Chapter 51: Dammit
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 51: Dammit
The Grand Council Hall.
Representatives of every sentient race from across the Serdes Continent were gathered here.
Despite the vastness of the space and the sheer number of attendees, there were no assigned seats in the Grand Council Hall. Instead, everyone sat with their own factions or nearby allies, using the arrangement to flaunt the scale of their influence.
The tension was certainly high back then.
To Ferda’s eyes, the room looked like a living map of the continent’s power dynamics.
The largest nation on the continent was the Arken Empire. To counter its overwhelming influence, various smaller kingdoms had formed an alliance to match its scale. It was a delicate continental balance, maintained for now through sheer necessity.
As a member of the Arken Empire, Ferda took a seat where the imperial factions had gathered.
The Grand Council Hall lacked the opulence of the banquet hall. Its design was restrained to the point of austerity, much like any other parliament, ensuring that no one was distracted by luxury. The seats were arranged in a semi-circle, designed to focus all attention toward the center.
And in that central seat sat the master of this Grand Council.
The White Dragon, Blancaros.
He had snow-white hair, white eyes, and the face of a beautiful young man untouched by the passage of time. His white radiance was so otherworldly that it created the illusion that he was literally emitting light.
This was the immortal beauty possessed by dragons.
So, that is a dragon.
As Ferda watched him, the dragon’s previously still eyes shifted. Ferda wondered if he was imagining it, but the doubt didn't last long.
Blancaros was staring directly at him.
His white eyes were cold and pure. The moment their gazes met, Ferda felt the circles inside his body writhe. It was an instinctive warning triggered by the presence of an absolute predator.
Strangely, there was no malice in that warning. It felt the same as when he had first stepped into the dragon’s domain.
Standing behind the dragon were three men and women, all with similarly white hair. They were the three spawns Blancaros had created through the Ascension Ceremony.
The Tongue, the Scales, and the Hand.
Blancaros moved his hand. At a slight flick of his finger, the woman standing with rigid discipline cleared her throat and spoke.
She was the Tongue of Blancaros. She was the proxy who represented the White Dragon’s will and presided over the council’s proceedings.
Her voice echoed loudly through the hall.
“We express our sincere gratitude to those who have come for the sake of continental peace.”
She began reading from the script she held. After a few formalities, she started reciting the official agendas brought to the summit.
“We shall begin with the mediation of the dispute between King Hudret and Duke Yurei.”
The start was a simple dispute. They called it a "dispute," but in scale, it was a war.
At the announcement, a man stood up with a scowl.
“I offer my sincere thanks to the proxy of the Great Master of Order for arranging this session. Before we proceed, I demand a correction to set the record straight. This entire situation is a war and a catastrophe caused by King Hudret’s invasion!”
Immediately, another man stood up. It was the accused, King Hudret.
“My people were the first to die! What was I supposed to do when the villagers moved to seek revenge?”
“You were the one who brought in the army, King Hudret!”
“Silence, please. This is a place for mediation. A final compensation will be determined based on the evidence submitted.”
The Tongue of Blancaros cut them off, preventing a shouting match that could have dragged on indefinitely.
“Each side, submit your prepared evidence.”
The evidence gathered by the Hudret and Yurei factions was documented and submitted. The purpose of the mediation was to receive compensation for damages suffered during the war.
The submitted documents took flight one by one, unfolding before Blancaros. It had taken the ministers of each nation and territory two months to write them, but it took the dragon a mere minute to read them all.
Blancaros flicked a finger toward a young boy. The boy was holding a pair of scales. He was the Scales of Blancaros.
The scales the boy held tilted to one side.
Watching this, Hand of Blancaros began to document the result, and the Tongue delivered the verdict.
“The verdict! Duke Yurei shall pay 60,000 gold in reparations to King Hudret.”
It was a moment where joy and sorrow crossed paths. Duke Yurei, who had received the losing verdict, flew into a rage.
“This makes no sense! They were the ones who invaded! Why do I have to pay reparations?!”
“It has been determined that you violated the laws of war by taking no prisoners and obstructing the duties of priests treating the wounded. After weighing all factors, the fault is judged to lie more heavily with Duke Yurei.”
Duke Yurei protested.
“Every other country does that! I’m sure King Hudret’s knights did the same! Why are we the only ones being penalized—?”
“As stated previously, you simply need to provide evidence.”
The Tongue of Blancaros explained once more in a businesslike tone.
“This is an absolute neutral zone where law and order are observed. If you have requested mediation here, you must abide by the laws and order of the Serdes Continent. Evidence takes precedence over custom. If the same acts were committed against you, you should have presented the same level of evidence.”
In other words, even if the opponent did it first and you were just retaliating, if you had no evidence, only you were guilty. Depending on how decisive the collected evidence was, the roles of perpetrator and victim could easily be swapped.
Yurei’s face was twisted with spite. Looking down at him, the Tongue of Blancaros pointed to the confirmation document placed before him.
“Duke Yurei, the dispute mediation is concluded. Please sign for confirmation.”
Looking down at the document, Duke Yurei was overcome with rage and sorrow. He had no choice. The moment he signed that paper, he would cross a point of no return. Regardless of whether he felt it was unfair, he would officially be the perpetrator from that moment on.
The effect is absolute.
Once decided, it could not be undone.
And he can’t refuse, either.
Everyone sitting here was a witness and a judge, but they could also become predators. Refusing a verdict from the Grand Council would give them a perfect excuse to tear him apart. Yesterday’s enemy was still an enemy, but yesterday’s ally could become today’s foe in an instant.
“I... accept the decree.”
Duke Yurei accepted it humbly. His handwriting shook as if an earthquake were occurring.
Is this a case of the perpetrator and victim being swapped?
Without more information, that was the best Ferda could guess.
“If he felt it was so unfair, he should have finished it himself,” someone whispered softly.
Ferda silently agreed with that sentiment. If one wanted guaranteed reparations, they shouldn't seek mediation; they should fight a war of annihilation until one side was destroyed. Ending things halfway only invited retaliation.
The Tongue of Blancaros moved on to the next dispute.
There were a few more disputes after that, but they were minor. Conflicts between Dwarves and Elves, internal strife among Dwarves regarding dynasties and bloodlines, and so on... They spent two hours endlessly deferring arguments that would never be resolved and that no one truly intended to resolve.
Finally, the endless bickering came to an end.
“Since there are no more mediation cases, we shall move on to the main agenda. Proposed by the President of Escoleia...”
The Tongue took a breath, pausing for a beat before continuing.
“The agenda is the proliferation of monsters and the possibility of the Demon Race’s return.”
Since Escoleia was a massive city of scholars, its leader was a President rather than a Mayor. A bald man stood on the podium. He looked as though his long years of academic passion had burned away even his hair follicles.
“It has been 138 years since the death of Godwin, the Master of Deep Darkness, who led the continent into chaos. However, if you look at this graph...”
The President used magic to project his drawings into the air. He pointed at the graph.
“Contrary to what one would expect after his death, the current graph shows a sharp increase in monsters.”
The graph was trending upward. However, the increase itself wasn't massive. Seeing the graph, people began to chime in.
“It doesn’t seem to be rising that much.”
“Isn’t the problem that it’s rising at all, rather than the specific number?”
“Isn’t this just a projection? It could actually drop later. You’re being too sensitive.”
Opinions were split almost down the middle. One side argued it was a fuss over a minor increase; the other argued it was a grave matter worthy of such a fuss. They bickered back and forth.
Listening closely, it was clear their arguments weren't about the continent’s safety, but rather about finding excuses.
An excuse for rearmament.
Those arguing for vigilance wanted an excuse to arm themselves. Those calling it a fuss wanted to prevent their rivals from arming or to avoid unnecessary spending. They didn't care if the continent broke; they only cared about what they owned.
It was then.
“Why don’t you all watch your mouths!”
Someone slammed their desk and stood up with a force that felt like it was on a different level. However, the voice was youthful—far from forceful.
Turning around, Ferda saw Erdes Roton.
“The fiancé of the Archduchess of Valdrova is sitting right here! Do you think you can handle the consequences of flapping your gums like that?”
Everyone craned their necks to find Ferda, and those who spotted him fixed their eyes on him.
Ferda muttered inwardly.
That damn woman.
“The proxy of Valdrova?”
“You mean that quiet Evil Dragon sent a representative?”
People began whispering, reciting every rumor they knew about Valdrova. The President, who already looked like he was walking on eggshells, now looked as if his feet were on fire.
Ferda glanced at Erdes, who had caused this mess. She had a blissful expression on her face, like an arsonist watching a fire from across the river.
He had come because there was a time he needed to step forward, but he had wanted to observe the atmosphere a bit longer. Since the spotlight was already on him, Ferda decided to speak.
“It is true that monsters are constantly swarming the Far East. However, that seems to be of a different nature than the topic being discussed here, so I will not comment further.”
“I thank the Regent for saying so. What I am discussing now is the frequency of occurrences across the continent, excluding the Far East.”
The President looked like a man who had just grabbed a lifeline. It was clear his authority was very weak.
“Therefore, our current hypothesis is... that someone is intentionally summoning and creating monsters. In other words, we suspect that the number of Demon Followers is increasing.”
“Demon Followers...”
“Aren’t they madmen incomparable even to Demon Worshippers?”
While both Demon Followers and Demon Worshippers were despised by society, they were distinctly different. While demons desired to rule this world, the Demon Race desired its destruction. Demon Worshippers stood to gain something, but Demon Followers gained nothing. They were pure masses of malice.
“What could they possibly gain?”
“If it is the wish of the Demon Race, would it not be the resurrection of the Black Dragon Godwin?”
The resurrection of the Black Dragon Godwin!
This was a problem on a completely different level than a mere increase in monsters. Even those who had criticized the President for making a fuss fell silent. Everyone’s attention shifted to the Dragon Spawns sitting in the front.
“Resurrection, is it...?”
The chairman, Blancaros, spoke for the first time. As soon as the Master of Order opened his mouth, the atmosphere fell under his absolute control.
“What say you?”
Blancaros asked his spawns. The first to answer was the spawn of Silverwind. The silver-haired group, regardless of age or gender, each bore a scar somewhere on their body. It was a badge of honor for those who guarded the North.
“Contrary to the trend of increasing monsters, we are still steadily wiping out the remnants. I swear, no one hates the Black Dragon Godwin more than we do.”
“Your loyalty to Silverwind is always highly valued. Iorga?”
The representative of Iorga was a young, sophisticated woman of great elegance. Her face overflowed with the vitality of a woman in her early twenties, but she possessed a dignity forged by time.
“We have detected no unusual fluctuations of mana across the Serdes Continent. We are also receiving steady reports from adventurers regarding any potential hidden spaces. If there were an event large enough to overturn the continent, we would have been the first to know.”
Naturally, the priest of Odograsado took over.
“Our Golden Scale Order is also constantly monitoring the movements of the Demon Race, and we see nothing that should be considered a problem.”
The representatives of the three dragons attending the Grand Council all replied that there was no need for concern. They were the proxies of the Guardian Dragons, whose primary concern was the safety of the continent. Their words carried a weight far beyond the politics of mere humans.
Hearing their words, Blancaros fell silent again. The Tongue of Blancaros answered in his stead.
“The conclusion of this agenda is that while there is no immediate cause for alarm, we must remain vigilant due to the sustained upward trend. Do you have any objections, President of Escoleia?”
“None.”
The President, who had been sweating profusely, shook his head and stepped down from the podium. Since it was awkward to conclude that he was just making a fuss, he was satisfied with simply having made the report.
“The next proposer is Ferda Valdrova...”
The Tongue of Blancaros stopped speaking. It was a different kind of hesitation than when she had read the President’s proposal. It was a hesitation born of doubt—wondering if this should even be announced.
That hesitation caused her to look toward Blancaros. Blancaros noticed her gaze and answered with his eyes.
The Tongue received her instructions.
“The agenda is... the recognition of the Red Dragon Valdrova’s status as a Guardian Dragon.”
Sound vanished from the Grand Council Hall.
The people inside were individuals of at least ducal rank. They were people who ruled territories the size of nations and possessed great military might. Even they were so stunned that they held their breath at such a sensitive matter.
Since he had already drawn everyone's attention once, there was no need for them to look around. This was a matter so sensitive that ordinary humans wouldn't dare propose it, let alone participate in it.
It was a suicidal act. No one would ever do this unless they were desperate to die.
Yet, Ferda, the one who had made the proposal, stood up as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The way he walked was like watching an acrobat. It was terrifying for the spectators, but the performer himself seemed perfectly unbothered.
Standing on the podium, Ferda looked up at the council seats. What he had to do was obvious.
“I am Regent Ferda Valdrova, who has audaciously submitted a proposal despite this being my first time attending the council.”
He scanned them all once before speaking.
“As you can tell from this proposal, I came here prepared to make enemies.”
Having thrown down the gauntlet, he intended to see it through with conviction.