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Chapter 222: Menielman and May
🕑 Added 2025-01-26 11:02:01 +0000 UTCAlthough Charlot Mecklenburg was primarily a civil servant, he had experienced several battles and understood the importance of selecting soldiers wisely. Despite the population boom in Machubi, he brought only a little over two thousand men, leaving the rest to continue developing the fortress. One reason for this selection was the limited numbers of the Purple Finch Knight Order, which comprised fewer than three thousand members. Overloading his force would make Earl Bretagne’s situation awkward.
Furthermore, the West Wind Knight Order had never been particularly numerous.
For this expedition, Charlot left Dolores Soumet and Belisa behind in Machubi. Initially, he considered leaving Anastasia as well, but her preference for the battlefield swayed his decision to bring her. Alongside her came Dubin, Yellow Bear, Gwen the Dappled Stag, and Bancroft the Swift Wolf.
The chosen warriors were the fittest and swiftest, enabling Charlot’s forces to catch up with Earl Bretagne’s main contingent within a day. Bretagne’s army, burdened with excessive supplies far beyond what was necessary for the campaign in South Seraph, moved sluggishly.
Bretagne had heard of Charlot's victories in the Behemoth Principality but was astonished that Charlot had managed to assemble a "knightly order" of over two thousand. After all, he was aware that the West Wind Knight Order had once been a mere city patrol force in the Lukavaro District, notorious for being underfunded. Where had Charlot found these additional soldiers?
No matter how much Bretagne thought about it, he couldn’t fathom it. However, he wasn’t one to obsess over details. A strong West Wind Knight Order was ultimately to his benefit.
Dolores’s absence also pleased Bretagne immensely. As a close friend of Ebner Soumet, he knew Ebner disapproved of his younger sister joining the battlefield. Bretagne had even considered advising Charlot to leave Dolores in Silver Dove Castle, but Charlot had already left her in Machubi. This earned Charlot both Bretagne’s satisfaction and Ebner’s favor, as they assumed he had done so for Dolores’s convenience in returning home to Strasbourg.
In short, it was a misunderstanding—but not a troublesome one.
The army soon reached Silver Dove Castle, where the welcoming party was not Baron Febollet but someone Charlot had never expected yet always held in his thoughts—Menielman Soumet.
The Empire’s First Rose remained as dazzling as ever, commanding a force of several hundred troops and awaiting their arrival outside the castle.
Charlot held no romantic feelings for her, but Menielman had been the most dependable figure since his transmigration. Without her support, he wouldn’t have achieved his current status.
Compared to Charlot, Bretagne and Ebner were far more excited to see Menielman, their servile attitudes resembling eager puppies wagging their tails.
Charlot barely had time to greet Menielman before Bretagne handed over a significant portion of the army’s supplies, including the civilians managing them, to her. At that moment, Charlot realized that Menielman’s time in the Imperial Navy might not have been pleasant. This also explained why Bretagne had lingered in Strasbourg for so long with far more supplies than necessary—these were meant for Menielman.
Before leaving, Menielman noticed Charlot, gestured for him to approach, and whispered, "Good luck."
Charlot nodded earnestly.
Menielman offered no further words, turning to depart. Unable to contain himself, Charlot added, "If you pass through Cappadocia, feel free to restock supplies there. I have some modest influence in the area."
Menielman gave a slight nod and left with her supplies and troops, leaving behind three men with varied emotions. Her force quickly vanished beyond Silver Dove Castle, heading toward the Fars Empire’s coastal cities.
Charlot, though he had speculated, now fully grasped the impact of the Imperial Rose Incident on Menielman. Even basic supplies required personal effort to acquire.
Bretagne clapped Charlot on the shoulder, pulling him and Ebner close. He whispered, "This must remain a secret."
Ebner said nothing but glanced at Charlot.
With a sigh, Charlot replied, "Menielman is my senior and my benefactor. Save betraying Annie, I’m willing to do anything for her."
This response satisfied both men. Bretagne, in particular, clapped Charlot’s shoulder again, saying, "The past is the past. Annie is a good girl, and I’ll support you wholeheartedly."
These words carried a profound implication.
Charlot felt a chill.
Their private conversation had barely concluded when a streak of pink light crossed the sky. It twisted mid-air and descended sharply to the ground. Bretagne and Ebner turned pale, shouting in unison, "Saint rank!?"
Charlot, recognizing the pink aura, exclaimed, "It’s Princess May Guillaume!"
The declaration turned Bretagne and Ebner’s fear into outright panic. They cried out, "Menielman is in danger!" Both unleashed their battle energy, transforming into two storms laced with lightning as they bolted from the formation.
Charlot hesitated briefly before instructing his subordinates, "I’m going to check on this too."
He knew of the enmity between Princess May and Menielman, even if its origin seemed inexplicable. Given Princess May’s tendency to lash out at him, her animosity toward Menielman was inevitable.
After all, this was a grudge borne of spousal death.
Charlot recalled an old saying from his past life: “The hatred of killing one’s father and stealing one’s wife is unparalleled.” Reversed, it perfectly encapsulated the grudge Princess May bore for her husband’s death at the hands of Menielman’s fiancé, Zimourman Axel Robin.
Princess May, cloaked in black and socially reclusive, had seemingly withdrawn from all human connections, indulging only in novels. Charlot vividly remembered her erratic behavior—throwing him into enemy warships, casting him into the sea, and terrorizing him with whales. Not to mention forcing him to recite novels—a traumatic ordeal that lingered.
Although Charlot worried for Menielman, he understood his limitations. He was just a mid-rank Transcendent. If Princess May erupted, Bretagne and Ebner, both high-rank Transcendents, might intervene, but he could only watch from the sidelines.
Nonetheless, Charlot activated Swiftstep Technique twice, coupled with Spider Technique and Wings of the Young Dragon, but still couldn’t keep pace with the storm-like Bretagne and Ebner. By the time he arrived, they were already behind Menielman, swords drawn, ready to defend the Empire’s First Rose.
Princess May, draped in black, exuded her usual aloof and regal demeanor, standing in stark opposition to everyone else, like a solitary plum blossom blooming defiantly in a snowy storm.
Yet, everyone present understood that Princess May was the stronger party.
Despite Menielman’s hundreds of soldiers, she was the vulnerable one.
Panting heavily, Charlot arrived to find the confrontation still in a stalemate. Taking this chance, he considered employing his "persuasion" skills, trusting in his knowledge and experiences as a transmigrant.
Before he could speak, Princess May’s voice rang out: “No bookstore in the Behemoth Principality has the two novels you mentioned. Were you lying to me all along?”
Charlot froze, realizing he had inadvertently become the center of attention.
Even Menielman turned her gaze toward him, as did Bretagne and Ebner, both mouthing, “What books?”
Inwardly screaming, Charlot wanted to say, "I’m in the wrong place! I’ll leave now! Pretend I was never here!"
But that would’ve required three sentences.
Princess May didn’t wait for an answer, instead remarking flatly, “I have pressing matters. We’ll discuss the books in Strasbourg.”
Charlot mentally roared, "What do you mean ‘we’? Who’s ‘we’? There is no ‘we’!"
He dared not voice his thoughts, terrified of incurring her wrath. After all, this Grand Princess had a terrifying reputation, even among the Saint rank. Stories abounded of her tearing blood cores from vampires without hesitation.
Turning to Menielman, Princess May said, “If not for this liar claiming the novels were exclusive to the Behemoth Principality, I wouldn’t have come. How unfortunate to cross paths like this.”
“It’s our first meeting, isn’t it, Menielman Soumet? Or do you prefer your other title, the Rose of Fars?”
Menielman replied coldly, “Enough talk, Princess May Guillaume. Draw your sword.”
Princess May smirked and was about to retort when Menielman’s black battle energy surged. Her feet lifted slightly off the ground, and the glow of her longsword turned ominously dark. Under the shadowy aura, a strange crescent moon emerged.
Dark Breathing Technique! Black Moon Meditation!
Menielman had ascended to the Saint rank.
The realization sent shockwaves through everyone present.
Charlot, however, was merely stunned.
Everyone knew Menielman was an unparalleled talent. Although her brilliance had long been overshadowed by her late fiancé, Zimourman, her allure, talent, and charisma remained undeniable.
Now, Menielman had proven herself to be more than just a beauty—her strength matched her appearance.
Princess May chuckled softly before transforming into a streak of pink light, charging at Menielman.
The clash between black and pink erupted mid-air.
The resulting shockwaves cracked through the air, echoing like summer thunder.
On the ground, the three men could only watch helplessly. None of them were Saint rank, nor could they ascend into the air.
Charlot regretted not bringing his Floating Blossoms artifact, though its fragile nature and resource cost made it impractical. Even if he had it, he doubted it could interfere in a duel of this caliber.
This was a battle between two of the Old Continent’s most famous women.
A fight not only for victory but for pride.
Princess May’s pink energy scattered into a cascade of petals, each one mesmerizing. Charlot had never seen her fight so spectacularly before. Against two vampires of Saint rank, her energy had been straightforward—but now, it resembled an ancient poem: “The east wind scatters a thousand blossoms; petals fall like rain.”
Menielman’s energy enveloped her in night’s shadow, a crescent moon glowing overhead. Dancing within its light, she embodied another poetic verse: “The moon at the window remains unchanged; but with plum blossoms, it feels anew.”
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