Chapter 109: The Council (Part 1)
In the Valen Empire, Ice River Basin.
Beneath the sky, the silver peaks shimmered with a blue tint, towering snow-covered mountains stretched endlessly, seemingly piercing the clouds. The dazzling white peaks sparkled in the sunlight, and at the base of the mountains, thick ice had formed on the river surface as warriors in long, heavy coats drilled large holes in the ice. A few of them struggled to pull fishnets from the water, a frenzied school of fish wriggling and flopping helplessly within. The warriors laughed heartily, someone started singing a raspy old tune, and soon everyone chimed in. One enterprising soul even stripped off his clothes and belly-flopped into the icy river, splashing freezing water everywhere, chuckling like it was a warm summer day.
And across the river, where the white tents blended almost seamlessly with the snow, stood the magnificent Chielis City — a stronghold of the Valen Empire.
The soldiers stationed both inside and outside this city were none other than the infamous Shanter Army, wielders of fearsome trick weaponry, legendary for never having lost a single battle, able to take on ten enemies at once, or so the rumors said.
Chielis City and the Crown’s Royal Palace were neighboring cities, and uniquely, they were the closest to each other, both strategically essential. Between the two, a mountain and a valley separated them, with encircling mountains clinging to Chielis City like a crescent moon. The only road leading into the city wound through a gorge aptly named “Moon Mountain Gorge.”
As for Chielis City, it nestled just outside the gorge on the left side of a glacial river. So, regardless of whether they were Southern traders or Northern nobles paying visits, those entering the gorge could hardly avoid Chielis City.
However, this very city had long been occupied by the formidable Shanter Army.
Victory in this war…
Seemed almost certain.
Over two years had passed, and these warriors—fiercely dedicated to the noble Duke Skarlick, King of the Northern Region—came crashing down from the North like a flood, their struggles and the sacrifices of fallen comrades had not been in vain. Their eternal king, their hero, would soon be crowned “Emperor,” declaring Winter City as the capital and turning Shanter Castle into a palace, ushering in an era of prosperity and entering the annals of imperial history…
Such glory! Who wouldn’t be thrilled?
Yet, as they celebrated, their advance had recently encountered some interference from church knights, albeit temporarily. Despite this hiccup, the warriors of Shanter Castle remained confident about the war’s outcome because they knew one crucial fact: Chielis City was running low on food. Their forces, working in concert with the armies from New City of Kaliye and Erin Castle, had effectively sealed off all routes leading to the royal city. Food, herbs, winter clothes—hell, even wine—were all blocked from getting in.
As time went on, more and more civilians escaped the city…
Those fleeing would arrive at Chielis City, greeted with priority treatment and plenty of good food and wine—thanks to the abundance of supplies in Chielis City. With Eagle City captured, reinforcements were constantly flooding in, and the army intercepted supplies initially destined for the royal city. Therefore, the stockpile remained robust—at least to them. As long as they weren’t hungry or freezing, with medicine and doctors for injuries, and wine for thirst, they were content.
For the intricate details, they left that to their Duke and Count Lafael.
And that wise Duchess…
Her performance during the war had left these warriors in awe, effectively managing the logistics of the army almost single-handedly. Initially dismissed as just a beautiful damsel… not to mention the fiery Countess Annie from Erin Castle, who commanded local skirmishes with astonishing skill…
In Shanter’s ranks, Captain Bella’s outstanding command and Captain Hufu’s bravery were legendary, while the robust Pagos from the central workshop surged into the enemy lines with the force of a “battlefield meat grinder,” stunning both friend and foe alike with every charge.
Adding to the excitement, even the world-renowned Queen Elizabeth of Ethanbel had led her troops to aid them this month… albeit publicly maintaining neutrality. Still, in the hearts of the Shanter troops, it was crystal clear that her presence in this pivotal moment—gathering the army of Chielis City to meet with the Duke and the church’s clergymen—spoke volumes.
With such remarkable figures on their side, what could the church do to genuinely threaten them? Winter City wouldn’t let those folks walk all over them.
Consequently, the warriors were brimming with confidence.
Contrasting their optimistic spirits, inside a certain conference room in Chielis City, the esteemed figures relied upon by the warriors were seated around a table, their faces solemn. Though some managed a smile, hidden behind those grins were blades sharper than any sword.
“… The palace has made it clear they are willing to make significant concessions. After this dispute, Emperor Keynes will not interfere with the North’s development for the rest of his life, nor will he set foot in the Northern Region again. Except for Eagle City, all Northern cities will be managed by Duke Skarlick, and taxes will be administered by Winter City. Even so, do esteemed lords here remain dissatisfied?”
At the round table, an elderly cleric, wearing a bishop’s crown, spoke sternly to the people gathered before him. Once he finished, a cold laugh resonated from the left: “Concession? Ha! That sounds good! Too scared to lose that emperor seat, does he think we’re all fools? The war’s come to this point; if we don’t take off Keynes’s head, we withdraw? Hmph! I won’t even need him to act against us; my wolves would tear me apart first!”
The speaker was a rugged figure, sporting a nasty scar, one blind eye, and a beard to boot, clad in fiery red armor. Just from looking at him, you could tell he had quite the temper, and even in front of these “holy servants,” he didn’t hold back: “Not even daring to mention compensation, thinking a few verbal assurances will send us on our way? To hell with that!”
“This general from Erin Castle should watch his words,” suddenly interrupted another voice.
Everyone turned to see a pale, somewhat effeminate figure clad in knight armor, not even thirty, sitting beside Captain Selamus, the head of the Fourth Knights Order. He looked disdainfully as he meticulously filed his long nails, voice squeaky and sharp.
“Duke Skarlick, what is this? We’re supposed to be dignified here. Why are you letting such a ruffian in?”
The moment those words left his mouth, the rugged man slammed the table with a bang, glaring angrily at the effeminate figure: “You little twit! What did you just call me? You want to dish out insults like that, you little—”
Unfazed, the effeminate man merely blew on his nails, seemingly pleased with his handiwork, nodded slightly, and then raised his eyes to the calm Duke Skarlick across the table, posing a question.
“Today’s council aims to discuss the major issues currently facing the Valen Empire, as well as the serious problems that will challenge each nation in the upcoming decade. Those sitting here must surely be those who can truly make decisions on such matters.”
He then scanned each person around the table from left to right: “Among us are the Uncrowned King of the Northern Realm, along with his esteemed lady, Lady Catherine. There’s the unrivaled Queen of Ethanbel, Her Majesty Elizabeth, the venerable Mr. Anseier, soon to be elevated to Cardinal status, and Captain Selamus of the Fourth Knights Order… We’re all just sitting here, hardly speaking… May I ask—”
The man turned his attention back to the rugged soldier who had banged the table, a smirk forming on his lips, eyes filled with disdain: “What makes you think you’re not just a ruffian? So tell me, what exactly are you?”
He paused, locking eyes with the now-flushed soldier, before leisurely averting his gaze.
“Or is it that this so-called general from Erin Castle somehow represents all of you from the Northern Realm?”
“You—”
Seeing the man exaggerate his outburst, the soldier wanted to retort, but he was a warrior, not one for verbal sparring, and his eyes widened in frustration as he found himself completely at a loss for words. He was left fuming, his face turning red.
“Okay, okay…”
At that moment, Duke Skarlick finally stepped in to mediate.
Waving his hand with a smile, he addressed the effeminate figure: “Vice Captain Tiya, our general has just returned from the battlefield, still reeking of bl**d, and has a rather blunt personality… I believe you’re somewhat aware of how people from Erin Castle can be, even if you aren’t fully acquainted?”
“People from there, men and women alike, are all rather straightforward. They don’t have all those twists and turns in their words. Their temper is just like this when they’re around me… I rather like it, to be honest; men should be this way, straightforward! Ha-ha! If you’re feeling uncomfortable, my suggestion is to step outside for a breath of that fresh, mountain air, cool off a bit, alright?”
With a couple of taps on the table using his index finger as if oblivious to the increasingly unpleasant expression on the effeminate figure’s face, he turned to the capable-looking Captain Selamus beside him and continued: “What the Vice Captain is trying to convey, perhaps a bit too delicately, is that our group isn’t quite the influential lot you think can decide the fate of the entire West for the next decade…”
“We simple folk from the icy Northern lands aren’t fit for such burdens; that’s really for you knights and the Holy Church to handle.”
Duke Skarlick kept a pleasant smile on his face as he spoke.
To his right, Lady Catherine sat upright, her demeanor poised and beaming as she gazed at the clergymen.
As for the left side of the Duke—
There sat Queen Elizabeth, her chin resting on her hand, eyes closed, appearing drowsy as if she had nodded off.
