There is no way the Liberian girl could lay eggs!

"I know."

As a special person who grew up with Liselotte, Hildegard knew very well what her friend wanted to do. Even if Viviana only told her some minor details, she had guessed most of what was going on.

"This matter is very serious, and it would be best if it could be investigated as soon as possible, but everything must be done with your own safety as the top priority."

"According to Brent, the stolen copy of the Golden Rule from Shi Tongling was likely secretly delivered to Trilinterme last night. They call themselves..."

"The echo of Helhunzollon."

As she muttered the name, Hildegard's eyes wandered. "How many years has the Queen's Festival been held?"

"This is the twenty-third year, Your Highness."

Viviana answered Hildegarde's question in a low voice.

"Twenty-three years. He has committed many unforgivable atrocities in the name of Herhunzollon, taking the lives of countless people. He has been dead for twenty-three years..."

"How many of those who tirelessly committed tragedies in his name have actually seen him in person?"

"Just for the so-called glory, they can easily take the lives of others. These guys..."

There was a murderous look between her brows, a faint blood color appeared on Hildegarde's face, and the long sword on her waist began to tremble slightly.

This is the resonance of emotion and spell, she...

Lost my composure.

"That's all for today. You must be tired after the long journey. I've arranged accommodations for you. Liselotte should have told you about that."

Holding down the ringing and trembling sword with her right hand, Hildegard calmed her emotions and waved her hand casually, signaling Viviana to leave.

Viviana wished this would happen, and immediately took Talina to bid farewell to the bloody emperor.

The two walked out of the garden side by side. Looking at their backs, Hildegard couldn't help but take a few more glances and waved goodbye to the little girl.

There was no emotion in the child's eyes, only curiosity about everything in the world, an unguarded curiosity, which reminded her of herself and Liselotte in the past.

Were they also like this when they were born, full of curiosity about the world?

"Your Highness..."

Not long after Talina and the other girl left, Brandt, who was supposed to leave, suddenly walked out from the side and stood respectfully behind Hildegard.

"You have doubts about Liselotte's decision, or rather... dissatisfaction."

Without turning her head, Hildegarde rubbed her fingers, missing the soft face of little Marlene.

"The Queen's Voice that Ivignad chooses has always been highly qualified. I will not question her decision on this point."

"Can't? Or don't dare?"

"Viviana Droste is undoubtedly an excellent sorcerer. I have seen her ability to manipulate candlelight and shadows in video recordings."

"But that was in a man-made arena. If she faced a real crisis, she might reveal some of her weaknesses."

"Brandt Reiner..."

Hearing the hidden meaning in Brandt's words, Hildegard turned to look at the commander of the Golden Rule Guards.

"You are now loyal to Leitania, not the Hochberg family."

"I know this, Your Highness. No one knows it better than I do."

"If not for this, how could I have watched his brother and father die in battle on that night twenty-three years ago..."

He closed his eyes, and even though he knew his words were disrespectful, Brant still said them.

The guilt of not saving someone in danger tormented him for twenty-three years.

Twenty-three years ago, his achievements in the war allowed him to rise to his current high position, sitting at the pinnacle of the Golden Law Guard.

But the foundation of his ascent was forged from the bones of Walter's father and brother.

Whenever he saw what happened to the Hochberg family now, his heart ached.

If he could do it again, he would abandon the Electors' coalition and the Queen's orders and choose to be with the people he is loyal to.

But unfortunately, what has happened cannot be undone.

He is a soldier now, and as a soldier, it is his duty to obey orders.

"The sword and magic of the Golden Rule Guard belong only to the Golden Rule and Leitania."

"Golden Melody and Leitania? What if I can only choose one?"

As if deliberately making things difficult for him, Hildegard picked out some of Brandt's words and placed them in front of him.

This is a multiple-choice question, a multiple-choice question that was once placed before Brandt.

"The golden rhythm defines Leitania. For thousands of years, the two have never been separated." After pondering for a while, Brandt gave his answer.

"The Golden Rule was created by the Leithanians. It is not unchangeable. Hercules did it before, cutting out the Syracuse part and removing it from Leithania."

Hildegard spoke softly, her fingers running over the petals blooming in front of her.

"Taking on some responsibilities means giving up other responsibilities. Think clearly, Brent. No one can never make no choices."

"You still resent yourself and us, don't you?"

The petals were crushed between her slender fingertips, and Hildegarde walked out, with the faint fragrance of flowers lingering around her.

Looking at Hildegarde's departing back, Brandt's lips moved twice, and he uttered two indifferent words.

"Don't dare."

Volume 8: Chapter 15: Posthumous Works

The melodious sound of the piano echoed in the empty room, and black and white became the two colors that embellished the room.

Sitting upright on the seat, Arturo moved her arms gently, and as the bow moved, pleasant sounds floated out from the cello in her hands.

As if carrying magic power, it slowly dissipated towards the surroundings.

In front of her, a woman stared blankly at the easel in front of her, on which was placed a painting that she had carefully crafted...?

The main color is black, like the night sky. The houses and people underneath are all covered by black. Only some vague outlines can be seen, so that people will not think it is a graffiti.

The paintbrush in the woman's hand was immersed in the paint tray, and the colorful paints were all mixed together by her, looking extremely messy.

Picking up the paintbrush stained with color, the woman painted on the painting a few more times, but the color on the brush was assimilated the moment it touched the black curtain, turning into the pitch-black night.

The woman stopped, and the music in the house also stopped.

"What an unforgettable night! Your painting is almost finished..." Opening his eyes, Arturo looked at the "painting".

"Why did you stop..."

Her brows furrowed slightly, and the woman's expression began to change, showing a hint of impatience, but not towards Arturo, but towards herself.

"It is your strong emotions that have kept you painting until now. Your body can no longer sustain such exhaustion."

"Do you really want... me to keep playing?"

Arturo asked softly, his fingertips pressing the strings.

The woman did not answer. She just kept repeating the action of painting, even though her movements had begun to tremble and even though her efforts were no longer effective.

"Okay... I've heard your answer."

The woman proved her attitude with her actions, so Arturo stopped "persuading" her.

The woman's emotions turned into notes that entered her ears. Her body began to analyze these emotions, allowing Arturo to temporarily resonate with the woman in front of him.

"Pain, regret, remorse, obsession... In your heart, Leitania died with you on this night in the painting..."

"Then please allow me to play this elegy for you that is over twenty years late..."

The sound of the piano rang out again, no longer as ethereal and melodious as before, but with a sad tone, like a funeral song.

With Arturo's "help", the woman's painting speed suddenly increased and her movements were not as difficult as before.

In the darkness, moonlight shone down, illuminating the woman's tired yet energetic face.

A streak of blood appeared from her lips. It was just a tiny trace at first, but as the tune of the music changed, the blood gathered and dripped down the woman's chin.

Tick ​​tock...tick tock...

The piano sounds mixed with the sound of blood splashing, and the symphony became a new piece of music.

Seeing the woman's willingness to die, Arturo couldn't help but slow down his movements.

She saw the shadow of her mother in the woman.

The same unreservedness, the same willingness to throw herself into a flame. When my mother went to the front lines of the battlefield to report, was she also like the women today?

Did she ever regret it?

why...

Why do we still accept death even though we know it will be meaningless?

Are the so-called dreams and beliefs enough to make people risk their lives for them?

The emotions passed through her body, but Arturo could only feel them temporarily. She couldn't keep these things in her body, so naturally she couldn't understand them.

She could only play the piano mechanically, listening, feeling, and searching...

I don’t know how long it took, the night faded away, the dawn was about to rise, and the music of the piano stopped.

Arturo put down his aching hand and looked at the woman in the distance.

A pool of blood had formed beneath the woman's body. She held the paintbrush in her hand and dotted the painting. In the early morning light, colors appeared on the painting.

She herself had already stopped breathing and was sitting there quietly...

Another tragedy...

Arturo put away his instrument without any emotion, opened the door and walked out slowly.

The early morning light was a bit dazzling, and Arturo subconsciously raised his hand to cover it.

Avoiding the sunlight, Arturo walked downstairs and the room returned to silence again.

About an hour later, a maid came up with breakfast, stood in front of the door and knocked.

"Madam, you should take a break. You've been painting all night..."

"Do you want me to contact the people at the art museum? Ask them to postpone the exhibition for a while?"

"Since the musician came, you've been much more energetic than usual, but your illness isn't completely healed yet. You still need to get more rest..."

The maid's concern was unquestionable as she spoke these words. Even though there was no response from inside the door, she still didn't feel anything was wrong.

She raised her hand and knocked a few more times, then raised her voice slightly: "Madam? Are you asleep?"

"Madam? Madam?!"

Click...

The movements of his hands unconsciously became heavier, and under the maid's continuous knocking, the door made a slight sound.

"The door is not closed?"

Looking at the door that was pushed open a crack, the maid instinctively felt something was wrong.

There was a strange smell at the tip of her nose. She had only smelled it in the kitchen before. It was a bit fishy...

"Ma'am... I'm coming in..."

After greeting the person inside, the maid picked up the breakfast and pushed the door open and walked in.

The next second, the food she was holding steadily in her hands fell to the ground with a bang. The delicate porcelain pieces mixed with the food and pierced her palm.

"Husband...Madam!"

Collapsing on the ground, the maid looked at her master who was "sitting" in her seat, and felt her body go cold.

The bloodstains on the ground had dried and solidified. Different from what she smelled outside the door before, the pungent smell of blood rushed into her nose, making the maid completely remember how she knew this smell.

The maid crawled backwards with stiff hands and feet, wanting to scream, but unable to make a sound, and could only distance herself from her master.

The aroma of breakfast mixed with the smell of blood, appearing harmonious and strange.

.........

In the center of Trilin Terme, a large number of people gathered in front of an art gallery. Even though it was working hours, they were willing to stand here at the risk of being late just to learn something.

From time to time there was a commotion among the crowd.