A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 155 The Waltz on the Night of Departure (Part 2)
The impassioned and inflammatory words made Celia uncomfortable.

She hates struggles that involve innocent people.

Sir Anderson's statement that a rebellion against the King would be raised in Lawrence Province would inevitably plunge Britain into civil war. In terms of military strength, Britain, with its vast territory and abundant iron resources, is the foremost power in the South. The devastation caused by a civil war would be predictably devastating; no king would show mercy to rebels. If the Duke of Lawrence is defeated, the people of Lawrence Province would likely face collective punishment.

"Does it really have to be a fight?" Celia asked, frowning. "The Child of Prophecy has never appeared, so why should the nobles of Britain support a king they've never seen?"

Yuther shrugged.

"Who knows what they're analyzing based on the newspapers? There could be all sorts of reasons."

Youse works at a bookstore and reads a lot of newspapers every day, including political ones, which have been a hot topic in Britain for the past two months.

"There are loyal followers of the old king, eternal believers who follow the will of the dragon lord, and gamblers who believe in the prophecy and are prepared to risk their lives to serve the dragon. But more than anything, it is the brave ones."

Celia held a silver fork and took small bites of strawberry mousse, but she didn't respond when she heard "hero".

Yuther continued, “The first and second parts of the prophecy are connected: ‘The true king’s descendant will reclaim the crown’ and ‘The one who pulls out the holy sword will be the king of the whole realm.’ Only a hero can pull out the holy sword. This is knowledge that you taught me when I was a child, which means that the king and the hero are the same.”

"Joining the Hero's ranks is a sure-fire way to make money. No matter how powerful the British monarch is, he can't possibly defeat the Hero, who has the full support of the Holy See. So the earlier you join, the better your relationship with the Hero will be. Sis, you like the Hero so much, why don't you give it a try?"

Celia's biggest expense with her allowance since childhood has been buying books, all of which are related to heroes. Her father used to joke that she only had the patience to sit for a whole day for two things—hero stories and piano playing.

"Me? Forget it," Celia shook her head slightly. "What would a hero want with an arcanist like me who's barely graduating?"

Sir Anderson's speech came to an end, and several other people took the stage afterward, but they all talked about chamber of commerce and trade matters. After that, the dinner began.

The waiters brought out a plethora of delicacies from land and sea on the food carts. Yuther, already full, regretted his actions and slapped his thigh in frustration. It turned out the lobster and desserts were just appetizers to fill his stomach. These rich dogs had such a variety of main courses! There was crab roe noodles with deep-sea crab, marbled beef for Aiswell's signature barbecue, and camel hump stewed with mandrake grass imported from the Western Continent.
Although it was a mealtime, few of the hundreds of people present were actually eating properly. This was a practice that developed from the gatherings of nobles in the Southern Continent. Eating excessively at a banquet was considered a sign of poverty and hardship. People would use this time to discuss serious matters and convey the message that "I value you more than the meal."

The crowd was clearly divided into three concentric circles: one around Sir Anderson, one around the British MP, and the rest who chose to observe and remain neutral.

The allure of siding with the Prophet is undeniable; even if he isn't a hero, victory would be an investment in Britain's future king. However, the situation is far less ideal. The powerful are naturally inclined to remain neutral, and most dare not place their bets until the Prophet appears.

The reason is simple: if the Royalists could stand against King Aaron Augustine of Britain, why would they have waited until today?
Aaron's ability to secure the throne stemmed not only from his political acumen and compromises with various domestic factions, but more fundamentally from the fact that the vast majority of the British army, including the elite Dragonblood Knights, chose to pledge allegiance to him. The army cared more about the Augustine name than who was on the throne.

Although the Duke has a private army to protect his territory, its number cannot exceed three thousand. Even with secret training and the support of royalist forces, it is absolutely impossible for him to withstand the King's hundreds of thousands of troops. Besides royalists, there are also newly rich nobles who side with the current monarch; the nobility is not a monolithic entity. If war breaks out at this time, it's questionable whether Lawrence Province can even hold out for a month.

It would be foolish to rebel and start a war before finding the prophesied child, but for some reason the royalists, led by Archduke Lawrence, did it anyway.

Perhaps they found the prophesied child, or perhaps they received help from the Eternalist Church, but the reason why wealthy merchants or officials were willing to show goodwill to the royalists at this moment was largely because of a man.

Elon, holding a wine glass and wearing a warm, spring-like smile, chatted amiably with Sir Anderson.

Sir Anderson was able to attend the dinner to raise funds for the military thanks to Elon's introduction. By doing so, he had practically offended the current British royal family. If King Aaron could overcome the issue of the prophesied son, the Branson family would lose all their businesses in Britain and even face the risk of assassination in retaliation.

However, considering the Academy's support for Elon over the past two months, and the close cooperative relationship between the Academy and generations of heroes.
Could this be the college's intention?
Could it be that the royalists have really found the long-lost orphan of the late king?

Aswell is adjacent to Britain and has always been its largest trading partner. The upper classes of both countries have intricate connections. Whoever becomes king will change the commercial landscape of Aswell. It is believed that Elon's merchants would not mind donating some gold pounds or goods, which are investments that can be recouped many times or even dozens of times in the future.

What's more, he was a hero! Almost all the world's most renowned regimes and powerful families have received help from heroes.

The crowd split into two groups, and Celia and Yuther could no longer wander around. They stayed obediently in a corner, watching the brightly dressed men and women exchanging toasts amidst their exquisite fake smiles.

"The smell of gunpowder is so strong," Celia remarked, looking at the crowd watching coldly from the other side of the hall.

Led by British foreign MPs, most of them are businessmen or entrepreneurs with close ties to the British steel industry. They are staunch supporters of the current king and stand in stark contrast to those who want to support the prophesied son.

"Heh, don't be fooled by their act of being mortal enemies. If they really hated each other that much, that Anderson guy wouldn't dare come in tonight, you believe me? After the banquet, these old men will be scrambling to secretly contact the royalists and ask for double the military funding. Damn it, don't hit me on the head—"

Yuther, looking annoyed, fixed his hair. Celia withdrew her hand and said irritably, "Little brat, where did you learn all this scheming and backstabbing?"

Then, she muttered with some worry, "Is a war really going to break out?"

Megan's father appears to be a guard in Lawrence County; hopefully, he won't be affected.

“They’re openly soliciting donations from Axwell, so a fight is definitely going to happen. I estimate it’ll only be a matter of days,” Yuther said with certainty.

The Southern Continent has enjoyed peace for a thousand years, with few internal wars except for the invasion of the Demon Race. People who grew up in a peaceful environment have little understanding of war, since the consequences do not fall on their own heads. They are more interested in watching the show than condemning it.

"Is it really necessary to fight? Can't the King of Britain just surrender? I don't think he has much of a chance of winning."

Celia didn't understand Britain very well, but she understood heroes, especially after Grindelwald came into contact with the other side of the world. She understood even more what a hero capable of standing up to the Demon King meant to a secular kingdom.

"Surrender?" Yuther laughed. "Sister, are you crazy? I suspect Aaron might want to surrender too, but that would require the Son of Prophecy to agree. Aaron killed the late king and queen with a single fire—the kind of hatred that's irreconcilable, the kind that kills one's parents."

“Hatred?” Celia sighed softly. “I don’t understand. My parents abandoned me at the door of a brothel. They must have had their reasons. I hope they are living a good life now.”

“If it were me—” Yuther’s speech suddenly slowed down, his young eyes flashing like water in a pond after a breeze, then calmly darkening again.

"No matter what, I'll take revenge no matter the cost."

Celia, with a stern face, gave her younger brother another sharp rap on the forehead.

"Dad is still alive and well, why curse him?"

"Damn it, that's how it's always written in novels—revenge, revenge is a must! Otherwise, the damned author will be cursed!"

Uther's parents were coal miners in Seaville, the most common and lowest-paid laborers in the city, responsible for hauling coal to various factories by train. Unfortunately, not long after Uther was born, his parents died in a train derailment accident in the coal mine. Fortunately, he was adopted by his father and grew up healthy and strong into the handsome young man he is today.

After searching for a long time, Celia finally found her father in the crowd. Today, her father had shaved his beard cleanly, unlike the crude tavern owner who liked to cheat on bridge. Instead, he had a refined, scholarly air when he spoke seriously. The only problem was his suit—it wasn't ugly, but her father had worn it for over a decade for every neighbor's wedding or other occasion. It looked old and faded from being washed too many times.

Celia immediately decided to use the money she had saved for the piano to buy her father a new outfit—at the tailor shop in Broom Alley, as a birthday present. She just didn't know if it would be enough, and whether the academy's allowance would cover it.
Suddenly, her father beckoned to her, signaling her to "come here." Celia pointed to herself in surprise, then her father shook his head, glancing at Yuther, who was still forcing himself to eat steak even though he couldn't finish his meal.

She nudged her younger brother, "Dad's calling you."

"Oh."

It seemed that his father had told him something before he set off. Although he didn't recognize his father's "old friends," Yuther quickly wiped his mouth clean, strode forward with his head held high, and the tall boy really had the air of an adult thanks to his clothes.

Although Celia was at the bottom of her class in her first year, she had entered the world of arcane arts under Grindelwald's tutelage, and her mental strength was much more refined than that of ordinary people. Therefore, she could keenly sense that the atmosphere suddenly changed the moment her younger brother walked out.

The royalist members who had come all the way from Britain almost instantly turned their attention to Joseph.

Those gazes were filled with excitement, ecstasy, exhilaration, and even...
Respect. But it was only for a moment before they looked away, continued their conversation, and went about their own business.

The only person standing next to my father was a middle-aged man dressed in inconspicuous clothes. He was carrying a knight's sword. This man seemed to be Sir Anderson's bodyguard. He had been standing behind Anderson during his speech. Did my father actually know such an important person?

He and Uther quickly started chatting. Because they were a bit far apart, Celia couldn't hear what they were saying and felt a little resentful. "I'm a student Grindelwald chose, after all," she thought. "Am I really that unpresentable? From childhood to adulthood, my dad has always brought Uther to occasions where I need to be accompanied. Celia feels like an ugly duckling hidden away, unable to see the light of day. I'm perfectly cheerful, you know!"
However, she did not blame her father for this. She knew that her father loved both of his children equally, and she was used to it anyway, given his old-fashioned preference for sons over daughters.
Celia listened to the banquet music alone, wondering if she could play these strings on the piano. This was probably mainstream music recognized by the powerful and wealthy. The rhythm was very different from what her teacher liked to play. Her teacher's compositions were more soothing, and the chords were freer.
After appreciating it carefully for a long time, she realized that she still preferred her teacher's piano playing.

Quinn is truly a very talented person.

Time passed slowly amidst the lingering music. Even though she was hiding in a corner far from the crowd, Celia, all alone, still attracted a lot of attention—which was inevitable. Although she herself was somewhat unaware that the dress didn't quite suit her tall and slender figure, the constant stream of men who came up to chat with her said it all.
She could definitely be more confident.

A long blue silk dress accentuated her tall and slender figure, and her long hair was tied in a gentle side part, cascading down one of her snow-white shoulders. Celia possessed a unique charm; she had the purity and innocence of a girl next door, yet her features were elegant and refined, setting her apart from other pampered rich girls her age. She was like a rare, cool-tea-brown daffodil, quietly blooming in a forgotten corner.

Anyone who can resist asking if I've eaten dinner, how many people are in my family, what business my parents run, or whether they want to marry me is a miracle worker.

There was another person being approached like this not far away, but there weren't many brave souls who dared to challenge the Branson family's daughter. Faced with the huge class difference, many people hesitated. But Celia was different. What kind of young lady would hide in a corner and secretly eat strawberry mousse with a plate?

Approachers came in droves, and most of them started by saying, "I'm so-and-so from the xxx family." The more confident ones didn't mention their father's surname, but would bring up a company or official position with an even more intimidating background. There were even nobles who came to Aiswell to participate in the Arcane Festival, whom no one had ever heard of.
Celia had never experienced this kind of situation before and was really inexperienced. After she told the other person her father's name, they always looked thoughtful and confused. But she couldn't very well say, "Hello, my dad sells fake liquor and bread in East Wales." For the time being, she could only respond with a fake smile and just say "uh-huh" to whatever they asked. She would also laugh a couple of times when the other person brought up a topic. This led to more and more people trying to chat her up, and the small corner was soon overcrowded.

Celia knew that she was considered "pretty," since she had been pursued by many boys since she was a child. However, the boys' pursuits at school often ended in failure due to the teachers' harsh criticism, while the suitors she met while wiping tables at the bar usually disappeared the next day.

As for Grindelwald's suitors, besides Allison, who was the same age as him, there were also Minotaur and Mammoth. The arcane sorcerer's romance involved arranging man-eating vines inside animal livers, which would suddenly burst out to form a bloody, heart-shaped object, a bold declaration of love.
These people are a bit too normal. Celia wanted to run away; she had absolutely no interest. But her father and Uther seemed completely indifferent. Wow, you patriarchal middle-aged bachelor!
I can only keep going "uh uh uh hahaha"
It wasn't until Celia had become somewhat numb that things finally quieted down around her.

The men who had been pretending to pass by but actually lingering and peeking at her disappeared, and even the waiters who had been serving her dishes and drinks slipped away. The world suddenly became much quieter, with only the elegant music flowing by.

"drink wine?"

"Oh no, thank you. Hello, my dad runs a small business and hasn't had time lately, and he won't have time in the future either, he has to go to school. I'm not single. Goodbye." Celia replied subconsciously.

".puff."

Hearing a pleasant chuckle, Celia realized that the person who had struck up a conversation with her was a woman. A beautiful, black-haired woman with a veil had appeared beside her at some point, holding a bottle of wine and laughing so hard she was almost choking.

"This is the second time I've been rejected like this tonight. The faculty and students at your college are so heartless!"

"Thank you, thank you, I'll drink it—"

Celia hurriedly took the glass, carefully nodding and bowing as she clinked glasses with the other person. How did she know I was a student at the academy, a senior I'd never met before?
The crisp clinking of glasses was quite impolite; the woman handed her a drink while holding a glass of orange juice herself.

"Sorry, I'm not a big drinker, you don't have to drink." After saying that, the woman lifted her mask and took a small sip, revealing half of her snow-white chin and her alluring, moist red lips.

"It's nothing, it's nothing." Celia also hurriedly took a sip, while cautiously peeking at the other person. She didn't mind these social etiquette rules for drinking, but she was very curious as to why the other person was wearing a mask.

"Want to know why I covered my face?" The woman had actually guessed what she was thinking.

Celia nodded in surprise.

"I'm a widow, my husband's dead. I have to cover my face so other men won't covet me, lest he come to me in my dreams and curse me." The woman feigned a pitiful look. "It's so pathetic, so when I marry, I always look for a living person, not some immortal."

"Oh, okay." Celia first remarked that it was so pure and innocent, then realized what she meant and added, "Please accept my condolences."

“If you don’t want to get hit on, you can go to the second floor—” she pointed to a spot, “there’s a big terrace there, not many people, and you can enjoy the evening breeze.”

"Thank you—" Celia was about to immediately run away and hide, "How did you know I'm from the academy? Have we met before?"

"Hmm~ I guess we've met before. Actually, I came here to see you."

"Looking for...looking for me?" Celia's eyes flickered slightly. A widow can't be seen by men, so she's looking for me. Sister, are you a lesbian?

No, no, I play the piano. Mr. Quinn once said that girls who play the piano should never become lesbians, or they will be surrounded by lunatics.

"Are you an eternal believer?" the woman asked with a smile.

"Huh? Yes."

Celia didn't have a particularly strong faith in the Dragon Lord, nor did she live a life of restraint and asceticism like a fanatical believer in Eternity. It was just that the Church of Eternity was not far from the tavern, and she joined the Church of Eternity after her father told her that "there is a monthly subsidy for joining the church."

The people inside were quite nice and very welcoming.

"Then do you think the Child of Prophecy is a hero?" the woman asked again.

"."

Celia stammered, "I guess so?"

"Oh, a different answer."

The woman suddenly grabbed her hand, startling Celia. Although the woman's hand felt smooth and pleasant to the touch, she stammered, "Sister, I...I...no, no."

"Take it."

The woman slipped something into her hand and said with a smile, "Let's make a deal."

"trade?"

"I'll sell you victory."

"what?"

She said softly and gently, "As for the price you will have to pay..."

"It's just a sword."

After saying that, she released Celia's hand, waved her hand, and walked towards the door. "Please remember your sister in times of crisis~ Please, please~"

Celia looked down blankly at her palm.

In my palm, a single iris petal lies quietly.

(End of this chapter)