing helmets. Only the third stood on the ground, yet he was fully armed, his entire body encased in a fine set of Full Plate Armor. Only his faintly glowing red eyes and the strands of silver hair trailing from behind his helmet were visible.

But he also attracted Constantine’s gaze—despite the full Armor, the boy noticed his stature was much shorter and slimmer, somewhat frail even among ordinary people. His weapon was also very unusual. It wasn’t a Knight’s sword but more like a… to be precise, that thing was a war blade, or a saber. The nearly five-foot-long, narrow blade remained sheathed, as unclear as its owner, but the dark glint near the guard suggested it was a sharp weapon.

Furthermore, his Armor also differed from the boy’s understanding. The styles of the Knights’ Armor weren’t uniform, which was a major characteristic of the Griffin Knight Order. Some Armor pieces, bearing fine scratches, were even older than the Empire’s history. And the Knights wearing such Armor commanded far more respect than the new recruits with shiny, new armor. Every warrior in the Griffin Knight Order followed the tradition of receiving weapons from their fathers and inheriting Armor from fallen kin. But this person’s tightly wrapped Armor, not exposing an inch of skin, was exceptionally exquisite. Judging from that peculiar black sheen, the boy guessed it was likely forged from Adamantine, unique to the Underdark.

“Young Master Constantine, Squad Scorite, all three members present, ordered to ensure your safety…”

The person completely shrouded in Armor spoke indifferently. Yet, from his completely undisguised tone, Constantine clearly heard a sense of near-contemptuous indifference.

The boy rubbed his nose. From stories Walter had mentioned before, Constantine knew they recognized only one thing: kill count… Only if your hands had been stained with the blood of ten or more Barbarians and Orcs could you win their acknowledgment. With a count five times that, even without official rank, they would regard you as a superior officer. And if, on top of that, you had done something else, like saving their lives, then you could truly become a blood-sworn companion. Otherwise, even the Duke himself would receive their scorn.

“You all… couldn’t you not wear your Armor?” The boy frowned.

Constantine wasn’t overly bothered by their attitude towards him. After all, these were just his father’s personal guards; there was no chance of recruiting them. Nor was there any need to appear particularly dignified before them. Moreover, these three Knights were likely very suitable and competent enough to perform their duties well… The boy just doubted that if they accompanied his carriage, probably no one would dare to approach. The killing intent they radiated constantly could scare even a child to tears!

Unfortunately, this seemingly reasonable suggestion was met with three icy stares. So, rubbing his nose, Constantine could only choose to retreat. At the same time, he secretly felt relieved—thankfully, they weren’t carrying those massive Tower Shields with the large coat of arms. Otherwise, even a blind man could probably sense the bloody aura belonging exclusively to the Northwestern Griffin Knights emanating from them.

At least the carriage was satisfactory. The spacious interior, though lacking carvings, exuded the fragrance of pine. And the coachman was evidently, as rumored, a skilled veteran, though the initial jolt upon starting displeased Constantine. “Shouldn’t we try adding a suspension system? Or… maybe get some rubber tires?”

…

As a residential street reserved for Nobles, the area near the north side street of Central Avenue never had the bustling scene of pedestrians coming and going—Nobles typically didn’t have the hobby of walking for exercise. Thus, the ones hurrying to and fro here were often unfortunate servants, muttering curses under their breath about the masters who gave them errands. And now, as the standard time for a proper Noble’s morning tea, the number of people passing through here was undoubtedly reduced to zero.

But now, in a street corner not far from the Western Frontier Governor’s Mansion, within the Shadow of a tree, a black figure was concealed.

Judging solely by the simple clothing not exclusive to Nobility, he should clearly be considered a Commoner. Yet his erect posture gave off a sense of haughty attitude, something the plain linen robe couldn’t hide… He wore a hat with an exceptionally wide brim, keeping most of his face shrouded in Shadow. Only when that rather inconspicuous carriage and the three Knights drove out of the mansion did this face emerge from the shadows.

It was a face as pale and translucent as a finely crafted porcelain mask. Though well-defined, it seemed completely devoid of vitality, frozen in a fixed expression. Only the pair of exceptionally dark eyes, gleaming with an eerie light, remained fixed intently on the carriage departing the mansion.

Only when the carriage had vanished in a cloud of dust did he withdraw his gaze… He made a silent gesture. As a faint glow flickered, the figure dissipated on the spot, leaving behind only a low, murmured whisper.

“Constantine di Friedrich Connarivis… is it?”