"Niebla... Sigh..."
Engrill watched Niebla's slow, retreating back with an exceptionally complex gaze, letting out a long, heavy sigh.
Indeed, after his conversation with Mohg, Niebla had visited the palace to share his insights with Engrill. He had also provided a significant amount of intelligence regarding Caelid—specifically, identifying potential allies who might join a coalition against the Golden Dynasty.
Niebla had further detailed the hidden agendas of various factions and the internal states of their powers.
Among them were Sellia, the Town of Sorcery—which, prideful of its strength and lacking direct conflict with the Golden Dynasty, would likely not intervene unless Engrill offered a bargaining chip enticing enough to move them.
Of the several lost dynasties in eastern Caelid, two factions harbored a deep-seated hatred for the Golden Dynasty. They had once been kingdoms atop the Altus Plateau but were reduced to losers in past wars and forced to flee their ancestral lands.
The passing of ages had never eroded their hatred for the Golden Dynasty; on the contrary, it had only deepened. Among the various powers in Caelid, these two lost dynasties were considered top-tier. Hatred was the most potent tonic for their growing strength.
Thus, if Engrill were to open negotiations with them, there was an eighty-percent chance they would form an alliance to confront the Golden Dynasty together. Even if their rank-and-file soldiers couldn't match the Golden Order's army, they could at least close the gap in high-end combat power.
As for the remaining factions in Caelid... neither Mohg nor Niebla held much hope for them, and Engrill had no intention of reaching out.
Some of these lost dynasties possessed decent strength and held grudges against the Golden Dynasty, yet they maintained a "don't touch me and I won't touch you" attitude. In reality, they lacked the power necessary to maintain true neutrality. Once the iron hooves of the Erdtree marched in, they would be nothing more than sacrifices to the sweeping tide of history.
Another portion simply lacked any significant grudge against the Golden Dynasty. They had no interest in resisting and instead planned to form a different kind of alliance to bargain for benefits, hoping to secure a relatively independent status similar to that of Caria.
However, Caria was a unique existence. That path simply did not exist for the others.
The situation in the game was proof enough: these lost dynasties were all eventually sacrificed beneath the Erdtree's march or absorbed into its ranks. Furthermore, during the conquest of Caelid, a battle-hardened and powerful demigod would eventually emerge—Starscourge Radahn.
Mohg estimated that because Godfrey and his warriors were banished after the conquest of Limgrave, the campaign for Caelid had been temporarily shelved, only to be resumed later when the Golden Order had the resources to spare.
The final faction in Caelid was the dragons.
Arrogance and contempt made them unwilling to cooperate with humans—and even less willing to cooperate with the Storm Dynasty, which had deep, tangled ties to the Ancient Dragons of old. Similarly, the Storm Dynasty did not trust these cunning wyverns. They weren't about to leave their backs exposed to creatures who might accidentally (or intentionally) breathe dragonfire over their own allies in the heat of battle. Such an occurrence would lead to catastrophic losses.
Engrill also predicted that Greyoll, the Dragon Mother, would not agree to an alliance. Her mere existence was enough for the dragons to negotiate with the Golden Dynasty from a position of strength, as they truly could inflict massive damage on the Golden Order.
Being able to fly was enough of a headache for the capital's forces; adding the fact that this Dragon Mother was extraordinarily powerful made it worse. The people of the Royal Capital had no desire to relive the terrifying moment when Gransax, the Great Ancient Dragon, besieged their walls.
"Bujies, do you think I have been too neglectful of these subordinates who once followed me all these years?"
"...Your Majesty, though I am loath to say it, the answer is yes."
Bujies' expression was equally conflicted. He had watched Niebla grow from a simple, honest soldier into a majestic general, only to become the despondent lord he was today.
He knew well that Engrill had never truly gone to great lengths to find a cure for Niebla. While the King had never been stingy with rewards or treatment, everyone knew that what this former powerhouse sought was never money or power.
Hearing Bujies' words, Engrill felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he recalled his recent suspicions regarding Niebla.
"...There is still much time before the Golden Dynasty arrives. During this period... have the 'Eyes of the Hidden Wind' keep a lookout for any healing holy relics."
"Understood."
Bujies nodded. He knew this was the Storm King's attempt to make amends to his former subordinate.
*** "Heh... well done. I suspect the Storm King will start looking for ways to find healing items for you now. Perhaps... you might even see a Crimson Tear from the Golden Dynasty."
"Surely not..."
Niebla was stunned for a moment, his voice uncertain. In his mind, something like a Crimson Tear was a precious holy relic of healing.
Of course, even if it were true, he wouldn't be overly excited. Such things were of little use to him now—and they wouldn't have helped him much back then, either.
His old injuries had settled into his very marrow. They were the result of severe wounds combined with toxins and years of erosion. Simple healing potions could not fix it. Even a Crimson Tear would do little more than dull the pain.
As for his current self... he essentially had no need for the life-saving properties of a Crimson Tear. His mastery of Blood Incantations was enough to keep him alive and close his wounds. The usefulness of the Tear wasn't zero, but it wasn't significant.
"He just wants to make himself feel better. As for how much he actually cares about your injury... I suspect it's not much," Mohg said, shaking his head.
"Alright, for the next while, just remember to show your face at the Storm King's palace more often. Hmm... who knows? He might even throw you back over to my side again."
As he spoke, a playful smirk appeared on Mohg's face.
Niebla looked shocked. While he felt Engrill wouldn't do such a thing, his intuition told him the possibility was actually quite high.
Specifically, if Engrill learned that Mohg's blessing could completely heal injuries and enhance strength, he would easily think of his broken veteran subordinates. It wouldn't just heal their wounds; it would be a way to "upcycle" them. He could gain their loyalty and gratitude while simultaneously gaining a batch of capable combatants—killing two birds with one stone.
Even if they were lost in the future, he wouldn't feel the sting, as they were things he had already "lost" long ago.
"Stay sharp. I don't think the Storm King will trust you so easily. He's sent another group of people to your territory."
Hearing Mohg's warning, Niebla felt a jolt of alarm. He had noticed a group before, but they had left after finding nothing, so he hadn't taken them to heart. He hadn't expected that after offering his strategies, the surveillance would return—and by experts he couldn't even detect with his current strength...
This meant the observers were at least Hero-class assassins. To think the King would deploy such high-level assets just for him!
"That fellow is likely there to observe your physical condition. Just be careful inside your manor lately."
"Then, my Lord, what shall we do now...?"
"No, he hasn't approached yet. He's in the streets observing other things. It seems he wants to know where the grain and ore you prepared earlier have gone."
"I see."
Niebla nodded. He had already prepared his explanation for that: everything had been sold to Caelid in order to purchase rare herbs and potions to heal his wounds and extend his life.
If they asked about the Runes? Spent on the herbs. If they asked about the herbs? He'd already eaten them.
In short, there was nothing left to find.
After coordinating with Niebla, Mohg returned to the Blood Dynasty's encampment.
He was back to having nothing to do. The timing wasn't right yet; nothing was ever truly simple. All he could do now was wait—wait for the conclusion of the Carian royal wedding, after which Rellana would join the Blood Dynasty.
Once he bestowed his blessing upon her and her subordinates, and finished their training and arrangements, things would get busy again. For now, he decided to enjoy this rare period of leisure.
Meanwhile, in the Lake District of Liurnia, the Golden Dynasty's garrison had spread across the land. Erdtree churches were being erected one by one. The Conversion Towers—designed through the collaboration of the Academy, the Carian Royals, and the Golden Order—had also been completed.
Those in the Lake District who wished to do so could now express their faith in the Erdtree through the Conversion Towers. This applied to those who already held faith; those without faith could go directly to the Erdtree churches, where the clergy would handle the proselytizing.
The fusion of Gold and Moon was gradually deepening.
It was worth noting that after Messmer saw Radagon resolve the conflict with Caria and secure an ally for the Golden Dynasty through these means, he departed immediately.
Due to Mohg's presence, Messmer hadn't had much contact with Rellana, so he didn't linger. He led his troops back to the Royal Capital and, after conferring with Godwyn, led his forces back to the Mountaintops of the Giants.
The Mountaintops were vast. The Golden Dynasty's primary objective was the Fire Giant clan at the summit, leaving much of the rest of the region unexplored. Messmer's return was aimed at finding the hidden powers within the vast snowfields, as well as the resources and powerful beasts lurking there.
However, behind this facade of stability, a certain faction began to make its move in the shadows.
Currently, in eastern Liurnia, in a remote and secluded village, countless villagers stood with numb expressions and lowered heads. Before them lay several of their fellow villagers.
Those on the ground were all gasping for breath, their faces sallow, their bodies withered to mere skin and bone.
Was it hunger? No. Looking at the village's layout and location, the residents should have been relatively prosperous. It was impossible for them to look like this due to a lack of food.
It could only be some kind of poison or a peculiar disease.
The reason for the villagers' numbness and despair was that none of the afflicted had shown any improvement over the past few days. The village doctor had been powerless. Soon after, even the doctor had been infected and had succumbed to the same state within days.
Left with no choice, the village head had sent messengers to the nearby town to beg for aid while he stayed behind to manage the quarantine and assist the infected.
The response he received was soul-crushing: the noble lords above were busy preparing for the grand wedding between Caria and the Golden Order. They had no time for "trivialities."
They had even sent messengers to warn them: Do not let a word of this spread. Do not ruin the auspicious atmosphere of the wedding. Finally, soldiers were dispatched to guard the perimeter—not to help, but to ensure the disease did not spread outward.
In the eyes of that noble, these villagers were already dead. As long as they stayed there and died, the disease would be contained, and the news would rot away in his territory forever.
As the sickness spread slowly, almost everyone in the village contracted the strange ailment. No matter what they ate, they could derive no nutrition. Everything they swallowed was either vomited up or passed straight through.
Combined with the military blockade outside, a thick shroud of despair smothered the village.
The village head looked at his numb, hopeless people, his eyes filled with agony. Memories of better days flashed before him.
He could not bear to watch his people die in such endless torture and despair. And so... he reached for the ornate longsword in his room.
It was a gift from his son when he had returned from military service. He had kept it well-maintained, always taking pride in his son's achievements.
But now... it seemed he would never see his son again.
Shing— A cold, white glint of steel flashed. A villager lying nearby, too weak to walk and barely breathing, couldn't help but let a small smile touch their lips.
As the spray of blood erupted, a single tear fell from the village head's eye. He lowered his head, his face hidden in shadow.
Rustle— Closing the eyes of the deceased villager, the headman began to drag his sword slowly toward the others.
----Support me here: https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
If you'd like to read ahead, you can subscribe for early access. I also have several other novels in my collection that you might enjoy!
Also, if there's a particular novel you're enjoying on Patreon, please give it a 'like' so I know to focus on updating it.
Join the journey and become part of the story!