Karl was arranged to rest in another side tower, and for convenience, Melissa and Nai Li’s quarters were nearby. They first went to Karl’s room to check on him and briefly explain the night’s mission.
“Karl will continue resting. Nai Li and I will go,” Melissa said, preparing to leave.
Karl, however, spoke firmly: “I’m coming too.”
Melissa found it troublesome and reluctantly tried to dissuade him: “You’re injured, and the grand scholar said…”
The magician, unusually direct, stared straight into the hero’s eyes and repeated: “I’m coming.”
Seeing the two staring each other down, Nai Li had to intervene. She softened her tone and asked Karl: “Can you tell us why?”
Karl gave her a casual glance, speaking softly but with an air of absolute certainty: “I don’t think you can defeat the opponent.”
The sense of discomfort becomes even stronger after entering the Misty Tower. Whether it’s the chains locking the cellar or the iron bolts sealing the exits, there are even unidentified devices blocking the stairs that resemble torture instruments.
Viscount Siro apparently noticed Naily’s confusion and explained awkwardly: “Because we really couldn’t find raw materials… so we dismantled some from the vacant main city cellar…”
“The princess is on the top floor, so I won’t go up to avoid drawing attention,” the viscount looked uneasily at Melissa’s expression, “Please don’t blame me for my absence, brave one.”
Melissa shook her head silently, stepping up the partially blocked stairs with a serious expression, pausing to look back: “Please take care of the support.”
I will call out for a signal.”
The viscount nodded almost tearfully, his attitude so respectful that he was just short of bowing: “Yes! I understand, brave one!”
Naily glanced at Carl. The white-haired youth was carefully examining the surroundings with sharp eyes. Noticing her gaze, he slightly paused and quietly pulled his hood down to cover his face.
Naily shook her head to dispel her restlessness and followed Melissa up to the top floor of the Misty Tower.
The top floor of the tower was not even suitable for ordinary people, let alone a delicate princess. Worn tapestries covered the cracked walls, creating an oppressive and dark atmosphere. Apart from the tapestries, the large top floor only had a simple bed, a small cabinet, and a cracked dressing mirror.
Rosalia stood by the window, not turning back. She wore a simple dark green linen long dress, with the same headscarf from when she left Mez, its edges slightly yellowed.
Her figure was slender and graceful, and standing against the backlight, she became a beautifully cut silhouette. But this was not a portrait of a beauty from a court painter; the background behind the silhouette was unsettling – cold, rigid iron bars separating the brilliant seaside sunset.
She was a princess in a high tower, protected yet also imprisoned.
The three of them fell into silence, not disturbing Rosalia, simply accompanying her as they watched the last rays of the setting sun sink into the misty sea horizon.
At this moment, the chains blocking the stairway collided, making a crisp sound.
Melissa and the others turned back in horror, a black figure silently appearing in the doorway.
Behind the doorway stood guards with terrified expressions, their mouths opening and closing, their shouts completely isolated outside the barrier. The black-robed figure decisively put down Rosalia, and with a swift movement, Nelly felt a gust of wind brush past as she was pulled back several steps. Lowering her head slightly, a sharp dagger was pressed against her neck, reflecting her blurry silhouette.
Melissa cursed in a low voice.
The black-robed figure still hadn’t spoken, but his posture made everything clear: Nelly was the hostage, and letting him and Rosalia go was the condition.
In this brief moment of chaos, the doorway had gathered a dense crowd of guards. Though each was thin, their expressions were excited to the point of near madness. If the viscount hadn’t been blocking the way, someone would have immediately tried to break through the barrier.
Karl reacted quickly, taking an arrow-like step behind Rosalia, the pages of his magic book rustling. He lifted his pen, barely touching the paper’s surface, and looked expressionlessly at the black-robed figure: “My spell-casting will be faster than yours. You and she will die.”
The “she” in his words was naturally Rosalia.
“Karl!” Melissa called out sharply, receiving only a cold glance from the white-haired mage.
Nelly wasn’t particularly afraid. She calmly analyzed the situation: “You can still stop now. Without Rosalia, you can easily deal with the guards blocking the door.”
The dagger pressed closer, and Nelly could even feel a slight pain of her skin being cut.
Karl lowered his eyes: “Stay still, let her go, and I’ll remove the barrier. I’ll only count to ten. One, two, three.”
The black-robed figure’s breathing became noticeably rapid.
Rosalia moved, walking to the stairs and gesturing to the viscount outside the barrier, ordering him to take his people and leave. The viscount was almost pressed against the other side of the barrier, looking anxious.
Rosalia remained indifferent, stubbornly repeating the same gesture, and finally even drew a line across her own neck, threatening with her life.
The viscount, sweating profusely, gritted his teeth and waved his hand, leading the way down. The guards, however, were not prepared to retreat. The viscount waved his arms, reiterating his order, looking like a shadow play. Only a few people walked down reluctantly.
“The guards don’t trust this viscount. This is an excellent opportunity for you to escape,” Nelly softly spoke to the black-robed figure. The hand holding the dagger visibly tightened but still didn’t release her.
“Nine,” Karl paused thoughtfully, a corner of his mouth lifting, “ten.”
Everything happened in an instant.
The barrier suddenly dissolved, and several guards lunged directly towards Rosalia.
Nelly was forcefully pushed to one side, half-kneeling on the ground. Before she could see what was happening, her vision blurred, and she was pressed to the ground, rolling to the side at an unbelievable speed.
Boom—!
The explosion sounded nearby, the shock wave hot, burning her skin like flames. Nelly forgot to move, her ears only hearing the echoes of the explosion, dizzy and disoriented.
Debris fell around her, hitting her sides and head, but she couldn’t hear any sound. As the explosion’s impact on her consciousness gradually subsided, she realized she was being held in someone’s arms.
Her slightly unfocused vision cleared, revealing black robes before her. Nelly tried to lift herself, only to discover her entire body ached as if crushed.
Yet she still managed to prop herself up, looking bewilderedly at the person beside her, horrified to notice Karl was injured. However, he turned his gaze towards the stairway, indicating she should look there.
Several guards with drawn bows knelt halfway at the doorway, arrow tips pointing to the left. Following the arrows’ aim, past several fallen figures, her gaze finally settled on a man and woman huddled together among the ruins.
Nelly first saw Rosalia, dirty and covered in gray-black dust, tightly embracing the black-robed figure’s waist, seemingly supporting him. The figure’s hood had fallen, revealing his face.
Golden hair reminiscent of sunlight, eyes like emerald lakes, though weary with stubble and dust, it was still the handsome face of one of the capital’s top knights. Sir Sean.
Nelly closed her eyes, recalling Sean’s gaze towards the opposite corridor during their audience.
She remembered Rosalia’s melancholy when looking at the courtyard, how she stopped watching the practice after Sean left. There was an unmistakable joy: he had come for her, had come to save her.
