Round Seven: Mage Council Meeting

From beginning to end, Singer and another extremely old mage sitting beside him didn’t say a word. Then, the deeply wrinkled mage, who seemed older than the sum of the ages of the other five archmages at the podium, spoke up: “It seems all the battles have taken place in the Northern Theatrum. And, um, I remember the commander of the Northern Theatrum is her—she, today, she, um, has Commander Moriel’s report. Perhaps we should listen to, um, Commander Moriel’s views on this matter.”
Indeed, he was old enough to be somewhat senile.
Moriel walked calmly into the council chamber of the Supreme Council, stepped onto the podium under the gazes of all the mages, bowed, and then stared expressionlessly at the seven highest council members. Seeing no one ask questions, she pulled out a speech draft from her sleeve—likely the report she had prepared in advance.
“No need to bother, um, Commander. Today we can just, um, have a casual talk,” the old mage said, his speech trembling slightly, as if sitting in a chair was also extremely exhausting for him.
“Yes, Lord Kiskain!” Moriel put down her speech draft, her voice clear.
“The battle reports, um, the council has already reviewed them. As for the situation on the front lines, it’s, um, excellent. You must keep up the good work… The battle reports, um, the council has already reviewed them. Regarding Commander Daguras, we regret her death in action. You should, um, take comfort…” Kiskain muttered, often speaking incoherently. Even the other council members found it exhausting to listen to him, yet Moriel replied very seriously and clearly: “You flatter me. I truly don’t deserve such praise. Commander Daguras was killed by the Pit Demons while saving her troops in battle. Her death is a huge loss to the Empire. She was an excellent commander. As her deputy, I request to accept the punishment from the Supreme Council!”
“The battle reports, um, the council has already reviewed them. Regarding Commander Daguras, ah, um…” Kiskain, seemingly realizing he was repeating himself and trying to choose his words, grew more and more like a patient with dementia: “Well, um, she was very brave. She thwarted the enemy’s evil plans. Her sacrifice was, um, valuable…”
The other council members hoped Singer would stop Kiskain from leading this conversation, but Singer remained seated with his eyes half-closed—whether listening to this boring discussion or actually asleep, it was unclear.
“But the demonized elves, um, let’s call them that for now. Commander Moriel, you must know that, um, the elves’ rituals clearly had some, um, effect. Although the battle reports provide detailed descriptions, the Supreme Council still wants to hear your opinion.”

“As you command, my lord. It’s clear that the Night Elves intended to summon Hell demons to fight back against the Empire’s overwhelming assault. Commander Daguras saw through this plan and led her troops to the scene at the critical moment to stop the Elves’ foolish and reckless actions. As a result, they failed—the demons summoned through their uncontrolled methods ravaged the land without restraint. I was there and witnessed those demons’ terrifying power. Commander Daguras lost her life while covering the retreat of her troops, caught in the chaos created by those demons. It shouldn’t have ended this way… I think the Elves’ plan was extremely stupid, but it also shows that they’ve been pushed to such a desperate corner that they had no choice but to adopt this suicidal fighting method despised by most creatures. This is good news for the Agus Empire, yet we’ve lost such an outstanding commander…” Morill paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts. “From this, we can conclude that the so-called demonized Elves are a byproduct of this summoning ritual—species that have mutated under its influence. Though they’re troublesome, they can never stop the conquest of the Great Empire.”

“Well, in other reports, um, there’s mention of a mysterious creature. Many reports describe its presence. It first appeared in the northwest part of the forest, and recent reports show it appearing more frequently, often alongside the demonized Elves. The reports also state that it appeared during the Elves’ rituals. Commander?”

Morill remained silent for a moment, seemingly processing what Kiskain had said. Indeed, the old man talked in a mumble, making it exhausting to listen to and quite annoying. Yet Morill showed no sign of impatience and quickly replied, “According to the records, it’s a construct created by the Night Elves using some method, and it may have been influenced by the summoning ritual, giving it certain characteristics of Hell, my lord.”

“Hmm, is that so, um…” It seemed Kiskain had finally finished asking his questions, and everyone present breathed a sigh of relief.

“Commander Morill, then can you explain why you ordered the withdrawal from the current construct towers and the contraction of our defenses?” Suddenly, the bearded mage asked, staring intently at Morill.

“Yes, Lord Kond! According to reliable intelligence, the Night Elves have begun seeking help from the Treefolk. To be blunt, the Treefolk, if they swarm out in the forest or even near its edges, will pose a huge threat to the Agus Empire’s ground forces. That’s why I decided to contract our defenses and lure the Night Elves and Treefolk into open areas to fight us there!” Morill answered without hesitation. “The situation was urgent, and I made the decision without consulting the Grand Council. I’m very sorry for that.”

Kant was about to say something when Kiskain suddenly spoke first again. All the council mages felt that the old man was talking excessively today.
“Hmm, yes, this information is, um, very important. Just based on this, um, it shows that Commander Moriel is more than capable of, um, holding this position. The council will, um, give you an appropriate evaluation!” Kiskain clicked his lips as if giving his overactive lips a break. “Um, there’s another commander who will report to the council today. Um, I think it’s time to invite her in now…”
When Daguras stepped into the meeting hall with a smile, everyone except the seven highest council mages couldn’t help but let out a slight gasp of surprise. Moriel was stunned for a moment, but soon she too exclaimed in surprise like the other mages, her expression shifting from disbelief to a barely noticeable but discernible relief.
Singh’s eyebrows twitched imperceptibly, as if he had seen through everything.
“Daguras? I thought—” Moriel’s voice matched her expression perfectly.
“This girl, though almost killed, still made it back alive… I think she’s been resting in the Tower of Seven Sins for a few days now, right? Commander Moriel, you’re not the only one who managed to survive that disaster!” Kant finally found an opportunity to speak, sitting there calmly and taking pleasure in others’ misfortune.
“They still don’t trust me very much…” Moriel turned to examine Daguras carefully. The latter was also smiling at her, looking almost innocently pure. If this was a spell transformation for testing purposes, it was far too convincing and seamless.
Moriel stepped down from the podium and politely stepped aside.
She didn’t try to use magic to detect anything. Through years of almost self-torturing spell study and exploration of her own talents, ordinary illusions couldn’t deceive her at all. The Daguras before her seemed completely genuine. Conducting a proper detection would inevitably trigger the omnipresent magic network. Not to mention others, it would surely alert those seven old men on the stage, who were so skilled in magic that they were like spiders perched on it.
Kiskain spoke again.
“Um, please, Commander Daguras, share your thoughts. Um, Commander Daguras, we’re sorry about your apparent death. Um, please take care…”
The room fell silent.
Daguras, who had been strutting in with a coquettish gaze fixed on Moriel, stumbled.
“Um, Lord Kiskain, cough!”
Daguras coughed once, pushing up her glasses to clarify her speech, which had become chaotic due to Kiskain’s absurd thoughts. “First of all, I’m very grateful to my teacher, Lady Aresa, for saving me from the brink of death…”
The elderly mage woman on the podium, also wearing glasses, smiled kindly at her as an encouragement.

The Archmage of the Council stepping in to save Daguras? No, that’s impossible. Moriel thought to herself. She had seen with her own eyes Daguras and the aircraft swept into the abyss by the dark vortex created by the Flame Lord—there could be no survivors. Almost no one could pull themselves free from such a collapsing dimensional portal, not even the seven highest Council Archmages, let alone do it silently…

“Commander Daguras, these pointless reminiscences can wait until we talk privately!” It was the bald man with eyes, nose, and mouth drawn on his egg-like face who spoke suddenly, his loud voice carrying a hint of disgust and impatience. “And next time, don’t attend a solemn mage meeting wearing a magically altered robe! What we want to know now is, Daguras—since the attack on the Night Elf’s demon summoning ritual was clearly planned and organized by you, even if it could be considered unauthorized action—let’s set that aside for now. Do you have anything to say about what your former deputy, Lady Moriel, just said?”

Daguras put on an appropriately apologetic expression, acting like an ignorant little girl in front of these powerful elders. Only Moriel, who was still nearby, saw Daguras secretly making a vulgar gesture under the table—one only the crudest scoundrels would use.

It was Daguras… Now Moriel was almost certain. The question was what to do next. She didn’t dare hope that Daguras would settle their differences privately without bringing it to the surface. If she exposed her—fighting her way out of this conference hall? Ridiculous. That wasn’t any easier than stepping on the tail of a demon lord in the bottomless abyss and running away… So how should she counter?

“As for the elf ritual and that mysterious construct…” Daguras smiled sweetly. “My opinion… my opinion is basically the same as Lady Moriel’s, Lord Quentin.”

Moriel, with a dark expression, stepped onto the floating disc about to launch it. Just then, Daguras ran up from behind, not caring about falling straight from the top floor to the ground.

“Wait for me!”

She grabbed Moriel’s sleeve. “Dear—why, are you unhappy to see me?”

How could she be happy? Moriel shook off Daguras’ hand as the floating disc began descending along the slide. “Make this simple. Who exactly are you?”

“Of course it’s me…” Daguras still wore that innocent yet coquettish sweet smile.

“I saw her fall into the abyss with my own eyes. There’s no way she could have survived.”

“And so you just sat down in the commander’s seat without concern? That’s why I like you—cold-hearted, hehe.” Daguras swayed her hair.

“Enough. Stop using these pathetic tricks to test me. If the elders of the Council don’t believe me, they can lock me up or use magic to detect lies, understand? The thought that the Daguras in front of me might be a man pretending to be her, imitating her way of speaking—it’s disgusting!”

“…Good heavens, darling, your acting is truly excellent. No wonder the Council lets you manipulate them at will! But even if you didn’t dare use magic detection in the council hall, you can start now, right? We both know there’s no one else around, and we’re not that slow, are we?”
“Oh? Do you really want me to reveal your true form?”
With those icy words, Moriel’s eyes grew increasingly deep. Her beautiful brown eyes blurred the boundary between the pupils and the whites, turning into bottomless, rapidly spinning vortices that enveloped Dracula, pulling her body and mind downward, stripping away everything until her true nature was exposed—
“To use the Eye of Truth so mercilessly… You’re truly heartless…” Dracula avoided Moriel’s gaze, her tone suddenly losing its sweetness, replaced by bone-chilling coldness, amplified by her still-smiling face, creating a terrifying effect: “Just like when you betrayed me and threw me into the flames… It hurt, so much pain… Day or night, lying down or walking, whether I touched anything or not, even whether my consciousness was clear—this pain seemed ready to burn me to ashes at any moment…”
Moriel closed her eyes and opened them again, back to normal: “Oh. Dracula, you truly are Dracula. Please forgive my doubts. It’s not entirely my fault. Why don’t you just show me your true form? Though it’s embarrassing, are you worried I’ll vomit—”
Dracula’s smile froze. For a moment, it seemed she had lost her soul, left only with endless flames burning within her: “Shut up! Bitch! I long to tear you to pieces every moment!”
“Compared to your pathetic flirty looks and fake smile, this version is actually more adorable. Threats won’t work on me, and I won’t feel guilty about it—Tell me, what do you want from me? From what I know about you, it’s probably not just to have your sister hug you and comfort you, right?” Moriel crossed her arms in front of her, smiling at Dracula’s twisted face; she had calmed down now.
“Hehe, I really don’t know whether to admire your cleverness or composure, or your endless sarcasm. How adorable.” Dracula suddenly regained her composure, as if the hateful words before hadn’t come from her: “I won’t hurt you, dear. But from today on… you still want to live, right?”
The floating disc trembled slightly and had reached the bottom.
The two didn’t come down for a long time, just staring at each other.
“You go ahead and report me.” Moriel finally turned and stepped out of the floating disc. “Don’t even think of making me obey you in that way.”
“Stubborn girl. Didn’t you already accept my terms? In the Council Hall.”
“That’s because I can change my mind at any time.”