Yarra's Adventure Notes-Chapter 1270 - 56: Mother

Although the city cemetery was the smallest of the five public cemeteries in the Holy City, it still seemed vast within the urban area; its internal roads were winding and complex yet not easy to get lost in. The whole cemetery’s layout was designed like the veins of a leaf: one broad stone path divided the cemetery down the center, with layers of gradually narrowing side paths branching out to either side, eventually forming a network that spanned the entire grounds. Since it was early, Pannis and Freya were strolling through the cemetery and hardly encountered other visitors or tourists. The only company they had was the intermittent bird calls and insect songs from above, along with the rustling of the breeze through the treetops.

The two wandered deeper along the winding paths. Freya didn’t say where she intended to go, and Pannis didn’t ask a single question. Of course, there was no need for too much talk between two smart people. Without asking, Pannis could guess Freya’s destination, and Freya understood this well too. Thus, she didn’t explain from the beginning because she believed Pannis must have guessed her thoughts before they entered the cemetery. That’s why she had said standing there represented the response in his subconscious.

The Infinite Light Chariot, driven by Huront, climbed higher and higher in the sky. The force of the midsummer sun began to show, and the entire city was slowly heating up. Yet, within the bounds of the city cemetery, under the dense canopy of Rhea pines, it still felt cool, as if it were a different world from the heat outside. Enjoying the cool shade and breathing in the fragrant scent of pinecones, they would stop now and then to read the inscriptions at the bases of the statues and quietly judge the undead in the tombs, occasionally interspersing their walk with playful banter. The ambience between the two, walking together, was just like that of lovers who quietly met every afternoon or evening, equally warm and harmonious. The atmosphere was so pleasant that the princess even wished this path would never end.

However, as long as they didn’t stop walking, even the longest road would come to an end. When the Rhea pines vanished from sight once more and they directly faced a statue, both knew they had reached their destination.

The sculpture that came into view was of a woman, a stunningly beautiful woman. To be fair, her features were not perfect: her eyes were slightly too large, her nose a bit long, her lips thin, and the arch of her eyebrows somewhat too pronounced. Although these imperfections were not obvious, a careful look would easily reveal the flaws on her face. But when these flawed features were combined with the shape of her face, all the imperfections became assets; each flaw was just right, enhancing the beauty of her appearance. The female sculpture had a tall figure, with arms slightly spread to the sides and her head tilted downward, her eyes full of compassion and sorrow looking down at the visitors below. She wore a long monk’s robe that concealed her body, but the slender wrists and ankles peeking from beneath the robe still allowed one to imagine her graceful figure.

Clearly, this was the statue of a standard female Cleric, and the craftsmen had carved it with great dedication, perfectly portraying every detail of the deceased as they were in life, forever residing in the World of the Living. However, this statue was different from the others; it was the only one along the way whose base bore no inscription, leaving no one able to learn the identity of the lady through words.

But to the people of the Holy City, it seemed there was no need for inscribed words to identify her, for there was only one reason that such a scenario would occur—the only reason.

Side by side, Pannis and Freya stood beneath the statue, looking up at the gentle and affectionate female sculpture overhead. Pannis looked up at the woman above, then cocked his head to look at the buxom princess next to him, looked up again, and turned his head again, finally clicking his tongue and saying, "Strange, really strange. Your features clearly aren’t that similar. Most of her facial flaws, you have not inherited. If I look at your features individually, it seems you resemble Odin more. But why do I still get this strong feeling that you look so much like her?"

"Because we’re mother and daughter," Freya released Pannis’s hand and walked over to the sculpture, leaning against the statue’s leg and blossoming into a smile almost identical to that of the statue, making it hard to tell from their expressions which one was the sculpture and which was the real Princess. Freya caressed her mother’s statue’s leg, resting her head on the cold stone and said gently, "How about it, my mother was beautiful, wasn’t she? It is said that, in her youth, those who wished to court her could have formed a city guard."

"Indeed, very beautiful," Pannis, at this moment, had set aside his usual jesting, his expression was as serious as his formal attire, nodding and saying, "But that’s not surprising, just by looking at you, one can fully imagine the charm she must have had back then."

"Hah, that’s probably the happiest thing you’ve said to me since we’ve known each other." The Princess in front of her departed mother seemed to have cast aside her usual facade, revealing a warm smile and said softly, "When I was little, if Father had time, he would bring me here, stand where you are standing, and tell me stories about Mother’s past, while I climbed up on this pedestal, hugging Mother’s legs, playing and listening to stories. Back then, I was quite young and didn’t really understand the stories, which should have been boring, but whenever I came here, I always felt very happy."

"I can imagine, it’s a very warm scene," Pannis’s pupils contracted slightly as he spoke in a softer voice, "You must have really looked forward to Odin bringing you here."

"Yes, I often hoped that Father would bring me here, but as you know, Father was really too busy, sometimes he wouldn’t have the chance to bring me even a few times a year." Freya let out a somewhat melancholic sigh, but quickly perked up again, saying, "When I was young and didn’t understand, I even cried about it a few times. Later, when I got a bit older and understood his difficulties, I didn’t pester him to bring me anymore. By that time, I could already run around the city with the guards accompanying me, so whenever I missed Mother, I would come here by myself." freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"What a pity," Pannis sighed, "You didn’t have anyone to tell you stories then."

"That wasn’t much of an issue, I had already memorized my mother’s stories by then," Freya whispered softly, "Moreover, the older uncles who accompanied me would also tell me stories about Mother, from different perspectives than Father’s, which let me understand more about Mother’s past."