Chapter 186
Only Three Remain
This time, it wasn’t just Eivass and Lily.
The Grand Guardian, his wife, and even David had changed into their attire and headed to the Silver and Tin Hall.
According to the message, Prince Andrew had suddenly died at noon yesterday. After rescue attempts and an autopsy, it was confirmed that his heart had exploded due to a curse.
More than half a day had passed, and it was clear that the subsequent matters had been largely processed and investigated.
The message was sent to the Grand Guardian to invite them to bid farewell to the deceased.
— For some reason, Avalon’s royal family never holds funerals for ordinary royal descendants. Either it’s a state funeral and they are buried directly in St. Genevieve’s Chapel, or they are dealt with silently on their own.
Ordinary people don’t experience… funeral rites like the ones Sherlock enjoyed during his faked death.
Precisely because of this, they had changed into all-black clothes when they went to pay their respects. To show their respect, they walked instead of riding griffins. After all, most of those who received invitations lived in the White Queen District, and a few in the Red Queen District. The trip to the island in the middle of the two districts, the White and Red Queen District, was not far.
This was Eivass’s first time entering the Silver and Tin Hall through the main entrance—when Isabel had invited him for dinner before, he had gone directly to the side hall. Entering through the side hall door and making two turns led to the dining room. He hadn’t seen anything else.
After crossing the Griffin Bridge and entering the main gate amidst a solemn crowd of griffins, one could see a vast square. Arranged in the order of a clock’s dial were imposing statues of the twelve knights, each over four to five meters tall, appearing like giants.
In the very center of the statues stood a three-tiered fountain. At the heart of the fountain was a statue of a white gryphon, its wings outstretched as if in mid-flight.
Continuing through a long corridor led to a silvery-white arched structure. Engraved upon it were the words of the Knight’s Declaration, personally penned by Lancelot I when Avalon was founded in days past. The handwriting wasfluid and elegant, an easily recognizable cursive script.
Passing through the archway led to a garden. It was only after traversing the garden that one could enter the Silver and Tin Hall.
The Silver and Tin Hall was not a palace in the traditional sense. Its interior resembled more of a university campus, a solemn academic museum, or a grand cathedral—its decorations primarily used gold, gray, and white as the base colors. The carpets and tablecloths were woven with shades of green and gold.
Inside the palace, one found an abundance of various portraits.
In addition to the monarchs of past eras, there were portraits of outstanding royal family members and famous and great individuals from each period. Their names and life stories were displayed beneath their portraits.
But soon, Eivass found a painting that, while somewhat unfamiliar, he couldn’t help but pay attention to—
It depicted a young woman, appearing to be in her late twenties or early thirties.
She had long, dark-gold hair as smooth and uniform as a solid piece of metal, with ends cut as neatly as if by a blade. Her ears were slightly pointed, suggesting a partial elven heritage. Her pupils were also dark gold, giving her a cold and heartless impression. The frameless glasses she wore lent her an air of cool intellectuality.
Beneath her portrait, her name was written:
[Freya Moru Moriarty]
1868-Present
And in the section for achievements, there were only a few lines:
“Reproduced the formula for the elixir of life, lost since the Round Table era.”
“Invented an unstable revival potion.”
“Completed Avalon’s first liver transplant surgery.”
Eivass was stunned.
…Moriarty?
But… who was she?
Noticing Eivass’s gaze, the Grand Guardian casually said, “Your sister…”
“…I have a sister?”
“Don’t you remember? You must have arrived before she left.”
Hearing George’s words, Eivass’s heart leaped.
He confirmed that in his memory, no such sister named “Freya” existed.
His memory was good; such a thing should not be so easily forgotten.
And Eivass wasn’t the only one unaware of this. Edward had also stated that Old Moriarty had no other adopted children, and Yulia had no recollection either. Up until now, there should only be the three siblings of the Moriarty family.
But “Freya” was born in 1868, meaning she was now thirty, and would turn thirty-one this year. Her age was certainly much younger than Edward’s, implying she should be Edward’s sister.
Had Saint George misremembered?
But besides the Grand Guardian, Master Janis seemed to know of her existence as well—
[After all, he is also a “Moriarty.” Everyone knows that Old James had a famously sharp eye for choosing adopted children. Eivass, like his elder brothers and sisters, was born to be noticed and loved.]
The words Janis spoke when Eivass first met her suddenly echoed in Eivass’s mind.
…What’s going on? Is my memory faulty?
Eivass remained silent, pretending to be nonchalant as he asked, “Does Your Excellency the Grand Guardian also know her?”
“Many people must know Freya. She was quite famous back then… Avalon’s most brilliant doctor,” the Grand Guardian replied.
“Where is Sister Freya now?” Eivass inquired.
“She went to the Church for further studies. You might be able to see her this time,” the Grand Guardian said.
Eivass fell silent, secretly making a note of this matter.
“Where are we going, Your Excellency the Grand Guardian?”
“You can call me Uncle George or Uncle Barton, Eivass.”
The Grand Guardian first corrected Eivass’s overly polite and distant address, then explained, “I need to pay my respects to Her Majesty the Queen first. Do you want to come with us?”
“…May I?” Eivass hesitated.
He was unsure if Her Majesty the Queen was currently consumed by grief.
Meeting her for the first time in this moment might leave a less than favorable first impression. It was possible that when the Queen remembered him later, it would be associated with this sadness—that was also a possibility.
Just like how if someone hears a particular song while happy or sad, years later they might have forgotten the events and their thoughts at the time, but the feelings from that moment would still linger in their hearts.
“Of course, there’s no problem.”
The Grand Guardian replied decisively, “Since you don’t object, then we’ll go together.”
To Eivass’s surprise, the number of people invited to the wake was not large. It was even fewer than at Sherlock’s funeral, and not many displayed signs of grief; they merely had stern, solemn expressions, silent.
Lily pushed Eivass’s wheelchair, following the Grand Guardian’s family as they proceeded. Some people saw Eivass, but at most they offered a slight nod; no one came up to greet him or stared at him.
Soon, they reached Her Majesty the Queen’s chambers.
Eivass had originally expected them to meet in a formal setting—perhaps the Throne Room or the Round Table Hall. Her Majesty the Queen, wearing her crown and robes, would sit on her throne, and they would have to kneel and pay homage.
— In principle, the procedure for meeting the Queen should indeed be like this. The knowledge Eivass had learned from books told him so.
But after knocking and entering, they simply stood by the bedside and nodded slightly towards the old woman lying on the bed, “May the Silver Crown Dragon watch over you, Your Majesty the Queen.”
Eivass followed suit, placing his right hand over his chest and saying, “May the Silver Crown Dragon watch over you, Your Majesty the Queen.”
To Eivass’s surprise, the Queen, whose grandson had just passed away and who was known for her usually lively demeanor, showed no signs of sadness or impatience. Instead, she appeared unexpectedly gentle and kind.
This was understandable.
The relentless curses had been ongoing for over a decade. The first occurred not long after Sherlock’s father was appointed Minister of Palace Affairs for his military merits, and the most recent was yesterday.
If Her Majesty the Queen had not adapted to this, she would likely have died from grief long ago.
With the death of Prince Andrew, only three direct descendants of Queen Sophia remained.
Her fifth child, Albert, and Albert’s daughter, Isabel. And the posthumous child of Sophia’s other daughter, a two-year-old boy named John Du Lac.
Perhaps due to her age, the Queen, once a beauty, now looked less attractive and even a little overweight. She was vastly different from the portrait of her youthful self that Eivass had seen before.
The Queen’s chin, tucked into the blanket, was round and prominent like a persimmon. Her hair was gray, and even in bed, she wore a small hat for warmth.
Queen Sophia wore a thick green sweater and held a knitting needle in her hand. Like any ordinary old lady, she was knitting something on the bed—Eivass could tell at a glance that it was a pair of gloves. She was using beige wool yarn. Her craftsmanship was not excellent, nor was she particularly skilled, appearing as if she had just started learning, with many stitches that were knitted incorrectly and then forcibly corrected.
“Ah, hello…”
Queen Sophia said softly, “Thank you for coming to see Andrew off.”
The Queen looked somewhat tired and drowsy at this moment. Her voice was soft and a little muffled.
It was as if she had dozed off while knitting and was woken by their arrival. Her eyes struggled to open, but her voice still held no trace of impatience or anger.
The first words she spoke to Eivass made his heart skip a beat:
“You are Eivass, aren’t you? The Crown Lord mentioned you to me not long ago.”
— The Crown Lord was another name for the Silver Crown Dragon.
Chapter Two will be a bit later, but not too much later!
Within an hour!
