Chapter 503 Commemoration

The grand bonfire burned, and the bell tower in the distance sounded melodious bells. In the fragrance of the death chrysanthemum that filled the city, Saint Sunil began to be enveloped in a hazy and dreamy smoke, and the fire all over the city seemed to Against the darkening night, under the starry sky, the brilliance of a city was created.

This reminds people of the dark age that has become a legend, and the second pioneering that determines the fate of mankind-in the dark and chaotic magic tide, whether the ancestors also ignited a huge bonfire like today, as if in the dark Put up a lighthouse in the middle of the road, guiding the lost compatriots in the depths of the magic tide to move closer to you?

This may also be another hidden meaning of the fact that a bonfire must be lit on the night of Anling's Day.

Looking at the swaying firelight in front of him and listening to the ceremonial officer reciting a long prayer for the soul, Wales Morn was silent and expressionless. The nominal ruler of Ansu stood here like an outsider in memory of Morn. In ancestor En's courtyard, the little sparks rising from the bonfire jumped up and down in front of him, riding the steaming hot wind into the dark night, and gradually merged with the starry sky of late autumn. In the night sky, he could not see it. The face of Charlie Moore, his distant and unfamiliar ancestor of blood.

The sound of light footsteps came from behind, the middle-aged crown prince suddenly felt an unexplained sense of peace and tranquility enveloped his body and mind, he glanced at a radiance emerging in the air, and turned his head. Go, and saw Veronica Moen in a long white dress standing beside him.

On the chest of this holy princess, a small white flower is blooming under the nourishment of holy light, holy and beautiful.

"Brother, good evening." Veronica bowed slightly and said with a calm smile that seemed to never change on her face.

"Veronica..." Wales Moen looked at his genius sister with surprise, "Shouldn't you be praying in the cathedral?"

"Today is the An Ling Day, the first An Ling Day after the father passed away," Veronica said lightly, "The Lord will be tolerant."

This is not something that a "princess princess" who is as pious as a textbook in the eyes of outsiders can say, but Wales Moen knows that her sister has been very extraordinary since she was a child. She always has her own ideas, and she always has her own ideas. There are countless ingenious reasons to make his actions seem logical, so he just nodded slightly and didn't ask any more questions.

After an embarrassing moment of silence, Wales took the initiative to speak: "Duchess Victoria has been here and she told me something."

"You're going to be king."

Wales was a little surprised: "How did you know?"

"It's not hard to guess,

The situation is like this, the Duke Regent has few choices, and today is the Day of Relief, in front of the ancestors, it is appropriate for her to tell you these things," Veronica said calmly, then bent slightly, "Brother, congratulations. "

Welsh frowned indistinctly. This was not what he wanted to hear. He looked into Veronica's eyes. Those eyes had a gentle and trusting smile as always, but in his eyes, those eyes were not. It was like a vivid fake carved out of gemstones—magnificent, beautiful, but lifeless, a look that was neither malicious nor kind, which made him turn his head awkwardly.

It seems that no one has ever felt the slightest difference in the temperament of this saintess princess. Everyone regards her as a god-sent treasure, as a symbol of all the good spirits of Ansu, but Wales was always in Veronica when she was very young. He will feel an unreasonable weirdness when he is with this sister. Under this weird pressure, he will try to avoid taking the initiative to be alone with Veronica - but today is Anling's Day, and he has no reason to leave early. patio.

So he can only stay here and try to change the subject: "I heard that after the Crusaders went to the battlefield, the situation of Wang ** is gradually improving..."

"It's only good enough to have a standoff with the Eastern Rebels," Veronica replied, "and a large part of the standoff is because the weather is getting colder—winter operations are not good for both sides of the battle."

"...Well, I didn't think of that," Wales laughed self-deprecatingly. "Look, I'm not fit to be king. I can't even think of that."

"No one is born to be a king, you just left Silver Castle for too long," Veronica said, looking at the bonfire in the courtyard, and after a pause for a few seconds, she suddenly sounded like a headless sentence Brainless words, "...the number of bonfires lit on An Ling's Day this year is twice as many as in previous years."

Wales was stunned for a moment, and then reacted: "It's because of the war."

"Dead believers will return to the kingdoms of the gods, and unbelievers will all fall into the mansion of the god of death. Souls have their own places to go, but people are willing to believe that those dead souls will step on the petals of the death chrysanthemum to go home and live. As soon as we get together... Brother, do you believe those souls will come back and watch us in the firelight?"

Wales couldn't help looking at the big fire in the courtyard. Those bright flames jumped in the night sky. There was nothing in the hazy curtain formed by flames and smoke, but he couldn't help but think of the moment in the shaking curtain. The face of Francis II emerged. The old king was leaning on a scepter and looked at himself indifferently, without any expectations in his eyes.

"I hope they can rest in the kingdom of God," Wales said, looking at Veronica beside him, "How about you? As a living saint of the God of Light, you can see ours in the firelight. Father and your ancestors?"

Veronica was silent for a moment, then turned and left: "I can't see anything."

Me too - Wales? Moen said to himself.

Then he raised his head and watched the smoke rising from the bonfire drifting straight into the night sky, merging with more smoke at a high and far place, and the smoke from countless bonfires merged into a huge cloud of smoke, the stars all over the place. gradually blurred.

In the darkness of the night, a huge bonfire was burning on Pioneer Square, the largest square in Cecil City.

The mechanical clock in the city center chimed eight times, and a huge evocative hand floated over the bonfire, and sprinkled the powder mixed with black stone and pyrophosphite into the fire. With a slight explosion, the flame of the bonfire suddenly exploded. The room became very bright and grand.

The crowd gathered by the fire gave a loud cheer, and along with the cheers that shook the city, the large magic net terminal set up in the square was activated, and a huge holographic projection appeared over the square.

At the same time, there were also magic net terminals located in several other squares of the city, in several surrounding cities, and in every town square along the cross axis of the Principality of Cecil.

On this night, almost everyone gathered around the bonfire, and almost all large bonfires were located in the squares of various towns.

The Cecilians are no longer unfamiliar with this "miracle of magic". They didn't make a fuss or panic and dodge. People just raised their heads curiously and looked at the figure gradually emerging on the projection.

Gawain Cecil's figure appeared on it.

"Good evening, citizens, I am your lord."

The crowd was a little surprised. After some people reacted, they immediately took off their hats and paid tribute to the holographic image in the square, while some innocent children shouted happily. Some daring children pointed to the holographic image: "Look! Lord!!"

The reckless child was immediately stopped by the adults, and the voice of the lord continued to come from the holographic projection:

"Today is An Ling Day, the day we commemorate the dead. The origin of this festival is to commemorate a nobleman, and today, we use it to commemorate our parents and brothers, to commemorate our deceased relatives and friends...

On the Pioneer Square, Betty stared blankly at the big bonfire in front of her. She listened to the lord's voice coming from the hologram behind her, and was silently in a daze.

"In the early spring of 375, a disaster struck Old Cecil, and countless people left this world on that day..."

The night wind with smoke and dust blew and woke Betty from her daze. She watched the people around her start throwing sticks into the fire, so she also picked up the small branches that had been prepared, and took a few steps forward, slightly He awkwardly threw the branch into the fire.

The small branches were quickly engulfed by the flames, and the little maid stared at the bright flames in a daze. In her inexperienced mind, the beating of each flame seemed to transform into a face.

"Mrs. Hanson...Mrs. Morris...Uncle Taylor..."

Betty muttered softly, muttering about the names she had taken a lot of effort to finally remember, and then suddenly bent down and bowed hard--in that signature style, as if to throw herself out. Imposingly bowed.

"I survived!"

A figure crossed Betty, it was Rebecca who also held a branch in his hand, the heir of the Cecil family also threw the branch in his hand into the fire, the flashing fire reflected on her face, this is always rash The girl in the sect was also very quiet at this moment. She stood quietly for a while before saying softly, "We survived eight hundred and eighty people... Father, I did my best."

Heidi came to Rebecca's side at an unknown time: "Everything is going well now, and Rebecca has grown a lot..."

Behind them, Gawain's holographic projection was still floating in the sky above the square, and his voice shook the air and traveled far and far: "...To all the civilians who died unfortunately, may your soul rest in peace, to all the soldiers who died , I salute you...RIP to the deceased, rest assured, Cecil will move on, I assure you all...

"To all living and dead, good night."

The holographic projection on the square gradually disappeared, and people were silent in solemnity. In the "Studio" of the Magic Web Control Center, Gao Wen stepped down from the platform for collecting holographic images.

Amber leaned over from the side, and the half-elf had a wicked smile on his face: "Do you think this is another deviant? It has always been the commoners to commemorate the nobles, and it is the first time that you have a noble to commemorate the commoners, and Also 'salutations'..."

Gawain sighed slightly: "From now on, at least on Cecil's land, An Ling's Day will be a thorough and ordinary memorial day... Even scholars who specialize in history will not Re-attach to the original origin and meaning of All Souls' Day."

"So your purpose is to hope that everyone will not continue to celebrate your death anniversary with singing and dancing in the future~~"

Gawain quietly glanced at Amber, who seemed to be begging for a beating again, but saw the unnaturalness in the depths of this half-elf's eyes.

He asked, "Do you have no relatives to commemorate?"

Amber turned his face away: "I don't even know the names of my parents, and I'm not even sure if they are really dead. Who will go to commemorate them."

"What about your adoptive father?"

Amber didn't say a word, and only whispered after a few seconds: "...he was a thief wanted by the nobles, and when he died, he was purified by the priest of the Holy Light... In the bonfire of An Ling's Day... how could there be him? Location."

Gawain looked at Amber's profile, and he finally understood why this half-elf was so persistently hostile to all priests of the Holy Light.

"What crime did your adoptive father... commit?"

"I just wanted to find a book from the church, but accidentally knocked over the candle that the local lord enshrined in the church. As I said before, he was a crappy little thief..."

The room was quiet for a while, and after a moment of silence, Gawain broke the silence: "I can't reverse that purification, but as the ruler of the southern border, I can pardon your adoptive father. What's his name?"

Amber looked at Gawain in astonishment, and then reacted: "Sarri... his name is Sarri Randolph..."

Gawain was a little surprised: "Does he have a surname?"

"Well, he has a surname. I asked him, but he didn't say anything... After that, I also investigated many family trees in the southern border, but I couldn't find this surname."

"Is that so..." Gawain sighed, "Maybe it's a fallen noble vassal. In short, Surrey Randolph is innocent."

A word of forgiveness cannot bring the dead back to life, much less recall the fallen souls from the bottom of the land of the dead. But many times, what people want is not practical meaning, but just a relief.

Gawain patted Amber's shoulder lightly: "While the bonfire is still burning, let's go."

In the next second, the figure of this half-elf disappeared into the air.