Chapter 151 The Twisted Fate "Eleanor, wake up."...
"Eleanor, wake up."
Eleanor opened her eyes, feeling the warm sunlight on her skin.
She turned over, and heard a rustling sound below, realizing that she was no longer in the palace... nor in her childhood bed.
She took Andra's hand, and the warm spring breeze gently caressed her forehead and tickled her face.
They were surrounded by a barren field, which was dyed a glossy blue-green by the spring breeze.
They actually slept in a tent last night, and they also had a small horse-drawn carriage.
Andra must have woken up early; he spread a blanket on the lawn and carried her onto it.
Her lover, lying beside her, turned his face to the side, looking at her with bright eyes.
Eleanor smiled gently, and asked softly, just like the girl in her first life, "Why did you bring me out?"
The same azure sky, the same fresh air, the same spring breeze and sea of flowers.
Andra gave the same answer.
She said with satisfaction, "This way you can bask in the sun as soon as you wake up, it smells wonderful, doesn't it?"
The young man held a small, dew-covered flower close to her nose.
He overlapped with the boy in my memory, even his eyes were so similar.
Her eyes remained clear, radiating a beautiful childlike innocence; time had left no trace in them.
Eleanor accepted the flowers, but felt a slight pang in her heart.
Neither the bloody slaughter nor the painful cries of the disaster victims could disturb Andra's good mood.
【purely】
Andra has a pure heart.
She can understand a myriad of feelings, but she only selects the aspects that interest her to incorporate into her heart.
So this time, she did not choose to leave without saying goodbye.
Firstly, I wanted to see how time could change my lover; secondly... even if it's a worldline destined to vanish like a bubble, it's still real for the people living in it right now.
The world is the dream of the Mother Goddess, so why question the reality or illusion of our experiences?
Eleanor casually tucked the small flower behind her ear, stood up, and rolled up the picnic blanket with Andra.
Without the help of the servants, even though Andra was very strong, it took them quite a bit of effort to pack up all the barbecue equipment, the clean dishes, and the scattered items in the tent.
Andra placed several large chests on the carriage and patted them with a grumbling tone: "You, you... slavery isn't over yet. If all else fails, you could hire a few people!"
She herself was fine, but she got annoyed when she saw Eleanor struggling to squat down and pack her things.
Eleanor... How could her lover waste his time on such a boring and meaningless thing?
Andra had also dreamed of living an adventurous life all by himself.
She may bring some servants and followers, or she may not.
In the most extreme and carefree circumstances, she would roam the world alone with a horse and a sword.
The sky is high enough for birds to fly freely.
She never worries about money or food, is unfazed by heat or cold, and is unafraid of robbers; every battle is entertainment, not a drain on her.
But her lover was different.
Andra stubbornly believed that her lover should be enjoying tea and reading in a beautiful garden, surrounded by many people taking meticulous care of him.
Eleanor took out a towel and started washing her face with cold water, but Andra grabbed her wrist.
"...Didn't you say that cold water isn't clean?"
The lover blinked innocently and said, "It's nothing, it's just leftover cold water from last night."
Andra sighed heavily: "Enough! Hire people. We'll go to the slave market in the next city—buy two people, release them, and hire them to come with us!"
"Pfft." Eleanor nodded, agreeing earnestly, "Okay."
When the sun was high in the sky, they finished their dry rations and tea and set off again.
Eleanor sat inside the carriage, while Andra drove it from outside.
This is a small carriage pulled by one horse, with another horse next to it for switching riders.
These two chestnut horses may look ordinary, but they are actually selected from various regions to be specially responsible for pulling carts.
As for the car itself - besides its excellent shock absorption, the interior is also made of high-quality materials. However, the exterior looks very ordinary and simple, without any aristocratic embellishments.
Tap tap, tap tap.
The horse galloped nimbly, and Andra kept a close eye on his surroundings.
She was filled with joy when she left the house, but once she and Eleanor were away from the crowd, she felt a strange anxiety.
She feared that her lover would be struck by a sudden arrow, stone, or even a meteor and leave her forever.
Putting everything else aside, what if she accidentally drives into a ditch while driving and throws Eleanor out?
With this in mind, Andra became even more determined to hire someone to drive the carriage: that way she could stay in the carriage at all times, and even if it overturned, she could carry Eleanor out.
Eleanor in the carriage was also relieved that they hadn't encountered any assassins yet.
She has never used a petal yet, and has a strange intuition that this "wrong" timeline may not be a petal and may not be able to use the ability to rewind.
Why didn't anyone assassinate him? Andra must have a lot of enemies, right?
Perhaps it was because their vehicle was too unassuming, and the timing of their escape was good; the two of them were too small to be noticeable.
Why don't many people want to hunt them down?
If you were to ask both the person who hates Andra the most and the person who should hate Andra the most to answer, they would probably give a surprising answer.
......
Springtime plowing and planting, wisps of smoke rise from the fields.
Ever since the Sage Eleanor spread the method of intensive farming, the lives of farmers have become much harder.
In the first year or two, only nobles and a small number of commoners were grateful for her kindness.
After all, for slaves, there was not much difference between smashing stones, hunting, fighting to the death, and working in the fields to the death.
However, in the last two years, the situation has changed.
The state began imposing heavy taxes on wealthy nobles who owned too many slaves, believing they were suspected of rebellion.
Under Andra's urging, the nobles had learned to slide on their knees as a conditioned reflex.
Even if you don't understand, you still have to kneel down, especially since the reason given this time is quite reasonable.
The slaves were driven to the fields to clear wasteland by the dark-faced overseers. Because they had a quota for living people, the overseers did not deduct the meager supplies from these freed slaves.
Some people died, but many more survived.
There was no war in the past three years, so the grain produced did not disappear into thin air and ultimately fed many people.
Yesterday was a bumper harvest.
So after the busy farming season, the people of Xiaoshi Village learned from city dwellers how to fire bricks and build more sturdy houses.
A sturdy old man leaned against the edge of the field, took a pottery jar from his granddaughter, and took a big gulp.
Glug glug ha——
She breathed a sigh of relief, looked at the green seedlings in the field, and wiped the corner of her mouth.
"Go on, go home and play."
McGonagall nudged her granddaughter's shoulder, and the child laughed like a chick, then darted away, leaving behind a series of "Woof woof, Mommy!" cries.
I don't know if it's calling for its mother or its pet dog.
The old man smiled contentedly, his chestnut-brown short hair blowing in the wind, interspersed with mottled gray and white.
She had few good teeth, which looked as if they had been broken by something hard, and her cheeks looked saggy when she grinned.
"Cough cough cough." McGonagall coughed twice and stood up from the edge of the field.
She is quite old, but the strong physique she had in her youth still retains its last vestiges, allowing her to work in the fields like an ox.
Her legs and arms were somewhat deformed and twisted, and there were nail marks on her left foot. However, this abnormality was hardly unusual in their village.
Alright, the seedlings are growing well. Now that the village has a water pump for irrigation, I can take some time to weave some baskets or something after weeding this afternoon.
The old man patted his back, opened the basket left by his granddaughter, and took out a piece of dried bread.
The flatbread was baked to a huge size, bigger than her belly.
McGonagall picked up some warm tea and poured it over the biscuit to soften it—then took a bite.
"Hmm."
Delicious! My daughter-in-law is so generous with the oil she uses when she cooks, and there's even scrambled eggs with scallions!
She bit into a piece of broken egg while taking a bite of the pasta, and tears streamed down her face.
Great, this year is great, everything is great...
The old man looked at the distant mountains through his tear-filled eyes, vaguely recalling the words his companions had once spoken.
"Freedom! We need freedom!"
"...I want to take you out of here. Where? Hmm, home."
Salin's home must be in the mountains, but I don't know which side of the mountains.
McGonagall was in tears, her lips engulfing the food in her mouth as she repeatedly chewed the oily aroma of the flatbread.
Hiss... Salin, yeah, her name is Salin, I... how long has it been since I thought of Salin?
My youth is a memory that is too distant, and even flipping through those memories stirs up waves of numb pain.
We lost, we lost everything.
Their flames didn't even manage to kill the soldiers of Norlana; they simply vanished amidst the laughter of a group of noble youths.
That golden-red-haired boy—later the King of Hetuya, the King of Kings—sat on horseback, so small... and drew his bow and shot the giant Salin to death.
She didn't even use a sword... she didn't use a sword at all!
McGonagall laughed until tears streamed down her face; it was as if a part of her had died after Salin died.
Or perhaps that thing never existed at all?
She survived; the dazzling princess could not see the insignificant slave, and only killed the largest prey.
But the war slave named McGonagall also died that day.
They were offered to King Eva of Norlana, who did not live long, and the slaves were then used as cannon fodder, drawn into the fierce Norlana civil war.
The cannon fodder regiment was sometimes Ophelia's people, and sometimes it was taken away by some unknown general.
It is said that some people followed Misella to the grasslands and became herding savages... Sigh.
Ordinary people like McGonagall don't have the choice to run or fight.
She kept hitting and running.
The civil war in Norlana is over, but the war seems to never end.
King Andra...shines like the sun? No, he's as scorching as the sun, burning everything to ashes.
Whether it was a severe cold disaster, a rare calamity, or an earthquake... the Queen never cared. She was incomparably powerful, leading her battle-hardened army to ravage the land!
Many people have died, and no one knows their names, because those who do know them are also dead.
A family, a village, a city... all destroyed.
McGonagall survived, as the private property of a nobleman, and was even allocated to his wife and the children they had raised together through thick and thin.
She had endured decades of torment, and years ago, McGonagall could never have imagined that she would be able to gain her freedom.
What is freedom?
That was the other shore that Salin, countless companions, and many more who died could never reach, how could it belong to an ordinary and cowardly person like her?
That's good, that's enough.
She has already spent half her life with her wife and raised three children; what more could she ask for?
"Thank the King for his command, you are free!"
Three years ago, the owner announced it to everyone on the estate, including McGonagall and her family, as if throwing away a pile of trash.
How could that be?
The moment she heard those words, McGonagall felt a surge of intense fear.
King Andra—how could he possibly show mercy?
What kind of war is she going to start this time? Or does she want to drive all the slaves into the wilderness and hunt them all down?
Her wildly beating heart only calmed down after she regained some of her former shrewdness and inquired around to find out the name of the Sage Eleanor.
The sage...that sage.
Even a slave like her probably knew that he was a strange person who had fallen from the sky.
At first, the rumors about the sage were always tinged with ugliness, but in the end, everyone was won over by her actions.
The freedom that Salin could not obtain even at the cost of his life was granted by someone's words.
McGonagall took a deep breath, swallowed all the bread, and looked around aimlessly, letting the green seedlings moisten her cheeks.
Karakara.
A horse-drawn carriage appeared on the road not far away and then stopped at the edge of the village.
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