Chapter 829: Chapter 829: The Butterfly of Freedom
When Shard arrived at the Cassandra Auction House from the rain holding a bouquet of flowers, the first-floor hall that had been nearly wrecked by the Vampire Kind on Wednesday night had already restored to its usual bustling appearance.
Even though it was raining today, businessn and nobles dressed in refined attire still delightedly road the auction house, chatting about the coveted auction items or jesting about recent happenings in the city.
Shard put away his umbrella and handed it to a waiting attendant, overhearing soone ntion the tree at the summit of Sicarl Mountain.
Rita Swift, the apprentice of the witch with pretty flaxen hair, happened to be on the first floor, directing people to rehang the portraits and photos on the auction house walls. Seeing Shard, she warmly approached:
“Mr. Watson, Granny said just this morning that you would definitely co by today or tomorrow.”
She seed particularly pleased, leading Shard to the top floor of the auction house to et Granny Cassandra.
As they climbed the stairs and were alone, she blushed and excitedly told Shard:
“My teacher is now letting
try to manage the auction house. Although it’s just the headquarters’ logistics and financial audit work, it’s still a good start. She said I did well on Wednesday night and this is my reward.”
This sowhat insecure girl smiled happily:
“I know it’s surely related to you rescuing my teacher’s teachers.”
“No, no, it was that one who saved them.”
Shard pointed upward, signifying the deity:
“I rely made so insignificant contributions.”
“That’s quite remarkable. You know, after Granny told
about what happened that night, I really felt it was akin to the myths recorded in True God Church books.”
She slightly lowered her voice:
“Before you left the auction house that night, you already knew the Great One would descend, yet you still ran towards Sicarl Mountain… truly admirable, Mr. Hamilton, you are the most remarkable man I’ve ever t.”
Shard shook his head:
“Speaking of which, is Mr. Armand Bernhardt still confined in the basent?”
“Soone paid the ransom on Saturday. Granny erased a small portion of his mories from Wednesday night, made him sign a special contract to ensure confidentiality, and then let him go.”
Mr. Benhart was gravely injured that night, his mories already unclear, so this wouldn’t harm him.
“He only rembers eting you but doesn’t recall what questions you asked. Additionally, he left you a letter… Granny checked it, and it’s mostly about thanking you for your help. He wants to invite you to visit his estate when you have ti. Mr. Benhart’s family runs a large winery in Carsonrick and controls many good vineyards.”
Before eting Granny Cassandra, Miss Swift fetched the letter. Mr. Armand Bernhardt brought the Godfall vessel, the Vampire Kind prince, to this city, but he himself didn’t know much about the Godfall. Therefore, Shard felt no animosity towards him; on the contrary, he thought he was a decent person. After all, before Shard headed to the mountains on Wednesday night, Mr. Benhart repeatedly advised him not to take risks.
If he has the opportunity to visit Carsonrick in the future, Shard would visit this gentleman. He had heard many tis from Luviya and Dorothy about the scenic Southern Nation Vineyard, which would likely be nice.
The fierce battle on Wednesday didn’t injure the two witches much. Granny Cassandra was still the sa, standing up to welco Shard when he arrived.
The Old Witch had heard from Sister Delphine about what transpired in the mountains that night. Shard didn’t know if she entirely believed the sowhat embellished and polished story, but at least outwardly she appeared to believe it all.
She warmly invited Shard to stay for lunch today, then led him to see Grace and Helen. Sister Delphine had brought them back to the city that night, and they had been resting at the auction house since.
This ti, however, they were not in the basent room with strong sealing effects. The Red Butterfly Twins now resided in a room on the auction house’s top floor. The room had been converted into a dedicated sickroom, with two four-poster beds placed with a wooden nightstand between, and two red butterflies orchids placed in porcelain vases at the bedside.
The curtains were drawn, showing the rainy sky and street outside, but if it were sunny, the view from here would probably be good.
When Shard opened the door and ca in, Grace was lying in her bed, reading the newspaper and telling stories to her sister. Shard was sure the newspaper was “Steam Bird Daily,” as Grace was reading a story from “Hamilton Detective Stories.”
Neither Granny Cassandra nor Miss Swift ca in, as Shard entered the room alone. Although it was dayti, the room was lit by gas lamps due to the rain outside. The warm yellow light unexpectedly made the room quite cozy.
Grace stopped her storytelling and, with Helen, looked at Shard. Their two pairs of blue eyes were so clear, and they appeared in good spirits.
But compared to Thursday dawn when Shard parted with them, the girls now seed to have shrunk by a size. This not only referred to their physique but also to the fact that they had changed from twenty-sothing young won to fifteen or sixteen-year-old girls. Though older than when Shard first saw them at the god’s banquet, they were still quite youthful:
“Grace, Helen, how are you feeling?”
Shard greeted as he walked in, attempting to place the flowers he was holding into the vase.
“Good morning, sir. We feel rather well, as if a weight had been lifted off our backs.”
Grace said, wanting to get out of bed to pour water for Shard, but he stopped her:
“You just need to lie in bed.”
He pulled up a chair for himself and sat between the two hospital beds.
“Good morning, sir. You’re finally here. We’ve lost a lot of our power, and a lot of our mories, but paradoxically, we feel freer.”
Helen also spoke, a bright smile on her face that Shard had never seen on them before:
“The blurriness of those mories makes the earliest ones clearer. Although we’re still relics, at least at this mont, we feel like we’ve returned to being human.”
“But it has co at a cost. My sister and I no longer need to guard the seal or perform the cycle ritual every twenty-two years. However, we can no longer freely leave the Sicarl Mountain Region.”
Grace added.
While recuperating in bed, they both wore nightgowns. Grace’s nightgown, featuring lace around the collar, was mostly white, while Helen’s nightgown, embroidered with butterfly patterns around the collar, was black and dark purple. They both liked this color combination.
“There’s always a price to pay. After all, you are the Red Butterflies that flew from Sicarl Mountain.”
Shard said and then reached out, obtaining permission before holding their pale hands. A mont later, he received a response:
[Due to having a quarter of their souls and bodies taken by the Evil God, apart from age regression, their souls are now extrely fragile and unable to engage in any combat for a short period. It’s best not to use any power.]
They clearly knew this, but they hadn’t told Shard.
[Additionally, as the cost of paying the Maze Lock for the Sleeping Princess, their powers drastically weakened, and the Whisper Elents within them diluted significantly, reducing them from Angel-Level relics.]
“Did the relics’ level permanently degrade?”
Shard was slightly surprised.
[Of course not. Their power was plundered by the Evil God, and they paid the price of the Maze Lock. Unlike your Red Moon, which requires a specific thod to unseal, their Red Butterfly powers will eventually return as they recover.]
“Why? Is this preferential treatnt by the Maze Lock? Why is it harsher on
as the caster?”
“She” chuckled lightly:
[Outlander, don’t you understand? While the Red Moon is your power, the Red Butterfly is both their power and their curse. This curse is deeply rooted in their souls and will never disappear as long as they exist.]
“Then, how fast can the Whisper Elents and the curse recover?”
[Roughly estimated, it would recover within a hundred years. However, you need closer contact with them for a more accurate answer.]
“Closer contact…”
Shard glanced at Helen, who now seed only fifteen or sixteen, and asked:
“Are there any other issues apart from these?”
[The incompleteness of their souls ans they must stay close to each other to maintain their souls from further fracturing. Hence, until their powers fully return to peak, they can’t be apart by more than 100 feet (about 30m). Additionally, besides remaining in this region, they can stay by your side or move about at No. 6, Saint Delan Square.]
“Why?”
[You’ve absorbed too much of this region’s soul power and can be considered a part of this region. No. 6, Saint Delan Square, being your residence, can also be viewed as a part of this region.]
“She” explained everything.
Shard nodded and conveyed these things to the two black-haired girls. They had already sensed these costs but didn’t mind; instead, they seed happy about Shard’s last point:
“Sir, if you have ti, take us to see your ho. We’ll figure out a way to make long-distance spatial movent; there’s always a way.”
“Of course, but it will have to wait until your condition improves. I can take you to the ruined tower in the mountain; perhaps you can use its power, considering that the Old God…”
He didn’t continue, the Twin Gods likely inherited the dual power of the “Primordial Rift” ancient god of space, and the Red Butterflies, endowed with the old “twin gods” power, should also be able to wield the power of the [Spatial Labyrinth].
But Grace and Helen hadn’t established any markers at Saint Delan Square, so Shard still needed a relic like the [Traveler’s Gate] to let them briefly visit the square and verify the hypothesis before achieving cross-regional movent.
And this would have to wait until the Red Butterflies’ health improved. They now had plenty of ti together, awaiting the next visit. Ti would not leave too many scars on them; though not complete freedom, at least Grace and Helen, the Red Butterflies that flew from the Fifth Era to this age, had achieved their inner freedom.
Shard looked forward to them creating more stories, carrying mories of past people and hopes for the future, living freely.
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