Chapter 310: Peaceful Negotiation

The second prince of the Royal Family, Lucien Valcourt, was unfortunately dispatched to go negotiating peace with Lyra city.

Lucien completely did not want to, but his mother had said, people could take hair out of one’s head then they could also make one’s hair grow back. Because of his beloved blonde hair, Lucien had to bitterly hit the road.

The reason the Royal Family chose Lucien was not because he was best at negotiating, but because Lucien’s temperament was the gentlest among the princes and princesses.

If dispatching the eldest prince to go, fearing that just arriving at people’s city foot he would already jump up demanding slashing demanding killing. Or like the eldest princess, the Royal Family dared to bet she would poison completely clean all living beings around the ten-mile radius around Lyra.

They went to negotiate and not to fight each other, therefore must dispatch the person having the most pleasant temperament.

The second prince’s negotiating delegation included a few horse carriages, a squad of escorting knights, a valet official named Ferris, along with a small wooden box wrapped in red velvet.

Inside that wooden box was not valuable gold and silver jewels or secret letters, but only held a few blonde hair strands.

That was the little fallen hair remaining left on Lucien’s comb, personally meticulously picked up gathered by the Queen then shoved into her son’s hands before hitting the road, accompanied by the desperate instructing words to mandatorily bring it along for people to take it acting as a sample to restore the original shiny beauty.

Lucien sat inside the carriage, hugging the box in his lap, feeling his life was humiliating to the extreme point.

On his head at this moment was currently wearing a wig.

That wig was bought hurriedly in the night, the straw blonde color definitely two tones lighter than his real hair, wearing it looking exactly identical to a brooding hen. Just traveling for a road segment, a headwind accidentally rushed over sweeping away the hair bun flying tumbling down to the roadside. The escorting knights simultaneously turned their faces away to another place, everyone’s shoulders trembling violently.

Since that time, Lucien had to cover his hood tightly.

The further going toward the South, the more the second prince witnessed strange matters. The first days, the delegation passed through familiar territories. The roads were muddy, potholes cluttered, the skinny citizen crowd threw furtive gazes toward the caravan then hurriedly slinked disappearing into the bushes.

A few days later, the carriage began running completely smoothly.

Lucien pulled the curtain looking out then saw the road surface was paved with flat crushed rocks, both sides cut with drainage ditches, the depressed spots had all been leveled squarely. Along the road exactly every certain distance sprouted up a perfectly straight wooden pole, on the peak hung copper wires running parallel with the road, carrying a bizarrely mysterious appearance.

"Ferris, is this place Lyra’s land already?" He asked.

"Yes Your Highness, there is still one more segment." The valet official flipped the map open: "This is still Viscount Ainsley’s land. Needing to travel adding one more session before touching Lyra’s boundary marker."

Lucien slowly dropped the curtain, in his heart surging up an extremely uncomfortable feeling.

Late afternoon that day, the caravan met a group of people going in the opposite direction. Groups carrying bulky loads on yokes, leading even children along, both walking and laughing talking buzzing. Lucien ordered people to press asking to realize this was citizens of several neighboring villages, walking over to Lyra attending the market session then sequentially dragging returning.

"Attending what kind of market that expends effort walking so far away?" He frowned bewilderedly.

An old farmer woman accidentally hearing it, immediately answered back:

"Young boy, the market on that side exactly every few days opens a session again. Anyone can also bring goods out selling, freely freely, bypassing the license stage of the merchant guild bunch. Besides the one-price goods that the City Hall sells out, there are also very many mountain and forest specialties. The selling price is also reasonable, farmers like us can even buy them."

The crowd’s figures had disappeared for a long time, Lucien still lifted the curtain looking following their gradually disappearing shadows. After that the horse carriage again met many retail small groups exactly like that further. Exactly one question and exactly one similar answer, making the second prince accustomed to seeing all luxurious things in the Royal Capital feel extremely novel, very much wanting to participate in that market session.

The next noon, the caravan arrived at the checkpoint on the stream-side strip of land.

That station was small only, comprising a raw brick watchtower, a barrier pole painted alternatingly red and white, and a large wooden board planted by the roadside. However, along the road leading into the station there was a long row of cargo wagons patiently waiting their turn, covering tarpaulins loosened ready.

The person guarding the barrier pole looked the appearance exactly like a teenager newly enlisting in the army.

An escorting knight galloped his horse up to the front, loudly shouting: "Clear the way! The carriage of His Highness the Prince of the Valcourt Royal Family!"

The young soldier’s face turned pale, but his two legs still rooted at the spot, his two hands tightly gripping the spear.

"Greetings to you Sirs." He said, his voice trembling but articulating clearly every single word: "Please kindly Sirs open the luggage chests for the station to proceed inspecting."

The knight squad simultaneously unsheathed their swords.

"Brat! Daring to speak arrogantly?!"

Right at that moment, from inside the watchtower stepped out a man. On his body he wore an old sword by his waist along with a dark gray cloak, completely unrelated to the two words soldier. He leisurely walked over, stopping right close to the horse’s head, calmly looking up at the shiny sword blades.

Everyone had not yet had time to understand what matter was happening, when the leading warhorse suddenly buckled its two front legs, tossing knocking the knight falling rolling out onto the road.

The man’s voice rang out calmly as if greeting: "The Prince’s carriage still must follow regulations. If you refuse inspection, please turn your heels taking the detour, enduring the hardship losing an extra period of time then."

Ferris sat inside the carriage, glancing at the opponent’s posture and cold sweat poured seeping along his spine. Having served countless high-ranking knights in the Royal Capital, he understood all too well that relaxed carefree posture generally only appeared in figures having touched the realm that ordinary swordsman crowds a whole lifetime hopelessly reaching for.

"Your Highness!" He panickedly leaned close to Lucien’s ear: "I presume to guess this person is exactly a Sword Saint!"

Lucien lightly swallowed, personally pulling the carriage curtain up.

"Fine then. Proceed to inspect." He ordered.

The negotiating delegation watched helplessly as the young soldier clumsily rummaged through every single luggage chest, until facing the red velvet-wrapped wooden box then showed a bewildered expression.

"Sir, this object is..."

"Hair." Lucien hissed through his teeth: "My hair."

The young soldier blankly looked at the shiny blonde hair lock, then glanced at the hood draped down past the guest’s eyebrows. He closed his mouth tightly, gently closing the box lid and returning it to the old position with carefulness exactly like carrying a holy relic.

"The procedure is done, please continue your journey Sirs. Wishing you all a peaceful road ahead."

The barrier pole slowly raised up.

The road segment from the checkpoint into the South gate of Lyra city consumed adding another period of time. Throughout that segment of road, Lucien kept pulling the curtain holding it endlessly like that. His gaze took in the image of the water canal running endlessly parallel, the crystal clear water stream peacefully floating between the two banks paved with rocks stacked tilted tightly.

He glued his eyes to the bustling market erected with wooden frames, the ground paved with decent crushed rocks, every single displaying stall dotted with spotlessly clean white painted numbers. He admired the newly reclaimed fields divided into perfectly square plots, every land patch again planted a wooden stake tying a marking cloth strip.

And above all, he paid attention to the appearance of the people here.

The comers and goers on the road all raised their heads high. A Dwarf clan old man was standing with his hands on his hips, loudly scolding the Human clan young man about the crime of assembling wheels carelessly, despite the young man shyly scratching his head and ears. From afar, several children, one carrying pointy ears one round ears, chatteringly hugged exactly one wooden board gliding across the horse carriage’s head.

A woman carrying water on a yoke walking in the opposite direction, catching sight of the majestic Royal flag on the carriage roof, she only glanced lightly once then calmly stepped continuing.

Ferris sat opposite, sharply catching the increasingly darkening facial features of the master so timidly spoke up:

"Your Highness, are you feeling restless inside your body?"

"Do you recognize any unusual point?" Lucien asked in a deep voice.

"Yes, what is Your Highness implying?"

"The citizens here lack reverence and fear toward us." Lucien raised his dry voice: "In the Royal Capital, wherever my carriage rolls to, people kneel bowing down to there. While here, they only glance lightly once then again bow their faces carrying water worrying about making a living."

The caravan slowly advanced into the inner city through the South gate.

Mayor Elric personally came out welcoming, his middle-aged figure having a slightly hunched back, dropping speaking words thoughtfully, polite yet extremely skillful. He invited the delegation returning resting at the most spacious guesthouse building, warm mattresses cozy blankets, hot water mixed ready, servants on duty day and night, fresh grass for horses stacked overflowing the mangers.

Lying on the soft bed, Lucien tossed and turned staying awake the whole night.

His restless mind forced him to have to get up continuously. Sometimes seeking a sip of water soothing his throat. Other times carrying his body out to the balcony staring blankly down at the city, where scattered lamps cast dim light, around the pole hanging the speaker the buzzing sounding voice echoed attracting several lingering figures remaining to listen. Ultimately he decided to sit down before the mirror, slowly removing the hood.

The bald scalp patch reflected clearly exactly through the mirror surface, unusually shiny under the candlelight.

Lucien rooted his feet on the spot staring blankly for a long time, then raised his hands hugging his face tightly, groaning emitting a tragic sound exactly like the sound of a stray cat getting its tail stepped on.

Dawn broke, the City Hall’s people had transmitted the news the Holy Son would arrange welcoming the delegation at mid-morning.

Lucien draped onto his body the neat formal suit, the seal sparkling, the national letter wrapped ready, then finally hesitantly probed asking the young staff member a lingering matter making him obsess throughout the night:

"Permit me to ask, according to the etiquette of this land, when meeting your Holy Son then how do guests from afar need to perform kneeling and bowing?"

The staff member was stunned, his lip corners holding back from bursting into laughter: "Yes Sir, in Lyra everyone is equal. You just feel free sitting talking like normal only."

"Truly exempting kneeling and bowing?"

"Yes exactly. Lord Holy Son and Lord Divine Envoy do not coerce everyone to kneel bowing, only needing to bow greeting according to proper etiquette is fine."

"Oh." Lucien bewilderedly nodded, then slowly stepped passing through the hallway. No wonder everyone here absolutely no one kneeled bowing to him, because even the person called the Holy Son and the Divine Envoy over there they also completely did not need to kneel.

Arriving at the City Hall gate, everyone was swarming gathering around a large board. Inside was blue painted wood, outside was a glass layer having a lock. Several citizens standing there were craning their necks reading every single paper pasted inside.

Lucien froze again.

He stood there for a while, this person arriving then that person leaving, even a man smudged with mud and dirt could also read clearly every single word on this board. The citizens here, everyone knew letters.

That was exactly the thing that even the Royal Capital could absolutely not do.