Round Table Meeting (5)
“Ugh, Ihyeon, sorry, but I gotta hit the bathroom.”
“Hey, where you goin’, Seolhwa!”
Leaving Muyul Ihyeon behind with his louder-than-usual voice—perhaps fueled by the alcohol—Seolhwa stepped out into the corridor.
Contrary to the prejudice that mages had weak physical abilities, Lady Moribwe was already rounding the end of the hallway with her head butler in tow.
If I let her get away now... But if I run, she might notice.
An extreme dilemma. Maybe because of the Fairy’s Tear he’d just drunk, his brain was offering bolder options than usual.
Shamanism...
What do you desire?
A sensation like a snake licking his spine. A noise echoing not from outside, but from deep within his heart.
Erase my presence.
[Voice laced with elation, rage, thirst, ecstasy, agony—all mingled]
I’ll stay silent for that long.
Smooth as velvet curtains drawing shut, a soft sensation enveloped Seolhwa’s footsteps.
Got it!
Feeling his footsteps and presence vanish, Seolhwa bolted toward the end of the corridor where Lady Moribwe had disappeared.
“When did Muyuldaesok Khan’s symptoms worsen?”
Bang! Pop!
Endless fireworks burst outside. In a parlor detached from the banquet hall celebrating the Round Table Meeting’s close, Sukan’s head butler spoke up.
“It was around the same as usual when he arrived for this Round Table Meeting... but even with the ring on, he suddenly had a seizure.”
The butler, fidgeting restlessly, continued.
“Um... Lady, we still haven’t secured the other tribal leaders’ consent. What if something happens to the Khan in the meantime?”
Lady Moribwe, the picture of composure, replied.
“Securing the tribal leaders’ consent is your job as butler, not mine, isn’t it?”
“Of course, of course. But an unexpected variable cropped up...”
The butler pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat, rambling excuses. The pure white mask stared blankly at him, though it didn’t seem like she was truly listening.
Lady Moribwe gently caressed Muyuldaesok Khan’s ring with her hand gloved in white silk to match her mask.
Muyuldaesok Khan’s eyes were open, yet his mind seemed elsewhere; he showed no reaction to her touch.
Is he passed out? Doesn’t look like it...
Seolhwa, hidden at the parlor entrance, eavesdropped on their conversation.
“That variable—is it Young Master Muyul Ihyeon?”
“Yes. He was supposed to have left for the Academy and had no plans to return to Sukan... but for some reason, he came back to the territory and insisted on acting as proxy.”
“The eldest young master. So Muyul Ilsan is the same as ever?”
“Yes. He lives and dies by the bottle, as always. Just look—he didn’t even show his face at the Round Table Meeting.”
Hummm!
Muyuldaesok Khan’s ring and Lady Moribwe’s resonated, glowing in a spectrum of lights.
Shining in as many colors as the fireworks outside, Lady Moribwe finally withdrew her hand.
“No issue with the mind-stabilizing magic artifact itself, but just in case, I’ve repaired it and replenished the mana.”
“Oh... thank you, Lady!”
“Keep your voice down. Tell the third young master things are proceeding as planned, and that I trust him.”
“Of course. I’ll pass it on.”
Third? Ihyeon’s little brother Samho?
Even recalling his Academy days with Muyul Ihyeon, Seolhwa rarely heard about his siblings. All he remembered was a passing mention that one had a slight leg issue.
Why is that Samho coming up from Lady Moribwe’s mouth?
That instant.
......!
Shh-shak!
Sharp thorny vines erupted from the shadows where Seolhwa stood. Dodging by a hair’s breadth, he flattened himself to the floor and urgently scanned the parlor interior.
Did she notice? I’ve never been caught using shamanism stealth, not even at the Academy.
“Hmm...”
Lady Moribwe tilted her head, glaring at the spot Seolhwa had just vacated.
“La... Lady!? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. My nerves must be on edge. I should head back to the elector princes now—lingering too long might invite unnecessary suspicion.”
As the thorny vines from the shadows vanished like a lie, Lady Moribwe turned toward the banquet hall.
Seolhwa, holding his breath on the adjacent corridor floor, finally rose and followed suit.
“You went to Manrmursk for the bathroom? What the hell took so long?”
“Eh, just... a bunch of stuff came up.”
“What’s with that complicated look? Don’t tell me you locked eyes with one of the maids here?”
Something locked onto me, alright.
He’d rolled across the floor in time, but couldn’t save the hem of his pants from the shadow thorns.
Having been dragged to the Round Table venue by Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek, he had no spare clothes to change into right now.
“You think I’m you? Empire Capital salon blacklist triple crown Muyul Ihyeon?”
“Wha... what the hell kinda bullshit is that!? Anyone hears that, they’ll misunderstand—I ain’t that guy.”
“Salon!? Blacklist!? Krhahaha! Thought they were just kids, but they’re full-grown badasses, huh?”
Francis Fraia, face flushed beyond guessing how many bottles he’d emptied, lumbered toward Seolhwa. His sagging black beard, wet with drool or booze, ironically looked softer than usual.
“Fraia Duke, welcome! I ain’t the type to grab girls when drunk like that!”
“Muahaha! A second son of Sukan might do a bit o’ that! No need to hide from me!”
Thud! Slosh! Puhahaha!
Francis hoisted a small oaken barrel for a toast, eliciting a sea-like sloshing from within. In Seolhwa’s absence, Muyul Ihyeon was already thoroughly sloshed, trading drinks and laughs that grew louder.
“Buncha mannersless louts—not a shred of decorum if you look hard. Academy classmates of yours?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek lit a fancy cigar and spoke.
“Wanna step out for some air?”
“Of course, Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek.”
The balcony was designed like ancient temple pillars. Stepping out through the window, cool night air drenched their faces.
“Does the Round Table always end with this much drinking and revelry?”
“Huh? Oh. This is a special case. Usually, they only gather to gripe at each other, so most bolt right after.”
The bigger territories grew, the more interests tangled like thread in a pocket. Especially for the empire’s pinnacle elector princes—talking it out would just tire their jaws.
Even without full-scale war, petty profit skirmishes never ceased.
“What’s your take?”
“Pardon?”
“The emperor... no, the Sachsen Duke scattering dangerous toys among the elector princes. Why?”
“To sow chaos, maybe?”
Sip. Fwooo—
Byeon Gyeongbaek exhaled smoke, looking every bit the part of “smokes like a chimney.” Seolhwa hesitated over pulling out his cloud pastry but held back under the man’s expectant gaze, urging the conversation on.
“People wanna toss their own trash and covet others’. Elector princes aren’t immune.”
“Especially since the Sachsen Duke—intentionally or not, probably intentionally—assigned them things diametrically opposed to their territories’ specialties.”
“You think they’ll just shut up and take it?”
“Hell no.”
Byeon Gyeongbaek, one of those affected, let out an irritated chuckle.
“They’ll swap, dump, or outright refuse. Noise ensues, sparking rifts between elector princes and nobles.”
“And Sachsen’s orchestrating that?”
“Not certain.”
Bang-bang-bang!
Like a finale announcement, a moon-sized firework seized their gaze. It bloomed into one massive form, then shattered into tens of thousands of flickering lights.
“You, who’s basically snagged all those dangerous toys...”
The sky blazed too bright to read faces.
“Who’re you aiming that end at?”
“It’s decided, isn’t it?”
As the endless curtain of light lifted, Seolhwa’s face emerged.
......!
His voice was as steady as ever.
“Sachsen.”
But his expression was that of a vengeful demon, hollowed out and brimming with hatred.
“Urk! Whew... Drank too much yesterday. Ground’s sloshing like the sea. Urp. Anyway, soon as I get back to Fraia, I’ll send those land beasts over.”
“Truly, no man I’ve met has a bigger heart than you, Duke Fraia.”
“Krah! Urk! Blurk. No, no can’t—can’t waste this fine booze on the dirt.”
The retching and gulping echoed to everyone gathered near the castle gates. His men, sloshed as badly as their leader, sprawled freely in Fraia’s massive ship-shaped carriage.
“Urgh. See ya first. Ooh... Lady, urk! Here’s to meeting again before the next westerlies.”
“Safe travels, Duke Fraia.”
Amid a send-off of undulating shadows like seaweed, Fraia’s carriage rolled out of the castle.
“By the way, where’d you tell that beast to ship the beasts?”
Eh?
“He didn’t seem keen on hauling animals, so he’ll send word... or I’ll follow up first if not.”
Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek boarded his carriage after the sharp jab. Gustav stood by it, ramrod straight as ever.
“What’re you waitin’ for? Hop on.”
“Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek.”
“What.”
“By now, have the Sachsen Duke’s 3,000 arrived in Manrmursk?”
“How should I know?”
“Road Guard sent word before we left for the Round Table—it’d take about a week. So, three days from now.”
Gustav, statue-still as if one with the carriage, replied.
“What? They sent word like that? Why don’t my admins tell me shit like that?”
“Reported at the weekly briefing. I left a memo in your office, just in case.”
“Oh, yeah? Anyway! Get on already, it’s cold.”
Byeon Gyeongbaek mumbled awkwardly, trailing off.
“Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek.”
“What now!”
“Those three thousand men—should we send them directly to Petergorsk the moment they arrive?”
“Petergorsk? It’s my land, sure, but what was the significance of it again?”
“One of Manrmursk’s non-freezing ports, my lord.”
Gustav answered promptly, as always.
“That’s easy enough. Hey, you still owe me a single gold coin. Prepay—you know, prepay?”
“Ah~ I wanted to prepay, but someone dragged me out in broad daylight! To Manrmursk, a big city like that!”
“Enough already! Fine, Petergorsk it is!”
Byeon Gyeongbaek turned away, miffed. Gustav addressed Seolhwa instead.
“After you, Deputy Warden Seolhwa.”
“Ah. You two go ahead. I’ve got another carriage and some stops to make.”
“......?”
The Round Table venue was a secret known only to elector princes. No way Seolhwa—even as Utopia’s deputy warden and knight—had brought his own carriage.
Ignoring Gustav’s mix of doubt and suspicion, Seolhwa strode straight to Lady Moribwe’s carriage.
“Pardon the intrusion, Lady Moribwe.”
Three exclamation marks popped up over her mask.
“Yes. To what do I owe this?”
“You said the condition for renting cold weapons was my personal visit, right?”
“I did.”
“Let’s go now. Mind if I borrow a ride?”
The shadowy exclamation mark vibrated thoughtfully, then shifted to a smile.
“As bold as Duke Fraia. Very well, hop on.”
“An honor, Lady.”
With a friendly smile, Seolhwa stepped up to board.
And Lady Moribwe’s mask lingered, just for a moment, on the hem of his pants—torn by something.