无限阅币的韩漫app

His heart was warmed beyond compare as the young girl ran across the room, and he kneeled down to catch her in his arms. He picked her up, beckoning Anneliese to join him in this reunion.

It had been some time since Argrave spoke with Sophia. It wasn’t for lack of trying; it was because of child labor. In the Vasquer family, even seven-year-olds were forced to work. Then again, the child yearned for the burden of employment. Generally, this was where the reasonable adults stepped in and set boundaries—working was for adults, not seven-year-olds. Perhaps Argrave and Anneliese weren’t such model parents after all.

But their child labor program had been remarkably successful. They had assigned some trusted Veidimen guards to her, assigned Vasilisa of Quadreign—whose A-rank ascension was uniquely suited to a role as a bodyguard—and then sent her off to the wider world to heal those who couldn’t be healed by ordinary means. Elenore had been keeping tabs on the girl, and she had earned something of a reputation around the nation.

A girl with the ability to restore limbs, sight, and bring the broken-minded back to their full spirits… it was a tale that aroused hope in these dark times. Since Gerechtigkeit spurred the undead of the Order of the Rose and the golems of the depths to attack passersby, there hadn’t been much hope to go around. Miracles seemed few and far between, yet Sophia… she was a miracle. And even given attempts to conceal her identity, some people did link Sophia back to Argrave, indirectly.

“I missed you this much!” Sophia spread her arms wide.

Argrave smiled, then held her with one arm. “I missed you more. From the floor, to here.” He held out his free arm as high as he could reach up.

Sophia thought for a moment, then her red eyes brightened with some mischievous competitiveness. “I missed you all the way… all the way to the moon and back!”

Argrave laughed. “Alright. You’ve got me beat, Sophia. But you don’t have to miss anymore, because I’m here. Let’s talk.”

#####

Anneliese, Argrave, and Sophia spent a brief afternoon discussing about where they’d been—a long preamble to the matter with Dario. They couldn’t well tell her the truth of the gruesome war, but they told her enough to satiate her curiosity. She, in turn, told them all kinds of tales about the people that she’d been helping—about how rewarding it was to restore people back to themselves, about the people that she’d met, about the stories that they’d had, and even some anecdotes about ‘Miss Vass.’

It was bittersweet. Sophia shouldn’t have to grow up this fast, but the time for regrets or introspection had long passed. She already had grown beyond compare, flourishing under the loose guidance of Anneliese, Argrave, Elenore, and now even Vasilisa. The drunkard Magister had set aside alcohol in her duties—yet another positive influence from the girl. Perhaps there was something to be said for filling Sophia’s early life with such vibrant, intense memories. Perhaps these experiences would prove intense enough to wash away some of what her father had done to her.

Even if it was unusual, wrong, perhaps even cruel… Argrave had to admit, they didn’t have much choice. This was the most positive way for Sophia to explore and refine her abilities. The alternative was the Alchemist’s dogmatic insistence. If their plan was to come together, they needed her to act well beyond her years. Perhaps when this was all said and done, they could put it all aside and treat her as she deserved… but for now, they had responsibilities to more than her alone.

In time, they steered the conversation to Dario. Sophia, ever the angel, was more than willing to help him. They took extra precautions introducing the two—Dario was knocked unconscious by a powerful brew, and they only allowed Sophia to see him when he was completely in the dreamworld. Argrave saw the young girl work with remarkable efficiency, identifying Dario’s problem, then simply… creating a solution from nothing at all.

His limbs, lacking the definition from strong bones, looked like noodles before Sophia’s work. But as she kneaded, willed, thought, he saw arms take shape, bones gain structure, joints restore to what they had been. He saw cracked, battered skin come back together, saw the broken, burnt face grow smooth. He saw all that the Heralds had stripped from Dario returned to him in moments. Dario had tried desperately to keep her bound in that eternal hell, yet now she brought him back to life. There was a certain irony in that.

When Dario next awoke, Argrave was sitting in a chair near him.

“How do you feel?” Argrave asked.

“…a little hollow,” Dario answered. “Is it… is it done? I mean…”

Argrave grabbed a wooden knife and tossed it at Dario. The man flinched and reacted quickly, catching it by its handle in a panic. When he comprehended it was a toy, he exhaled deeply and tossed the thing to the ground.

“Seems like you’ve still got some of that edge you had.” Argrave smiled wickedly.

“…that hurt,” Dario complained, caressing a sore part of his arm. He was stunned into silence as he noticed his skin rejuvenated, his arms normal and functional.

“But you didn’t break anything, did you?” He rose to his feet. “Best hope not. We’ve too many things in motion.”

Dario leaned back into his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Argrave walked to the door and knocked it twice, then Melanie opened the door.

“She’ll explain things,” Argrave said. “Me… much as I’d like to stay, things are moving fast. The Qircassian Coalition won’t rest on their own, so I’m going to give them a rest. Remember this gift I’ve given you rather well, Dario. Traugott needs to die.”

Melanie patted Argrave’s shoulder and promised, “I’ll teach the ugly, wretched bastard a lesson he’ll never forget. I’ll teach him just how useless he is. After that, we’ll deal with Traugott.”

Argrave smiled at her joke, gave her a serious nod, then left the room. He shut the door behind him, leaving Melanie and Dario alone.

“Heard you asked for me.” Melanie walked up to his bedside.

“You caught me. Stuck in my mind,” Dario admitted.

Melanie surveyed him. “You still look absolutely terrible. Suppose that’s just how you look. Even the wonderchild can’t fix bad genes, it seems. Or the heat from the forge warped your face, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Dario agreed, closing his eyes tiredly.

“Still… told you it’d work out,” Melanie leaned up against the wall. “Pay your dues, bend the knee… the king won’t let you down. Mostly.” She crossed her arms. “Now, we just have to make sure we meet his expectations.”

Dario lifted his head. “Traugott dies, or I do. I won’t allow him to—"

“Take it easy, master martyr. You just got done crying about how dying is hard—don’t go making another death vow. You suck at keeping those.” She walked up and tipped the bed lightly, forcing Dario to get up lest he fall out of it. “Now, move those feet. Long week ahead of us.”

After staggering off the bed, Dario sighed deeply, standing and stretching. “Right. Long week.”

“Yeah, yeah, woe is you, the burden of the world is on your shoulders…” Melanie walked to the door, then looked back and smiled wide. “Come on, master martyr. Let’s go.”

Dario looked at his limbs, returned to form… then looked at Melanie, still smiling. He watched for a moment, then followed.

#####

Argrave saw the brilliance of the Great Chu’s bureaucracy manifest as the whole of a country worked to get the gang together to go storm a fortress. The process was further spurred by urgency—the sky tower continued to bombard all settlements across the continent, and while its people had settled into an uneasy acceptance of bombings, the fact remained that all its people would like it to simply go away.

Armies travelled across the canals en masse, repairing any damage along the way with extreme professionalism. Governor Zen and Emperor Ji Meng worked in tandem to shepherd the powerful from every corner of the continent to its center. Though neither governor nor emperor liked one another, they were nigh unstoppable working together.

Given the narrow paths leading to the Palace of Heaven, they couldn’t exactly lob troops on the great fortress, but they did amass a staggering amount of powerful people. In days, they had enough S-rank spellcasters in their rank for them to be considered an army unto themselves. The remainder of the troops were sent north, to abate the threat caused by barbarians poking into the border at Erlebnis’ behest.

In the meanwhile, Argrave conferred with his divine allies. Fortunately, it was rather easy to bring up his suspicions about Zen’s association with Sataistador organically. Each and all of the gods thought that the god of war was being unusually quiet, and the evidence presented was strong enough that they agreed to follow Argrave’s recommendations. From the beginning the gods’ primary purpose had been to separate the arenas of the mortal and divine, so dividing their troops in this final assault wasn’t such a major issue.

Still… they kept knowledge of Traugott’s little secret to themselves. Galamon had scrutinized the vulnerability he’d given them with druidic scouts of his people. Countless birds gave their life scouting the mountain—the Stormfield came alive with the presence of birds alone—but in so doing, they did spot and confirm an opening, precisely where Traugott claimed it would be. Questions still hung in the air; questions mainly posed by Galamon, who brought up good points about Traugott’s character and the potential of a trap. At the same time, Argrave was hesitant to write it off, relying instead on Veidimen consigning themselves to death.

Sataistador’s gambit, whatever it was, seemed still far out of reach as the days ticked down toward the inevitable assault of the Palace of Heaven. That was, until the governor made a very unusual request.

“I’d like to stand on the front lines with you.” Governor Zen stood tall and proud as he requested this.

“The front lines?” Argrave repeated. “From how you made it sound, your A-rank ascension specializes in something non-combative—creating arrays like the Stormfield and the divine-warding array beneath the imperial palace.”

“I can’t make one, but even still, who better than me to deal with the Stormfield should we reach it?” Zen held his hands out. “And what if I told you that I could help you combat Erlebnis? What if I told you that I could restrain him, and help gain control over the battlefield, as we fought, using my divine-warding arrays?”

Argrave looked to Anneliese, standing at his side—the same sort of revelation seemed to be going through her head as his. A trap for Erlebnis, yes… yet at the same time, a trap for all the others. If Zen was walking about, placing those arrays everywhere… it would appear that Sataistador was greedy as could be. He was only less greedy than perhaps Argrave himself.

“Tell me all the details,” Argrave insisted. “Leave nothing out. The battle’s coming soon. A grand orchestra, so many instruments working in tandem for the song that begins the cycle of judgment in earnest. I have to make sure each and every player has tuned up.”