Round Eight: Plans in the Presence of the Emperor

“Change your mind? Unfortunately, you don’t have many choices. Survival comes first, right?” Draculaus headed straight in another direction, looking as leisurely as if strolling in his own garden. “You’re not stupid enough to admit to those old guys in the Council that you pushed me down, are you? That wouldn’t bring you any benefit at all!”
“So what good would it do you to cover for me?”
“I’ll tell you another time, dear!” Draculaus tossed a kiss over his shoulder at Moriel before leaving on her own.
Although Draculaus’s behavior was often unusual, she was by no means the kind of magnanimous lady. Yet because of her strange actions, her motives remained unclear. But things certainly wouldn’t end like this…
As Moriel descended the last few steps, she suddenly saw a familiar figure standing in the shade of the trees in the square.
This person had once brought her misfortune, which she thought she had escaped from, followed by countless troubles. A past twisted by pain and hatred, and a future filled with confusion and gloom… But now, seeing this young man dressed in a splendid and neat military uniform—no longer full of vigor but rather desolate—Moriel didn’t even have the energy to get angry.
“Hello, Miss Moriel.”
O’Sullivan gave an impeccable bow and spoke first. He too was staring at Moriel. After Rain City, he had only seen her four or five times. At first, he even thought this young female mage wouldn’t live long… But now, she stood proudly before him, still wearing her fiery red robe, now adorned with the unique golden patterns of Mage Agus, making it even more striking.
“It’s rare to see you here, Lord O’Sullivan,” Moriel replied coldly but politely. “Does the Council have any tasks for you?”
O’Sullivan smiled bitterly. Since when did an imperial count have to beg for a chance to work under a group of mages like a mercenary?
“No, not yet,” O’Sullivan said carefully. “There seems to be some change in the war with the Night Elves… So I thought I’d come and offer my modest help—against those new enemies we know so little about. A warrior with some experience like me might still be useful.”
He watched Moriel’s expression, which remained calm. “Oh, then I won’t disturb you. The seven highest council mages probably haven’t left yet. I’d like to take some time to rest during my stay in the capital and study the mysteries of magic… Well, I’ll be leaving then.”
After a few brief exchanges, the two who had once had intense interactions went their separate ways—who knew if there would be greater clashes in the unknown future?
As O’Sullivan walked up the stairs toward the mage tower where the Council met, he thought back to his conversation with his father in prison a few days ago.

“I think, first, finding people in the court with the same goals—once we reach a consensus, we can form an alliance. That way, I might be able to regain command of the troops, and then you wouldn’t have to suffer in this hellhole.” O’Sullivan looked at his father’s face.

“My child, there’s no difference between here and anywhere else. Do you think this courtyard isn’t big enough for someone with my naturally weak constitution? I’ve never even walked around it.” The old count chuckled slightly before coughing.

“How can they be the same?! In a place like this, sooner or later…”

“Sooner or later, I’ll die. Though your grandfather loathed my constitution, he had to admit that it’s why I’ve lived so long. If he had forced me to become a half-baked warrior, the mages on the battlefield or in the Council would have killed me long ago. All my brothers were once the empire’s strongest warriors, yet it was I who became the count. Irony, isn’t it? Like a lucky fool who accidentally inherits wealth.” Fieet’s smile was filled with self-mockery.

“Just like me.” O’Sullivan’s clenched fists were almost about to explode.

“Don’t blame yourself. The battlefield for a Count O’Sullivan has never been the front lines. Strictly speaking, inheriting the title of count means taking on the entire family—it’s our destiny.”

“But I…”

“It sounds like you’ve already found candidates? Tell me about them.” The old count said leisurely.

“Isabella, one of the eight elders of the Red Robe Mage Council, and her disciple.”

O’Sullivan looked up at the sky. In this port city, the two suns were always one in the east and one in the west, so night seemed perpetually short in Vatan City. It seemed people ran tirelessly along the path of fate, driven by the dual suns, without end.

“I’ve always said this kind of place won’t let a novice mage like you in!” Sayers pulled the reluctant Hunter out of the great library. “You, a mass-produced combat mage with no mentor’s guidance and no solid foundation in learning—even if I placed those thick spellbooks in front of you, I’d still worry you’d be blown to ashes by chaotic magical energy! Come on, let’s go to the docks, then head to my house for a couple of drinks. My cook makes delicious food…”

“But… it’s such a rare chance…” Hunter frowned, turning to look at the vast doors of the great library.

When reporting on the battle situation earlier, not to mention the Archmage of the Council, he hadn’t even seen a living person. He sat on a strange-looking chair, answering questions from voices that seemed to come from nowhere, and was thrown out without even getting a chance to drink water. After much effort, he managed to drag the even more reluctant Sayers to the great library to see it, but was mercilessly rejected by the mage on duty in the spellbook section, who even threatened to use silence magic if he kept talking nonsense…

Sigh! Hunter hung his head in defeat, gave up resisting, and turned to leave—only to bump into Sayers, who was standing at attention.

Morriel looked at the two stunned mages before him. He had intended to walk straight past them, but suddenly stopped again. “What? Want to check out the library?”

“Oh, Commander Moriel!” Hunter quickly stood at attention, clearly delighted. “Yes, but the on-duty mage wouldn’t let us in…”
“As expected, as you said, we meet again so soon, Commander Moriel!” Sayers stepped back half a pace, stepping on Hunter’s toes. Hunter immediately broke into a cold sweat from the pain, but dared not make a sound due to Moriel’s presence.
“It’s fine. Come with me.” Moriel headed toward the library doors. Hunter winked at Sayers and followed right after.
Suddenly, Moriel stopped. Hunter, who was closely following, almost bumped into her. Fortunately, Sayers grabbed him by the back of his collar, preventing a collision. Yet Hunter cried out in pain as the collar tightened around his neck.
Moriel remained silent for a while before suddenly turning around. She twisted off a brooch adorned with certain symbols from her collar and handed it to Hunter. “Hold this, and you can enter. I have matters to attend to… Why are you crying?”
On the north side of the Path of Glory, which could accommodate dozens of horses running side by side, there were mostly magnificent buildings. On the south side, aside from the royal gardens, there were also public gardens, fountains, and other recreational facilities. These fresh and elegant floral arrangements enhanced the peace of Agus Empire’s capital, highlighting the luxury and prosperity of the northern district while masking the poverty and chaos of the southern district. As the capital and seat of the royal family of Agus, and also the largest port city connecting the empire with its overseas colonies, nobility and luxury coexisted awkwardly with noise and disorder—just like the relationship between the supreme royal family since the founding of the country and the Mage Council, which had grown from a minor guild to an entity that now seemed to overshadow everything.
Stanley III slammed the battle report heavily on the imperial desk.
“Gentlemen!” The young emperor’s anger was evident on his face. “Those scummers—thugs, murderers, arsonists—have almost swept across half of the Tanori Plain! Seventeen manors and farms have been destroyed in just two days! Among the innocent victims are even several lords who had made great contributions to the empire! Civilians and serfs outside the city have flocked inside, leaving many industries abandoned—causing widespread panic. Well, enough of that. Just the price of pork in the markets has risen by more than five times!”
The emperor paused, his gaze sweeping over the ministers standing solemnly in the council hall.
“I’m not trying to blame you all. But I must remind you that the conflict between the empire and the elves in the Sleeping Forest has lasted for hundreds of years, spanning over a dozen emperors. We’ve never suffered such heavy losses before…” Looking at the silent ministers, the emperor stood up angrily and helplessly, pacing back and forth in front of the desk. “The war has reached Agus’s territory. If this continues, I fear that even the city of Vatan will fall into the enemy’s hands soon!”
“The conflict between the empire and the elves has been handled by the Mage Council for a long time. Therefore, your servants believe it would be safer to leave the decision to the Council after they review the matter…” Chief Justice Lucas cautiously expressed his opinion, but it was immediately drowned out by the emperor’s furious roar.

“It is the subjects of the empire and its reputation that are suffering heavy losses now! Not the Council! If everything has to be decided by the Council, then what use are you cabinet ministers?” The emperor sat back down on his throne in a dejected state; it seemed he was no different from that throne—just an ornament. He soon realized his mistake: “I mean, of course the Council will make the right decisions, but before that, can’t you offer any suggestions?”
“Your Majesty, I hope to offer my humble opinion,” O’Sullivan stepped forward from the crowd, bowing slightly to express his wish. Morriel, standing among the others, glanced at O’Sullivan—had he returned from the Seven Sins Valley? Or hadn’t he gone at all? Like himself, he wasn’t supposed to be allowed to attend such an imperial meeting, so it was quite strange that he was called upon to speak.
“Hmm, Count O’Sullivan, please go ahead!” The emperor allowed O’Sullivan’s request before several cabinet ministers could scold him, saying, “This meeting isn’t just for cabinet ministers—it’s to hear more voices and suggestions!”
“Night elves rarely leave the Sleeping Forest, so first of all, we shouldn’t rashly assume the murderers are night elves…” Ignoring the angry glances from the Grand Judge Lucas and others, O’Sullivan began to explain his views: “According to the battle reports, there were only a few of them, and they cowardly avoided our elite troops to attack the nearly defenseless inhabitants scattered across the vast Tanori Plains, leaving the empire unprepared and suffering heavy losses!”
“Hmm, you’re right, Count O’Sullivan, but I already know that. So what countermeasures do you have?”
“Since their fighting style relies on highly mobile guerrilla tactics, we should counter them in kind—forming smaller teams composed of elite mages and warriors, I think that would be appropriate!” O’Sullivan paused. Morriel, standing behind them, felt as if O’Sullivan’s gaze had swept over them. “Of course, this first requires the approval and support of the Supreme Council to be carried out more effectively, so as to eliminate those enemies threatening my Agus Empire!”
“Don’t delude yourself—I fully understand your intentions!” Lucas suddenly stepped forward. “You’re still under probation, and the Supreme Council hasn’t lifted the restrictions on you. Don’t even think of trying to lead some hunting team again…”
“Lord Lucas, could you please be quiet for a moment and let others finish speaking?” Stanley III slammed his precious jade cup down, causing a slight crack in it. It seemed the emperor was truly angry. Lucas, face red, stepped back, beginning to regret his actions. Even if he was just an ornament, the young man sitting on the throne now was someone who could take his life. If he angered him, even with the Supreme Council’s backing, he might not be able to save himself.

No matter how young he was, no matter how people regarded him as merely a puppet controlled by the Supreme Council, he was after all Emperor Stanley III of the Mage Empire of Agus.
The entire council hall fell into a brief and awkward silence.
“Apologies, I wasn’t clear enough earlier. Of course, I remember that the Council’s penalty restricting my military powers has not been lifted. I was merely suggesting an idea; I had no intention of taking on the role of hunt team commander myself. It was my fault for causing misunderstanding among the Grand Judge!” O’Sullivan explained with a smile. Even Lucas had to admit that years of experience had made this once arrogant young count increasingly mature in politics. “If this plan can gain the support of the Supreme Council, I do indeed have a candidate in mind…”
Seeing that no one spoke, O’Sullivan continued on his own: “It’s Mage Moriel, who was recently appointed as the commander of the Northern Theatres. From any perspective, Mage Moriel is the best choice!”
“Oh?” The emperor responded softly, beginning to search his eyes for this mage named Moriel.
Moriel was well aware—that aside from that fool of Number 47 with his solid head, no one else could cause such chaos in the hinterlands of the Agus Empire’s front lines, the Tanori Plains. Though he already suspected something, hearing his own name spoken by O’Sullivan still sent a slight tremor through his heart.
Yes, perhaps he truly was the best choice.
Moriel stepped forward quickly from the crowd and bowed to the emperor: “Commander of the Northern Theatres, Moriel, saluting His Majesty the Emperor!”
The emperor knew little about this mage who had suddenly risen to become a popular figure in the Supreme Council over the past two years. Although he had heard many rumors about her, O’Sullivan, the sole source of those rumors, was also vague and half-understanding. And now that she served as the commander of the Northern Theatres directly appointed by the Supreme Council, the emperor had few means to investigate further.
“Commander Moriel…” The emperor pondered for a moment. He believed O’Sullivan’s choice had its reasons, but in such a situation, nothing could be said too clearly. “I’d like to hear your opinion. Go ahead.”
That damned iron bastard—to protect him from excessive attention from the Supreme Council, he had already taken great risks. Yet this guy seemed to rust away if nothing chaotic happened every day! Still, it couldn’t be ruled out that the Supreme Council had some interest in the rumors about Number 47—the mysteriously appearing steel constructs and their ability to devour and destroy armored weapons… Especially Singh, who didn’t say a word during the hearing—that old fox more cunning than the devil. What on earth was he thinking? And what schemes did O’Sullivan have in mind?

“Given the current situation, Count O’Sullivan’s advice is undoubtedly very appropriate. As for being nominated, I truly feel unworthy. My return to the city is merely to attend a hearing convened by the Supreme Council and submit my report. In fact, I don’t hold any official military position in the empire, so…” Morillier racked his brains rapidly while trying to respond appropriately to the emperor’s questions. He tried to avoid getting involved in the delicate relationship between the Council and the emperor. Yet O’Sullivan’s words had pushed him right into the heart of this crisis. Could it be…

“That doesn’t matter, Commander Morillier. Since you’ve been authorized by the Council to command the armored forces, does it really matter whether you have an official imperial military title or not?” Darner, the Minister of Military Affairs, a tall middle-aged man, tapped impatiently at the sleeves of his general’s uniform. His wife was Stanley III’s aunt and was very close to the royal family; she had strong objections to mages holding control of the empire. But as a logistics chief who could only command a hundred or so civil servants, complaining was already as far as he could go—after all, the O’Sullivan family’s past mistakes were no joke.

“Well, the specific arrangements can be discussed later. This operation indeed requires input from the Council as well,” the emperor said, raising his hand slightly to stop his uncle’s complaints. “But if this situation continues, the consequences will be unimaginable! I’m sure the Council has already received reports on the situation in the Tanori Plains. The archmages certainly won’t tolerate such actions that threaten the foundation and people of the Agus Empire. So, Count O’Sullivan, since you’re the initiator of this military operation, you’ll be responsible for reporting to the Council and making a decision as soon as possible. That’s settled!”

In the corridor outside the council chamber after the crowd dispersed, Judge Lucas walked at the back, clearly still troubled by his remarks during the meeting.

“Lord Lucas, it seems even the Council can’t override the emperor’s decision this time!”

When Lucas looked up, a gaunt man who could almost be used as a painting on the wall was smiling at him.

“Yes, Lord Flickina. But as the emperor said, the archmages won’t allow such atrocities to continue. In any case, the enemy will be eliminated!”

“Hehe, that’s right. Ah, I need to return to the emperor’s palace. Please go ahead, Lord Lucas!” After saying that, Flickina staggered away like a stack of walking paper.

Although he also relied on the Supreme Council, this guy seemed to be waiting around all the time to make fun of me. As the Minister of Internal Affairs, this bastard is using his close relationship with the emperor to gradually win over those mages. Just wait—sooner or later, I’ll make sure you can’t laugh anymore!

After leaving the palace, Lucas glanced at the last ray of sun sinking into the sea. Night was approaching, followed by another long day. He really didn’t know when his day of true triumph would come…