“Anyway, that is how things stand…
I am rather sensitive to matters of reform, and Leithanien has kept my hands tied as well.”
Upon the token of the Lich Court brought by Theresa, the message slip inside the envelope twisted into fine threads, forming Fremont’s projection.
The illusion explained his reasons for not traveling all this way to attend the War Council.
Of course, this was merely Fremont’s recorded magical message, not a real-time, face-to-face conversation.
Otherwise, the Sanguinarch would probably have spat a glob of bloody phlegm right in Fremont’s face before he could even finish speaking.
“It seems Lord Fremont isn’t having an easy time in Leithanien either…” Theresa said.
Theresa could empathize with Fremont’s difficulties.
After all, he possessed a temperament that was highly reactive to any kind of reform.
Furthermore, the war between Leithanien and Gaul had only recently ended.
Combined with the issues surrounding the Witch King, Leithanien itself was on the brink of political reform, indirectly leaving the Lich clan caught between a rock and a hard place.
“However…
the message doesn’t seem to be finished.
Does he have more to say?”
The magical recording, which replicated Fremont’s behaviors and gestures, did not end immediately.
The illusion stood silent for a long moment, as if deep in thought.
Just as the Sanguinarch was running out of patience and preparing to physically cut the connection, the projection of Fremont stirred once more.
“…Besides, there is little point in my returning to Kazdel.
Duq’arael of the Sanguine Court operates in a manner diametrically opposed to my own.
I assume he is present right now.
I would love to mock him to his face just to see the look on his face.”
The illusion of Fremont made a show of looking around, as if he could actually see the Sanguinarch standing nearby.
It’s over!
Seeing this, Ermengarde immediately retreated into her shell, wishing she could just curl up and cover her head.
Everyone knew Sanguines held massive grudges.
The Sanguinarch had probably accumulated a bellyful of frustration from his verbal clash with the King of the Nachzehrer at the second tower, and now Fremont was jumping all over his face.
On top of that, Ermengarde was Fremont’s student, the envoy of the Lich Court, and the one who had personally delivered Fremont’s token.
The target markers on her back were already stacked to the limit!
Once the meeting was over, the Sanguinarch would surely make her have a very bad time!
Yet, Fremont hadn’t finished dishing out damage.
He pressed on, hitting the Sanguinarch with a follow-up combo.
“If Duq’arael ever decides to hand his position down to that Prince of his…
what was his name again…
Lucifer?
When that day comes, I might consider visiting Kazdel again.
That Sanguine Prince seems to have quite a good reputation.
Dealing with him would certainly be much easier.”
With that, Fremont’s projection dissolved into countless fine threads, reverting into a plain, ordinary sheet of paper, as if he had never appeared at all.
However, the remaining people in the room were left feeling more or less unsettled.
We’re doomed!
Lucifer joined Ermengarde in silently conceding defeat.
He never expected that Fremont, that absolute bastard, would play so dirty!
He was just standing there watching from the sidelines like an innocent bystander, only to be dragged right into the center of the conversation by a single sentence from Fremont.
More importantly, the Sanguinarch was incredibly petty!
Just as everyone expected the Sanguinarch to explode and make things difficult for Ermengarde or Lucifer, they noticed he was simply leaning back in his chair, looking completely detached.
Feeling the gaze of so many people, the Sanguinarch felt a bit awkward.
He spoke up dismissively:
“Don’t tell me you all actually enjoy playing that game of discriminating against our own kind?
It truly disheartens me on behalf of all Sanguines…”
“That was nothing more than a cheap attempt at reverse psychology by Fremont.
It is hardly the first time he has tried it on me.
Making things difficult for Lucifer or that young Lich is entirely pointless.
If Fremont wants a confrontation, he can come face me in person.”
Hearing the Sanguinarch’s surprisingly reasonable response, everyone looked at each other in silence.
They couldn’t help but feel that the Sanguinarch was acting a bit out of character.
And was it possible that the stereotype they were discriminating against wasn’t Sanguines in general, but just him specifically?
Lucifer was a perfect counterexample.
But since the Sanguinarch was no longer making a big deal out of it and had given himself a way out, the others decided not to provoke him further.
Theresis quickly took over the conversation, addressing the gathered Court Lords.
“Now that the Lich Court’s explanation is complete, as we discussed in the first half of the meeting, the Military Commission of Kazdel will replace the authority and mechanisms of the War Council.
We will bring rebirth and order to Kazdel—who is in favor?
Who is opposed?”
The moment Theresis finished speaking, Lucifer’s survival instincts kicked in, and he almost blurted out:
“I’m opposed.”
Lucifer touched his own cheek, feeling as though in some other timeline, Theresis would have slapped him across the room for saying that.
He turned his head to look at Ermengarde.
An occasion like this obviously didn’t require her to chime in.
Good.
From the blank look of intelligence in Ermengarde’s eyes, it was clear she had already zoned out.
“Are there any other questions?”
Theresa asked the other three Court Lords.
Llamarein was the first to speak, though her expression was much more somber than when she was chatting with Ermengarde earlier.
“The Banshee Court does not wish to participate in this decision-making process.
Please forgive us; we still require time to heal the wounds of our people.
But as long as Kazdel calls, the Banshees will answer.”
Llamarein maintained a neutral stance on behalf of the Banshee clan.
Unless Kazdel was facing another war of survival, the Banshees would not participate in any further conflicts for the time being.
Theresa and Theresis expressed their complete understanding.
Or rather, everyone present except Ermengarde knew just how much effort and how many casualties Llamarein’s Banshee clan had suffered in the last war.
The elegies were still blowing through the Banshee Valley even now.
So many children and young people had died one after another; how could Llamarein not be heartbroken?
Even Ermengarde could hear the sorrow she couldn’t hide in her voice.
“Then, Patriarch Nietzre, do you have any thoughts?”
“I assume you have already met the Damazti Cluster.
Since they have no objections, I have nothing more to say.”
The King of the Nachzehrer raised his head, his deep gaze peering through the white bandages on his face at Theresis and Theresa.
The twins were his students.
They were both the ones who ended the war and the Demon Kings of the Sarkaz.
He believed the promises made by these two would bring about the revival of civilization in Kazdel.
The Nachzehrer King’s presence here represented the attitude of the other members of the council.
Receiving the Nachzehrer King’s response, Theresis and Theresa nodded slightly, then turned their attention to the final Court Lord.
“Then, you are the only one left to give an answer, Mr.
Duq’arael, representing the Sanguine Court.”
Theresa’s voice remained soft, yet it carried an inexplicable sense of pressure.
“Well…
should I say: I have no objections?”