The girl’s answer not only startled Brand, but also made Batom and Limp Man lift their heads to look at her.
Antitina stared at the young man and replied, "Sir, rest assured, whether it is to fulfill my father’s vow or to express my personal gratitude, I will fulfill this trust."
Brand was taken aback; he couldn’t help but look at this noble daughter, as if trying to discern whether her answer came from pride or stubbornness. But from her firm, clean face, he read a mixture of both, with even a hint of confidence. Where did her confidence come from? Brand was momentarily at a loss.
The development of this matter seemed increasingly to deviate from his expected direction.
"How do you plan to fulfill it, young lady?" Batom asked from behind, sizing up Antitina and replied in their mercenary’s habitually coarse, teasing tone, "Though you look like a pretty young lady, our Lord already has a fiancée, young lady."
As a noble daughter, though in a fallen state, Antitina, who had always been secluded, had never heard such vulgar words. She was almost stiffened with anger, with her pale face turning slightly red. Yet, not deigning to respond to a vulgar guard, she only glanced at Brand - her eyes filled with disappointment. Then she turned around, walked to the desk, opened a drawer, took out a scroll, hesitated a bit, but finally walked over to hand it to Brand: "I believe its value won’t be less than you anticipated, Sir."
She thought for a moment, answered simply.
"What is this?" Brand asked.
"My work," Antitina replied somewhat apprehensively, but soon regained her confidence.
Limp Man sneered from the side. Batom looked at him and couldn’t help but poke him, whispering, "How much do you think this young lady owes our Lord?" Limp Man was taken aback and couldn’t help but glance at him - although Batom’s long hood covered his face, the short Limp Man ’Lorne’ could still see his bearded face. "You don’t know?" he retorted.
"Of course." Batom whispered back, "Why should I know?"
"I thought you knew," Limp Man glanced at him and immediately began calculating for him: "A noble like Borg, even if fallen, should at least leave a pension of one or two thousand Thor a year. Convert it, that’s nearly a hundred thousand Thor, that amount is not much, but not small, old buddy."
"That’s indeed a huge sum." Batom nodded, "Are you saying the scroll in the Lord’s hand is worth a hundred thousand?"
"I didn’t say that, but that could be possible if it’s a masterpiece. Some master’s works are worth millions, it’s not surprising. But - the young girl already said it’s her work. To tell you the truth, I don’t believe any of her works would be worth that much; otherwise, would she still live in this place?"
"You’re just looking down on people."
"It’s just a reasonable inference, Lord."
Antitina heard their conversation, she couldn’t help but clench her fists.
Brand held the scroll in one hand, not stopping the conversation between Limp Man and Batom. He was also puzzled for a moment, what exactly was this scroll: Magic recorded on a long parchment? Ancient Documents copied? Or as Limp Man said, Antitina’s painting? In his previous life, he had come across many such scrolls; some were priceless, some worthless. Thus, he stared at the surface of the long burnt-yellow parchment - actually a thick stack; its paper quality was poor, but it felt heavy in the hand - he couldn’t determine for a moment, where Antitina’s confidence came from.
"May I open and see it?" he asked.
"It’s already yours."
Only then did Brand nod, carefully unfolding the scroll. What met his eyes was a complex diagram, with numerous lines forming mechanical patterns, mysterious engravings and arrays filling the paper, every blank space filled with delicate annotations. Just one glance made Brand dizzy, it wasn’t surprise - but a sudden realization, so that’s how - he immediately closed the scroll, heart racing.