Chapter 229 - Volume 3
Brendel rubbed the bronze ring as he carefully studied the ring’s settings of the shield and sword. When he finally wore the cool ring to his left hand’s forefinger, he closed his eyes and drank in the feeling of the power that rushed into him.
The Ring of the Wind Empress, the Flame Ring, and the Warrior Ring. These rings were respectively worn on his right hand’s thumb, forefinger, and his left hand’s forefinger and fully occupied the Magic Boundary which formed somewhat into a triangle.
[It’s only until the Year of the Holy Griffin that I assembled a set of rings like these.]
Trinkets containing magic in them were incredibly rare, and Brendel spent three years from the start of the game to get them. Even Pay-to-win gamers needed to spend months trying to get them.
[I do have a Brass-ranked Shale Longbow and Tamar’s Soul Arrows. Rock Mercenaries’ Necklace, Star of Flames, three Ghoul Necklaces, three Defensive Totems, Element Bracelet and a Deer Statue. From the looks of it, I do have a great selection of artifacts gathered, and a moment where the first Madara War had ended recently…… Although I still feel like pounding the ground when that unlucky dragon girl ruined my chance of getting a Fantasy-ranked defensive armor….]
(TL: I’m leaving it here so people can kind of refresh their memories. Also for your sanity points
His heart beat painfully.
The first ray of light came from the corner and poured into this cell. He had not seen any form of light for a long time, and it painfully caused him to tear up, but he did not look away. He could not even recall how long it had been since he was thrown into this godforsaken place, neither remember what the world outside nor the daylight look like.
[There’s no reason for Graudin to send his man here…… Given the commotion last night, does it mean that bastard was replaced? But every member of the Randner’s family are as vile as they come.]
Bosley sneered in his heart.
A few seconds passed, before the warm voice of a young man wormed into his ears.
“Bosley Lipsius, Lord of the Golden City, Royal Faction. I do recall that you were supposed to be dead because of Everton’s Rebellion?”
The voice shook Bosley enough for him to stand up. His muscles turned rigid, and his face paled. He gradually got used to the light and realized the person who spoke to him was a young man.
“Who….. are you?” The old man’s heart was beating rapidly.
The Royal Faction lost completely in that fateful battle. The highest ranking leader within the Royal Faction, Duke Everton of Highfield, was implicated and imprisoned. Bosley received a secret report of the situation and cast the lies that he died in the battle and he was not an important figure in the Royal Faction.
He moved to the borders and changed his name, awaiting the day for the Royal Faction to rise again. However, he had offended Graudin over a small matter and was sentenced to life imprisonment. He thought he was going to die alone without anyone caring, but someone called out his true identity out from nowhere.
Even Graudin did not know his name.
On the other side, Scarlett and Felaern looked at him in surprise. It seemed like the young lord somehow knew at least one person from every single place they traveled. This time, it was someone who was supposedly dead and well before Brendel was born. Amandina had stated that he was probably a scion of an incredibly powerful family, although they did not put much belief into it.
“Who I am isn’t important to you. I am not from the Royal Faction, Duke Arreck or Randner.” Brendel smiled faintly.
“Then you are from…..”
“Consider me as a separate faction, Grandmaster Bosley,” Brendel received a waterskin bag from one of the mercenaries prepared for the old man, and passed it to him, “but you should know that my goal is the same as yours.”
The old man was considerably grateful to Brendel for his actions. He received the waterskin bag and drank from it greedily. When he was done, he wiped his lips with his dirty sleeves before asking his next question: “What does that mean?”
“To restore Aouine.”
“Restoring the kingdom? If that’s the case, why not join the Royal faction and assist the Corvado royal family?” Bosley lowered the waterskin bag as he studied the youth with considerable suspicion: “Or perhaps, you stand with the Seifers?”
Brendel shook his head, “No, I belong to no faction other than myself. I have my position to consider, and I handle things differently, but these things are not important. I am here to recruit you to my side.”
“What can a miserable old man help you with?” The old man chortled.
“Grandmaster Bosley, you’re one of the finest blacksmiths in Aouine proficient in crafting armor, are you not?”
“— You want to raise your own private soldiers?” Bosley’s eyes darkened.
“Indeed.”