Chapter 117 : Chapter 117
Chapter 117. The La Roche Victory Dance!
That night, inside a guest room at La Roche Fortress in Thorne City.
After spending the entire day serving as a sparring partner and dealing with all manner of arrangements from Sir Lucius, Eli felt a fatigue he had not experienced in quite some time.
He washed up simply, changed into a comfortable nightshirt, and was just about to blow out the oil lamp and lie down to rest.
Just as he reached the bedside, an extremely faint click came from the door.
Eli turned his head sharply, his guard instantly rising. He saw the door open by a narrow crack.
A slender, familiar figure slipped silently through the gap like a nimble cat.
Then the door was quickly closed again.
Naturally, Eli recognized that figure. He could not help blurting out in a low voice, “Aila?”
The one who had slipped inside was Lynn.
She raised one finger to her lips and made a shushing gesture at him.
There was a trace of mischief and tension on her breathtakingly beautiful face.
Then she hurried to his side and, without giving him a chance to say anything, threw herself straight into his arms.
Her hands wrapped tightly around his waist as she buried her cheek against his chest.
Her voice came out muffled. “Eli... I missed you... Sleeping alone in such a large room feels a little strange...”
With such softness and fragrance in his arms, and with her tender, sweet words in his ears, more than half of Eli’s weariness seemed to vanish in an instant.
He bent down, slipped one arm beneath the backs of her knees, and with a slight exertion lifted her clean off the ground in a bridal carry.
Lynn let out a quiet cry of surprise and instinctively looped her arms around his neck.
Carrying her, Eli walked to the bed and gently laid her down upon the soft mattress.
Then he leaned over her, his fingers lightly brushing across her flushed cheek, while a teasing and affectionate gleam shone in his eyes.
“So it is Her Highness the Princess who has graced me with a midnight visit.
Then shall your humble servant... attend to Your Highness properly?”
Lynn was so embarrassed by his brazen words of love that her face turned crimson, like a peach ripened to perfection.
Her long lashes trembled faintly, and in the end, she let out an almost inaudible “Mm.”
Before long, soft murmurs and low moans rose within the room...
Eli felt that tonight’s moon seemed especially bright and especially gentle...
...
The next morning, Eli was awakened by a measured knocking at the door.
Still half-asleep, he opened his eyes groggily and instinctively reached toward the space beside him, only to find it empty.
At some unknown point, Lynn had already left.
“Baron Pendragon, are you awake?
By Sir Lucius’s order, I have come to assist you in dressing.” A respectful manservant’s voice came from outside the door.
Eli rubbed his eyes, shook off the last remnants of sleep, and called out, “Come in.”
Two neatly dressed middle-aged manservants entered through the door.
In their hands they carried a set of garments that looked distinctly formal and luxurious.
With their practiced assistance, Eli managed, with some difficulty, to get himself dressed in this attire that had clearly been prepared for an important occasion.
Once everything was in order, Eli followed the servant toward the main gate of La Roche Fortress.
Before they even reached it, he could already hear the clamor and the neighing of horses coming from that direction.
When he drew near, he saw that the fortress’s enormous, heavy front gate was already fully open.
A considerable crowd had gathered in the square outside.
Dozens of magnificently dressed nobles of distinguished bearing stood in small groups with their attendants, conversing in low voices.
Even more eye-catching were the knights standing in formation on both sides of the square.
They wore gleaming armor engraved with different family crests, yet without exception they all carried the same air of hardened sharpness.
The horses snorted restlessly, white vapor spilling from their nostrils. The entire scene was solemn and grand.
At the center of the crowd, Sir Lucius was speaking with a nobleman who looked somewhat older and possessed a calm, steady temperament.
Lucius noticed Eli at a glance and lifted a hand to beckon him over.
Eli quickly steadied himself and jogged over.
Lucius introduced him to the nobleman beside him.
“Marquess Claude, I assume you have heard of him as well. This is Baron Eli Pendragon.
Not long ago, it was he who removed a major hidden danger for the Western Frontier on the southwestern border and rendered no small service.”
When the nobleman known as Marquess Claude heard that, a trace of puzzlement crossed his face.
I know of him? A baron? One who rendered great service?
He thought it over from every angle, yet no matter how he searched his memory, he could not recall any family name called Pendragon in the noble lineages of the Western Frontier, or even in the entire Kingdom of Orlando...
Despite his confusion, and out of absolute respect for Sir Lucius, Marquess Claude maintained impeccable courtesy.
He gave Eli a gentle nod by way of greeting and committed the name to memory. “Baron Pendragon, a pleasure.”
Stepping forward, Eli bowed respectfully to both men. “Sir Lucius. Marquess Claude.”
Lucius continued, “This time, the important duty of representing the Western Frontier at the Great Council in the royal capital, and swearing your oath of fealty there, will fall to you and Marquess Hohenzollern.
The honor of the Western Frontier, and the position it will take, must be shown by the two of you.”
Marquess Claude’s expression grew solemn, and he answered in a grave voice.
“Please rest assured, Sir! House Claude stands united as one!
Once I arrive in the royal capital, all my actions will without fail follow Duke Federico’s... no, the Regent’s commands!”
As he reached the end of that statement, Marquess Claude could not suppress the joy and pride on his face.
“Sir Lucius, speaking of which, our Western Frontier truly has risen to the very summit of the kingdom now!
For the Duke of the Western Frontier to serve as Regent—what an honor that is!
Never in Orlando’s history has there been such an example! Hahaha!”
Lucius kept a faint smile on his face and nodded, seeming equally gratified by the matter.
Yet Eli, standing slightly behind Lucius, noticed something keenly.
At the moment Marquess Claude uttered the words “the very summit of the kingdom,” Lucius’s hand, hanging naturally behind his back, clenched into a fist almost imperceptibly.
Though it loosened again in the next instant, that minute movement did not escape Eli’s eye.
Something stirred in Eli’s heart, and he fell into thought.
Not long afterward, a loud and hearty laugh rang out as Marquess Marcus strode over with great vigor.
Today he wore an even more magnificent and formal suit of armor, with a dark blue cloak draped over it, making him look imposing in the extreme.
“Sir Lucius! Claude! The time is nearly upon us, and all our men are assembled! I say we begin at once!”
Marcus’s voice rang like a great bronze bell, brimming with surging martial spirit.
Lucius nodded his assent.
At once, Marquess Marcus turned around to face the gathered ranks in the square and let out a mighty roar.
“Men of the Western Frontier! Make ready!”
Eli was a little confused. Ready? Ready for what? Were they about to depart at once?
The moment that thought arose—
Woooo—
A low, weighty horn blast, as though it had drifted out of some ancient age, suddenly tore across the morning sky and cut off every conversation.
That horn was like a clear signal.
In the next instant, the many musicians already prepared around the square seemed to ignite all at once and began to play!
The sounds of every instrument—war drums, horns, bagpipes, and harps—blended together in a wondrous union.
At first the notes were somewhat chaotic, but they quickly became perfectly ordered, bursting into a melody Eli had never heard before.
The rhythm was sharp and distinct, and the melody magnificent and stirring.
It was filled with the murderous clangor of steel and the bold elation of triumphant return.
It made one’s blood boil, one’s heart hammering wildly in step with that fierce rhythm!
And then an even more astonishing scene unfolded.
Marquess Marcus, who had returned to the very front of the formation, heard that familiar melody and was instantly overcome with a look of extreme excitement.
He actually began, in time with the music, to lead the crowd in a dance of immense antiquity and tremendous force!
His movements were broad and unrestrained, at times like a lion locked in combat, at times like a warhorse in full gallop.
Every step struck the ground with a heavy thud, perfectly matching the beat of the drums.
And it was not only Marcus.
Every Western Frontier noble, knight, and even many of the soldiers and onlooking townspeople in the square seemed to have been awakened by some shared memory running in their blood.
One after another, they followed Marcus’s lead.
To the rhythm of the music, they all performed the same dance.
“Hoo! Hah!”
“Hoo! Hah!”
The men shouted in battle-cries timed to the rhythm, their movements perfectly unified, full of savage strength and astonishing momentum.
The entire square seemed to transform into an ancient altar.
At this moment, it was as if some solemn yet fervent rite before battle were being carried out there.
Eli felt as though his own blood had been set ablaze, his heart pounding madly in his chest.
An indescribable excitement and trembling spread through his entire body.
At his side, Marquess Claude gazed at the magnificent spectacle, and a look of nostalgia and emotion appeared in his eyes as well.
He explained softly to Eli, “What a sight to behold... It truly makes one nostalgic.
This is the La Roche Victory Dance. It is said to have descended from the ancient ancestors of the La Roche Family.
It is performed only before the departure for a great campaign in the Western Frontier, or upon a triumphant return.
It is used to honor the ancestors and the gods, and to pray for victory and glory...”
Not long after, the low horn sounded once more, long and solemn.
The dance ceased in an instant.
All those who had just been dancing in fervent abandon seemed to have received a command.
In unison, they turned toward the main gate of La Roche Fortress, dropped to one knee, and bowed their heads.
The entire square fell deathly silent in an instant, with only the sound of the roaring golden lion banners snapping in the wind remaining.
Eli hurriedly knelt along with everyone around him.
An old butler appeared at Lucius’s side at some unknown moment, holding in his hands a great two-handed sword adorned with the emblem of a roaring golden lion.
With due solemnity, Lucius accepted that sword of inheritance, the symbol of the La Roche Family’s honor.
Holding it with both hands, he walked forward step by measured step until he stood before Marquess Marcus, who still knelt on one knee.
Marquess Marcus lifted his head, his expression grave, and respectfully extended both hands.
Lucius placed the heavy greatsword steadily into Marcus’s grasp.
Marcus took the sword, surged to his feet, turned to face all the sons and daughters of the Western Frontier kneeling on one knee, and with all his might raised the blade high into the sky, letting out a deafening roar.
“La Roche!”
That shout was like a spark cast into boiling oil, igniting in an instant the passion all had been holding back.
“La Roche! Supreme Might! Sovereign Authority!”
“LA ROCHE! SUPREME MIGHT! SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY!”
“LA ROCHE! SUPREME MIGHT! SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY!!!”
The cheers rose layer upon layer like a tidal wave sweeping across the entire square and crashing into the heavens!
Every face was filled with fanatic devotion, loyalty, and boundless pride!
Kneeling amid the crowd, Eli stared blankly at this staggering spectacle.
He watched as the Western Frontier nobles who were ordinarily proud or reserved now cried out the same name like pious believers.
La Roche!
Such hearts! Such prestige!
The golden-lion La Roche Family, who had ruled the Western Frontier for a thousand years—the uncrowned king of the Western Frontier!
Their incomparable glory and prestige had long since been branded into the blood and souls of every person of the Western Frontier!
At that moment, within the heart of Eli Pendragon, that thing he had suppressed before flared up once more like fire!
Supreme Might! Sovereign Authority!
A true man ought to be like this!