xymnovel Chapter 57 Isabella's Troubles
Chapter 57 Isabella's Troubles
Ouch, my head hurts so much!
Lyon's head groggily awoke, but his eyelids and limbs seemed to still be asleep.
Sigh, it seems this kid's health isn't so great. He slept so soundly after just one night of staying up, and his mind isn't working well either. Back when he was in college, staying up all night was a regular occurrence for him...
He didn't know how much time had passed before his body finally reacted. Leon struggled to open his heavy eyelids, his eyes blurry as he looked around. The first thing he saw was the starry night sky outside the window. And beside him, there seemed to be a slender figure, breathing rapidly and heavily.
He sat up abruptly and looked closely; it was his sister, Isabella. She was sitting on the edge of Lyon's bed with her back to him, her head bowed, making soft sobs.
"Isabella?" Leon asked, rubbing his heavy forehead, "Are you crying?"
The candlelight flickered, illuminating the undried tear tracks on her face. She was frantically wiping them away with the back of her hand, trying to compose herself before her brother fully regained consciousness, but her slightly trembling shoulders and suppressed sobs betrayed her.
"Sister?" Seeing that Isabella didn't respond, he sat up and continued to ask, "What's wrong? Who bullied you?"
Isabella shook her head violently, her brown hair swaying in the candlelight. She didn't want to speak, but the pent-up resentment, like a river bursting its banks, finally broke through the barrier. "No...no one bullied me..." Her voice was barely audible, thick with a nasal tone, "It's...it's because I'm getting married."
Lyon's heart sank slightly. He had long known that being a princess was an inevitable fate. He tried to make his voice sound as light as possible: "Is it Humphrey? The Duke of Reynald's son?" He recalled Humphrey's clumsy courtship poem at the banquet.
Damn it, why is it still following the historical timeline? I haven't even intervened yet! No way!
“It wasn’t him…” Isabella looked up, her azure eyes brimming with fresh tears, like a startled fawn. “It was…it was from a place further away. It was the Roman emperor, whose name was the same as your companion in the stories you told me, Alexius.”
She seemed to remember something, and stopped sobbing for a moment, staring blankly at Leon: "They...could they be the same person?"
At this moment, Isabella's feelings towards her fiancé, whom she had never met, were complex. Based on her brother's story, she had constructed a vague yet somewhat curious image of him; she didn't dislike him, and in some girlish fantasies, there was even a hint of curiosity about the legendary capital and the young emperor. But all of this couldn't offset the coldness and fear brought by the words "marrying far away."
"So far away... I'll never see my mother again, never see you again... Leon..." Her tears finally streamed down her face. "I have to go alone to a completely unfamiliar place... I'm scared..."
Seeing his sister crying, Leon felt as if an invisible hand was clenching his heart. When he heard Alexius's name, Leon was initially overjoyed, but then he suddenly felt like a beast—his sister was crying for this political marriage, while he was only thinking about the emotionless operation of the marriage like a game, ignoring the living, breathing family member in front of him.
Admittedly, in his rational mind as a transmigrator, a marriage alliance with the Eastern Roman Empire was a powerful political alliance, crucial for the precarious situation of Jerusalem. Furthermore, as Alexius's friend, he secretly felt that it might not be a bad thing for his sister personally, certainly better than marrying her to Reynald's hot-headed son.
But at this moment, all these rational considerations seemed pale and powerless in the face of his sister's scalding tears. She was not a political pawn; she was his sister, a little girl of only twelve years old who would cry in fear of leaving home and her family.
Yes, that's really beastly.
But how could he comfort Isabella?
Lyon threw back the blanket and got out of bed. Instead of comforting her immediately, he went to the washstand, soaked a clean linen cloth, wrung it out, and then returned to the bedside, silently handing it to Isabella.
"Wipe your face, you're all covered in puddles." He tried to sound cheerful.
Isabella took the damp cloth and placed it on her swollen eyes; the cool touch calmed her down a little.
"Sister," Leon knelt down in front of her, looking up at her, "would you like to... go for a walk now? Just the two of us, without thinking about the emperor, without thinking about the wedding."
Isabella peered at her younger brother through the edge of the damp cloth, puzzled. Her mother forbade her to go out at night without permission.
"Come with me." Leon extended his hand, his eyes gleaming with a hint of adventure.
Isabella hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand in her brother's. Leon pulled her along, like two ghosts, avoiding the patrolling guards, slipping out of the palace through a secluded side corridor, and arriving at an open-air platform at the back of the palace that overlooked a corner of Jerusalem at night.
A cool night breeze swept away the tear tracks on Isabella's face and slightly dispelled the gloom in her heart. The Jerusalem sky seemed exceptionally low, as if one could reach out and touch it, with countless stars twinkling silently against the dark blue backdrop.
"Look," Leon pointed to the starry sky, his voice clear in the night breeze, "Sister, whether you are in Jerusalem or Constantinople, we are under the same starry sky. When you miss me, look at the stars; maybe I'm looking at them and thinking of you too."
Isabella looked up at the boundless sea of stars, feeling her own insignificance, and also feeling as if that distant distance was connected by something.
"And, sister, Alexius... he's actually quite adorable, adorably silly." Leon laughed as he began to tell Alexius's story. "When he was little, he was a little afraid of the dark. When we sneaked out to play at night, he would always walk behind me. He loved honey cake, and every time he tried to sneak a bite, his teacher would catch him because he would always accidentally get sugar crumbs on his purple robe." He vividly described those embarrassing childhood incidents.
As Isabella listened, she couldn't help but chuckle. The vague, imposing image of the crown-wearing man she had imagined was gradually replaced by the boy her brother described—a boy who was also afraid of the dark, greedy, and prone to causing trouble.
“Constantinople is huge, enormous,” Lyon continued, “ten times bigger than Jerusalem, no, a hundred times bigger. There’s a racetrack, and the Hagia Sophia, taller than Solomon’s Temple, with its golden dome that dazzles in the sunlight. You can buy everything in the world in its markets, from silk to spices, from amber to ivory. Aren’t you always curious about what’s on the other side of the sea? That’s the answer.”
He turned around, placed his hands on Isabella's shoulders, looked into her eyes, and his tone became incredibly serious: "Sister, you're not going to a prison. You're going to explore a whole new world. You will become the mistress of the greatest city in the world, you will have a new home, and new family. Alexius will respect you, I swear on my life. And I, and Jerusalem, will always be your support, your roots. This is not farewell, it's just... a rather long journey."
Isabella gazed at her younger brother. Under the starlight, Leon's face still bore the innocence of a boy, but his eyes were now filled with a reassuring firmness and strength. She still felt uneasy about the distance ahead, but that suffocating fear and resistance were indeed slowly dissipating under her brother's comforting presence.
She took a deep breath of the cool night air, feeling the tightness in her chest lessen. She nodded gently, not saying a word, but her eyes had calmed considerably.
Just then, a series of hurried footsteps broke the silence of the night. Accord appeared at the platform entrance, his face filled with undisguised excitement.
"Hey! You two little mice hiding here!" he yelled, then lowered his voice, but couldn't hide the excitement in his tone, "It's a success! Quick! Come with me! Over there in Marcus, that 'crystal' is done!"
Leon's eyes lit up instantly. He looked at Isabella, his eyes sparkling with invitation. Isabella was also infected by this emotion and nodded vigorously.
The siblings followed Yage through the dimly lit corridor once again, arriving at the workshop that was still filled with the aroma of cooking.
The workshop was packed with people, including Balian and even Bishop William, all of whom wore expressions of disbelief and shock. Old Marcus and the craftsmen stood in the center, their faces a mixture of exhaustion, sweat, and an almost divine fervor.
Marcus was holding something in his hands.
It was no longer a murky green lump, nor a pale amber-colored blank, but a palm-sized piece of glass of uniform thickness. It was crystal clear, with almost no bubbles or impurities visible inside. The flickering firelight in the workshop refracted through it, casting a brilliant and pure light.
"Your Highness..." Marcus's voice trembled as he carefully presented the glass to Lyon, as if holding a priceless treasure, "We...we did it!"
Leon took the glass, held it up to his eyes, and looked at Isabella beside him through it.
The world became clearer in his eyes than ever before. The fine downy hairs on Isabella's face, the lingering glint of water in her eyes, the slight upturn of her lips... everything was clearly visible, without any distortion.
He lowered the glass and looked at his sister. Isabella was also gazing at the miraculous glass, her eyes filled with childlike curiosity and amazement; the gloom of her impending marriage to a distant land seemed to be temporarily dispelled by the light of creation.
Lyon gently placed the glass in Isabella's palm, a smile curving his eyes: "Sister, this is for you. It's a gift, and also a blessing."
He looked up at the starry sky, pointed to the moon, and said, "If you miss everyone, look at the stars and the moon through this. Perhaps Jerusalem and Constantinople are both under the same moonlight, gazing at the stars through the same glass!"