With the little female dragon gone, Brendel regained his freedom. He hurriedly created a water orb and threw it in his own face. The cold water calmed him a little, and he put on a jacket and rushed out.
When he stepped outside, he saw Amandina sitting on a stone chair in the courtyard reading a geography book, but her mind was clearly not on the book.
“The princess seems very angry,” Amandina commented worriedly while greeting Brendel as he stepped out. She then lowered her scroll. “It’s nothing,” Brendel sighed, “Where’s Aloz?”
“My Lord, you’re talking about that young lady from the dragon tribe? I didn’t see her. Did she leave?”
“No, forget about it,” Brendel turned to chase after her. “Wait,” Amandina stood up and grabbed him, and when she saw her lord turning back with a face of confusion, she thoughtfully reminded him, “Tidy yourself up, my Lord.”
Brendel didn’t usually put much thought into what he wore, so he had casually put on a jacket and ran out. Amandina blushed at the sight of his disheveled appearance, and reached out to fix his collar.
Brendel didn’t put effort into his appearance either in Trentheim. If it hadn’t been for his demeanour, his status as a noble would have been in doubt, although a commoner would not be so knowledgeable and well-rounded as he was. In fact, it had always been Ferlarn who had helped him tend to the finer details of his daily life—the loud and brash young lady merchant couldn’t even take care of herself, let alone bear the responsibilities of the lord’s fiancee—which was why the elder of the two Wild Elves sisters was dubbed by the mercenaries as the ‘The Lord’s Head Maid.’
But if Ferlarn was the head maid, then Amandina’s role was similar to that of a butler. She helped Brendel straighten out the corners of his clothes, lightly dusting off the black velvet cloth. She said with slight annoyance, “If only my Lord would notice the majesty of his own appearance.”
Brendel had never believed in things such as innate majestic auras, nor did he care about them. It wasn’t the first time Amandina had helped him tidied up his appearance, and honestly, he himself could not see the difference. He felt that it was a pointless endeavour, but he did not refuse her. Instead, he asked, “Amandina, how long have I been unconscious?”
“We have been staying in Ampere Seale for half a month now, my Lord,” Amandina replied, fastening the buttons in front of his chest. She examined him for a moment, before nodding her head in satisfaction.
“That long?!” Brendel was shocked. He thought he had only been unconscious for two or three days. “Well, what happened that day after I was unconscious? Where’s Duke Seifer and all his minions?”
“The Duke is dead.”
“What?!” This news was completely unexpected, and Brendel had never dreamt that one of the most important figures in Aouine’s history was dead.
He froze for a moment before asking, “Amandina, what ex
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