When the plot-skips players into the game world Chapter 262

Chapter 262: Chapter 184: Only 3 Left Chapter 262: Chapter 184: Only 3 Left This ti, it wasn’t just Aiwass and Lily.

The Guardian and his wife, and even David, had all changed their clothes and headed to the Hall of Silver and Tin.

According to the ssage in the letter, it was said that Prince Andrew had suddenly died during lunch the day before at noon.

After resuscitation and an autopsy, it was confird to be a heart rupture caused by a curse.

Now more than half a day had passed, it was clear that the follow-up matters had already been almost completely dealt with and investigated.

They were sending the letter to the Guardian as an invitation for them to bid farewell to the body.

——For so reason, the royal family of Avalon never held funeral ceremonies for ordinary royal offsprings.

...

Either a State Funeral, directly buried in St.

Genvieve Chapel, or they would deal with it quietly on their own.

There would not be the kind of funeral ceremony enjoyed by Sherlock during his feigned death for common people.

For this reason, when they visited this ti, they directly changed into all-black clothes.

Out of respect, they did not ride Gryphons but walked, since most of those who received invitations lived in the White Queen District, a few in the Red Queen District, and it wasn’t far to the island in the middle of the Red-White Queen District.

This was the first ti Aiwass entered the Hall of Silver and Tin through the main entrance——when Isabel had invited him for a al before, he had gone directly to the side hall.

Entering through the side hall’s main door and taking two turns led him to the dining room, without seeing anything else.

But passing through Gryphon Bridge and entering the main gate amidst the silent Gryphon crowd, one could see a huge square.

In the order of a clock dial, there were massive statues of the twelve Knights, each about four to five ters tall, looking much like Giants.

In the center of the statues was a three-tiered fountain.

At the very center of the fountain was a statue of a white Gryphon with its head raised and wings spread.

After walking through the long corridors, there was a silver-white arch building with the Knight’s declaration written by Lancelot I at the founding of Avalon engraved on it.

The handwriting was fluid and elegant, easily recognizable as cursive.

Through the archway, there was a garden.

Only after crossing the garden could one enter the Hall of Silver and Tin.

The Hall of Silver and Tin was not a palace in the traditional sense.

Its interior was more like a university campus, a serious academic museum, or a solemn church—it used mainly gold, grey, and white as its decorative colors.

The carpets and tablecloths were a mixture of green and gold.

Inside the palace, there were mostly various kinds of portraits.

In addition to the legacy of the Monarchs, there were outstanding royal family mbers and celebrities and great personalities of each era.

Their nas and biographies were hung under their portraits.

But soon, Aiwass found a sowhat unfamiliar yet intriguing painting—

It was a young woman who appeared to be in her twenties or thirties.

She had dark golden hair that was smooth as a single piece of tal and neatly cut at the ends like a blade.

Her ears were slightly pointed, suggesting that she had so Elf lineage.

Her pupils were also dark gold, looking cold and rciless.

The fraless glasses she wore made her appear aloof and intellectual.

Under her portrait, her na was written:

[Freya Morley Moriarty]

1868-Present

And in the accomplishnts section, there were just a few lines:

“Revived the lost formula of the Spiritual dicine of the Round Table era.”

“Invented an unstable revival compound.”

“Completed Avalon’s first liver transplantation surgery.”

Aiwass was stunned.

…Moriarty?

But…

who was she?

Noticing Aiwass’s gaze, the Guardian casually said, “That’s your sister…”

“…I have a sister?”

“Don’t you rember?

She left shortly after you arrived.”

Hearing George’s words, Aiwass was startled.

He was certain that there was no sister nad “Freya” in his mory.

His mory was good, and such a thing was not easily forgotten.

And it wasn’t just Aiwass who was unaware of this; Edward also said that Old Moriarty had no other foster children, and Yulia had no recollection.

Up till now, there should have only been the three of them left in the Moriarty Family.

But this “Freya” was born in 1868, which ant she was currently thirty years old, turning thirty-one soon.

She was definitely much younger than Edward, which ant she should be Edward’s sister.

Did Saint George rember it wrong?

Yet apart from the Guardian, it seed Master Yanis was also aware of her existence—

[——After all, he is also a “Moriarty.” Everyone knows that Old Jas’ eye for selecting foster children is famously sharp.

Just like his brothers and sisters, Aiwass was born to be conspicuous and loved.]

The first ti he saw Yanis, the words she spoke that ti suddenly echoed in the depths of Aiwass’s heart.

…What’s happening, is there sothing wrong with my mory?

Aiwass remained silent, pretending as if nothing were amiss.

He asked, “Does the Great Guardian also know her?”

“Many should know of Freya.

She was quite famous back then…

Avalon’s most talented doctor,” the Great Guardian said.

“Where is Sister Freya now?” Aiwass asked.

“She went to the Holy Nation to further her studies.

You might see her this ti,” the Great Guardian said.

Then, Aiwass said no more but quietly noted this in his heart.

“Where are we going, Great Guardian?”

“You can call Uncle George or Uncle Barton, Aiwass.”

First, the Great Guardian corrected Aiwass’s overly polite and thus distant manner of speaking, and then explained, “I need to visit Her Majesty the Queen first.

Would you like to join us?”

“…May I?” Aiwass hesitated.

He wasn’t sure if the Queen would be so overco with grief that she’d go mad.

eting her for the first ti under these circumstances might leave a poor first impression.

It was also possible that whenever she rembered him afterwards, the mory of her sadness at this ti would co to mind—this could happen.

It’s like when soone listens to a song during a mont of happiness or sadness, and years later, upon hearing that song again, they may have forgotten the events and their thoughts at the ti, but the emotions from that mont linger in the heart.

“Of course, that’s fine.”

The Great Guardian straightforwardly replied, “Since you don’t object, let’s go together.”

To Aiwass’s surprise, not many people had accepted the invitation to pay their respects to the remains.

In fact, there were even fewer people than at Sherlock’s funeral, and most didn’t show any signs of sorrow, just keeping a stern face, solemn and silent.

Lily pushed Aiwass’s wheelchair, following the Great Guardian’s family through the crowd.

So did notice Aiwass, but at most, they simply nodded their heads without coming over to greet him or staring at him continuously.

Before long, they arrived at the Queen’s personal chamber.

Aiwass had initially thought they would et in a formal place—like the throne room or Round Table Hall.

He imagined Her Majesty the Queen wearing her crown, draped in a robe, seated on her throne while they all kneeled and paid homage.

—After all, that is how one is supposed to et the Queen.

That’s what Aiwass had learned from his books.

But after knocking and entering, they simply stood by the bed and nodded slightly towards the old woman in bed: “May the Silver-Crowned Dragon watch over you, Your Majesty,” they said.

Aiwass followed suit, placing his right hand over his chest and speaking, “May the Silver-Crowned Dragon watch over you, Your Majesty.”

To Aiwass’s surprise, the Queen, whose grandson had just died and who was known for her exuberant spirit, seed neither sad nor agitated but unexpectedly gentle and kind.

But that was to be expected.

The continuous curses had been going on for over a decade.

It began not long after Sherlock’s father earned his position as Chamberlain due to his military accomplishnts, and the most recent incident happened just yesterday.

If the Queen hadn’t adapted by now, she would have likely died of grief long ago.

Now, with Prince Andrew’s death, Queen Sofia’s direct descendants had been reduced to three people.

Her fifth child, Albert, along with Albert’s daughter Isabelle.

There was also another daughter of Sofia’s unborn child, a boy of just two, John Du Lac.

Perhaps because of her advanced age, the once beautiful Queen no longer looked as lovely, even a bit stout, a stark contrast to the younger image of her Aiwass had seen in paintings.

Her chin, nestled in the bedding, was round and prominent like a persimmon.

Her hair had turned gray, and she still wore a small hat for warmth, even while in bed.

Queen Sofia wore a thick green sweater, clutching a sewing needle in her hand.

She seed just like an ordinary old woman, working on sothing with the needle in bed—Aiwass could tell at a glance that it was likely a glove, made from beige wool.

The workmanship was not particularly good or skilled, like that of a beginner, with many stitches gone astray and then forcibly corrected.

“Ah, hello…”

Queen Sofia spoke warmly, “Thank you for coming to send off Andrew.”

At that mont, the Queen looked tired and sowhat sleepy.

Her voice was soft and slightly slurred.

It was as if they had woken her from a nap she’d taken while knitting.

It seed difficult for her to even keep her eyes open, but there was still not a hint of impatience or irritation in her voice.

But what she said to Aiwass stopped his heart:

“You must be Aiwass, right?

The Crown Lord ntioned you to not long ago.”

—The Crown Lord is another na for the Silver-Crowned Dragon.