Chapter 151
Chapter 151
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 151
Chapter Title: Audience (3)
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"Everyone, please enter."
The woman said. It was a soft voice, but one laced with undeniable authority. The people, frozen amid the standoff between the two beasts, began to move one by one.
"That's how it is, Sword Saint."
Baren opened his mouth while staring straight at Zaifa. There was no sign of backing down on Baren's face, steadfast as a city wall. Zaifa clicked his tongue once before looking down at Ronan and speaking.
"...We'll talk later."
"I can guess what you're thinking, but it's definitely a misunderstanding."
Zaifa didn't respond. He whipped his tail roughly and turned away. Water still dripped from the hem of his pants as he headed into the audience chamber. Ronan let out an incredulous chuckle.
'Going in looking like that?'
He figured even the outfit for meeting a neighborhood friend would be neater than that. Baren remained standing in the same confrontational pose.
The moment Zaifa disappeared inside the door, a sigh erupted from Baren as if his lungs were being ripped out.
"Huuuuh... I thought I was dead...!"
"What, you were scared?"
"Of course! Those eyes... h-heh, I nearly passed out."
Baren was trembling as if he'd barely escaped with his life. It was a reaction similar to when he'd read the club activity report. Ronan smirked.
"For someone saying that, you stood up to him pretty boldly."
"Well... protecting a student is an educator's duty. I couldn't just not do what needed to be done."
"That was cool. Thanks."
Ronan patted his back. In many ways, he was a better man than most humans. After taking deep breaths to calm himself, Baren continued.
"What on earth happened between you and the Sword Saint? I knew he had a rough temper, but that was no ordinary anger."
"I didn't do anything. Really."
Ronan said flatly. There wasn't time to explain the details. Baren let out a thoughtful hum before nodding in acceptance.
"If you say so, then it must be. I hope the misunderstanding gets cleared up."
By now, only Ronan and Baren remained in the reception room. The guiding woman spoke again.
"Please enter promptly."
"Ah, yes. Sorry."
Baren straightened his clothes. Ronan adjusted his crooked tie. The two stepped through the door. A long, wide corridor stretched before them.
A red carpet was laid out like a boulevard. The people who had entered first were walking ahead. Lavish frames lined the corridor walls at regular intervals.
Each frame held a meticulously painted portrait. Ages and genders varied from young to old, men to women, but they all shared similar features. Sharp noses, jet-black eyes like black pearls.
Ronan recognized most of the faces from Phileon's history classes. He shrugged.
"Former emperors, huh?"
"Yes. The rulers of the Millennium Empire. It's astounding that their bloodline hasn't been broken for nearly a thousand years."
Ronan nodded. He already knew, but it was still impressive. The current emperor was Valon the 44th. Considering the empire's duration and each reign, it wasn't a large number.
"Thanks to a few who lived exceptionally long. The Blood Emperor alone lived nearly two hundred years..."
As they walked the corridor, Baren gave brief accounts of past emperors. It was a tumultuous litany of history. One assassinated just three days after ascension, another like the Blood Emperor who ruled for nearly a century.
The portraits were arranged so older figures appeared closer to the audience chamber. The corridor ended with the stern face of the first emperor.
A grand door identical to the entrance stood before them. When the black-uniformed Imperial Guards opened it, a space rivaling Combat Arena 1 unfolded before their eyes. Ronan tilted his head.
"Huh?"
The people who entered first stood in a line facing away from the door. They kept their hands clasped, heads bowed deeply. As if deliberately avoiding looking at something.
"Why aren't you going in?"
Ronan asked, but no one answered. Baren suddenly gasped and froze in place.
Soon, he bowed his head as well. What the hell is wrong with everyone? As Ronan circled around them, his view cleared. It didn't take long to understand.
"Zaifa?"
Zaifa knelt on one knee in the center of the audience chamber. Red mist enveloped his body. All his fur stood on end, and a low groan of pain escaped his mouth.
"Grraaah..."
A sharp-featured man stood before him with hands behind his back. He appeared to be entering middle age, with nearly half his hair already gray from hardships.
He wore the crimson uniform symbolizing the Valon Empire. The intricate decorations made it the most expensive garment Ronan had ever seen.
Ronan's gaze suddenly fell on the throne. The seat for the empire's ruler was empty. He twisted his lips. Guessing the man's identity wasn't hard.
'The Emperor.'
Valon the 44th stood before him. It was Ronan's first time seeing him in person. His stern, upturned eyes strikingly resembled the 7th emperor, the Blood Emperor. An indescribable glint flickered in his jet-black eyes.
Beside the emperor stood a woman with perfect posture. Her thick lips and massive build, rivaling a burly man's, were striking. Her muscled shoulders were as broad as Ronan's.
Her all-black armor marked her as an Imperial Guard, the emperor's personal protectors. She aimed a sharp spear at Zaifa. The red mist flowed from its tip. The emperor, gazing down at Zaifa silently, spoke.
"Imperial Guard Captain. Increase the output."
"Yes."
The woman nodded. The mist enveloping Zaifa thickened. Crunch. A small breaking sound came from inside his mouth.
"Graaah...!"
He must have clenched his teeth too hard. A few drops of blood dripped from his muzzle. The emperor continued impassively.
"Zaifa. I had no desire to reprimand you myself. I summoned you to the palace today to commend your achievements."
"Do you... know what happened at dawn today...?"
"Of course. A tragic loss."
It seemed to be about the Dawn Unit's massacre. Zaifa's body began to tremble as if it might explode and devastate the area. An angry voice leaked through his clenched fangs.
"Then why... waste time on this nonsense...!"
"It's not nonsense, Zaifa. It's about order and propriety. That's why I called you all here suddenly. Things will be very busy from now on. And while I understand your grief..."
Suddenly, the emperor stepped forward. He began stroking Zaifa's head.
"...that doesn't give you leave to act insolently toward me. To dare tread in the audience chamber with feet caked in blood and mud..."
"Grraaah...!"
"Remember we are not equals, Zaifa."
It was a gentle touch, like petting a house cat. More blood drops fell from Zaifa's mouth. This time, not from pain. With his hand on Zaifa's head, the emperor spoke.
"Withdraw. I'll consider today's rudeness offset by the merits you earned this winter."
"......Understood."
"I'll issue new orders soon. Stand by."
The emperor removed his hand. As the Guard Captain lowered her spear, the red mist vanished.
Zaifa slowly rose. Murderous intent, incomparable to his clash with Baren, rose over his shoulders.
Yet the emperor's face showed not a trace of agitation. Zaifa silently bowed deeply and exited the audience chamber. Ronan and the others watched the scene without even breathing.
'What the fuck did I just see?'
Ronan chuckled dryly. Even Zaifa could do nothing. He'd known about the blood pact with the emperor, but hadn't expected such a clear hierarchy. The emperor turned, clicking his tongue at Zaifa's footprints.
"My apologies. I showed the winter's heroes an unseemly sight."
The emperor gave a troubled smile. His demeanor had completely changed from disciplining Zaifa moments ago.
"Please keep what you saw today secret. For my sake and the Sword Saint's dignity."
"Of course."
Baren answered first. He knelt on one knee, hands clasped in respect. A bright smile spread across the emperor's face.
"It's been a while, Duke Baren. I've heard of your accomplishments."
"You overpraise me."
"Raise your head. I should show proper courtesy first..."
With that, the emperor gestured to the Guard Captain. She left the chamber and soon returned with dozens of Imperial Guards and attendants.
The attendants swiftly cleaned the audience chamber soiled by Zaifa. The Guards formed orderly lines on either side of the carpet leading to the throne, creating a wall.
The chaotic atmosphere turned solemn in an instant. The people lined up facing the throne. Nine in total, but the vast carpet provided ample space.
The emperor slowly approached and sat on the throne. His grave voice echoed through the chamber.
"Pleased to meet you. I am Valon the 44th, emperor of the current empire."
The formal greetings ended quickly. The emperor began commending the gathered individuals one by one. Looking down at a man with a finely groomed mustache, he said,
"Well then, Lord Nodlen. You mobilized your private forces to great effect against the Snow Beasts plaguing the capital. I hereby appoint you Count Neils."
"Th-thank you, Your Majesty...!"
"I hope you continue to fulfill your noble duties."
Ronan chuckled at the word "count." Seven of the nine had now been promoted or elevated from commoner to noble.
'As expected of an emperor. Generous.'
He was leagues above anyone Ronan had met. Casual actions rippled across the entire empire. Turning to Baren, the emperor spoke.
"Baren Phanasir. You cultivated herbs personally, made potions and medicines, and distributed them free to suffering citizens. Along with Duke Ronan, I consider you the greatest hero of this crisis."
"I merely did what was needed."
"A value growing rarer by the day. Why not become a noble this time? You more than deserve it."
"I am deeply grateful, but... I still enjoy teaching students. Once herb cultivation stabilizes, I plan to return to my post."
Baren said. It was a polite refusal. The emperor raised an eyebrow regretfully.
"Hmm... Then I'll provide land and manpower for your herbs. Make thirty percent of the Brinhills Plain your private domain."
"Th-that's...!"
"No objections. Cultivate it well."
With the emperor insisting, refusal was impossible. Baren bowed his head, mouth agape.
Ronan barely suppressed the urge to leap up cheering. Brinhills was one of the empire's most fertile lands, top ten easily.
Just sowing seeds there yielded bumper crops. Imagining Baren's herb business booming there was easy. The emperor's gaze shifted to Ronan.
"So... you're the man of the hour. Duke Ronan, correct?"
"Yes."
Ronan nodded. He felt the surrounding atmosphere stir. Even the stone-faced Guard Captain's eyes sparkled with interest.
"I heard you shattered unbreakable ice. You're the one who defeated the Winter Witch, too. Rorhon told me you'd be younger than expected, but not this young."
"Should I take that as a compliment?"
"Of course... Guards."
Suddenly, the emperor turned to the Guard Captain. She bowed formally.
"Your command."
"Escort the meritorious to the banquet hall. Clear the audience chamber except for myself and Duke Ronan."
"Understood."
Ronan's eyes widened. He couldn't comprehend what was happening. Baren looked at him with puzzled eyes. The Guard Captain strode forward and addressed the group.
"This way, please."
"W-wait... what's going...?"
"Please refrain from conversation."
The people ebbed away like a tide. Soon, only Ronan and the emperor remained. Thud. The door closed, echoing in the empty space.
'Didn't see this coming.'
Ronan twisted his lips. His mind had been filled with whether to accept a noble title if offered—privileges were nice, but it could restrict actions, and nobility came with duties.
After deep deliberation, he'd nearly decided. Now it was all for naught. Confirming they were alone, the emperor stood.
"I have a proposal for you."
"A proposal?"
"Yes. I want you to become the empire's dawn."