Chapter 42 The Bells Tolled. Eleanor looked incredulously at the blue throne...

Whoosh... This time, the rewind was like a gust of wind.

Eleanor opened her eyes and found herself back on horseback in the early morning.

At this time, no one had set off yet, and Andra was walking around nearby, trying to strike a cool pose in front of her.

She gave a wry smile: she shouldn't have ridden a horse; she should have arranged a carriage. It would have been more troublesome to pull Attila away when she arrived.

However, the reason she was so reckless as to personally take action was because she had the ability to rewind time.

When her guards start to die or be wounded, she will choose to revert to a previous state regardless of whether the operation is going smoothly or not. She is really greedy.

Eleanor picked up the pendant and glanced at it; the first petal was clean.

There are no bloodstains left in this life, and no matter what happens next, she will never be able to go back in time.

The impact is minimal.

Eleanor put down the pendant and calmed herself.

The series of things she is about to do are extremely risky; even if she were given ten more chances to rewind, it would be impossible to ensure that everyone escapes unharmed.

"Andra!"

As soon as she called, Andra came galloping over on his horse. The tall young man tilted his head like Eleanor, as if pouting, "Your Highness, why did you call me?"

Seeing her like this, Attila's anger subsided considerably.

Eleanor rode over and whispered in her ear, "Wait a moment and head towards the sun. You'll see your sister soon. She and some of her people have dismounted and are hiding in the woods by the roadside."

"Hmm, uh?!" Andra's eyes were filled with doubt and uncertainty, but she was already used to the princess's seemingly precognitive talent and calmed down in an instant.

"Everyone, follow me!" Andra shouted, and a group of cavalrymen tacitly left the ranks and followed her to a certain point.

Soon after, Manju received new orders to flank them from another direction.

......

Da da, da da da da.

The rhythmic sound of horses' hooves shattered the dewdrops, instantly numbing the Hetuya people crouching in the grass.

"XXX, they're coming from both sides!" Attila gritted her teeth and drew her long sword with a whoosh.

Are those Nolana people out of their minds? Why don't they take the proper road and insist on going around to the sides?! Don't they think this terrain is completely unsuitable for cavalry charges?!

It's not a good place to ride, but there happens to be a nice patch of bushes here.

Generally speaking, the forests and grasslands in Norlana are quite humid, making them not very good for burning.

Fortunately, gunpowder and fuel offered slightly different opinions.

Swoosh—

The spiked arrows flew into the forest one by one, exploding in the middle with a crackling sound. The explosives hit the faces of the Hetuya people, eliciting screams of agony.

Attila didn't hesitate for a moment. The instant the flames rose, she raised her knife and cleaved through the burning bushes, braving the flames to break free of the encirclement.

Her long, golden hair was charred, and her beautiful face was riddled with holes; even if it healed, it would turn into a terrifying meteorite crater.

Attila finally emerged from the thick smoke, only to find her damned sister sitting calmly on horseback, watching her with an air of nonchalance.

"Cough cough cough cough, Andra, it's...it's you!!" Her eyes were bloodshot.

"Oh, you're mistaken." Andra casually nocked an arrow.

Whoosh—

......

Eleanor stood not far away watching Andra casually deal with her own sister.

With just one person and one arrow, the formidable enemy that posed a huge threat and even killed several guards in the previous round vanished into thin air.

Cruel and cold-blooded, selfish and confident, intelligent and brave, and delighted in war...

She clutched her heart, her emotions a jumbled mess.

When Andra is in the position of an ally, no matter what kind of battle it is, whether it is favorable or adverse, desperate or not, whether it is a legion battle or a street fight... as long as it involves armed struggle, she is the most reliable helper.

Even without using the rewind function, she was able to turn the tables and achieve a comeback thanks to Andra.

But Andra was not her "companion".

When such a terrifyingly powerful figure stands on the opposite side, heaven knows how many rewind opportunities it will take to gain a sliver of hope.

Andra sheathed his bow and arrows, and casually instructed his men to use their swords to greet his sister a few more times, lest her body revive.

"Your Highness, you are truly a prophet!"

After finishing what she was doing, she gracefully greeted Eleanor.

She looked intently at the little princess, then extended her right hand.

“Your Highness Eleanor, I am willing to go back with you first to help your sister secure the throne. Would you be willing to return with me to Hetuya after things have settled down and become my wife?”

She said it openly and honestly, without hiding it from anyone.

Thorn was excited and wanted to step forward to say something, but her sister Manzhu raised her hand to stop her.

Eleanor's gaze trembled slightly as she looked at Andra's earnest eyes. She smiled and shook her head. "Have a safe journey."

......

Thump—thump—

The bells of the capital rang incessantly, spreading outwards like waves.

Mysella was eating in the courtyard when she heard the noise and dropped her spoon with a thud.

"oops!"

Mother—Mother has passed away! She frantically scratched her hair and cheeks, sniffed and let out two dry howls, but no tears would come down.

Mysella really didn't remember Eva.

When she was a child, she heard many stories from others about the time before the wise king ascended the throne, but in the past few years she has lived in Enlin and has long forgotten those admirations.

What should I do next?

She hesitated: her sister and the others had agreed that she should lead everyone to the palace, and if they encountered resistance, they should force their way in.

Eleanor said, "Sister, you are the rightful heir, and many nobles will be willing to support you—provided, of course, that you can bring enough benefits and step forward before they make their choice."

Logically speaking, once the arrow is released, there's no turning back; she should be riding her horse and galloping towards the palace gate right now.

But a multitude of redundant thoughts flooded my mind at this moment, such as—

Perhaps my mother faked her death; she wanted to lure me in so that I would be shot as soon as I reached the palace gate.

Or perhaps Ophelia has another trump card up her sleeve? What could it be, and how should I deal with it?

She was trembling all over. Treason was a capital offense, and failing to seize the throne was also a capital offense.

Seven years have passed, and Mysella has grown considerably, but being far from the palace, she is even more insecure about her status as the youngest legitimate son.

Her orthodox identity gradually became like a thin coat in winter; it could cover her body but didn't keep her warm at all, leaving her feeling cold all over.

Myrcella is not afraid of death; killing someone is merely a matter of beheading them.

But she valued the honor and dignity of warriors: if she were shot into a pincushion by Ophelia and her men as soon as she entered the palace, what would history say about her? Wouldn't that leave her with eternal infamy?

Or should I ask everyone to wait until Eleanor returns before making any plans?

She moved her lips—

With a loud crash, the door was pushed open by two forceful hands.

Hudora stepped through the gate, and with two guards, she quickly approached Misella and bowed. "Your Highness! There is no time to lose, please give your order."

More and more people gathered around, and with so many people around, Mysella's courage swelled up like an inflating balloon.

She remembered that Eleanor had also said something about not delaying.

"Ahem!" She cleared her throat and said loudly, "Okay, let's go!"

She took a running start, leaped onto the white horse led by the servant, pulled on the reins, and galloped out the door with boundless pride.

Tap tap, tap tap tap tap!

The sound of horses' hooves echoed through the streets, and the citizens locked their doors and windows the moment they heard the bell, shutting themselves in their homes.

According to Norlana's custom, when a king dies, the people are required to observe at least a week of silence.

This week they need to stop their entertainment, cry their hearts out, eat only small amounts of vegetarian food, and prepare to pay a coronation celebration tax for the new king next month.

Knock knock, knock knock knock.

Misella and her people were halfway through their charge when they heard a rhythmic drumbeat, before they had even crossed the city.

What's going on?

She nervously shook her head, looking around nervously. Didn't Eleanor say she'd bribed all the city guards? Why are there still soldiers beating drums?!

Splash—

A group of soldiers dressed much like ordinary citizens ran out from the alleyways, hurling pitchforks at Mysera, who was riding a horse.

"Separate quickly!" Mysera shouted urgently.

The men she brought were all cavalry, and they were not well-suited to operate in such dense alleyways; they had to stay on the main roads.

Even so, she dared not dismount and become an infantryman. Who knew how many people were hiding in the alley? It would be ridiculous to be surrounded and killed by the enemy.

Mysella decisively drew her sword. Her mentor was the best swordsman in the country; she wouldn't die here!

"Charge with me—" she shouted, her blood boiling as she charged forward, hacking down two men who dared to approach the horse.

These people were definitely not ordinary citizens; they were all wearing leather armor under their clothes.

The battle became deadlocked for a time...

Whoosh!

An arrow pierced the air, followed by a second and a third.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, snap.

A barrage of arrows formed a rain curtain, washing over the enemy from top to bottom.

Mysella excitedly raised her head and clenched her fist tightly.

Goodness, it was Eleanor who arranged the archers. She really knew the enemy would set up an ambush here!

The archers occupied the high ground, giving the cavalry below an even greater advantage.

They quickly killed and drove out most of the enemies in the alleyways. Mysera did not lead her troops to pursue them, but turned and rushed towards the palace.

As the horses galloped through the long street, the palace gate, which was always closed and seemed unusually tall to her small frame, stood before her.

Myrcella's heart raced faster and faster with every moment she looked up at the palace complex.

Hurry, faster! She is about to take her seat and become the new queen of this kingdom!

Tap tap, tap tap tap.

Hooves thundered, but the palace gates remained closed. Mysella did not slow down, charging forward at full speed with the others behind her.

Knock knock.

She suddenly saw a figure running from the other side while she was on the galloping horse.

She is—Eleanor!

The girl's jet-black hair fluttered in the wind, and her beautiful younger sister rode a white horse rapidly approaching the palace gate.

She and the people behind her were very alert; the familiar princess guards were carrying a string of bottles and jars.

Mysella knew about those jars; they were said to be able to break down doors directly in the worst of situations.

With a soft, rhythmic sound, the heavy door slowly opened as Eleanor leaned towards the palace gate.

Several familiar figures stood on either side of the gate, including her mother-in-law and the network of contacts she and Eleanor had built up over the years.

"Great..." Mysera breathed a sigh of relief. "I won this battle!"

As she relaxed, a slight unease suddenly welled up inside her.

Why didn't the door open when I rushed towards it, but only opened when Eleanor arrived? I am the destined king!

However, she also knew that this trouble was unfounded. The people inside the door weren't slow to open it, and what did it have to do with Eleanor? The only ones vying for the throne were her and Ophelia.

After thinking all this through, Myrcella finally calmed down and gripped the reins tightly again, charging toward the gate.

"Sister—I'm going first!" She rushed into the main hall, bypassing Eleanor who was talking with the ministers.

Everything went so smoothly from then on.

The eldest sister, Dasha, died a year ago while eating honey, while Ophelia readily handed over her "forged" decree and voluntarily begged to move into the tower to spend the rest of her life.

"You win. I didn't do anything. They forced me to do everything... Please let me go."

Ophelia spoke these words with a detached expression, but she always had this half-dead look, and she looked no different from a few years ago.

Myrcella waved her hand, and just as she was about to say something, she turned to look at Eleanor.

This time, her sister neither nodded nor shook her head, nor gave her any hints.

Eleanor's behavior pleased Myrcella, so she waved her hand and said to Ophelia, "Oh dear, we're sisters. You can live in the side hall from now on, don't make yourself suffer too much."

"Thank you for your mercy." Ophelia prostrated herself on the ground and kowtowed respectfully before leaving without looking back.

After the last outsider left, Myrcella grinned foolishly as she picked up the crown presented by the ministers. She placed the crown on her head and looked at her reflection in the bronze mirror in the center of the hall.

"Hehehe. That's great! I'll be crowned emperor tomorrow!"

After Eleanor finished admiring her sister, she patted her on the shoulder and reminded her, "The proper coronation ceremony takes several days to prepare. Anyway, no one is going to compete with you for it, so let's wait a few more days."

“Oh~” Myrcella readily agreed, then picked up the scepter beside her and tapped it on the ground, saying in a serious tone, “Sister, Eleanor obeys!”

Although she had not yet officially ascended the throne, Eleanor politely lifted her skirt and curtsied, indicating that her sister could give the order.

Mysella cleared her throat and said loudly, "I hereby appoint you as—the Great Lord of the Frontier!"

What kind of official position is a border lord?

However, on the Moonlit Continent, it is common for rulers to fabricate official titles, and there are even quite a few kings who sell official positions.

Everyone waited quietly for Mysera to explain.

She said fluently, "Enlin was given to you by your mother, and I want to give you all the uninhabited land around here~ Ah, in short, take as much empty land around the border as you can."

This was actually a bit cunning. The newly enthroned Queen Myrcella dared not offend any of the major lords of the city-states, so she nominally granted the wasteland and the uncontrolled "empty land" to her sister, who had made the greatest contribution, which was somewhat like the idea of ​​a frontier expansion marquis.

Especially since Enlin's neighboring country is Hetuya, this border lord can basically be called a border scoundrel.

Eleanor wasn't angry; she knew Myrcella wasn't good at geography and politics, so it probably wasn't intentional.

Mysella was probably just lazy and cowardly, believing that as long as she had a title, she could get enough land from others—and that was indeed the case.

"yes."

Eleanor respectfully agreed, and as she rose, she casually asked, "When shall I begin my duties?"

What she was really asking was: How much longer can I stay in the capital?

Because the king sitting in the seat now is not Eva but Myrcella, Eleanor is no longer the little princess who can freely come and go from the capital.

Her current official title is "Border Grand Lord," which is nominally an official position, requiring her to remain within her own territory.

Eleanor waited for Myrcella to say three or five years, so she could stay in the capital and help her sister finish the initial political affairs.

Ideally, a nationwide chamber of commerce should be revitalized; at the very least, the stability of the capital must be maintained; and all the freed slave soldiers must be properly resettled...

"Let's do it in a week!"

Mysella said nonchalantly, "You have to attend my coronation ceremony, right?"

One week...

Eleanor looked at the young man on the throne in disbelief, and she was sure the expressions on the faces of those around her were even more interesting than hers.

Mysella blinked and crossed her arms. "What's wrong, Lily? I've already become queen, don't you believe in my abilities?"

Eleanor moved her lips; she had so much to say, but looking at her sister's smug face, she ultimately just lowered her head.

"Of course, I believe you will do your best. I will leave immediately after the ceremony."

-----------------------

The author writes: As time passes and memories are revisited, Eleanor will recognize and correct many mistakes—some of others', and some of her own.

Who can draw the sword?

Who can draw the sword, me?

Who can draw the sword? Me.