I Am Louis XIV

This great sword belonged to a Roman soldier. It was a long Celtic sword. It was different from the well-known Roman dagger. It was about one and a half times as long as the dagger, or two feet and five inches, and as wide as the palm of an adult man. , mainly used for chopping - it was indeed used for chopping, the wind was sharp, the blade was sharp, even the soft and strong linen could not stop it, and Corneille thought desperately that he would hear a cry of mourning It never occurred to him that what he heard was the clash of metal on metal, which was different from what Corneille heard in his room—it was the clash of shackles. Shackles, this time sword for sword.

Under the Celtic long sword is a long scythe, which may be the most familiar weapon for black wizards, because the priests of the Inquisition will use halberds, short spears and giant swords, but the sickle is the most, and some can Folded and hidden under the spear, some are like this one under the long sword, and the joint is fixed-this sickle is larger than the sickle used as a weapon, the sickle touches the bearer's jaw, and the blade The tip lies below the abdomen, and the widest part is more than five inches - the chief judge of the court, Eralio, is lying flat on the bed, with an innocent smile as always on a face that seems to have not been tortured for too many years , Just looking at this smile, he looks like a naughty ghost joking with his friends.

But no naughty ghost would jump up from the bed, swing a scythe, and split a strong soldier in leather armor in two.

The soldier's blood spattered Corneille's body and face, he subconsciously held his breath, but a strong smell still poured into his nose, to his surprise, what he smelled was not blood, but It is the smell of paint. Although he is a playwright, he has also studied painting, so he is very sensitive to this smell.

"Black Mass, blasphemy, reversal." Eralius said softly, "The usual method of Jeromenes Bosch."

The Roman soldier who was cut by him did not lose his ability to move. He swept the bedpost with his sword, and the bedpost broke. Before the top curtain collapsed, Erao jumped out of the expensive linen cage. Jumping around the room, when Eralius uttered the word Black Mass, the three saints behind the Roman soldiers fell slowly with strange expressions—their faces, arms, waists, a clear Threads of blood ran through it... When their bodies finally split open, the broken holy vessels (that is, the instruments of torture in their crucifixion) fell from their torn fingers; Alas, the martyrs who rushed up like madmen followed in the footsteps of the saints; when it comes to the reversal, Erarius has advanced from the couch to the door, and nailed a head with a knife, and this head was not even cut by Erarius. It came down, it had been held in both hands before—but it was not the head of Saint-Denis, the chief judge seemed to glance at the dormitory with some doubts, this room that was originally full of beautiful things has now been completely destroyed It fell, and there were oil paints splattered everywhere like blood.

Those "things"... just lost their color, like a washed drawing board, revealing a simple but lifelike draft, but they can still move. How scary is a movable draft? Look at our high-level Mr. Nai knew it, he wanted to pass out, but he couldn't, he could only look at these squirming stumps, and Erarous not only didn't flinch at all, his eyes quickly swept across the whole ground, and after a pause, a vulgar The words burst from his lips.

Corneille didn't know whether he should pursue it—he meant that a cleric used vulgar language, and he only cared about the content, because what Eraro said was: "Where's the head of Saint Denis?!"

He quickly restrained his fear and searched for it, but before that, a writhing, mutilated body suddenly jumped up from the ground like a burnt earthworm. This seemed to be a signal that more arms, Feet or heads also flocked to Erarous's position like a flock of startled dogs. Although the judge's sickle was sharp, it was difficult to escape for a while-no matter how shattered those "things" were cut, they would Do your best to stalk this tricky foe.

It may only be a matter of a few seconds, "Fool to hell!" cried Eralius, "Monsieur Corneille, go to the chapel and find Monsieur d'Artagnan, the king is with him, go and tell They! . . . warn them!"

Corneille immediately ran out, leaving this eerie scene behind, the corridor was still empty, the candles were extinguished, he could only run forward by relying on the faint skylight, while running, he blamed himself for going too far Neglect of exercise - the palace is not big, but on the way from the atrium to the right wing, he still felt that his legs were filled with lead. Fortunately, maybe he was alarmed, and candles were lit in the chapel , Corneille struggled to push open the door, he saw the king, he didn't even have time to adjust his breath, he shouted intermittently: "Your Majesty, Your Majesty! Hurry..."

He couldn't say what he said afterwards, because he saw the king's eyes widen in shock, and a sudden light on his back--Corneille would not know what happened after that until the dust settled--the missing dog The head, the head of Saint-Denis has been tightly attached to his back. He took it to the king, and when he saw the king, it flew up immediately and bit off the king's throat!

Blood splattered everywhere, this was real blood, thick, with a unique sweet smell of blood, Corneille stood there, watching Saint-Denis's head biting the king's head, brushing past his side, fluttering to the dark.

Corneille thought that the cry he uttered in the king's bedroom was sharp and terrifying enough, but now he knows that before the real despair, the sound that humans can make is much more terrifying. His eyeballs almost fell out of their sockets, blood red Tears streamed down his cheeks onto the linen pajamas, he cried hysterically until a hand on his shoulder graciously absolved him of his sins - and he finally passed out .

The king's headless body was the last thing that remained in Corneille's mind. At the same moment he fell into darkness, that corpse also began to change. It shrank, faded, and finally became a doll that could be held in one's hand. .

Louis XIV came out of the ear room, "Why is Corneille here?"

"It's for him to be a witness." Eralio, who had already solved the "things" in the dormitory, came in from the door: "Bosch is... rather than causing other people's bodies to suffer, I would rather see them suffer." The fellow whose will and belief finally collapsed under his curse," because of Louis XIII, he did not say the phrase "especially noble people", "he is mocking us," he said: "At the same time, It would also make one think that you have committed some unknown crime to be punished so horribly by Saint Denis."

"Whatever he wants to do," at this time, the king's horse had been brought over, and the king flew on it, "this will be the last time."

At this time, Viscount Turenne ran over, with deep disapproval still on his face, "Your Majesty, that is a dark wizard, maybe he still has helpers."

"You should trust our great judge," said the king. "I have heard your advice, but don't forget, sir, that it is my father, your king."

Viscount Turenne sighed deeply, "I won't stop you, but don't stop me either." He also got on his horse and looked at Vauban, "Vauban stay here."

The gate of the castle was originally open, and a group of priests and monks from the Inquisition surrounded the king and his generals and rushed into the endless night.

The icy wind blows through the king's hair, yes, let reason speak, the king should not be in this team, should not face a dark wizard, but Louis is tired of the endless concessions to the inner world— —Bosch may be the most unscrupulous wizard among wizards, but like him, there are not a few wizards who arrogantly look down on all mortals. Of course, Louis can let Eraro go hunting Bosch, but in the Battle of Flanders, he Suddenly I realized an important thing, that is, on the battlefield, the soldiers can only see their generals forever, a nobleman who has never been with them on the battlefield, even if it is a king, even if he is respected, there will be a relationship with them. There is a gap that cannot be removed.

For these priests, like Eralio, the king is their benefactor, but if this situation continues, the inner world——is still the original inner world, but with a different master.

It would never be possible for them to see him, believe in him, bow down to him, stay in the palace, and enjoy the honor.

————

On Bosch's triptych, where the head of Saint-Denis finally fell off, Bosch stepped back, admiring his masterpiece with pleasure—"Thanks to you, my dear disciple," he said, "you It always brings me many unexpected inspirations." He turned his head and looked at Rubens, the light in his eyes was chilling, "Abandoning you makes my heart ache, I swear, this is the truth."

Rubens stared at his teacher, his heart was at peace, as if he had expected such a result on the first day he turned his back on the Holy Spirit, Bosch's finger slid gently on his face, sticky The greasy oil paint slowly penetrated into the latter's skin, he felt his face tightened and wrinkled, and his bones creaked. Completely losing control of his body, he stood up staggeringly, and came to the triptych, his fingers were trembling and convulsing, but he could only slowly sit down again, facing the drawing board.

The king is dead, the king is lucky to live, and the priests of the Inquisition who followed the king will soon come here smelling the smell, and Bosch could have left with him calmly, but he seems to want to let it go once and for all, Hieromenes Bosch is dead, Rubens—Bosch’s face should have changed, he can use Rubens’ face and body, his identity, to continue to exist—compared to Bosch, Even in the other world, among dark wizards, Rubens is more trustworthy than his mentor.

After Bosch had arranged everything, he turned and left, leaving Rubens in his room. Now there was only Rubens in this gloomy castle—he didn't know where Bosch was going back, Rubens Sitting in front of the drawing board, he knew that the priests of the tribunal would not hesitate to kill him immediately when they saw a dark wizard who was casting witchcraft, and then burn everything here——he worked hard to drive his own fingers, but just like Corneille at that time, he couldn’t move at all. Rubens closed his eyes and then opened them. He stared at a pigeon on the screen, which he painted, and he just After staring at it for a long time, the pigeon suddenly moved its small head, then spread its wings, flew up, left the drawing board, and flew onto his shoulder.

But it was too small, almost as big as a thumb, otherwise Bosch would not let him go easily, Rubens could not speak, could not make gestures, he could only order it with his mind—the pigeon flew to his nose, After hesitating for a long time, it began to peck at Rubens' face. The pigeon's beak was like a needle point, constantly pulling at the wrinkled skin, bulging fat and tangled hair, Rubens himself Under the influence of witchcraft, his skin has been tightly attached to the oil paint. Doing so is tantamount to peeling himself a little bit. He closed his eyes tightly, and the color of pain was undoubtedly revealed, and there was a constant glow between his lips. There was a small breath, and at this moment—he heard a strange sound, as if something was knocking on the door. After a while, a pale head flew in biting another head. Rubens had seen A portrait of the King of France, at a glance you know that Bosch's curse is in effect.

Rubens was born in the Holy Roman Empire, in Flanders, and later moved to Italy, Spain and other places. He is a Flemish, and he is also full of vigilance and disgust for the French, but just like he is for the French. As Bosch said, the inner world should not overlap with the outer world, and Bosch always mocked and refuted him by saying that he also used witchcraft to avenge officials who had hurt his family - but Rubens did not Wrong, this is the root of the disaster. The unscrupulousness and arrogance of the people in the other world will definitely lead to disasters that they cannot resist at all--a thousand years ago, the wizards retreated to the original magical world because they could not fight against the incompetent and ignorant mortals they said a thousand years ago. Islands or remote places inhabited by creatures and ghosts, and erected barriers from the sight of mortals, the so-called "inner world". Then, a thousand years later, how can the wizards think that they can resist the revenge and invasion of mortals now that mortals are constantly becoming stronger in wars?

Even if it is a king, the king is dead, long live the king, mortals can have another king, but what about wizards? Even if the inner world becomes so crowded, the number of wizards is still not comparable to that of mortals. Moreover, mortals are not without chance of winning in terms of extraordinary power-long before the establishment of the church, there was a split among wizards, and with The wizards with whom mortals stand, whose blades have never been blunted in war against werewolves, vampires, and their kind...

Saint-Denis threw the king's head at Rubens' feet, and it flew around Rubens curiously, as if he didn't understand why his master went crazy and pulled off all his skin, but its face There is indeed a salivating color on the face...

Instead of being frightened, Rubens smiled.

It's late today, and the next chapter will add a thousand words.