Chapter 812: The Council of Ten
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 812: The Council of Ten
"Do you believe the path I have walked until now has always been the right one?"
The King's voice rang out, carrying far and wide. It was low and firm, imbued with the kind of absolute conviction possessed only by those who truly believe in themselves.
No mage had cast a spell, nor was he using a magical tool or artifact, yet the King's voice seemed to resonate with its own power.
He raised his left hand, palm open, and swept it across the room as if gesturing to everyone present.
"If anyone here truly believes that, I must ask why you even bother carrying a head on your shoulders."
It was half-jest, but the underlying edge was as sharp as a blade.
What did he mean? Did it not sound as if he were urging them not to trust him?
This was the King backed by the Sun Beast.
The King who had purged the surrounding bandits and monsters.
The King supported by an unprecedented force known as the Mad Knights.
And simultaneously, the King who had secured the unwavering loyalty of the Red Cloak Knights.
He exercised a level of royal authority never before seen in the history of the realm.
This was the only conclusion one could reach when looking at everything Krang had accomplished. Naurilia was at a point where its royal authority had never been stronger. Moreover, the King was wise, sagacious, and held the support of the people. He was presiding over an era of unprecedented prosperity.
Frankly, any discontent among a fraction of the nobility could have been crushed with sheer force. It would have been perfectly acceptable to do so. After all, the prosperity they currently enjoyed was not won through the efforts of the blue-blooded nobility.
That was why Krang had drawn his sword.
And that process was meant to shake things up, starting with the salon.
That was how Encrid understood it. Even without asking Krang why he had requested this task, Krais—who had made a fuss by his side, even going so far as to cross-dress—had already explained the logic.
"What do you think happens when you show the nobles your power? It silences most of their complaints. Looking further ahead, we can ensure that no noble who opposes royal authority can even exist. At least, not with the King we have now."
The core of that power was, of course, military might. And what was the sword that most nakedly demonstrated Krang's might?
"The Mad Knights, and its captain."
Those were the words Krais had spoken while wiping his red-painted lips with flaxseed oil.
"So you didn't just come to crash the salon."
Encrid's intuition was always exceptionally sharp. A fellow like Krais was never simple. He had come to secure the safety of the Border Guard and himself, and furthermore, to confirm exactly where the Mad Knights should stand.
As the royal family's prestige soared, Krais needed to know where that momentum was heading. He had even plunged into danger for that very reason. Normally, Krais wouldn't go so far as to cross-dress just to tackle a simple task.
"Ah, but crashing the salon was entirely from the heart."
...Well, even if one's intuition was sharp, not every assumption was always correct.
In any case, Krais had predicted Krang's next move.
"To form an alliance with the Legion and unite the various cities, the kingdom must become one. His Highness will use his power to crush the nobility into submission."
For siblings not to fight, they need a strict parent—whether that pillar is the father or the mother. A strict hand holding a switch allows children to coexist without tearing each other apart. It makes them obedient. Through this, the group becomes a single organism moving according to the leader's will.
With the south showing suspicious movements and threatening war, now was the time to make proper preparations. To prepare for the coming storm, Krang had to raise a stern switch using the royal family's military might.
Such was Krais's prediction, and most of those with a decent brain expected the same outcome.
Only Encrid saw something else. Would that really be the case?
Beside Encrid, the Duke of Okto spoke.
"His Highness has but one request, Sir."
"Speak, Your Grace."
The Duke of Okto was different from Marquis Vaisar. Had it been the late Marquis, he would have joked that now was the perfect opportunity for Encrid to enter into holy matrimony with his daughter. But unlike the Marquis, who had died with a smile, the Duke simply said what needed to be said.
"He said he trusts you to fill the tenth seat."
In this situation, Krang had said he was not always right. Why? What was his reason for saying that? To cast doubt on royal authority? To tell them to band together for their individual interests at a moment when they needed to unite as one?
That couldn't be it.
"I, Kudianat Landius Nauril, speak by the rights and authority granted to me."
The King made his declaration. Krang struck the floor with his scepter, the symbol of the Sun Beast. A heavy thud reverberated through the hall, sending a tremor through everyone's chest.
"As of today, I shall establish the Council of Ten."
No one understood the King's words immediately. While the crowd blinked in confusion, Marcus, who had already been informed, knelt on one knee.
"I shall uphold Your Highness's will."
Watching this, Krais muttered under his breath.
"He's not crushing the nobles' power... he's elevating it?"
Though Encrid was often called clever, Krais was a true genius when it came to strategy. He grasped the meaning behind the "Council of Ten," read the shifting atmosphere, and instantly saw through Krang's scheme.
"The first shall be you, Marcus Vaisar."
The King spoke.
"I accept your command."
Marcus accepted the decree while still on one knee, and the Duke of Okto stepped forward.
"I trust you will accept the second."
"I shall uphold it."
The Duke of Okto was next. Other representatives of the nobility's interests took their places in turn.
And finally, the tenth.
"My friend, surely you will accept as well."
In truth, the Council of Ten was a body symbolizing the power of the nobility, but the tenth seat was the sword that would always stand by the King's side. That was the extent of Krang's calculations. Of course, it also included showing respect to his friend and the hero who had saved the nation.
Encrid merely smiled and replied.
"Of course, my King."
What Krais had predicted was the conventional view. But there were those whom even Krais's brilliant mind could not predict—those who put ideals, great causes, dreams, and hopes first. Those who walked paths untrodden by others and chose options left untouched.
There was a reckless fool who became a knight with clumsy talent, swearing to erase the Demon Realm just to protect everything behind him.
And here, there was a King who, despite possessing absolute power, chose not to crush everyone, but to listen to their stories and lead them toward a better path.
In terms of sheer madness, there was probably little difference between the two of them.
"I really didn't expect this."
Krais shook his head in amazement.
He later learned that the Council of Ten was structured so that each member would form a group of ten trusted individuals beneath them. The ten chosen in this manner would debate with the members of the Council of Ten, who in turn would face the King directly to offer candid counsel.
An opportunity extended even to those families who had not previously sided with the royal family.
Instead of crushing them with force, he broadened his embrace. It was something only a man of his caliber could do.
"He's saying, 'The blade of the Mad Knights can be swung at any time. Therefore, while it can be used against those who threaten us, it will never be used against you.' He used us beautifully."
Krais spoke, having seen through Krang's intentions. With that, the affairs in the capital came to an end.
After bidding his farewells, Encrid returned to the Border Guard in a carriage bearing the royal crest. He saw Krang briefly on his way out, but there was no time for a long conversation.
The Safe Road, along with the exceptionally well-paved highway, was optimized for carriage travel. Thanks to the soldiers guarding the outposts, there were no monsters, demonic beasts, or bandits to be found. It was a truly peaceful journey.
"Welcome back, sir!"
He entered the Border Guard, receiving salutes from the soldiers who recognized the carriage.
"I really need to get some rest now."
Sinar spoke as soon as they arrived, then headed back to the Elven City. A journey that was short yet long had finally ended.
"The great nation of the south isn't foolish enough to attack immediately. They, too, will need time to catch their breath. But war is inevitable."
Those were the words Krang had spoken before they parted. Embracing the nobility was not an act of cowardice; it was a result of the sheer depth of Krang's character.
What should be done if the enemy desired nothing but a fight? Krang had no intention of avoiding it.
"There was a message from Sir Cypress. The movements in the south are unusual."
Thus, even knowing that the foreseen war was approaching, Encrid simply did what needed to be done.
"Call me when the time comes."
Encrid replied and went back to his quarters. Even after that, various pieces of news reached his ears.
"They say Naurilia and the Legion have established diplomatic relations. Also, monsters have been swarming from the south more frequently."
Krais delivered the news while deploying Rem's Assault Squad to the south. Because of these frequent occurrences, the members of the assault squad began to look upon Krais with affectionate eyes.
"Commander, got any more work for us?"
These unfortunate souls, whose very manner of speech had come to resemble Rem's, had made Krais the official commander of the assault squad. Of course, neither Rem nor Krais had wanted this, but the soldiers simply respected the man who gave them their only chance to skip training with their captain, whom they viewed as the incarnation of a demon.
Encrid, too, did his part in the meantime. Training, conditioning, swordsmanship, contemplation, and deliberation. It was a continuation of his usual routine. Amidst all this, he also took charge of training the soldiers. This was an effort to establish a certain concept, but for now, things weren't quite falling into place.
Luagarne had been helping him, but she had recently departed for a distant swamp, saying she needed to reflect on and consolidate what she had learned and mastered in the previous battle.
"It seems my desires cannot be satisfied in my current state."
Was it not said that for a Frok consumed by cravings to progress further, they must learn to control those desires? Luagarne was doing exactly that.
It was less than a month after they had returned to the Border Guard.
Soft, crunching footsteps.
With the sunlight at her back, someone stepped into the training ground. A halo of light spread behind her, silver hair shining, a faint sour smell wafting through the air, and footsteps taken with deliberate noise.
It was not difficult to guess who it was based on sound alone. Encrid's gaze turned toward the entrance.
"Have you forgotten me?"
The beastman woman had returned, a smile on her face. Though her face was cleaner than before, the familiar beastman was back. She wore white leather armor, her eyes were golden, and her gauntlets and greaves were dented from travel.
"Tell that bastard Rem to get out here."
She called for Rem the moment she arrived, right in front of several assault squad members who were training, watching her with intrigued eyes.
Encrid recalled the letter that Anu, the King of the East, had sent previously, practically notifying him that he would no longer keep her. Still, her return was fast. It seemed she had run all the way without resting. Rem, too, happened to enter the training ground just then. He had been rolling his assault squad all day long, yet he was feeling frustrated, as if something was weighing on his mind.
"Oh, you?"
Rem recognized Dunbakel immediately. The golden eyes of the beastman curved. Smiling with her eyes, she said:
"Hey, western rascal. How've you been?"
Most of them, including Encrid, had been at the training ground all day, as they always were. It was a place where they could engage in a spar at any moment.
The two soldiers who had followed Dunbakel and had been standing guard behind her quietly backed away. They had been flustered when the beastman suddenly claimed she belonged here, and before they could stop her, she had swept right inside, leaving them to chase after her. Thus, the two guards also became spectators, and the gazes of others passing by the training ground gathered as well.
Rem adjusted his grip on his axe, Encrid naturally stepped back, and Dunbakel placed her hand on her waist.
A curved scimitar was her weapon. It was no ordinary blade; it radiated the aura of an artifact, proving she hadn't just been idling away her time in the East. Along the hilt she held, unrecognizable characters appeared on the sheathless scimitar, casting a glow.
"I have experienced hell in the East."
And she had become a hero.
Humans called them knights, but in beastman society, a warrior of a certain caliber was called a hero. It was a title for those who knew fear and overcame it. In other words, it referred to the level of being able to manipulate Will—but because Dunbakel was a beastman, she called this Vitality rather than Will.
A beastman's life force is more tenacious than that of any other race. What happens when one stimulates that foundation, spreads it throughout the body, and utilizes it even at an unconscious level? Vitality overflows, elevating them to the rank of a hero.
Dunbakel drew her scimitar and swung. She had no intention of killing him; she only intended to teach him a lesson.
Vitality is vigor, energy, and power.
Her vastly increased physical strength guided Dunbakel into a split second of compressed time. The air pressed heavily against her shoulders. Through that gap, her scimitar surged forward, shedding light. Stepping forward with her left foot, she drew a crescent moon that fell in a semi-circle toward the sky.
Starlight.
Along with the slash, she unleashed the power of the artifact. The artifact, said to harbor the light of the stars, exerted a massive repulsive force toward the opponent upon contact. It was designed to blow the enemy away.
Rem's axe was not slow to meet her sword. It collided with Dunbakel's blade.
Clang! Clink!
The axe blade blocked the middle of the scimitar and held its ground. A crack appeared in the center of the Starlight glow. Rem, holding his axe with a short grip, smiled from behind the weapon. The corners of his mouth curled up, revealing his fangs. Dunbakel felt a sudden sense of crisis.
Crash!
With a roaring explosion, the blade Dunbakel had brought shattered into pieces and flew to the side. Sachsen, who had arrived to watch at some point, caught a flying shard with his bare hand. He examined it and grunted.
"Low-grade."
In terms of the artifact's quality, it was nothing special.
And then.
"What gave you the confidence to call me out?"
Rem, having shattered the scimitar, asked with a grin. Dunbakel was not particularly bright; she hadn't considered that just as her own skills had improved, her opponent's skills would have grown as well.
"Ah."
As she let out a gasp, Rem sheathed his axe and pulled out the club he carried around for the "mental training" of his squad members. Though it looked like a simple black club, it was forged from a blend of Ink Gold and True Iron. The club spun once in Rem's grip.
"Let's see how much you've improved, you little mutt."
"I'm not a dog, I'm a lion!"
Dunbakel's golden eyes knew no surrender. She had survived fighting dozens of monsters in the East, including several unique variants. Of course, if Rem had been a monster, he would have been of the demon class.
Encrid calmly observed Dunbakel's movements and reached a conclusion.
An entry-level knight.
Though her movements showcased the exceptional athletic ability unique to beastmen, her ability to manipulate Will was not particularly outstanding. Naturally, he knew what he needed to teach her.
First, break her sense of invincibility.
Currently, Dunbakel was drunk on her own power. Breaking that would be the first step. To put it plainly, she needed to get beaten up by Rem for a bit.
Thwack!
Trading blows with Rem, Dunbakel eventually exposed a gap on the outside of her thigh, took a heavy hit from the club, and rolled across the ground.
"Son of a..."
Those were her last words. Well, she wasn't actually dead, just half-dead, so they weren't strictly her last words.
"You're fun to beat up!"
Rem lunged forward and began administering a thorough clubbing. It didn't last very long.
In any case.
"Welcome back, Dunbakel."
Encrid welcomed her back as she bled profusely from her nose.
"...I think I came back to the wrong place."
Dunbakel looked as if she deeply regretted her life choices.