The marquis slamd his hand on the desk, glaring at Karl. If his plan had any credibility, he might have listened, but what Karl was proposing seed like the ravings of a madman.
"I'll pretend I never heard this. Leave."
"Please, reconsider. We must take drastic asures now," Karl insisted.
"Are you deaf? I said, leave!"
At his father's unyielding command, Karl bit his lip.
"…Just think it over, Father. This is the only option we have."
Receiving no response, Karl turned and exited the study, his face twisted with frustration as he looked out toward the dueling grounds. The mories he wanted to forget played vividly in his mind.
"Don't underestimate ," he had boasted, "this sword has even slain lesser dragons…"
Thud.
"Kek!"
"Damn it."
His face flushed with sha at the thought. He wished he could bury his head in a hole. But worse than the humiliation of his defeat was what followed.
"Hmm, as expected of the Chieftain. It seems only Sir Sylas could match him."
"Thankfully, Sir Sylas still has an edge over the Chieftain." Your next chapter is on My Virtual Library Empire
"Has Lord Bjorn not given up yet? Admirable spirit, but…"
Had they laughed at his defeat, it might have been easier to endure. Instead, the nobles treated him as though he didn't even exist. The indifference they showed him was more unsettling than scorn.
'Our family will be the first branch to be pruned if a king rises in the North. And if my authority as heir to the marquisate continues to decline…'
He feared it wouldn't just be pruning; they might cut the family down to its roots, leaving him as a figurehead, a marquis in na only. It was a dreadful prospect. After all the effort he'd invested to be adopted into the marquisate, was he destined to suffer while others enjoyed the spoils?
'You may have lived your whole life with privilege, but I can't just let this happen,' Karl thought bitterly, glancing back toward the study before striding away with purpose.
It didn't matter if his father refused to help. While the chances of success would be slimr without his support, even failure was preferable to waiting idly for ruin.
"His Majesty has granted approval for the restoration of the royal title!"
"Ooooh!"
The northern nobles erupted in cheers when the ssenger returned with the news. Inspector Rozier, scowling all the while, grudgingly read the decree aloud.
"The circumstances in the North are indeed lantable. The abolition of the royal title was a founding decree, and we cannot overturn it lightly. However, to insist upon the old ways at the cost of countless lives would be a grievous error. Therefore, the restoration of the royal title in the North is hereby authorized…"
While Rozier read with a sour expression, the northern nobles bead with delight. Sylas allowed himself a slight smile as he observed their reactions.
'There was no way the Emperor could deny it after reading that report.'
The letter they'd overseen was filled with exaggerated warnings. It painted the direst picture possible, suggesting that without a northern king, barbarian hordes would soon sweep over the lands. For the Imperial Palace, unaware of the true situation, the letter must have struck a nerve. The current Emperor, with his desire for peace, would have been especially alard.
'All thanks to those two fools.'
Rozier's and the Crown Prince's clumsy ddling had allowed him to bypass multiple obstacles. Without their interference, he would've needed to play a far more intricate political ga. Catching Rozier's eye, Sylas smirked, and Rozier's scowl deepened.
"…This concludes the reading of the decree."
"Hahaha! Now we have no issues left!"
"Indeed! His Majesty has granted his approval!"
"The King of the North is truly the Emperor's king!"
The nobles cheered, laughter filling the hall. Had they been holding glasses, they'd have surely raised them in a toast. Suddenly, a knight burst into the room, his face pale with alarm.
"Trouble! Great trouble!"
"What's going on?"
"A dragon! A dragon has appeared!"
"What?!"
The nobles' eyes widened. A dragon? How was it possible for a dragon to be near when so many candidates had hunted them down?
"Stay calm and tell us precisely what's happened. What kind of dragon is it, and where is it?" Viscount Thorburn asked, maintaining his composure. While surprised, he wasn't frightened. After all, the hall was filled with dragon-slaying candidates. One dragon was hardly a cause for concern.
But the knight's face remained ashen as he shouted, "It's not just one dragon!"
"What?"
"There are multiple! At least four dragons have been spotted!"
"…!"
The blood drained from the nobles' faces as they took in the news.
---
All the northern nobles rushed to the top of the fortress walls, needing to see the situation with their own eyes to believe it. As they peered over the edge, a collective gasp filled the air.
"What in the…!"
Soone muttered in shock, swearing loudly—a breach of noble decorum, but no one thought to chastise them. It was understandable, as a horde of dragons was glaring at them from the horizon.
"What kind of madness is this place?" one of them cried. "The candidates have already slain five dragons, and yet here we have four more!"
Dragons were creatures most people might never see in their lifeti, and yet, despite the recent hunting of five, four new dragons had erged. Granted, one of those "dragons" was a lesser drake slain by Karl, barely worthy of the na.
"Unbelievable. Four dragons…" soone murmured.
By now, both Ragnar and Loghain had arrived on the walls, staring grimly at the creatures in the distance. Viscount Thorburn cast an incredulous look at the two.
"Is it truly so hellish beyond the snowfields? You've survived well."
"I'd love to confirm that, but this is beyond even our experience," Ragnar replied with a grimace. Despite their resilience, the people of the snowy lands didn't live where dragons appeared with such frequency.
Though the strength of the candidates had dimd the perception, dragons were typically regarded as half-natural disasters. When even one dragon appeared, a small tribe could be obliterated.
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