February, X781 West Continent, Alakitasia Alvarez Empire Palace: The Council Chamber
The air in the Council Chamber was heavy, suffocating under the weight of monster-class Magic Power.
It was a pressure that would have crushed an ordinary mage instantly, yet for the individuals seated here, it was merely the atmosphere they breathed.
A meeting was currently being held.
Only members of the Spriggan 12—the Shields who protected the Emperor—were permitted to attend.
Although they bore the title of "The Twelve," the roster was currently incomplete, much like the Ten Wizard Saints of Ishgar across the sea.
One reason August had been traveling abroad, wandering the lands to find suitable Mages to fill the vacant seats of the Twelve for the Emperor.
A massive round table stood at the very center of the dim, opulent chamber.
Over a dozen high-backed chairs were scattered around it, yet only a few were occupied.
Despite their few numbers, the magical power contained within this room was vast enough to boil oceans.
Every single member present possessed the ability to single-handedly annihilate a nation.
However, the three most significant seats at the head of the table remained empty.
Because those qualified to sit in these three positions were currently absent.
Emperor Spriggan.
The Scarlet Despair (Irene Belserion).
The Magic King (August).
The Alvarez Empire was founded by Emperor Spriggan.
At this moment, Zeref was still wandering the world, a ghost in his own kingdom, sometimes returning only once every few years.
He had no concerns about his rule.
The Alvarez Empire was an extension of his will, maintained through sheer, overwhelming force and the fanaticism of his subjects.
The Empire still had its loyal Imperial Staff Officer and Executive—the Winter General, Invel Yura—to maintain order.
August was reachable, but the convener of this meeting had no desire to contact him.
If the wise Magic King were present, this gathering would most likely be shut down before it began.
As for Irene Belserion... she was physically within the empire's borders, likely in the north, but she had absolutely no interest in politics.
Unless Zeref personally sought her out, the Dragon Queen did not deign to sit at tables with humans.
This meeting was convened by Larcade Dragneel.
He sat with a serene, almost holy expression, dressed in white robes reminiscent of a monk, with a white cross tattoo on his forehead.
He claimed to be Zeref's son and the Empire's future successor.
The agenda on the table was simple, yet explosive:
[Should we launch another attack on the Eastern Continent of Ishgar?]
They had attempted to launch an attack once before in the past, but due to spies leaking information to the Magic Council, Ishgar had prepared countermeasures, forcing a stalemate.
That previous incident had also been Larcade Dragneel's initiative, enacted without the Emperor's explicit orders.
He had intended to force the attack through back then, but due to strong opposition from other ministers and Spriggan members, the offensive was hastily abandoned.
Now, he was trying again.
"Let me emphasize once again," Larcade spoke, his voice soft but carrying an edge of fanaticism.
"This is the best opportunity. We have already purged the spies within the Empire. The gap between Ishgar's strength and the Alvarez Empire's is like an insurmountable chasm. We are gods compared to them. I don't understand what you are all hesitating about?"
As he posed his question, the white magic power emanating from him intensified, causing the table to vibrate.
Among the current Spriggan 12, he ranked near the top.
Within the organization, perhaps only the later addition—the War Princess, Dimaria Yesta—could match his raw presence aside from the top three.
Invel Yura, the Winter General, adjusted his glasses. His expression was as cold and unyielding as the ice he commanded.
"I disagree," Invel stated flatly. "The Empire belongs to His Majesty. Without His Majesty's explicit command, I will not consent to a large-scale mobilization. Rashly initiating war would deplete the Empire's resources. Both the soldiers and the Mages are His Majesty's assets, not toys for you to play with."
A scoff echoed from the other side of the table.
Neinhart, clad in his decorative ornamental armor, sneered contemptuously.
"How could those things be considered assets?" Neinhart waved a dismissive hand. "Dying would be their only meaningful contribution to the Empire."
He almost wished for more casualties.
His magic, Historia of the dead, allowed him to manifest the deceased.
A war would simply refill his ammunition.
"I agree with Neinhart," a metallic, distorted voice chimed in.
Wall Eehto, the Judge, grinned.
He was a Machias, a mechanical lifeform. He sided with Larcade, largely due to the weight of the "Dragneel" surname.
"I have no objections. My analysis indicates a 90% chance of victory," Wall boasted, his mechanical eyes whirring.
"If I intervene, Ishgar won't last long anyway. I can adapt to any weakness they have."
Invel remained unperturbed, despite being outnumbered.
"You are underestimating the enemy," Invel warned.
He tapped the table.
A holographic square materialized in the air, displaying a map of Ishgar.
"The Four Gods of Ishgar are not weak. Furthermore, the Magic Council's headquarters, ERA, possesses two strategic deterrents. One is the super-magic: Etherion. It holds the force to annihilate an entire nation in a single shot."
Invel's eyes narrowed behind his lenses.
"That is just the known threat. The other weapon... Face... remains a variable. We do not know its location or full capabilities."
Hearing the mention of Etherion, Neinhart and Wall showed a flicker of hesitation.
Even monsters respected the power to wipe a country off the map.
Larcade scoffed dismissively, leaning back in his chair.
"Would they dare use it?" Larcade asked arrogantly. "If they fire Etherion, they risk destroying their own land. And if they do? I'll face it head-on. My magic can transcend their petty weapons."
He was supremely confident. He was the Emperor's "son."
He was born to rule!
"I agree with Lord Invel."
A calm, deep voice came from the shadows.
Jacob Lessio, wearing a fine suit and gloves, shook his head.
Though he was an assassin capable of erasing his presence completely, Jacob was a gentleman at heart.
"I cannot support such a pointless war without His Majesty's approval," Jacob said firmly. "I respect August-sama will. Before he left, he instructed me to oppose any reckless aggression. I will not betray that trust."
The standoff was set.
Three against Two. (Larcade, Neinhart, Wall vs. Invel, Jacob).
In the corner, the Grim Reaper, Bloodman, remained silent throughout the entire exchange.
His hooded form was like a void in the room, offering neither support nor opposition, merely existing as an avatar of death.
Tired of the fruitless debate and the constraints of bureaucracy, Larcade stood up.
"Arguing further is meaningless," Larcade declared, his eyes glowing with white light. "If the Council will not act, then I will act alone. We will use our own personal squads—then you have no say in it."
Invel stood up abruptly, slamming his palms onto the table.
Frost spread across the wood.
"What do you mean 'your forces'?!" Invel shouted, losing his composure for the first time. "The Empire's forces belong solely to His Majesty! They are not your private militia! I too wish to conquer the Ishgar continent for His Majesty—it is our destiny! But without His command, I will not act recklessly!"
Larcade turned to leave, fixing a cold, condescending stare on the Winter General.
"They belong to His Majesty," Larcade said softly. "But I also bear the Dragneel name. I am his blood. As fellow Shields of Spriggan, you have no authority over me, Invel."
The meeting ended in total discord.
Larcade Dragneel achieved his desired outcome.
He had rallied the eccentric Neinhart and the arrogant Wall to wage war.
Invel and Jacob were left behind, loyal but furious, unable to physically stop a fellow Spriggan without inciting a civil war.
...
Alvarez Military Port
The sky over the western coast turned dark with magical energy.
Three massive columns of the Imperial Fleet formed up.
Unlike the wooden sailing ships of Ishgar, these were magitek marvels—armored juggernauts that defied gravity and physics.
Leading the formation were three flagship vessels, each flying the banner of a Shield of Spriggan.
The White Cross of Larcade.
The Mechanical Gear of Wall.
The Knight's Crest of Neinhart.
The docks were buzzing with thousands of soldiers and mages.
Before departure, Larcade stood on the prow of his flagship. He spread his arms wide.
"Magic of Pleasure: Sting."
He released a wave of his signature magic.
It washed over the army, heightening their senses, removing their fear, and injecting them with a euphoric desire for battle.
"For the Emperor!" the soldiers screamed, their eyes glazed with fanaticism.
Larcade prepared to launch a swift blitzkrieg.
He would leverage the superior speed of the magical battleships to strike the Ishgar continent by surprise before the Magic Council could even convene a meeting.
"Move out!"
Amid the deafening cheers, Larcade issued the command.
One by one, the magical battleships' engines roared to life.
They lifted from the water and surged forward, cutting through the waves at impossible speeds.
Although only the units belonging to three Spriggan members had set out, the scale was terrifying.
The number of warships, the discipline of the soldiers, and the raw magical power of the commanders were substantial—a force difficult for any single kingdom in Ishgar to mobilize.
This was the foundation of the Alvarez Empire.
Larcade stood at the helm, the wind whipping his robes. He looked toward the eastern horizon with disdain.
In his view, Ishgar was pathetic.
It was a heap of loose sand, a collection of squabbling guilds and corrupt politicians.
The Magic Council appeared to govern the entire continent, but in reality, many Guilds paid no heed to the Council's directives.
They were divided unlike Alvarez.
Here, the imperial soldiers and guilds were united.
They were brainwashed, conditioned to blindly worship their Emperor as a god.
Larcade smiled.
He had repeatedly considered attacking the Ishgar continent.
Partly, it was to seize the secret weapon for his father.
But mostly, it was for his ego.
He wanted to demonstrate to the arrogant wizards of the East just how utterly powerless they were before the might of the Alvarez Empire.
He would burn their guilds, break their spirit, and present their ashes to Zeref as a gift!