-- Evil comes from oneself and is contained in oneself --

Leona thought that her father's anger would pour out immediately, like a collapsing tower or a flood breaking through a levee, she stepped back, her fingers pressed against the torn neckline, her tender neck strained by the gold chain of the locket, oozing blood, and bringing a sharp pain like a whiplash, but this was not her concern, she only paid attention to Berdwin, and to the princess's consolation, Baldwin just stood there, gritting his teeth and looking serious, but he looked at Leona, looking for answers without seeping into his own sight the doubts and disgusts that would make her fear and despair。

Baldwin couldn't figure out what was going on, and Leona knew that Baldwin had never had feelings for her other than courtiers and elders—he knew Leona better than Leona's father, and he was willing to trust her. ，

To everyone's surprise, the king did not immediately lash out, but went to the fireplace and threw the whole locket into the flames, and the people immediately smelled the stench of burnt hair, "Leona," he commanded in a calm tone, "get out of here and stay with your aunt." ”

"Daddy......"

"Leave," said the king, "don't let me call the guards." ”

After Leona walked out of the room, the king held out his hand to Duke John: "Give me your sword." ”

Duke John gently grasped the back half of the sword, and handed the Mithril sword, which was too heavy for him, to His Majesty - His Majesty took the hilt of the sword and tried to swing it twice in the air, he was in Thundercastle with one-fifth the size and three times the strength of now, but at that time he was facing bloodthirsty and massive orcs, so his martial arts skills were still quite good among ordinary people - he swung the Mithril sword for the third time and stabbed it straight into the chest of Earl of Kel.

Earl Kell's eyes widened in dazedness, and he looked at Fouquet, the cunning humanoid dragon that had promised him dazzling wealth, incredible power, and promise him to be safe and sound when he tore through the abominable fig leaf, but he only saw Fouquet blink at the end of his eyes that were as green as Dylan Donclave's. Throw him a smile of pity.

Duke John moved his shoulders slightly. The young Count slipped from the tip of his sword and fell to the ground, his blood wetting the black wolfskin, and the Duke and Fouquet exchanged a quick look. Fouquet shook his head imperceptibly.

- If His Majesty really intends to hide this matter completely, Fouquet thought nonchalantly. Then he would have to use one or two small pieces that he didn't really want to use—for the previous months, "the troubadour" he had sent to Thundercastle and his companions had been lounging in the taverns, inns, and squares of the outer city of the royal capital, in the thousands of old ones. Poems of gods and knights, sages and kings have been quietly mixed with new tunes—all about how a knight of humble origin met a princess. Get along, fall in love with each other and eventually marry her and become a king.

It was a favorite of the poor slaves. They love this and fantasize that one day they too will be given the throne by a beautiful and amorous princess. But at the behest of Fouquet. The bards sang only a few short but amusing stories once in a while—but if His Majesty did decide to continue sheltering Birdwin, Fouquet wouldn't mind letting his good boys spread it as quickly as possible. He knew that some nobles were hesitant to give up their fortunes and knights to support the king, because they longed to be the grandfather of the new king, but they were not mad and wanted to curtsy and present the crown to a boorish and lowly illegitimate son.

But Fouquet soon knew he didn't have to do that—the king suddenly grabbed the heavy brass bottle from the statue's hand and struck him in the shoulder, spilling wine all over his upper body—if it hadn't been for Knight Tyre's instinctive dodge, it would have struck him in the forehead.

"Your Majesty!" called Berdwin in a panic.

"I trust you...... ......"I will give you bread, and wine, and weapons, and armour, and horses, and gold coins............ and I will give you more and more urgency, and his voice grew louder and louder, and he gave thee, a surname worthy only to live in mud and dung, and a glorious one, embroidered on the tapestry of the enthronement......"

His words hurt Berdwin more than the brass bottle, and he did his best not to savor the contempt between the king's words: "Please, Your Majesty, please listen to me!"

"I grant you a fief!" the king shouted, "snatch it from those of noble blood, and I will give it to you to make you the master of Thundercastle!"

"I'm ...... Princess Leona"

"Enough! Baldwin, you are a pustule toad hidden under a stone! Don't say that honorable name with your maggot-chewing tongue! Endless hell is below! How could I have chosen you! A thief of bad character and low morals, a scumbag of unknown origin! Yes, you are you! a slave, a criminal and a prostitute mongrel!"

"Your Majesty!"

"Shut up, you don't have that qualification, you only have muddy water in your veins! Morton Donclay has nothing to do with you - he gave you Castle Thunder only to laugh at my sister Diane - why did he choose a good man, he took a fancy to you out of so many people, Baldwin, Baldwin, look at yourself, is there anything in you that can be loved? I have given you everything, I have pulled you up from the bloody sludge, wiped your face clean, clothed you in silk, given you a ring to wear, and that's how you repay me?

You're not satisfied with what I've given you, do you want more?

"No!"

"Ah, you deserve to be dead both your father and mother, and your prostitute, or I will hang them too!, hang them on the wall, let the crows peck their eyes, and the rats will take out their tongues!" The king roared, "I will dig up their bones and find their souls, and I will torture them for a hundred years or more!

"Your Majesty!"

"I will take back all that I have given you!your surname!your fiefdom!your army!your honor!," cried the king, indistinctly, the wine he had swallowed tonight had done its job, his steps staggering, his mind confused. Only anger keeps rising. What a high price he had paid for this throne! Even his father, his mother, his wife! Now there was a lowly soldier who wanted to take it away easily!

And it was none other than the king who gave him this opportunity. That's what makes him feel sick the most.

Duke John and Fouquet frowned, and slowly retreated quietly. Out of the reach of the Mithril Sword—the king wielded it like a maid wielding her own broom, and the tables and chairs in the room were a mess. At one point, the tip of the sword skimmed over the base of the chandelier, and it shook slightly. A few candles were extinguished, and the remaining flames cast shadows on the walls that looked like tentacles, horns, and teeth.

Fouquet reached into his arms and grasped the rune disk. This is the only way for non-spellcasters to use spells, and Duke John also has them. They are usually made into pins or pendants - Fouquet's rune disk is a pin in the shape of a dragon holding its egg, and the disproportionate egg is a hollowed-out jade. The rune depicting Mithril is the key to the entire rune plate, and if the user breaks or breaks it, it will trigger a spell hidden inside - it will create a shelter for five people, able to withstand all kinds of damage from the outside world and summon mages to work for Fouquet.

He knew that the same was true of Duke John's obsidian pendant, but just like Fouquet, the Duke should have more hidden followers.

The turn of events had happened when everyone was caught off guard, and if it had not been for Fouquet's constant staring at the King and Berdwin, he would have been as dumbfounded as Duke John at what he saw—first with Baldwin's desperate and miserable cry, clutching at his mutilated arm, and his right arm, severed off by the King, rolling at his feet. He slammed open the protective iron cover of the fireplace, half of his body fell into the coals, the flames burned his hair, he burned, he appealed to his master, to the king, but the king was indifferent, the knight of Tyre grabbed the red-hot sling (which was used to hang the stove), and the peeling flesh adhered to the iron sling, and was sizzled.

He struggled, crawled out of the scorching hell on his knees, and rolled on the ground.

The king threw another brass bottle at him, and he had no mercy for his former brothers, friends, and courtiers—his face was calm and peaceful, and he was bent on putting Berdwin to death.

Baldwin crouched, gasping for breath, he seemed to have lost all his strength, Penny had robbed him of half of his hope, and his king was taking the other half.

"When you die, I will let them expel you," said the king, with joy, "you are not worthy to be a knight of Tyre, and your soul will wander endlessly on the plains of mourning until it becomes the devil or the devil's food." ”

Even Fouquet could not detect when Berdwin had re-grasped his sword, the broadsword given to him by the king and made by the dwarves, and in an instant, the sharp tip of the sword had pierced the king's neck.

The king fell, blood and air gushing out of the hideous wound.

Duke John slammed his rune disk to the ground, the obsidian split apart and the spell had an effect, the closed door was opened by the spell the next moment, and Duke John's mage was the first to step into the room: "Catch him!" Duke John shouted: "Catch Birdwin, he killed Your Majesty!"

In fact, needless to say, people have already seen that Duke John and Fouquet can be said to be standing against the wall of the room, protected by magic, and the corpses of Earl of Cayle and His Majesty the King are lying on the ground, and Berdwin is between them, holding his sword.

Princess Diane was the first to pounce on the king, she trembled and stroked his flabby cheeks, leaned down to feel if he was still breathing, blood stained her arms and chest, but she didn't realize it - she had seen too many dead people, she knew what a dead man looked like, "Kill him," she raised and screamed, "Kill Baldwin, kill this traitor, this murderer!"

"No!" Leona blurted out.

Princess Diane turned around, she stood up without saying a word, walked over, and then waved her arm and gave her niece a hard slap in the face, and even herself was out of balance with great force, and the mage of Fouquet held her.

"Will you kill him, Your Highness?" asked Duke John's mage, revoking the spell.

"No," Duke John took a deep breath, the room was hot and cloudy. The fishy smell of the air made him dizzy for a while: "We need a just and bright trial. ”

Fouquet's mages and squires led Berdwin out of the room.

Duke John's mage moved Earl of Kel. He was stopped by Princess Diane just as he wanted to move the king: "Wait a minute," she said to her surviving brother and her lover, "I have something to say to you." ”

The Duke nodded, pulling out his handkerchief to suppress the urge to cough, and the room was empty again. Princess Diane hung her arms tiredly: "Tell me, it was an accident. This outcome is not in any of your plans. ”

"No. ”

"It was an accident. ”

"Swear to the river of Kranvo. Diane said. This is a bit excessive, and to dare to lie to the river of Kranvo, the god of the dead, is to lie about one's faith - as a hypocrite. Or a faithless one, a liar who will sink forever at the bottom of the river, dragging his rotting soul to wail and weep.

Fouquet hesitated. The result was better than they expected, but it was not in their original plan: "Swear to the river of Kranvo." ”

Then Duke John also took the oath.

Diane took a deep breath as she straightened her hair. Clothes, still terrible. But it's more of a ritual.

She pushed the door open, and outside the door were squires and female officers, who saluted her. Seeing the blood on the hem of her dress, and Diane completely ignoring them, she took a deep breath and shouted, "The old king is dead, long live the new king!"

Leona walked through the dark corridors, she couldn't believe her father had left her so suddenly, grief and fear almost crushing her, but she knew she had to persevere, she had to, at least until she rescued Berdwin and cleared his name, she couldn't let herself indulge in useless grief - she prayed to Sheennoth that it was a bad nightmare, but she was soon disappointed, and she found the elf in Kerribben's room.

The Elven Ranger had not yet fallen asleep, his cloak hung from his chair, and he was otherwise well-dressed, and Leona's visit surprised and foreboding.

"...... Berdwin"

"What's wrong with Baldwin?" asked Kerryben.

"He was accused of killing Lao Wang. The lich who was stepping into the room casually replied that he had just killed a man who wanted to use some ...... on him Well...... the pink mage of the "special" spell, when he folded him up and stuffed him headfirst into the castle's toilets, he caught some clues from the night wind, "Listen. He said.

The female officers and attendants have already spread the news to the outside world, "The old king is dead, long live the new king." The cry shook the entire royal capital.

"I guess the new king isn't you, right?"

The former undead said to Leona.

His words were interpreted by Leona as a reproach: "Aunt Diane will not support me—Baldwin is a disgrace to her." As for the rest......"

"They hate Birdwin," she whispered, "because my father has given him so much glory and wealth." Over here...... He only has you. ”

"And you. Carey Ben said, "How is Baldwin now?"

"He's been caught, and Aunt Diane wants to kill him, but both my uncle and Fouquet think a trial is needed before a final verdict can be made. ”

"Did Baldwin really kill the king?" asked the lich curiously.

"Absolutely not," said Leona firmly, "he would never raise his arms against my father, the king to whom he was allegiated." ”

"Well," said the lich, "if so, then I suggest that we do it at once—whatever we are to do." ”

"Now?"

"Of course," the former undead cheerfully reminded, "remember Adel?"

(To be continued) (To be continued.) Read-only URL: