The Tyrants' Summit - 2
The continent was quartered by the four cardinal directions.
At its very center stood a single, rather small tower.
Spiraling upward as if to pierce the heavens, its grotesque form was wreathed in mana that swirled from every side. Only the rulers of each region—or those they permitted—could set foot inside.
Once a year the tower served as the conference hall where the monarchs gathered. For that reason it was known as the Tower of Reconciliation.
“Hmm-hmm~.”
A woman hummed softly as she cleaned the tower with single-minded focus. Soft pink hair that looked as though it might melt in sunlight swayed with every movement.
She held neither broom nor rag. Instead she used purification magic. A light wave of her hand sent a blue wind sweeping through every corner of the tower. Wherever the wind passed, floors and walls gleamed. Not a speck of dust remained—even on the impossibly high ceiling. It was a feat no professional cleaner could ever match.
“Hmm?”
The click of heels approached. The pink-haired woman lowered her hands and turned. A familiar face strode toward her, golden hair swept back in a careless gesture.
“Same as always. You could just leave it, yet you waste precious mana on this.”
“Clean is better, isn’t it? Far preferable to coughing on dust.”
“Well… true enough.”
The pink-haired woman smiled. The golden-haired one shook her head. Even a convenient purification spell felt excessive when used so freely. Still, she could hardly treat the other like a subordinate, so she simply fell silent. It was hardly the first time.
Pink hair and a pure white dress: Maria Meyer, Queen of the North.
Golden hair and a black dress of striking elegance: Wilhelmina Grey, Queen of the South.
And now a third figure stepped before the two tyrants—short-cropped red hair, crimson military uniform from head to toe. Kristia Myers, Queen of the West.
Every monarch save Beatrix had gathered.
“You’re a little late, aren’t you?”
“You’re simply too early. And the difference is hardly worth mentioning.”
Kristia smirked and adjusted her belt. A matching smile curved Maria’s lips.
“I was hoping to throw a little tantrum, but it didn’t land at all.”
“Hmm? Sounds like you’ve got something you want to wheedle out of me. We’ll talk later.”
“Thank you.”
Maria grinned bashfully. Wilhelmina crossed her arms and sighed. Imagining what schemes that sly little fox was hiding made her chest tighten—though she remained blissfully unaware that her own schemes were swelling just as large.
“Can we put the money talk off for later? We need to finish the other matter first.”
“Ah…! Right. Sorry.”
“You actually sound sorry this time. Anyway, upstairs. We should sit for this.”
Wilhelmina urged them upward. Standing around was bothersome and irritating.
“Agreed. This isn’t a battlefield—no need to hold council on the floor.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
The other two followed without protest, as if they had been waiting for the cue.
The tower’s interior was spacious and tall, yet felt hollow. An empty first floor. A second floor layered with every protective spell imaginable against possible intruders. And a third floor that held only a small conference room. Stairs continued to the summit, but they were little more than decoration—no one ever climbed them.
On the third floor, around a round table, the three monarchs took seats corresponding to the directions of their realms. The eastern seat, of course, remained empty.
“Maria. You called this meeting, so you do the talking.”
Wilhelmina rummaged in her bodice and produced a rectangular envelope. The way she drew it from her cleavage managed to look both vulgar and elegant at once.
An invitation, then.
Maria accepted the lead without protest.
“All right. Let’s save the pleasant chatter for later and decide what gifts to send. That’s why we’re here.”
“Mm. Coordinating so we don’t overlap is wise. Saves us all some awkwardness.”
Kristia nodded in agreement. Sending the same item would feel clumsy, and comparing quality would be far too easy. Faces could be lost. Avoiding duplicates was simply prudent.
“I think something practical would be best. What do you two think?”
“The intent’s good, but… what does she even need? Honestly, if she wants something she can just take it.”
“We were the same. I agonized over your wedding gift for ages.”
Kristia smoothed her collar and sighed. It felt like only yesterday she had fretted over what to give Wilhelmina. Facing the same problem again was already tiresome.
“Ah! Come to think of it, I got regional specialties for mine. Why not do the same this time?”
Wilhelmina asked brightly. Maria shook her head.
“That was following Beatrix’s suggestion. Doing it again feels off. And specialties would just look thoughtless.”
“Oh, come on! Why overthink it? Whatever we send will be more of the same. A token of sincerity is enough.”
True to her sharp temper, Wilhelmina’s eyes narrowed and her voice grew edged. Her idea of “token” meant something lavish and plentiful. Maria and Kristia both understood and said nothing.
“Right.”
Maria cleared her throat and steadied her voice. Both pairs of eyes fixed on her.
“As Wilhelmina says, it doesn’t really matter what we give. Like us, she can obtain anything she sets her mind to.”
“Exactly.”
“So we just need to show careful sincerity.”
“Got something in mind?”
“I do.”
A confident smile touched Maria’s lips. She clearly had a plan.
“Out with it, then. What’s this idea?”
At the impatient prompt Maria wasted no more time.
“We engrave magic into jewelry and gift it. Made by our own hands.”
A gift crafted personally by a reigning queen. Nothing could better demonstrate sincerity. At least, the three women present thought so.
“Oh. That’s a fine idea.”
“Actually pretty good.”
Engraving magic into jewelry was delicate, difficult work that required at least a mage’s skill. They could have ordered court mages to do it, but Maria proposed they do it themselves. All four monarchs—including Beatrix—were exceptional mages, so the suggestion was feasible.
“Settled. Then the question becomes which pieces and which spells.”
“Even if queens are sturdy, we should stick to mild support effects—health, purification, stamina recovery. Practicality might suffer, but wishing for long life and health isn’t meaningless, is it?”
“Sound thinking. Something easy to engrave… bracelets, perhaps?”
“Bracelets are too noticeable. Rings.”
Once the groundwork was laid, Kristia and Wilhelmina carried the conversation with lively energy. Maria simply stayed quiet in the middle, content to follow whatever decisions the other two reached.
“Ah. Wait—are we focusing too much on her alone? We should spare a thought for her husband too.”
Wilhelmina’s offhand remark made Maria’s lips part before she could stop herself. The unexpected blind spot had piqued her curiosity.
“You’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“A genuine oversight.”
Kristia crossed her arms and muttered. Wilhelmina mirrored the gesture.
“We probably dismissed the man as unimportant. Just a formality to keep the noise down, right? Fill the empty seat.”
At least that’s how I handled mine.
Wilhelmina had held a proper wedding, yet she had never once shared a bed with the man she took as consort. She had not even held his hand, let alone embraced him. She had given him just enough face and warned him against causing trouble.
“Wilhelmina’s right. And the fact that it’s Beatrix getting married made us care even less.”
Everyone present quietly assumed Beatrix had married for some rational reason other than love. Her consort Albert was surely nothing more than decoration—or someone she could ignore without consequence.
“Still, better safe than sorry. The groom is one of the stars of the ceremony, after all.”
Even if he only sparkles for a moment before vanishing.
Maria swallowed the rest of the thought deep in her throat.
“Fine. I’ll take the ring for the husband. Even after the rites he’ll be fragile, so I’ll engrave detoxification magic.”
“Understood. Then I’ll…”
The three women divided the jewelry and the spells among themselves, careful not to overlap. Because they considered Beatrix’s new consort so insignificant, none of them bothered with further investigation. She was a fellow monarch; she would handle her own affairs.
Once the gift discussion concluded, Maria clapped her hands lightly.
“Good. That’s settled. Shall we chat about the state of the world a bit before we go?”
They exchanged light gossip, set a future meeting, and parted. Teleportation circles carved into the tower made the long journeys effortless.
Without exception, all three monarchs sent people eastward.
A little over a month remained until the wedding—more than enough time to learn even the color of Beatrix’s spouse Albert’s underclothes. West, South, and North all shared borders with the East, so travel was swift. They had long respected one another’s territories and lived quietly, yet none of them had closed their ears. Trusted agents were dispatched as always. Beatrix did the same.
Even so, those agents usually spent their days idle, simply watching the general flow of events from convenient posts.
Wait… is this even possible?
One week after issuing the order, Maria received the report and her eyes went round. The other monarchs held identical reports and were equally stunned.
How he had taken a poisoned arrow meant for Beatrix. How he had received lavish care in the royal palace afterward and grown rapidly intimate with her. And how, every time anyone passed the bedchamber, the endless moans of a female in heat never ceased.
It was called a report, yet the latter half might as well have been pure erotica. Nothing but sex—or, to put it crudely, relentless fucking.
Cute face, supposedly, plus stamina and libido to match, and a generous heart on top of it?
Bullshit!
Maria spat a curse under her breath and clicked her tongue. Even the romance novels she occasionally read never went this far. Writing a male lead this unrealistic would get an author torn apart. “Keep your fantasies in check,” readers would say.
And yet this was reality?
“Haa…!”
Heat surged through her so suddenly that Maria let out a long, deep sigh—deep enough that the ground itself might have collapsed. The other monarchs felt exactly the same.
“…I don’t want to live.”
Had there ever been a day she wanted to die more than today? Maria slumped over her desk and buried her face, still heaving endless sighs. The impulse to throw away the finished gifts flared like fire.
No. No, wait.
The rising flame in her heart snuffed out at once. The sighing lips closed. She had righted her thoughts.
“Is anyone there?”
Maria lifted her head and raised her voice. The servant waiting outside hurried in. His neat tailcoat looked quite sharp.
“Yes, Your Majesty. You called?”
“Prepare for travel to the East. Now.”
“Now…? But the Eastern Queen’s ceremony is still some time away…”
The steward trailed off, baffled. As he said, a great deal of time remained before the wedding. Yet boiling anger mixed with a spark of curiosity shoved Maria forward.
“I don’t care. Prepare immediately. I won’t say it twice.”
“Y-yes, at once!”
The chilling warning sent the steward fleeing the room. Maria usually appeared polite and gentle, yet she was a tyrant in her own right—especially after the infamous incident of bursting a man like a balloon, a story still whispered everywhere.
I have to hurry.
The steward gathered the servants with tension and dread coiling in his gut. Everyone needed to survive.