"I'll immediately summon the Grail Knights, detain Fiona and Mathew for interrogation, and then send the Lake Prophet to Bretonnia to demand explanations!" Morgiana almost instinctively said this, looking very angry, and stood up ready to leave.
"Wait! My lady," Ryan saw her hurrying out and quickly grabbed her wrist.
Still somewhat weak, the chosen champion stumbled as Morgiana pulled him along, and the Lake Witch quickly supported him: "Be careful, your wounds haven't healed yet. I'll handle this matter."
"No, my lady, you need to understand something. First, eavesdropping cannot be used as evidence. Secondly, without concrete evidence, we cannot convict Lord Theodoric. Whether the nine tomes ever existed or were indeed lost during the Night of Blood, we have no conclusion and cannot act rashly." Ryan hurriedly advised, "This information I overheard, its authenticity can't be confirmed."
"I understand," Morgiana helped Ryan sit down in a chair. The Lake Witch was a smart person, and she quickly grasped Ryan's meaning.
Considering the political implications, the Lake Witch could not rashly convict a duke, nor could she use Ryan, who overheard the conversation, as evidence against Fiona. If the nine tomes have indeed been lost and Theodoric simply denies it, Morgiana can't force the duke to be detained and interrogated. While the Lake Witch's powers are vast, she ultimately cannot ignore the king and the many great nobles within the kingdom, nor the rules set by the Lady of the Lake, which would provoke nearly all the dukes' resentment and rebellion.
"Lord Theodoric is not a Grail Knight; he hasn't sworn loyalty to you," Ryan said, shaking his head in frustration. "Whether this matter is true or not is still unclear, so we must be cautious, my lady. Your encounter during the Night of Blood was already somewhat strange. Now that we've finally found a clue, we can't..."
Morgiana slowly nodded and sat down: "Let's eat first, then we'll analyze this matter in detail after dinner."
"Okay."
The Holy Meal of the Lady of the Lake was as lavish as ever. Amidst the silverware and candlelight, Ryan had a hearty meal, while Morgiana ate less.
After dinner, both bathed and changed. Morgiana signaled the serving staff and the Lake Prophets to leave, then set up several detection spells around the suite, locking the suite and room doors.
It was just Ryan and Morgiana left in the bedroom.
The Lake Witch wore a pure white, tiered chiffon long dress. She and Ryan sat opposite each other by the balcony filled with flowers. Morgiana removed her tiara, the moonlight illuminating her face: "The vampire problem in Bretonnia has been longstanding. We have made many efforts, but all have been in vain. You know this, as we've discovered entire ducal families turned into the nobility of the night more than once."
Ryan nodded, organizing his thoughts before asking, "My lady, could you detail the Night of Blood incident for me?"
"Of course." Morgiana shared her experience in detail.
"Then, there are two possibilities. The first is that Duke Theodoric has colluded with the vampires. Seeing your arrival, afraid of being discovered, he initiated the Night of Blood," Ryan first proposed a hypothesis but quickly dismissed it: "But that doesn't seem right. First, it was Theodoric's arrears in tithe that led you to personally visit Bretonnia Castle. If he truly feared meeting you, he wouldn't have met you in the hall, nor would he have sacrificed so many knights and civilians, or in fact, he wouldn't have defaulted on the tithe to provoke your visit."
"Perhaps you're right. When I met him, his demeanor didn't seem unnatural. On the contrary, Theodoric was engrossed in the minstrel's performance at that time," Morgiana pondered the situation.
"So, the second possibility seems more likely. Assuming the fourth tome of Nagash truly was in Bretonnia, then it's possible that vampires or necromancers, having learned of this, took advantage of the Night of Blood to steal the fourth tome," Ryan continued his analysis, stroking his chin with another hypothesis.
"The key lies with Mathew," Morgiana immediately caught the point, pulling out a document: "Whether it's the Night of Blood in Bretonnia or the Battle of Couronne Plain, they share a common factor: Mathew was nearby in both instances."
"Right, whether the nine tomes of Nagash truly exist or if Mathew indeed stole the book, he remains suspicious, as he was present during both the Night of Blood and the Battle of Couronne Plain," Ryan agreed, raising his own question: "The black and yellow lion family crest, I seem not to have seen it?"
"I haven't seen it either," Morgiana stood up: "Wait, I'll get the records."
Indeed, Morgiana brought out all the family crest designs of everyone from barons to dukes in the Duchy of Quenelles. Many crests were similar to Mathew's shield, but none matched exactly. Yet, at a glance, one might believe he truly was a ranger knight from the Duchy of Quenelles.
Ryan concluded that Mathew, or someone behind him, was proficient in heraldry.
"I have a question, my lady. Given this, how was Mathew able to successfully register for the knight's tournament?" Ryan continued.
"Clearly, there's a traitor among the kingdom's upper echelons!" Morgiana paced under the moonlight, her long dress gently moving: "Mathew either bribed or found a noble already corrupted, successfully registering himself."
"This is why I advised you, Lady Morgiana, not to act immediately," Ryan slowly shook his head: "Perhaps the moment your orders went out, Mathew would have already received the news."
Morgiana nodded slowly. The Lake Witch approached Ryan, saying, "Worthy of the Lady's champion."
"Ah, if possible, I really wish we could find a way to detain Mathew alone," Ryan shook his head: "But my lady, we can't do that. Mathew... is the runner-up of the knight's tournament. To detain him rashly would be highly detrimental and damage the Lady's reputation."
"Now, we only have this choice. I'll send someone to Bretonnia to investigate, then find a reason to place Mathew under house arrest," Morgiana's golden hair fell over her shoulders, her azure eyes fixed on Ryan, her expression softened slightly, with an indescribable strange flavor, "You look tired. Francois taking you out wasn't just for a walk, but because of Lady Sulia, am I right?"
"Correct." Ryan decided not to lie about this matter and answered directly.
"Because you and Lady Sulia were dating in the windmill, you overheard Mathew and Fiona's conversation," Morgiana continued: "Ryan, you are not yet fully healed, so eager?"
"My lady, we really didn't do anything," Ryan said somewhat awkwardly: "
We were just..."
"Just what?" Morgiana persisted, her gaze serious and even a bit dangerous: "Tell me."
This topic went on for quite some time, until the moon reached its zenith.
...
"Huff... Huff..." A young ranger knight was sprinting through the night, riding a half-elf warhorse across the plains of Couronne.
It was Mathew.
After Fiona's interrogation today, the young ranger knight immediately realized something was amiss. Conveniently, due to his impolite behavior in the windmill, the girl felt she had lost face and angrily told him to get out, no longer wanting to see him.
Mathew immediately misinterpreted Fiona's intentions as being dismissed, so sensing danger, the young ranger knight mounted his horse, took his belongings, left a message for Fiona implying he would continue his adventures since she didn't want to see him, and quickly left Couronne, heading towards the Athel Loren forest to the south.
After spending a day crossing the fields and lands near Couronne, as the sun began to set, Mathew arrived near the territory of the Duke of Glastonbury.
In the distance, a huge castle appeared before Mathew. The young ranger knight sneered, spurring his horse to quicken his pace as the sun was about to set, and he needed to hurry.
Since the death of the Duke of Anjou-Desmond, the Duke of Glastonbury's territory had been in a state of chaos. This territory wasn't large, and most of it, located within the Athel Loren forest, was actually under the control of only the Duke of Glastonbury's castle and the nearby lands, equating to the size of about two baronies.
After the duke's death, without a legal heir, King Richard ordered the duke's uncle, Earl Alger-Roselle, to temporarily manage the land. This led to chaos in the castle, attracting merchants, adventurers, wandering knights, and many refugee serfs to gather near the castle, most aiming to venture into Athel Loren.
These people were drawn to Athel Loren not without reason. The forest once had villages and settlements, and it was known that bandits, nobles, and even ancient elves hid treasures deep within Athel Loren. So, after the destruction of the Rock of Eternity, with the beastmen tribes only able to hide deep in Athel Loren, many adventurers and wandering knights hoped to find treasures within.
Mathew quickened his pace, passing the towering castle, heading deeper into Athel Loren.
A bitter resentment burned in the young ranger knight's heart, gripping his sword at his waist, the blade humming in response.
The champion of the knight's tournament, which he was certain to win, was crucial for him and his godfather's plans—extremely important.
Now, although securing the runner-up position wasn't too bad, Mathew still felt a deep sense of humiliation.
Intense hatred swirled in Mathew's mind, his face clouded with gloom. One day, this nation built on lies and hypocrisy would be utterly destroyed, he swore. One day, he would demolish this corrupt and degenerate country.
Navigating the narrow forest, Mathew checked the mysterious marks.
After hours of progress, Mathew casually captured a passing hunter, knocked him out, tied him up, and dragged him behind his horse as instructed by his godfather for later use.
Following the marks left by his godfather, Mathew bent down and entered a dark, deep, damp cave. The cave was noisy, a mature female voice hysterically screamed, "Blood! I want blood!"
"Oh, quiet, dear Archbishop of Mercy, your howling will not help. On the contrary, it will intensify your bloodlust, making your suffering all the more excruciating," a withered voice replied, continuing elegantly, "It pains me to see you in such distress, truly."
"Undead, I curse you!"
"A pleasure to be cursed by you, my lady."
Mathew, dragging the unconscious hunter, threw him aside: "Blood is here!"
In the dark cavern, only the eerie greenish ghostly flames burned, cursed fires. Mathew, too, once believed in these flames until his godfather revealed the truth about the Lady of the Lake.
Embracing this flame, he embraced power, though his godfather told him the time was not yet right—he still had much to do.
The Archbishop of Mercy had lost her dignity and grace, along with her eternally compassionate smile. Her meticulously arranged hair was now matted with mud, her dress, long unwashed, was filthy.
Seeing a source of blood, she screamed, instinctively biting into the neck of the unconscious hunter, greedily sucking his blood.
During this process, the Archbishop of Mercy was gradually transformed into a true vampire, as Arkhan had always done. This capture was relatively smooth.
"The scattered pieces of the puzzle are coming together, my disciple," Arkhan lifted his head, his eyes ablaze with a fearsome green fire matching the flame on his staff: "But we've encountered a slight mishap... my disciple, you've disappointed me."
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