Awaken, Count Rekar!

"One, two, three, go!" The conductor raised his baton, and music began to play. It was a deep, moving piece entitled "Vien, Please Don't Cry for Me." Karen was very fond of its melody. Precisely because he liked it so much, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of pity: this piece, composed centuries ago by the musician Delmence specifically for the royal family, had assumed an entirely different character across the river of history. He imagined Queen Gloria III, having kept Count Rekar company at the docks, returning to the palace and weeping as she listened to this very tune. With that shift in imagery, a melody that should have felt profound and majestic took on a delicate, melancholic air in his mind. Music was like clothing: style and cut mattered, but far more important was who wore it. Of course, in the eyes of ordinary citizens across Vien, the royal family and Her Majesty the Queen remained objects of deep affection. Perhaps distance truly lent enchantment. Accompanied by the music, the Queen entered Allen Manor in a royal custom Diamond limousine. Escort vehicles flanked her front and rear, making for a substantial motorcade. In addition, cavalry of the royal palace guard rode in. Watching them on horseback, however, Karen could not help worrying that one of them might slip and fall at any moment. Even as a decorative display for the palace and crown, they fell drastically short of the mark. According to custom, the Queen's motorcade entered through the main gate and proceeded past the castle before finally coming to a stop at the rear. The Queen stepped out. At ninety-five, her advanced age was impossible to disguise. She was heavily powdered, so under reporters' cameras and the image quality of modern photographs, the press in Vien could continue to boast that their monarch remained forever youthful. Karen, however, clearly spotted the age spots on her wrists and neck. Old Anderson went to welcome the Queen in person. Then, Mr. Bede stepped in on his father's behalf to offer her a supporting arm. With the playful demeanor of an elderly matriarch, the Queen gently brushed Mr. Bede's hand aside and said instead, "Have your daughter support me." Eunice, dressed in black formal attire today, walked over and took the Queen's arm. The Queen patted the back of Eunice's hand. "It has been so long. You grow lovelier by the day." "And Your Majesty only looks younger with each passing day." "Hehe." The Queen laughed softly and, supported by Eunice, made her way into the castle. Assuming the role of an ordinary Allen youth, Karen walked forward alongside his two prospective brothers-in-law. While studying the Queen, he was also observing her entourage. Among them, there were bound to be practitioners of family faith systems, perhaps even believers from the churches. Upon entering the castle, the Queen sat down in the parlor and began sipping water. Everyone waited respectfully by her side. The footmen and maids of Allen Castle beamed with pride, basking in the reflected glory. It was a good thing Purr wasn't here right now; otherwise, the cat would certainly have lamented, *How fallen, how fallen indeed.* Or more bluntly, Purr might have sneered: *A whore from the Gloria family graces your doorstep, and you treat it like an honor?* The Queen began receiving the core descendants of the Allen family in the parlor. Meanwhile, her master of the household directed the accompanying palace servants to carry Her Majesty's personal belongings upstairs. During the handover, upon learning that the Queen's quarters for the night would be the patriarch's master bedroom on the third floor, the household master showed a flicker of surprise. According to royal records, past queens had visited Allen Manor countless times and often stayed overnight, but the Allen family had never once surrendered their patriarch's master bedroom. Still, his surprise was fleeting. After all, the declining Allen family had little choice these days but to lower their heads further and further before the royal house. In truth, Karen had intentionally vacated the master bedroom. Old Anderson had tried to dissuade Karen, saying it was unnecessary, but Karen had insisted. Within Allen Castle, the two safest locations were the patriarch's study and the patriarch's bedroom. Yet from another perspective—namely, Karen's previous experience—the safest place was often also the sturdiest cage. Purr had already refamiliarized herself with the manor's formations. Once Her Majesty retired for the night, they could safely "settle" her inside. When the time came, Karen would awaken Count Rekar and let him settle this karmic debt from the past. Old Anderson sat beside the Queen. Bede and his wife, Jenny, along with Mike and his wife, Lisa, stepped forward to pay their respects. The Queen offered a few comforting words to Mike in his wheelchair. Karen noticed, however, that the elderly maid standing behind the Queen cast a few pointed glances in Mike's direction. *Oh? Has she noticed that the affliction inside Mike has been resolved?* Next came the younger generation. Karen's two prospective brothers-in-law, along with Mike's son and daughter, came forward in turn to greet the Queen and receive gifts bestowed by Her Majesty. The most valuable gift went to Eunice: a string of pearls. Once the formalities of hosting were concluded, the Queen rested for a short while. Then, she rose and, still supported by Eunice, stepped out of the castle entrance and made her way toward the performance hall. It was not a long walk, but for the Queen, it was visibly exhausting. The performance hall was actually situated right by the entrance to Allen Manor. Had the Queen stepped out of her car at the gates, she could have paid her respects to her great-grandson immediately. Clearly, however, protocol and etiquette took precedence over the dead. Karen did not follow any further; getting a good look at Her Majesty's face had been enough to satisfy his curiosity. To his mild surprise, however, Judia was nowhere in the entourage. That was understandable enough. Not only had Prince York stayed away from this visit, but not a single other close royal relative had accompanied her either. After all, if they came, would they have to lodge overnight at Allen Manor alongside the Queen? If they did, wouldn't they risk getting caught in the crossfire? Even so, Karen had a feeling Judia would sneak over regardless. More than anything, she dreamed of meeting the progenitor of her bloodline—the man she called her father, Count Rekar. Once the Queen finished viewing her great-grandson's remains in the performance hall, Old Anderson arranged for "dinner," even though it was only mid-afternoon. The Queen herself was accompanied by Old Anderson and the core members of the Allen family, while her entourage was entertained separately by the estate's butlers. After the meal, the Queen's household officer announced that Her Majesty was feeling unwell due to overwhelming grief and needed to retire early. With the Queen resting, there would be no further events for the rest of the evening. Reporters from the major newspapers departed first, followed by an accompanying contingent of officials and other mourning guests. By dusk, Prince Henry's memorial service had officially concluded. Allen Manor was left with virtually no one except its own residents and the Queen's attendant servants. Old Anderson was finally relieved of the exhausting duty of hosting Her Majesty. At his advanced age, he truly lacked the stamina for such exertion. Since the Queen had retired early, he intended to lie down as well. After giving a few instructions to his two sons and several butlers, he allowed his younger son, Bede, to support him back to his room. Old Anderson was remarkably devoted in matters of the heart. Following his wife's passing, he had never remarried, taken no mistresses, and shown no interest in any of the maids on the estate. Most of the time, he did not even permit the maids into his room to clean. For someone of his rank and stature to lead such an austere life was indeed surprising. Widowers in York City with even modest savings often looked for housekeepers who were willing to warm their beds. Yet this steadfast fidelity earned him no points in Purr's book. In truth, Purr had already given up hope on the family: The old patriarch was hopelessly sentimental. The current patriarch was obsessed with artistic creation, neglecting his family's faith system entirely to join an evil cult instead. The eldest son valued promises above all else and was bluntly straightforward; the second son was a martial fanatic who, in pursuit of their ancestor's footsteps, had rendered himself a cripple. To an extent, none of them were bad people, and each possessed traits worthy of admiration. Yet not a single one was suited to managing affairs and leading the family back to prominence. Mike had intended to wheel himself away, but he noticed his younger brother giving him a meaningful look just before helping their father into the room. Though unsure of what it meant, Mike followed them inside. *Click!* Once the three of them entered the room, Alfred switched on the light, bathing the dim bedroom in bright illumination. The oil painting of the black cat, which had previously hung in the study, now sat propped up in the very center of the room. Beside the painting stood a chair, atop which sat a living black cat, dressed in identical fashion to the cat on the canvas. "This..." Old Anderson stared at the scene in bewilderment. "Isn't this the black cat Young Master Karen brought? This is inappropriate. This is truly inappropriate." In Old Anderson's eyes, Karen's pet was playing dress-up. Taking down the ancestor's portrait from the study for the sake of comparison was already an act of gross disrespect toward the Allen family's forebears. Yet Old Anderson swallowed his anger. Even facing the black cat and Young Master Karen's manservant standing in the room, he uttered no harsh rebukes, repeating only that it was inappropriate. Mr. Bede studied the black cat with intense care. As an accomplished painter, his perspective on oil paintings differed from that of ordinary people. While oil paintings often focused on capturing spirit, certain details were faithfully preserved. Even before this, Mr. Bede had found the black cat strangely familiar. Now, placing the two side by side, he discovered that the fine details of the cat in the painting and the living cat before him were astoundingly identical! Mike bit his lip. He wanted to curse, but held back, turning instead toward Alfred. "Mr. Alfred, what is the meaning of this?" The next instant, Old Anderson and Mike both opened their mouths in utter shock. Even Bede wore an expression of dumbfounded astonishment. For the black cat sitting upon the chair actually spoke. It said: "You truly are the most useless bunch of descendants imaginable. "Now, "you have finally succeeded in waking your ancestors with pure rage!" *** The sky grew dark. Allen Castle, third-floor master bedroom. The Queen sat on the edge of the bed, stripped completely naked. At this moment, she looked like a withered, desiccated ear of corn. If her face could still be touched up to pass muster, the rest of her body beneath her clothes was dreadful to look upon—like sheets of plastic bags held together with staples. The elderly maid held a cup of water, using a small cloth to meticulously wipe Her Majesty's body. Each time she cleaned an area, she wrung the cloth out into the cup before continuing to wipe. Once she finished wiping the Queen's entire body, the maid wrung every drop from the cloth into the small cup, then offered it to the Queen. The Queen parted her lips and drank her own bathwater. The maid's expression remained entirely flat throughout, clearly accustomed to the routine. When the Queen finished drinking, the maid prepared to help her dress, but the Queen pushed her hand away. "No clothes tonight." The Queen struggled to her feet, and the maid hastily stepped in to support her. "I'm sorry to trouble you. Tonight, you will likely have to die." "To give everything for Your Majesty is my honor." "Mm." The Queen walked toward the wall of the bedroom, where several trunks sat. They held her dresses and jewelry. While she could never wear so many clothes or adornments, thorough preparation was mandatory. She was the symbol of the royal family and the nation; not the slightest flaw in her image could be permitted. "Ever since I ascended the throne, this is the first time I have felt so unburdened. By that, I mean I finally don't have to wear such elaborate garments or burden myself with such tedious jewelry. "Just thinking about it makes me so happy, so relaxed." "Your Majesty deserves to have everything, including... freedom." "Yes, indeed. Freedom." The Queen raised her hand. The elderly maid stepped forward and opened the ornate trunk before her. Inside, instead of clothing, sat a young girl. She was curled within the trunk, a purple spike driven through her chest, pinning her to the trunk's interior wall. Judia struggled to lift her head, looking at the woman outside the trunk who was legally her great-grandmother. "My dear granddaughter, do not fear, and do not worry. Your grandmother simply felt that the practitioners of the family faith system in Allen Manor were too low in tier, and far too few in number. "The scholars of our family concluded that all it requires is the bloodline of the Allen family as food, but the higher the spirituality, the richer the nourishment, wouldn't you say? "So your grandmother worried: what if they weren't enough? "Isn't it fortunate, then, that you awakened the Allen family faith system and have already reached tier three? "That is why your grandmother brought you along this time. "Do not worry. If this manor proves sufficient, your grandmother will not harm you. "Once your grandmother regains her youth and her freedom, I will take your hand and go riding on the grass outside with you, all right? "Of course, if they aren't enough, then your grandmother will have no choice but to devour you. As a member of the Gloria family, this is the contribution you ought to make for your family, for the crown, for Vien, and for every citizen of this realm. You should feel honored." The Queen reached out and gently stroked Judia's cheek. On Judia's face, there was neither hatred nor despair. Instead, a smile played across her lips. The Queen smiled as well. "That's the spirit. Can you already feel that sense of honor?" "Y-Yes..." Severely wounded, Judia tilted her head back. "I can already... feel... my bloodline... boiling..." "Good, very good. That is how a worthy child of Gloria should be. "Your grandmother promises you: once I succeed, I will arrange for you to become the next Queen of Gloria. Consider it your grandmother's reward for your loyalty and devotion." With that, the Queen turned around, and the maid helped her back to the edge of the bed to sit down. Inside the trunk, a sinister grin twisted Judia's face. "It is time," the Queen said. "Yes, Your Majesty." The elderly maid produced a glass vial containing a black seed with a tiny green sprout poking out. When she unstoppered the vial, an uncanny, fragrant aroma spread rapidly through the air. The Queen gazed at the seed with absolute reverence, letting out a low moan: "Youth, freedom... here I come!" *** Dining room. "That's it. Place your hands here. As I just instructed, raise the bedroom's warding formation to its highest level. You'll feel some discomfort and probably cough up a bit of blood, but trust me, you won't die." "Yes, I understand. I will give everything I have, even if it kills me." Old Anderson dared not show the slightest disrespect to the feline ancestor perched upon his shoulder. He pressed both hands against a silver platter pulled from the corner of a cabinet, nearly flush against the wall. The aura of his family faith system surged from his body, pouring entirely into the platter! *** "Begin," Karen said. "Yes, Young Master Karen." Sitting in his wheelchair, Mike wheeled himself before the pirate ship gravestone. He drew a dagger across his palm, and fresh blood began to drip down. Until Karen called for him to stop, he continued squeezing the wound to keep the blood flowing. Standing beside Karen, Bede asked in a low voice, "Can... can I help as well?" He wanted to share the burden for his brother. Karen shook his head. "Do you think your ancestor would care for the flavor of your blood?" A bitter smile tugged at the corner of Bede's lips. He said no more. "Alfred." "Yes, Young Master!" Alfred rose from the drawn circle, his eyes glowing red. At the same time, the circle beneath his feet darkened to pitch black, steadily expanding outward. "Basic... Rendering!" "Woof!" Kevin leapt onto the top of the pirate ship gravestone, planting the Ace of Spades he held in his jaws right where the ship's flagpole stood. This was an indispensable part of the ritual! Karen stepped forward, halting before the pirate ship gravestone. He closed his eyes. In that moment, it felt as though the wind in every direction had stilled. Black chains materialized beneath his feet, growing increasingly sharp and distinct under the amplification of Alfred's rendering array. He began his chant: "O Pirate King who roamed the vast seas, proud wanderer of the Allen family's history; "With the blood of your descendant as a guide, I fulfill our prior pact; "I grant you the chance to open your eyes and descend once more, "That you may witness with your own eyes the might and prosperity of the Allen family today, and behold descendants worthy of your pride! "Order—Awaken!"