Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: The Final Strategy
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“Doge. What in the world is going on here?”
The Citadel Council chambers blazed with light even deep into the night. In times like these, anyone who could sleep soundly after hearing such news would have to be one of the few desperate enough to seek peaceful rest through sleeping draughts.
Doge Andolph MacLiren of the Citadel Republic sat silently in his seat, unable to continue.
Thomas William—a mere commoner he wouldn’t have spared a glance at under normal circumstances—now had the chance for a private audience with the Doge, given the dire situation.
The Doge’s expression had twisted as if he’d seen a ghost upon hearing Thomas’s description of the monster. In truth, it was something far more terrifying than any ghost.
Grimudo’s most cherished beast. A being that could rightly be called the Monster Emperor.
There was no doubt it was the unparalleled supreme great monster, the Phoenix. Naturally, the only entity capable of commanding such a creature across the entire world was the Ancient Demon King himself.
“I made a mistake. I admit it.”
He had made a deal with him to topple the royal family and establish the republic, but it might well have been the worst mistake of his life. Even his own supporters had distanced themselves, and his political enemies were closing in with renewed vigor.
Of course, they had no choice. The faces of the councilors venting their fury at him were filled with terror.
“A mistake? A mistake? Doge, this is a matter of national survival! I’m not as clever as you, so I can’t fathom why Grimudo would target our republic. But even a fool like me knows one thing.”
Killing intent flickered briefly in the Doge’s eyes as he watched one councilor slam his fist on the table. If he hadn’t sought out Grimudo and borrowed his power, that man would be lying headless on some battlefield right now, his corpse unburied and rolling in the dirt.
Back then, the anti-royal faction had been on the brink of collapse, forced to operate half in the shadows. The Citadel royal family had committed countless misdeeds, yet their power remained formidable, with many still loyal to them.
Revolution demanded tough choices. While he had journeyed to the North Pole to find Grimudo, what had these fools been doing?
And now they refused to acknowledge his achievements, blaming him solely for the fallout? The Doge’s mood soured, but he kept it hidden.
Things had already spiraled this far. Who would stand by him now?
Besides, what good would victory on the Snow Plains be if the volcano erupted? He swallowed his anger quietly and focused on finding a solution.
“Grimudo doesn’t care about us unless we provoke him first. Doge, isn’t it because you stirred him up that he’s on the move?”
“Councilor MacKill, that’s too extreme. If the Doge caused this mess, surely he has a way to fix it. This is an emergency. Money is no object. We just ask that you don’t force us into a last-resort decision.”
Gillead Ranbolt, councilor and head of the Merchant Alliance, reined in his fellow councilors. Of course, it wasn’t out of loyalty to the Doge.
Rather, he believed petty political squabbles could wait. Winning arguments wouldn’t delay the volcano’s eruption. If the entire Kaldelan Range blew, the mere thought was horrifying.
Unlike vast empires, the Citadel Republic was compact, with strong administration and order. Barely the size of a few imperial provincial towns, it was natural—but in a crisis, these strengths became liabilities.
The republic had prepared well against external threats, but this was a calamity no one had even imagined. Honestly, no one knew if any preparations would have made a difference.
If the volcano erupted, the republic was finished. Harbors, roads—everything would be buried in lava and ash. The mountainside would become a land of death. Scorching pyroclastic flows would sweep away all life like a storm, leaving nothing behind. And there was a chance Valles City itself might fall within that zone.
No one had ever witnessed a volcano of this scale erupt. What would happen was pure speculation, but one thing was certain: reality would surpass even the worst imaginings.
Rumble!
Suddenly, the ground shook. The floor trembled, sending glasses crashing from shelves.
If this were the first time, they might have panicked, but now they just accepted it. Aftershocks came intermittently, frequent enough to become routine. That was why the Doge had believed Thomas without verification—the quakes were coming closer together.
Even those without news sensed something was wrong on instinct, preparing to evacuate. Ships were booked solid, some fleeing with whatever they could carry, others digging shelters as a last resort.
Whether those measures would work was anyone’s guess, but it beat waiting silently for death. Only time would tell.
“Shouldn’t we be evacuating too?”
“The republic is our home. Where would we go if we abandon it?”
“To the Empire or somewhere else. Surely our lives matter more than our wealth.”
Fear crept onto the councilors’ faces. Nature didn’t care if they were councilors or powerbrokers—it simply raged, sweeping everything away in one go.
Stay and wait for the earthquake and ash clouds, then sue for peace with the volcano? Wave a white flag at the ash and expect mercy?
Not a chance. Fleeing was the best option. The more sensible ones wanted to grab their families and fortunes and board a ship now.
Even if the republic fell, money would sustain them anywhere.
“If we can save it, we should.”
But it wasn’t that simple. Abandoning the republic meant it would be utterly destroyed. Nature’s wrath left no room for hope.
“We can’t forget this is the foundation of our power. Lose that, and we’re just rich nobodies.”
In the commercial heart of Citadel, where money equaled power, things differed elsewhere on the continent—there, power trumped wealth.
Flee to another land, and could these merchant lords strut as proudly?
“Those who want to be handmaidens to power again, feel free to leave. I won’t stop you. This old body of mine has seen enough of those days under the royals. I’ll hear what the Doge has to say.”
The councilors fell silent at the words of Jayden Motabil, the eldest among them. The Doge bowed in gratitude, then spoke.
“Even if you prepare now, you can’t take all your assets. This isn’t peacetime—it’s an emergency. Moving wealth quickly means losses. So if we’re losing it anyway, let’s invest it.”
“Invest where?”
“In the republic’s safety and our survival.”
“Doge, that’s not investment—it’s gambling. But this old man doesn’t play sure losers. If there’s a chance of winning, I’m in.”
Jayden knocked back his brandy and replied.
“Speak.”
“I plan to buy off the three Masters the republic hired—with money.”
“Give them gold to risk their lives, and they’ll agree?”
“Then we just offer more. Isn’t ‘everything has a price’ our creed? We can pile their homes high with gold and silver. In the worst case, it’s wealth we’d abandon anyway.”
If Citadel’s transcendents could slay the immortal monster bird, the eruption would be delayed, and normalcy restored. The key was speed—no dragging this out.
Even now, the worst-case scenario loomed closer. Once decided, they had to act fast.
“But Doge, what if they fail? Transcendents may be the pinnacle of humanity, but monsters are born different—their strengths aren’t clear-cut.”
“That’s why I make this proposal here.”
The Doge finally played his trump card.
“Long ago, when the republic was still a kingdom, a massive teleport gate was built linking Valles City and the imperial capital Grantera. It could be used to raid each other’s capitals, so in peacetime it stays sealed—both sides must approve to open it.”
Originally made to speed diplomacy between distant realms, where envoys took months.
Its other purpose: quickest escape across the sea if demons invaded from the northern kingdom. Even at its strongest, Citadel’s narrow territory couldn’t withstand a full demonic assault.
In the end, the gate activated not for demons but to flee the Doge’s own rebels. Parnell, then a child, and her escorts had escaped through it. For the Doge, who remembered, fully activating it was worth a shot.
“We’ll offer full forgiveness of the Empire’s war debts from Princess Ardein von Illumena’s campaigns. In exchange: open the gate and shelter our refugees. The Empire won’t refuse.”
“That’s absurd. Utterly absurd. Save the rabble by emptying our pockets now? Do you know how much the Empire owes us? Wipe it all away? What about those of us whose fortunes are tied up in those bonds?”
One councilor objected, but elder Jayden silenced him with a stern look at the young ones.
“If the Citadel Republic vanishes, do you think the Empire will honor those bonds? If they pay at all, it might take centuries. Face reality—they’d sooner hire an assassin guild for your head than pay up.”
If the republic fell, the bonds became worthless paper.
The Empire wouldn’t pay willingly. Lie down and demand it, and what could landless refugees do?
Tied to imperial credit, they wouldn’t outright default.
But bondholders might meet mysterious ends, or forced negotiations might yield half of half, then silence.
Better prepare for the worst.
“In the worst case, we lose money and country. Doge, if your plan fails, what will you pay with?”
“My life? You’d just scoff. It’s not redeemable.”
Doge Andolph rose, his face etched with age.
“If the worst comes, divide my overseas mines as you see fit. If the republic falls, I fall with it. You know I have no heirs or kin to leave them to.”
No matter the fortune, without blood to inherit, it held little appeal for an old man. In his youth, he’d lost his children to the Citadel royals.
His brother backed the wrong horse in a succession war, branding House MacLiren traitors. His lovely wife and dear children died under torture; relatives died or cut ties. He survived castrated.
Who could’ve guessed this penniless wreck would topple the royals with North Pole aid? Ancient history now.
His sole joy after losing his children and any hope of more was power—and now Grimudo sought to take it.
What Grimudo gave, he could reclaim. The Doge knew the Demon King’s might—resentment was futile.
“Doge. Are you serious?”
“No empty words. If the republic dies, so do I. Do what you will with my foreign assets after. I won’t take them to heaven.”
When earthquakes shattered Citadel and lava entombed it, he would join it in death. The Doge had resolved as much.
No one pressed the man prepared to die. Someone had to bear this burden, and none wanted it.
Who’d want infamy as the republic’s destroyer in the history books?
If the Doge embraced all the blame and chose ritual suicide, what more could they say?
The Citadel Republic’s final strategy was set. Success saved the nation; failure, at least the people. Victory or defeat now rested with the three Masters residing in the republic.
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