Chapter 429: Act 132 Late Summer (Part 3)_2

“The emblem on the carriage is the Holy Scarab, and that belongs to only one person in the kingdom.”

“Huh?”

The young man looked at Frey with a face full of surprise, thinking to himself, how did you get into the Royal Academy without knowing this? But he soon realized that she wasn’t feigning innocence, and he couldn’t help but shake his head as he answered, “Master Liwu, the Chief Court Wizard of Erune.”

“Ah!” The young girl was taken aback.

Count Bekeberg’s second son shook his head again, “However, if Master Liwu were in the carriage, we wouldn’t need to intervene. So it must be someone else inside, but not many people are close to Master Liwu. Other than the current king, only his students would be able to borrow his carriage.”

“Princess?” Frey couldn’t help but widen her eyes as she looked over. Though she was just a country girl, she was still aware of these common facts.

The young man nodded.

Just as the two were talking, a black warhorse suddenly dashed past them. The knight on the horse swiftly rode through the forest but seemed to hesitate for a moment. He then turned back to them and stopped in front of them. Frey was slightly stunned, and she instinctively looked up with the young man beside her, and immediately saw that cold and beautiful face.

The head on the snow-white neck looked like a delicate piece of art. Even in Northern Kolcova, it would be hard to find such a perfect face. The sharp chin formed an arc as if it had just stepped out of a painting. It reminded people of the beauty sung by the bard’s poems about the North.

The girl’s eyes seemed like cold amethysts. Northern people somewhat possessed the Miner people’s blood, but it was rare to see such pure traits. Her lips were tightly pressed, her fringe slightly raised, and she had delicate sword-shaped eyebrows that twitched slightly and then furrowed in displeasure, giving a stern look. Her straight and slender nose hinted at her strong personality. But at this moment, she let out a faint cold humph.

She looked down at the two of them, her gaze slowly sweeping from Frey to Count Bekeberg’s second son.

“Are you Frey?”

She fixed her eyes on Count Bekeberg’s second son, making him feel as though he were a snake under the piercing gaze of a hunting falcon, sending shivers down his spine. Yet, it was Frey that Nemesia addressed, in a low, cold, slightly husky voice.

“Y-yes.”

“Your riding and swordsmanship training scores are excellent,” Nemesia said in a low, magnetic voice. “I’ve also heard about you, but if you want to achieve your goals, you should stay away from these scum—” The girl on horseback cast a disdainful glance at the young man and bluntly stated.

Both of them were stunned.

Count Bekeberg’s second son furrowed his eyebrows and instinctively retorted, “Senior Sister Nemesia, you can’t say—”

But before he could finish his sentence, a sharp sound of a sword rang, and he felt a cool sensation on his neck. As his eye caught the cold glint of the swordblade, he realized Nemesia had dismounted, drawn her longsword, and placed it against his neck in one fluid motion. He barely lifted his hand to defend before freezing in place.

“Did I allow you to speak?” Nemesia asked coldly.

Cold sweat ran down the young man’s back, and he couldn’t utter a word.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked again.

“S-Sangeri…”

“Knight rank.”

“S-Senior Sister Nemesia, I—” The sword in the girl’s hand moved slightly closer, cutting him off, “Report to your superior.”

Count Bekeberg’s second son swallowed hard, trembling as he replied, “Reporting to my superior, I am a second-year student, not yet of knight rank—” He dared not say another word and forced out his reply with great effort.

Nemesia sheathed her sword with a sharp ‘shing,’ moving so fast that no one could see it clearly. She turned back and glanced disdainfully at the young man, who was touching his neck and cursing internally, her purple eyes full of contempt. She issued an undeniable order, “Then, soldier, I command you to shut up—”

She then turned back, adjusting the crooked collar on Frey’s uniform from the battle cleanup earlier and patted her lightly on the shoulder, speaking gently, “Remember my words, it will do you no harm—”

Frey remained motionless, momentarily unsure of how to respond.

Should she thank her?

But she was truly amazing. Could she one day become like her? She couldn’t help but wonder.

…

“Who is that?”

The Half-Elf princess turned and asked the young man beside her in a low voice. Her gaze passed through the carriage window, always on the side of the forest, where she had witnessed the entire confrontation between Count Bekeberg’s second son and Nemesia. With one hand, she parted the curtain and gazed at the two girls in the forest, feeling a sense of familiarity.

“Lady Miller’s daughter, possibly related to Duke Lune. She has good talent and is a staunch royalist, should be trustworthy.” Sir Begning answered after a single glance.

Listening to the young man’s confused reply, the girl couldn’t help but smile, “Of course I know Nemesia, she is my close friend. Begning, are you too tired?”

“Apologies.”

Sir Begning answered awkwardly.

“I mean the other one, do you know her? She seems familiar—” The Half-Elf princess asked again.

“That’s Everton’s daughter—”

A gentle voice came from outside the carriage.

Griffith was slightly taken aback, then a hint of surprise flashed in her pale silver eyes. She turned around and asked in a low voice, “Lord Overwell?”

Outside the carriage, there was a moment of silence.

Then a low chuckle came, “Indeed, Your Highness, it seems I am a bit late.”

… (To be continued, for more chapters, please visit www.qidian.com, support the author, support genuine reading!)