The Roundtable Conference

“I wish to see Father Emperor.”

Beneath a wide corridor, spacious enough for two carriages to pass abreast, stood the opulent gates carved from exquisite mahogany. Celicia stared at the two unmoving knights before her, her voice cold as she repeated, “I wish to see Father Emperor.”

The towering knights were clad in heavy armor, revealing not a single trace of living breath. Like statues, only an emotionless gaze leaked from the slits of their visors.

Celicia waited in silence.

Occasionally, court maidens would hurry past her, offering a swift curtsy before rushing on.

The patrolling guard had noticeably increased their shifts. As one squad rounded a corner, another immediately followed, ensuring that not a single blind spot remained within the intricate palace corridors.

The entire palace atmosphere had grown tense and solemn, as if a war was imminent, leaving everyone on edge.

Yet, the Leopold Empire’s only recent enemies were the demon tribes, dwelling thousands of miles away at the border.

“Gee-up, haha, gee-up, horse…”

Outside the window, a clamor drifted in.

Celicia lowered her gaze. In the palace gardens, a handsome man in his twenties was riding on a servant’s back, brandishing an unsharpened blade like a knight charging towards a flowing fountain.

Many maids and guards nervously encircled him, terrified he might stumble or get hurt. Yet, the man’s scruffy face bore the innocent smile of a child.

‘That was his elder imperial brother, First Prince Albert Leopold, a fool born with an intellectual disability.’

Throughout the entire palace, he alone remained incongruously joyful.

“His Majesty says, enter.”

The knight responded swiftly. The axe-halberds crossed before the gate lifted, and the grand doors silently swung open.

Inside the lavish room, a dignified middle-aged man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out at the sun-drenched Berland from a high balcony.

This was Audrich III, the true sovereign of the nation.

“Father Emperor.”

Celicia entered the room, gracefully lifting her skirt in a respectful curtsy. The vast chamber was devoid of even a single maid, feeling empty and cold. Only the heavy doors closed silently behind her.

Audrich III did not respond, continuing his silent contemplation.

The palace, situated at the heart of Berland, commanded a high vantage point, offering a view of nearly half the city.

Divided by the shimmering Gu Rhine River, the outer ring comprised low-lying, intertwined residential areas, shrouded in shadow. This was the Lower City.

Inside, closer to the palace, artistic buildings were meticulously arranged, like a manicured garden, seemingly bathed perpetually in sunlight. This was the Upper City.

Audrich III found great pleasure in observing the city from this spot. Many sights offered a breathtaking beauty that could only be truly appreciated firsthand.

For instance, from here, the city resembled a great tree standing beneath the sun, accompanied by its vast shadow.

The more luxuriant the branches and leaves, the greater the shadow it cast.

However, for a tree, excessively dense foliage was not always a good thing.

“The weather has grown a bit chilly,” Audrich III suddenly remarked, having spotted something unknown.

“Autumn has arrived.”

Celicia paused. “Father Emperor, please remember to wear more layers.”

“I had thought you wouldn’t concern yourself with matters here.”

“With the fire already at our feet, how could I not be concerned?”

Celicia let out a self-deprecating laugh, then cut straight to the chase. “So, Father Emperor, who exactly is our enemy?”

“Enemy? Heh, ‘enemy’ isn’t quite the right word. What we face this time… it isn’t human.”

Audrich III turned, his gaze fixed upon his daughter, whom he hadn’t seen in a long while. In his ice-blue eyes, identical to Celicia’s, lay an indifference and ruthlessness far deeper than her own.

Yet, beneath the coldness, a flicker of satisfaction emerged.

“Since you’re here, join me for today’s political council. In the blink of an eye, you’ve grown so much. It’s time you saw the world.”

“Political council…”

Chewing on the words, Celicia’s cool eyes darkened slightly. Her gaze swept once more across the spacious, opulent room. “Father Emperor, is Imperial Brother Andrew not here?”

Andrew Leopold, her second imperial brother, should have been the most qualified to stand by their father’s side for a political council.

“He’s gone to his country estate to escape the summer heat.”

“Escape the summer heat…”

‘It’s autumn now, though…’

“The boy said his thermophobia flared up again. He might not return until winter. But never mind, he’s had this ailment since childhood. As his father, I can’t be too harsh, can I? After all, he’s my only son now.”

Audrich III turned from the balcony, walking back into the room. He poured himself a glass of red wine, the ruby on his finger shimmering with a brilliance akin to the wine itself.

Celicia’s eyes grew increasingly perplexed.

“Care for some? It’s a tribute wine from Hill Winery.”

“Thank you, Father Emperor, but I don’t drink.”

“Ah, I almost forgot. You cannot touch alcohol.”

As if recalling something amusing, a rare, soft smile touched the corner of Audrich’s stern face.

He took a small sip, then set the glass down. Turning, he donned a voluminous ceremonial robe, crafted from white mink fur and the finest silk, intricately embroidered with golden threads and precious gems. He fumbled awkwardly with the hidden clasps and complex mink-tail-like ornaments that usually required several maids to fasten quickly.

“Damn it, I’ve told those tailors to make it simpler. They’re more stubborn than nobles. I’ll have their heads one of these days.”

“…Father Emperor, may I help you?”

“I’m not so old and muddle-headed yet.”

It took a full twenty minutes for Audrich III to fully dress in his ceremonial robe. He walked towards the door, casually picking up the scepter—a symbol of supreme dignity—that he had placed by the wall… and the sword beside it.

He hung the sword at his waist, concealed beneath the wide, cloak-like robe.

“Let’s go. Time is almost up.”

The grand doors silently parted once more. The knights knelt respectfully outside.

A maid, bowing low, presented a brass basin filled with hot water and a towel.

“Your Majesty, please cleanse your hands.”

Audrich III nodded slightly. He had a mild obsession with cleanliness and frequently washed his hands.

He extended his hands, about to dip them into the brass basin.

But just as his hands neared the hot water, he suddenly froze.

Reflected in the basin’s water, his cold gaze subtly shifted for a brief moment, carrying a hint of mockery.

His little finger twitched.

Celicia’s silver-white hair stirred. A sudden gust of wind swept through the wide corridor.

The wind carried a bone-chilling cold.

Pop.

The sound, like a bursting bubble, echoed sharply and distinctly.

Blood splattered.

A small figure, hidden in the knight’s shadow, moved with imperceptible speed, appearing before Audrich III in an instant Celicia didn’t even register. They drew a short sword and…

…plunged it into the maid’s body.

Only then did panic and terror begin to register on the maid’s face. Her hand trembled, dislodging the dagger hidden within the towel.

‘An assassin?’

Celicia finally reacted, her hands attempting to conjure a chilling spell… but it failed.

The forbidden curse enveloping the palace had sealed off all magical flow. Here, no magic or divine favor could be invoked.

Therefore, even the most skilled assassin in this palace could only resort to the unsophisticated method of a dagger thrust.

‘But this was undoubtedly foolish.’

The short sword had pierced the maid’s vital spot with precision, yet she did not die immediately. She swayed, rising unsteadily, her panic and fear completely replaced by an indescribable fanaticism and ferocity.

“Moon Eternal!”

She lunged at Audrich III again, bare-handed.

“Moon Eternal!”

Boom!

A thunderous hum reverberated, almost painfully piercing the eardrums.

It was the sound of a massive axe-halberd savagely tearing through the air.

The axe-halberd, weighing over a thousand pounds, was wielded like a child’s toy in the hands of the Imperial Guard knight. In an instant, it swept through the air in a magnificent arc, precisely cleaving through the maid’s lunging body.

The maid’s body was instantly severed in two, repulsive organs and blood splattering everywhere.

The small figure’s hand shimmered with a faint light, and a transparent shield rapidly expanded, blocking all the splashing filth from Audrich III and Celicia.

Patrolling guards quickly surrounded the area, snuffing out any possibility of further danger.

Yet, the腥臭(stench of blood and gore) could not be suppressed.

Audrich III remained expressionless. He merely stared coldly at the maid, who, despite being severed in half, still writhed and struggled on the ground, crawling towards him, seemingly intent on dragging him into hell with her.

“I recognize you. You were one of the maids who dressed me daily.”

“Gurgle… gurgle… The Moon… is about to… descend…”

The maid fixed Audrich III with a malevolent gaze. Though her life force was rapidly fading, a maniacal smile stretched across her lips. “The divine realm… will cleanse all… and I… shall gain eternal life… under the moonlight… Gurgle… eternal life.”

“It seems communication is impossible.”

Audrich III’s finger twitched.

The whistling of wind resumed. The axe-halberd slammed down, thoroughly pulverizing the maid’s half-body into a bloody pulp.

The guards swarmed forward, expertly clearing the remains, wiping away blood, and scrubbing the floor. They worked with such practiced efficiency it was as if they had rehearsed it countless times.

In less than a minute, a fresh red carpet was laid across the wide corridor, and everything appeared pristine.

The knights once again stood motionless behind Audrich III like statues. The small figure, after bowing to him, faded silently into the shadows like ink dissolving in water, leaving no trace.

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

Only a faint, lingering scent of blood remained.

“A follower of the Moon?”

Celicia’s demeanor remained cool, yet an unwitting hint of disbelief, which she herself didn’t detect, laced her voice.

“The palace has been infiltrated by cultists?”

“Blind faith is the hardest thing in this world to extinguish, isn’t it? That’s why I despise those charlatans.”

Audrich III cleansed his hands in a new brass basin brought by a trembling maid. The basin seemed to weigh a thousand pounds to her, as she struggled to keep the water from sloshing out.

“But, why…”

Everything that had happened that morning replayed in Celicia’s mind, explaining several odd occurrences.

Yet, new questions began to form in her thoughts.

“You wish to ask, since those cultists had the ability to plant people by my side, why didn’t they wait for a crucial moment to act, instead of blindly having them attempt an assassination?”

“Yes,” Celicia nodded softly.

Upon careful reflection, it was clear that in a place like the palace, those most likely to be brainwashed and infiltrated by cultists were the lowest-ranking maids or guards.

However, if these individuals were utilized effectively, they could undoubtedly play an unexpected role at a critical juncture.

No matter how one looked at it, it was far more sensible than foolishly rushing in with a dagger for a mindless assassination.

“That’s because… time is running out.”

Audrich III’s lips curved into a mocking smile. His gaze flickered towards the distant sky, though he wasn’t looking at anything in particular.

“Like cornered beasts, to seize a sliver of hope, they must bristle every hair, mustn’t they?”

****

The Throne Hall.

Crystal chandeliers cast a soft light, illuminating the magnificent hall.

Massive bronze columns, carved with heroic epics and the histories of past kings, supported a dome that seemed to descend like a celestial canopy. Within this solemn and majestic space, anyone would feel a sense of their own insignificance.

Especially in this royal hall, capable of accommodating nearly a thousand people, yet occupied by only two.

Celicia’s cool eyes swept across the empty hall, a hint of confusion in her gaze.

‘Didn’t they say it was a political council? Where are the people?’

“Take hold of my shoulder.”

Audrich III, seated on the throne, languidly propped his chin with a sleepy expression.

Celicia complied, extending a delicate hand to rest on Audrich III’s shoulder.

At that moment, she heard Audrich III tapping the armrest of the throne. The sound was exceptionally crisp, like tapping jade.

But in an instant, the sound grew immense, as if a hundred pipe organs from the Berland Royal Concert Hall were played simultaneously. Amidst the layered waves of sound, it coalesced into a tragic roar, like the world ending in a fleeting moment.

In this apocalyptic clamor, Celicia’s consciousness suddenly wavered, as though an invisible hand seized her soul, dragging her into a bottomless abyss.

“This is…”

Fortunately, the despair-inducing sensation of falling quickly vanished. When Celicia regained her senses, she found herself still standing beside Audrich III’s throne.

It was as if she had merely experienced an insignificant nightmare.

But when she looked up, everything before her had already changed.

The gray, decaying bronze columns were carved with grotesque demons. The shattered ceiling flickered ominously like ghostly shadows. And above the dome, a dense gray mist billowed, resembling an inverted sea.

This still seemed to be the Throne Hall, but not the solemn, magnificent chamber Celicia remembered. It was eerie and terrifying, with a chilling cold that pierced to the bone—the complete antithesis of the true Throne Hall.

Her gaze dropped. The hall was no longer empty. A massive round table now stood before Audrich III’s throne, surrounded by a circle of stone chairs. Each chair was occupied by a figure shrouded in mist, their tall backs carved with strange, ancient, and solemn script, far less extravagant than the throne’s luxury.

However, the mere fact that these individuals sat at the same table as Audrich III attested to the noble status of those who had quietly awaited his arrival.

Naturally, they couldn’t be the useless nobles of the empire.

Though countless questions churned within her, Celicia found herself as if under a silencing spell, unable to utter a sound here.

‘Am I merely an observer?’

With that thought, Celicia calmed her mind and watched silently.

****

“Your Majesty.”

When Audrich III appeared, the figures in the stone chairs all rose, bowing with a hand over their chest.

But the formality ended there, seemingly expressing more respect for Audrich III as a person than for his imperial status.

“Is everyone here?”

Audrich III’s languid gaze swept around the round table, his finger lightly tapping the armrest of the throne.

“Since everyone is present, shed your disguises. This isn’t some offline cultist meeting. We’re all acquaintances; there’s no need to hide your faces.”

“Oh? It’s not?”

A surprised voice came from the end of the round table.

“I thought we were gathered here, summoned by some great deity, about to accomplish a grand endeavor.”

At the far end of the round table, the mist around the last stone chair dissipated, revealing… a certain Pink Bear, who was squirming uncomfortably, seemingly because the chair was too hard.

Pink Bear extended a furry hand, clutching a cigar, from his bear mouth. He skillfully flicked off the ash, then scratched his backside, remarking regretfully, “What a pity. I’d already thought of my title. It was… the Fool. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it exude a subtle aura of gravitas?”

“I think the title of ‘Clown’ would suit you better.”

A faint mocking voice came from the closest stone chair to Audrich III’s right.

“Who!”

Pink Bear slammed the table, erupting in fury.

But when he clearly saw the old man’s face gradually revealing itself in the stone chair, his anger abruptly ceased. His pink bear-face visibly began to lose color.

It turned pale.

“Arch… Archbishop Canterbury, you… what brings an old man like you here?” Pink Bear rubbed his furry hands together, forcing a fawning smile.

“Heh heh, at His Majesty’s invitation, I had to come, of course.”

From the stone chair, the benevolent old man in a plain white divine robe chuckled. But his gaze, fixed on Pink Bear, grew cold. “Mr. Pink Bear, I’ve received reports that you embezzled the Holy Sword of my Church of Life, desecrated a holy maiden of the church, and disseminated some irreverent books. I wonder if…”

“No! Absolutely not!”

Pink Bear slammed the table in indignation. “Which hater spread these rumors about me? I, Pink Bear, am an upright person, loyal in my faith, a devout follower of the Goddess of Life! How could I possibly do such a thing?

Impossible, absolutely impossible!

If I truly committed such acts against heaven and conscience as embezzling a Holy Sword or secretly hoarding pictures of a holy maiden, then my entire family…”

“Enough!”

Audrich III rubbed his throbbing brow, a rare, unconcealed anger in his voice. “Who let this fool in?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Professor Planck, looking awkward, rose and said helplessly, “Pink Bear claimed he is now the acting principal of Saint Mary’s, thus qualified to attend, and he insisted on tagging along.”

“Drag him out for me.”

Audrich III paused. “Throw him down below.”

“What… down below?”

Pink Bear’s face instantly contorted in terror at the words. But before he could say anything, Professor Planck, with a savage expression, had already kicked the embarrassing fellow over and was dragging him out by his bear leg.

“Wait, no, you can’t do this to me!”

Pink Bear’s bear claws left clear marks on the ground as he struggled hysterically. “I can’t go down below, I can’t go down below…

I have a grudge against that Moon; I killed many of her followers before! She’ll make things difficult for me!

Even if I have to go, it can’t be now…

Let me go! I’ve bled for Leopold, I’ve sweated for Saint Mary’s! You can’t do this to me! I want to see Audrich, let me see Audrich…

Audrich, I’m your own uncle! I raised you from infancy, wiping your snot and changing your diapers! I even have pictures of you with your bare bottom… Ah!”

With the bear’s terrified shriek, the world suddenly fell silent.

Professor Planck’s figure flickered, and he reappeared at his seat.

The meeting continued.

Audrich III’s gaze swept to his right, where most of the figures were elderly.

He couldn’t help but sigh. “Many of you are so old I no longer recognize you. Let’s start with introductions.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The first to speak was naturally the benevolent old man closest to him. Though dressed in a plain clerical robe, his every movement still exuded the authority of one long accustomed to high office.

“Archbishop Canterbury Engle, Church of Life, Berland Cathedral.”

Archbishop Canterbury nodded genially to everyone. Every person whose gaze met his peaceful eyes instinctively rose to acknowledge him.

As one of the five Holy Seats of the Church of Life and the chief representative of the Church of Life in the Leopold Empire, Archbishop Canterbury, by both qualification and status, commanded the respect of all.

“Tower of Origin, Dodge Sloor.”

The second figure, clad in a mage’s robe, then rose, his introduction exceedingly simple.

Yet no one would underestimate him. Not only was the Tower of Origin the largest mage alliance organization on the continent, but the name Dodge alone represented an insurmountable pinnacle in the path of summoning magic.

After nodding to everyone, just like Archbishop Canterbury, Dodge’s gaze fell upon Professor Planck.

“I heard that Mentor Meradomir has awakened.”

He removed his wide-brimmed, pointed mage’s hat and respectfully asked, “May I have the opportunity to pay my respects?”

“My apologies, Mr. Dodge.”

Professor Planck responded with a wry smile, removing his own hat. “Before I came here, Mentor Meradomir specifically instructed me that she is not seeing any outside guests for now.”

“What a pity, then.”

Dodge nodded in disappointment, said nothing more, and returned to his stone chair.

****

“Stone Cauldron Association, Adrian Sander.”

****

“Adventurer’s Guild, Berland Branch President, Adolf Lowes.”

****

“Mitsukoshi United Commercial Alliance…”

Figure after figure rose, calmly uttering names that, spoken outside, would cause immense ripples.

Even with Celicia’s composure, she found it difficult to remain steady at this moment.

For these names represented not merely their own formidable strength, but also the preeminent powers of the continent.

The Tower of Origin, with the most mages affiliated or directly joined…

The Stone Cauldron Association, which almost monopolized alchemy-related knowledge…

The Adventurer’s Guild, with branches spread across the continent…

The transnational United Commercial Alliance…

Even excluding the Church of Life, an entity beyond normal categorization, these forces were leviathans capable of determining the fate of even small nations.

If the right side held these grand figures, then the left side…

Celicia recognized most of the people on the left without introductions. It was precisely for this reason that her heart grew even more restless.

“Since our guests have introduced themselves, it’s only right for you hosts to do the same. Let’s not be strangers.”

Audrich III looked to his left and said softly.

“Yes.”

Due to the round table, after a half-turn, Professor Planck, at the far end of the left side, was the first to rise.

“Saint Mary’s Academy, Professor of Magic, Planck Roninger.”

“President of Saint Mary’s Academy, currently overseeing the Imperial Department for Special Disaster Response, Hathaway Field.”

“President of the Imperial Royal Military Academy…”

“Acting Head of the Imperial Intelligence Department…”

“Acting Head of the Imperial Military Department…”

“Commander of the Imperial Royal Knights…”

“Imperial…”

“Silent Watch… First Sword Bearer.”

The last to speak was an extremely ancient old man. He appeared drowsy, his exposed skin covered in age spots, and he didn’t even bother to rise when he spoke, looking as if one foot was already in the grave.

Yet, when he spoke, everyone involuntarily cast serious glances at him, seemingly wanting to engrave that face, previously only seen in legends, into their minds.

A century ago, unable to tolerate the Church of Life’s frequent interference in internal affairs under the guise of combating evil gods, the Empire secretly established a department for dealing with evil gods called the ‘Silent Watch.’

The old man, known as the Sword Bearer, was the founder of the Silent Watch.

In the old man’s hands, the Silent Watch became like a sharp sword, gradually replacing the Church of Life’s Temple of Judgment within the Leopold Empire. With silent, ruthless, and efficient methods, they crushed the conspiracies of cultists, and even evil gods, one after another.

The Silent Watch thus became almost the largest enforcement agency in Berland. Anyone involved with evil gods, whether commoner or noble, woman or child, was met with their impartial and cold judgment.

It was even rumored that these fierce thugs, when dealing with cultists, wouldn’t even spare their dogs a slap, would shake eggs until the yolks broke, and would dig up earthworms to split them vertically in half—truly merciless!

“You’re still alive.”

Staring at this ‘old friend’ with whom he had clashed for nearly a century, Archbishop Canterbury sighed regretfully, “I thought you had long since died.”

“Heh heh, ‘the wicked live a thousand years’—that must refer to people like me.”

“But your subordinates don’t seem quite as resilient.”

Archbishop Canterbury said gleefully, “I heard a branch of the Silent Watch was overrun by cultists, and even a supposedly very important person… let me think, I believe her name was Anna Campbell, was abducted by the cultists?

Tsk tsk, that’s a fatal mistake. If that Anna Campbell is connected to an evil god’s conspiracy, do you know what immense losses this mistake could cause?

So, Your Majesty, why don’t you order the Church to redeploy the Temple of Judgment personnel back to Berland? Give us one day, and we guarantee to bring Anna Campbell back. Of course, whether she’s in one piece, we cannot guarantee.”

“…” Audrich III did not reply. He still leaned back on the throne, one hand propping his cheek, lazily raising his eyes to silently watch the old man, seemingly awaiting his explanation.

“Anna Campbell might indeed be connected to an evil god’s conspiracy.” The old man opened his cloudy eyes, glancing at Archbishop Canterbury. His tone was utterly calm, yet carried an inexplicable chill.

“And she was indeed abducted by those cultists at a great cost.”

“Hmm?”

Archbishop Canterbury, who had only intended to annoy his ‘old friend,’ was taken aback. He secretly wondered if the Silent Watch had truly become so corrupt, given how quickly the old man admitted it.

“But—”

The old man suddenly changed his tone, no longer looking at Archbishop Canterbury but at Audrich III. He stated coldly, “Anna Campbell has never been beyond the Silent Watch’s control, Your Majesty, never.”