Dancing is not allowed on the grave

"Mr. Steward."

The trembling voice brought back Lancelot's sense of reason. He stepped back, looked at his Highness panting slightly, with red lips, and suddenly laughed, "Your Highness looks like..."

Syl raised his eyes, the eyes were still filled with misty water vapor, the lake of stars in his eyes seemed to have rippled, it was so soft that it was heartbreaking.

Lancelot was silent for a moment, and raised his hand to wipe away the light water marks on the corners of his lips.

"What's wrong with my appearance?"

It makes people want to bully.

But Lancelot didn't say a word, just lowered his head and carefully unbuttoned the remaining few buttons of Searle.

When he was packing his luggage last night, Syl fell asleep watching on the bed, so he didn't change his clothes, it was still the shirt from the day.

Searle was at the mercy of Lancelot with a mess of wool curls on his head, muttering softly, "Mr. Lancelot, why can't you cover the heat?"

It's like those goblins who sucked people's yang energy in the ancient legends of the original world, absorbing all the heat from Syl's body.

Syl felt that if he continued like this, he would catch a cold sooner or later.

"This is indeed a problem." Lancelot took Syl's hand and stuffed it into the sleeve, "Why don't I take the time to learn a little fire magic?"

"..." Syl swallowed silently.

"What's the matter?" Lancelot smoothed the fine wrinkles on the dress for him, and raised his head.

"In my original world, there was a word called..." Syl's face turned red suspiciously, "Ice and fire are two heavens."

Lancelot didn't know what this meant, but waited patiently for Searle to explain.

But His Royal Highness stopped talking.

"I remember." Lancelot didn't ask further, took a black ribbon around the side of the neck, and tied a bow tie on Searle's chest. "I will go to Hades for advice later."

"Huh?" Silwu opened his eyes wide.

"Ask if you don't understand, it's the basic cultivation of a housekeeper." Lancelot straightened his bow tie, lifted the quilt, and brought the Martin boots by the bedside. "Only by continuously improving yourself can you meet His Highness's needs in all aspects."

The word "need" sounded particularly harsh to Searle at this time.

"Don't ask him." Syl frowned, leaned close to Lancelot's ear, and whispered a few words.

Mr. Butler didn't seem to expect His Royal Highness to say such a thing, he was stunned for a rare moment, and then he reacted, holding Searle's thin straight calf with five fingers, "Your Highness, you know a lot."

"Huh?" Syl was stunned.

He panicked, and even the words of explanation got stuck, "I, I, I—"

"You, you, you—" Lancelot seemed in a bad mood, even the honorifics disappeared. "Have you tried?"

"...No." Searle understood what the housekeeper was thinking about. "Never, I just know a little bit."

"What does Your Highness know about these?"

Syl felt that even if he jumped into the Yellow River, he would not be able to clean himself up, "I...that is, all my friends around me are saying this word, I just asked it out of curiosity, and I knew it."

Mr. Steward may not be able to understand that in his original world, information dissemination is too developed, and some things can be said to be received by force-often people can't tell whether they are browsing green software or shopping in brothels.

"Do you want to try, Your Highness?" Lancelot tidied up His Highness, took him up with one hand, and carried the black wooden suitcase with the other. "Although I don't have a high affinity for fire elements, I can learn a little bit to get started. Fire magic is not too difficult."

"..." Seeing Lancelot's serious expression, Syl even had the illusion that Mr. Butler was learning a new skill to better serve his master.

Although it was a bit embarrassing, Syl was always an honest child, so he didn't refuse, "That, that, wait until you learn it."

It was Lancelot who raised his eyebrows, "Your Highness agrees?"

"Well." Syl nodded as if making up his mind, "It's just a small reward for Mr. Steward to learn new magic."

"A small reward." Lancelot repeated the word, laughing in a low voice, "but for me, this is something I dream of."

"Is it popular in your place to reward others like this?"

Searle seemed to read from Mr. Steward's tone that he was uneasy about that distant unknown world where he once lived.

"No." Seale said sternly, "The object of the reward is Mr. Lancelot."

"It's true that we are more open than Rossella in this respect, but—"

Syl thought for a while, and found an adjective that wasn't quite right, "But since I'm here, I should do as the Romans do."

"Ross pulls slowly, so I can only love one person."

Although he couldn't understand the cause and effect relationship before and after this, and their ghost carriage was not slow at all, Lancelot was still pleased by Searle's words, and a little smile appeared in his deep eyes, "That's for His Royal Highness. Reward, I want to learn fire magic as soon as possible."

"Ah?" Syl finally panicked, "Well, don't worry too much, I also need to prepare..."

They had already descended the wooden stairs. Before they could finish speaking, they heard Lancelot say, "Miss Melotti, can you lend me your Fire Code?"

Melotti was sitting on the sofa applying red nail polish. Hearing the sound, she raised her head, her beautiful eyes showed a little doubt, "You are an ice magician, what are you doing reading the Codex of Fire?"

She frowned, "Could it be that you still plan to cultivate both ice and fire?"

Syl bumped his head on Lancelot's back.

The term "ice and fire double cultivation" also sounds very wrong, doesn't it?

"My Highness is afraid of the cold. I will learn a little fire magic so that I can keep Nathaniel warm when he arrives." □□Seamless answer.

Syl looked up and saw the handsome and serious profile of the man, it was hard to imagine what was in his mind.

"So that's how it is." Melotti expressed her understanding, "You can't freeze little Sear."

So in the end, Syl watched helplessly as the Codex of Fire fell into the hands of Lancelot.

And on the way to Nathaniel, Mr. Steward sat in the coffin of the ghost carriage and studied hard, and from time to time, he discussed this magic that was very new to them with Nancy, who was traveling with him.

Nancy is from Nathaniel and is very familiar with the geographical environment there, so this time she also went with Syl, while Melotti and Hades stayed in the cemetery as mercenaries, responsible for farming and defending against the undead. invasion.

Even Syl can manage remotely by switching the small map on the parchment, and dispatch mercenaries to water and fertilize the plants, which can be said to be very humane.

"Hey, I'm sleepy and I want to sleep in the carriage for a while, who will help me drive the carriage for a while?" Because the coffin was too small, Nancy drove a carriage by herself. No slower than a ghost wagon.

Nancy got into the carriage, and Lancelot went over and sat in the driving seat at the front of the other carriage, holding the reins in one hand and the Codex of Fire in the other.

After a while, Searle suddenly heard a "thud".

"?" He turned his head, only to see flames bursting from the branches of a big tree with two people hugging each other not far away, spreading the entire canopy in the blink of an eye, and it was as gorgeous as blooming fire trees and silver flowers in an instant, and orange-red sparks fluttered in the wind.

But this grand scene was only for a moment, and all the leaves were burned to ashes, leaving only the scorched branches.

Lancelot's faintly beating flames at his fingertips were also extinguished. He gently blew away the wisp of smoke, seemingly dissatisfied. face.

It took less than half a day to learn, and he was able to control the flame to only burn the leaves and not spread outwards. What else does this magical genius want?

"Your Highness." Lancelot's casual voice came from another carriage, "I will try my best."

"Looking forward to your reward."

"Cough, cough..." Syl choked, "Is it too late for me to regret it?"

"Huh?" Lancelot glanced over faintly.

"No, I mean... the wind is very noisy today." As soon as he finished speaking, the wind stopped.

Syl rubbed the back of his head and pointed to the street in the distance, "Look at that magic store is on sale—"

But Mr. Steward still hasn't been distracted.

Syl's face was about to burst into flames from his scorching gaze, and he lay down in the coffin with the broken jar, and closed the lid of the coffin, "The signal from the grave is not good, let's not talk about it, I passed away first."

Lying in the darkness, Syl heard his own violent heartbeat.

Perhaps Lancelot didn't know how thrilling his well-defined side profile was in the embers of the sky just at that moment, as if it had been carved out of a classical oil painting and burned into Searle's eyes, hitting the depths of his soul.

Syl took a deep breath, and suddenly noticed a very slight friction sound in the small space of the coffin.

He curled his fingers vigilantly, his forehead suddenly felt cold.

It was a cold, tender, snowflake-like kiss.

"It's useless to regret, Your Highness."

Syl was startled, then suddenly laughed, "Why do you use the space talisman in such a place?"

Lancelot didn't respond, but knelt down on Searle and kissed him slowly, almost devoutly.

"I do regret it." Syl closed his eyes and said softly, "I don't think I can wait until you learn fire magic."

The kiss stopped at the corner of his lips, as if waiting for him to finish speaking.

"Lancelot, I..."

"boom--"

Nancy's carriage crashed into a tree.