The atmosphere of the stone keep of the castle of Krells did not speak of Royalty.
There were no silk curtains here.
Only the heavy, charcoal-grey banners of the Iron Wolf and the scent of cold stone, and the bitter dregs of northern tea.
Outside, the wind off the Krell jagged peaks howls like a mourning widow.
It was rare for all the trusted houses under the rule of Krell's dukedom to be present together.
This was the gathering of the Iron Wolf. Mordrak Krell.
Mordrak sat at the head of a table carved from a single slab of black basalt.
Around him sat the heads of the Vassal Houses.
Counts from Houses of Krovos, Hurst, Elias, Vahn, and Galt.
These were the men who didn't care for the perfume of the capital but the iron and blood-debt owed to their liege.
"The Queen's tithe increases, and yet our borders are thin," growled Lord Galt, as his iron-gauntlet-clad hand crunched the fist tight.
"We're being bled dry while our sons die, first uses our knights as his personal, and after all that…Queen never bats an eye,"
Mordrak didn't look up.
His eyes were fixed on the map of the Lunar Kingdom, specifically the Rile's Trade Corridors that bypassed the Royal Customs.
"If we march, we will be declared rebels before our forces are even prepared for the war. Without a way to move our assets without the Queen's hawks seeing the gold leave our vaults, we are just hungry traitors, not wolves fighting for their honour."
The room fell into a tense silence.
Until Vahn, Mordrak's lead strategist, leaned forward and spoke,
"We are missing a bridge," Vahn spoke quietly.
"We have the steel. We have the cause. We have the force. But we lack the 'Righteous Mask' and the logistics to move our wealth into the neutral territories where we can 'Hire' the ' support' we need."
"And who has that?" Mordrak asked. His voice was so low that it sent a wave of silent vibrations across the room.
Vahn tapped on the map that Mordrak was looking at.
"Marcus Rile."
All of the counts squinted their brows with unease.
Galt slammed his fist on the table, but his movement was controlled enough to distribute the force across the room, instead of breaking it.
"Rile? The boy who leads the righteous faction for the first Prince? He's a lapdog for the 'Orderly' crown!"
"No," Vahn countered.
"He is a man living for one thing. Retribution. Think of his history. Ymir Celestie didn't just ruin his family; he turned the Rile name into a piece of joke before Marcus rebuilt it."
"A genius man, emenant ranked warrior, a professor. That's who Marcus is."
"He's supporting the 1st Prince because that is the most logical path to dismantling the 5th Prince. He wants Ymir's head on a platter, and the 1st is too 'noble' to give it to him."
Mordrak finally looked up. "You want to invite an ally of the 1st Prince into our keep?"
"That is why it must be secret," Vahn leaned back.
"Marcus Rile is a man of logic. We approach him not as rebels, but as sufferers. We tell him that our rebellion isn't against the crown, but against the 'rot' that Ymir represents. We offer him the one thing he will never refuse. Something the first can never offer,"
"We will offer Marcus Rile the fate of Ymir Celestie of Lunar. We'll offer him Ymir's head."
Vahn tapped on the map where the 5th Prince's estate was marked.
"We give him our trade routes to 'audit,' allowing him to move our wealth under the guise of trade. In exchange, when the 1st Prince falls, and the 2nd takes the throne, we ensure that Ymir is handed directly to the Rile house for 'Private Justice'. Marcus isn't helping the 1st Prince because he loves him; he's helping him because he hates Ymir."
"We'll just give him a better deal."
Mordrak looked at the empty chair where his son should have been sitting.
The logic was cold, but it was perfect.
"Marcus Rile is a scholar. A righteous man," Mordrak whispered.
"He will want to see the morality in this."
"Then we will show him our dying son! We'll show him how the crown never cared for its subjects." Vahn replied.
"But he needs to know that we know who he really is. A man waiting for a chance to kill a Prince," Vahn spoke.
Mordrak thought for a while
And then, he nodded once.
"Send the courier. Tell Marcus Rile that House Krell wishes to discuss a 'Business Merger,' tell him…the fifth has lived long enough."
.-.-.-.-.-.
.-.-.-.-.-.
Meditating to focus on every particle of aura, and imagining it as a part of my own, was already proving difficult.
*Chirp* *Chirp*
But then this fucking bird too. 'Yeah, I get that it's morning already, but I'm not sleeping!' I growled within. With my eyes closed.
*Chirp* *Chirp*
"Fuck you!" I opened my eyes and stared at the golden bird sitting on the open window.
It had a letter in between its beak.
I looked around, but Orochi was not in the office.
"What?" I growled and stood up.
'Oh?' My body felt really light. I felt like I could move really fast. Not to mention the heightened senses.
But I still couldn't completely control my aura.
All I could do was burn a flame of aura, and even that wasn't as still as the perfect sword Orochi displayed.
I wasn't wearing a shirt for some reason. And there was no mark of being stabbed, either. Instead, I felt like my body had even become more…charming.
Walking towards the window, I held the letter from the bird and opened it.
It had the seal of Fulcrum.
'Professor Marcus Rile.'
'The master of Fulcrum has noted your recent achievements. She invites you for a private blend of tea.'
'The Fulcrum is the quietest at the twilight. We look forward to your arrival.'
'…' I don't know what to say.
'Looking forward to my arrival? Did I even accept your invitation?' I thought, and burned the letter with my flames.
These flames looked unreal. They had that ethereal blue and black shade that blended with the presence of my aura.
Looking at the bird that just tilted its head at my gesture of burning a letter, I knew what it was.
It was a mana beast. And what it saw was being projected on the other side. Because of it, I had to keep injecting the little aura I could control in my ring.
And refusing an invitation from royals and magic towers, those that even come from a master are considered offensive.
As Ymir, I would've cursed the shit out of them. But right now I was Marcus. So…
"Fucking scammers!" I blurted out and shooed the bird away.
It's not their invitation that I'm waiting for.
I'll deal with them later.
.-.-.-.-.-.
Victoria, along with her assistant was sitting in her garden by the lakeside.
Staring at the young man's projection in the lake.
From the moment she was staring at him. She felt something was off about him.
Like his appearance was…fake.
Then she looked at her assistant, who was already blushing intensely and constantly staring at the naked upper body of the man.
But…
"Fucking Scammers!" The man in the projection blurted out.
Both of them were left speechless.
'Did he just…call the master of the most powerful tower, a clearance six mage…Scammer?' Victoria's assistant was taken aback.
She couldn't process what she'd just heard.
She looked at Victoria, but Victoria was covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes were closed shut, and she could hear Victoria giggling, trying to stop herself from laughing at the situation.