Chapter 155
The Golden Council
Ferda arrived at the entrance to the Golden Council.
The nobles who had come as spectators focused their attention on him.
They looked at him as though they were watching a man who had just committed a horrific murder walk before them.
A moment later, a man forced his way through the frozen crowd and rushed toward him.
It was Alexander.
‘As expected, my imagination was far too limited.’
Ferda had assumed that if Alexander witnessed the procession, he would naturally come over to find fault with it.
What he had failed to anticipate was just how ugly Alexander would look while doing so.
“I greet His Highness the Crown Prince of the Empire.”
Ferda offered an indifferent greeting, as though he had no idea why Alexander was furious.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”
“What do you mean?”
“As a noble of the Empire, have you no pride? What is the meaning of this disgraceful display that shames the imperial nobility?!”
What Ferda had prepared was, in truth, close to taboo.
Nobles were supposed to shine at all times.
They were meant to be looked up to. Seeking the sympathy of commoners would only make them appear weak.
“They said they had no formal uniforms suitable for the occasion.”
“No formal uniforms?!”
“That is correct. Those are the only suits of armor the soldiers of the Far East were issued by the Empire.”
“Don’t make me laugh! You’ve allied yourself with the Pascal Merchant Association, yet you claim you cannot even afford ceremonial attire?!”
“If something does not exist, I can only say that it does not. Claiming otherwise would be deception, would it not?”
“You dare…!”
Alexander glared at Ferda and attempted to unleash his aura.
Ferda did not so much as flinch.
Instead, Alexander found himself unnerved by the sensation that Ferda’s eyes might drag him into their depths, and he turned his head away.
“Count Consilus!”
“Yes.”
He redirected his anger toward the old man standing beside Ferda like an adviser.
Consilus quietly bowed his head.
“Do you truly believe that procession was appropriate for nobles?!”
“I see no problem with it.”
“W-What did you say?!”
Consilus answered calmly.
“In my view, every one of them displayed a reaction appropriate to the circumstances.”
“An appropriate reaction?”
“Yes. Rather than smiling and cheering, should we not take time to mourn the annihilation of an entire legion and the soldiers who died in the Far East? I believe it was fitting.”
“You dare… Are you implying that this was my fault and that none of you bear any blame?!”
“Of course not. Your Highness will soon become His Majesty the Emperor, after all…”
His head remained bowed, but his voice was perfectly clear.
Alexander wanted nothing more than to execute the two insolent men defying his authority on the spot.
Just as he was about to lose control and spew abuse—
“It is good to see you, Regent.”
A single voice seized control of the atmosphere.
Valdemar Golt.
The true power behind the Crisis Response Council.
Even the crown prince, who had been raging like a runaway locomotive, changed expression the moment Valdemar stepped forward.
Ferda moved to greet him as the representative of his party.
Before he could, Consilus stepped ahead and subtly gestured toward him.
He was telling Ferda to leave this to him.
“It is a true honor to meet the great hero, Grand Duke Golt, once again.”
A faint chill lingered beneath his courteous tone.
From that greeting alone, Ferda realized that the two had met before.
“It is good to see you, Mulvera. Life in the Far East must have been difficult.”
“Is there anywhere in this world where life is not difficult?”
“No, there is not. But is it not important to maintain a dignified appearance even in such places?”
It was a subtle jab at their lack of formal attire.
Consilus bowed once more.
“My apologies. The knights of the Far East were not wealthy enough to set aside separate ceremonial armor.”
“Your finances must be in dire straits. Did you not request assistance from the Empire?”
“Are we not all facing hardship? The Empire is struggling as well. How could I continue sending letters demanding aid?”
“Nobles may never cross the barrier, but private soldiers are another matter. What happens if their weapons are too worn to serve when needed and they die because of it?”
Consilus’s body flinched.
Valdemar was referring to an incident from before Ferda had joined hands with Stephan.
A soldier’s old weapon had broken in battle, leading to a senseless death.
Consilus remembered how powerless he had been at the time.
“You need not worry about that any longer. I will not disappoint you again.”
“…Then that is good.”
After concluding his exchange with Consilus, Valdemar turned his gaze toward Ferda.
“It is good to meet you, Regent Ferda.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Grand Duke Golt.”
“I am sincerely impressed. To think you would deliberately dress them in battered armor and overturn public opinion so thoroughly.”
“We merely showed them what we had endured.”
“True. No matter how much work one does, if no one sees it, it might as well never have happened.”
Valdemar glanced briefly at Alexander before turning away.
“I look forward to seeing what else you have prepared.”
Both Ferda and Valdemar understood.
This hearing would not be a battle against Alexander.
It would be a battle against the Far East itself.
Ferda silently watched the old man walk away.
‘What a peculiar old man.’
His face was deeply wrinkled, and a stooped back should have suited him perfectly.
Yet his posture was unnaturally straight.
Ferda had found it strange and checked several times, but there was no mistake.
‘His skin may belong to a man in his nineties, but his insides are no older than thirty.’
It was ironic.
If one had access to rejuvenation, one would normally restore both the skin and the internal organs.
And if forced to choose only one, most would restore the skin first.
People tended to underestimate those who looked old.
‘He must be using his appearance to make others lower their guard.’
If Valdemar looked like a man in his thirties, everyone would remain wary of him.
But an old man?
Rather than oppose someone who seemed to have one foot in the grave, it would be more profitable to flatter him.
When he eventually left an inheritance, even having one’s name written on a single line of his will could bring tremendous benefit.
Using himself as bait…
Olivia’s face suddenly came to Ferda’s mind.
“Regent, you must enter.”
“I understand.”
Ferda passed through the corridor and headed toward the council chamber.
There, he saw groups of nobles and the knights arranging them into orderly lines.
These men were marshals, the only people permitted to wield force inside a council where battles were fought with words.
Unlike the Grand Council, this was a human building, so every attendee had to be searched individually.
The marshals repeated the same words to each noble like trained parrots.
“Weapons are prohibited inside the postwar council. Anyone found carrying a weapon may be removed immediately or subjected to equivalent penalties, regardless of the reason. Please keep that in mind.”
“Understood.”
Consilus handed his sword to his escort knights.
Before his own turn arrived, Ferda also removed his ceremonial sword and passed it over.
The procedure was almost identical to what Consilus had gone through, but Ferda received one additional instruction.
“I understand that Regent Ferda is a mage?”
“That is correct.”
“Then please wear this.”
The marshal held out a mana restraint.
It was a magical device that interfered with spellcasting and suppressed the release of mana.
If the wearer suddenly attempted to gather a large amount of mana, it would render him unconscious.
Ferda did not particularly like the way mages were treated like criminals.
However, there had been historical cases of mages attempting to blow themselves up, so the precaution was unavoidable.
“Understood.”
Ferda accepted it without complaint.
After fastening the mana restraint around himself, he attempted to enter, only to be stopped again.
“You cannot bring that staff inside either.”
The marshal looked toward the elegant staff in Ferda’s hand.
“Do you think I intend to beat someone to death with it?”
“An ordinary walking stick would be permitted, but magical artifacts are prohibited.”
“Unfortunately for you, this is not a magical artifact.”
“Then may we have one of our mages appraise it directly?”
If it truly were a magical artifact, the natural response would be to bluff and attempt to slip past.
Allowing another person to handle one’s magical artifact was humiliating for a mage.
“Inspect it.”
Ferda, however, had nothing to hide.
Puzzled by his confidence, the marshal requested an appraisal from the mages on duty.
In truth, the staff had been created by Lucy Philiase, the First Witch, and was indeed a magical artifact.
The reason Ferda could remain so calm was that he had tested it repeatedly before coming here.
No one other than Ferda could use it as a magical artifact.
It contained no residual mana and showed no visible traces of engraved spell formulas.
There was no way to identify it as anything other than an ordinary staff.
‘Which is stronger—the First Witch or the Empire?’
The result soon came back.
“It is merely a staff. My apologies.”
The examiner handed it back and added,
“It is a fine-looking staff.”
“Even if that is empty flattery, I appreciate it.”
Ferda entered with the staff in hand.
For the first time while fully conscious, he looked upon the chamber of the Golden Council.
He had seen the Golden Council several times before, unlike the Grand Council, which he had only encountered once.
Even so, the impression it gave him remained unchanged.
“…”
It was magnificent, extravagant, and distinctly imperial.
The chamber had been designed to fill every noble who entered with pride.
‘And to magnify their desire to protect their position at any cost.’
It deepened factional divisions.
The new nobility would stop at nothing to rise through the ranks, while the traditionalists would commit any underhanded act necessary to preserve their status.
Not only commoners but nobles as well were nothing more than expendable tools to those above them.
Ferda had no interest in their struggle.
Whether they belonged to the rising faction or the old guard, he had already made it perfectly clear what happened to anyone who crossed him.
People continued gathering inside the Golden Council.
The councillors’ seats filled with nobles, while reporters and spectators packed the second-floor galleries.
“I hereby call the Arken Empire Crisis Response Council to order.”
The man presiding over the opening ceremony was Akad Dvelung, one of the supreme commissioners and a close associate of Valdemar.
Unlike the gaunt and elderly Valdemar, Akad was a plump middle-aged man with a gentle appearance.
His warm smile naturally put people at ease.
Yet when he stood at the presiding table and spoke solemnly, his voice carried a weight that struck straight to the bone.
“Our Empire…”
His solemn tone immediately drew the chamber into an emotional current.
“…possesses a long and glorious history, built upon the creed that there is nothing humanity cannot conquer. We have a duty to inherit, preserve, and advance the legacy of our forebears.
“However, one month ago, a large-scale summoning of magical beasts contaminated one-tenth of imperial territory. An entire legion of our great subjects was annihilated. Nearby villages also suffered devastating losses.
“Had we responded more quickly, the damage could have been reduced by half.”
His heavy tone deliberately steered the opening toward grief and indignation.
“We could not allow this matter to pass without scrutiny. Therefore, for the first time in twelve years, the Crisis Response Council has been convened.
“We will now begin the postwar review—the post-mortem examination of this disaster.”
Akad turned a page in the documents before him.
“Our first witness is Alexander Arken, Crown Prince and acting representative of the Emperor. Please step forward and give your testimony.”
Alexander rose from his seat near the front and walked toward the stand.
His face was twisted into a grave and mournful expression, but even that was obviously an act.
“I am Crown Prince Alexander Arken. I swear before this sacred Golden Council that I will speak only the truth.
“I would first like to express my deepest condolences to the officers and soldiers of the legion who sacrificed their lives in this disaster.”
Alexander’s testimony continued from there.
He explained how he had devised his strategy and how he had intended to respond to the magical beasts.
Everything unfolded exactly according to the scenario Ferda had obtained.
“Crown Prince.”
“Yes, Commissioner.”
“The records show that you communicated with Regent Ferda through an imperial mage. What did you discuss?”
“That communication came from the Far East while the first colossal beast was forming an encirclement.”
“And what was said?”
“Regent Ferda requested aid, and I informed him that I would send reinforcements.”
Naturally, he omitted the entire exchange in which he and Ferda had fought over authority.
“But you did not send any reinforcements, did you?”
The person who abruptly spoke was Erdes.
She had been sitting there with a bored expression, fiddling with her hair, when she suddenly threw the question out.
“Commissioner Roton, please wait until you have been granted the floor.”
“Ah, yes, yes. So are you going to grant it or not?”
“…The floor is yours.”
Dvelung sent her an openly displeased look, but Erdes paid it no mind and continued.
“As I understand it, the legion was wiped out a month after the incident began. I’ve heard that no extermination force was dispatched during that entire month, and then they were suddenly rushed out at the last moment. Am I mistaken?”
“Ah, there are certain distortions in that account…”
Alexander hurried to defend himself.
“The unit deployed was the Fourth Legion, a force specialized in monster suppression. Magical beasts differ fundamentally from ordinary monsters, so a meticulous strategy had to be prepared before engaging them. You are well aware of that distinction, are you not?”
“I am. But apparently the idiots in your legion spent an entire month figuring that out and still managed to do something stupid.”
“Yes. As commander-in-chief, I accept responsibility for that failure.”
“Mm. Fine.”
Erdes waved her hand dismissively, as though bored and ready to move on.
Just as the matter seemed likely to end unsatisfactorily, someone raised a hand.
“That question compels me to raise one of my own.”
“Yes. Please proceed.”
Valdemar formally obtained the floor and looked at Alexander.
A blade capable of splitting a mountain seemed to reside within the old man’s eyes.
“Crown Prince Alexander. According to the records, the forces of the Valdrova Princeps Territory operated while divided into two divisions.
“The first consisted of the existing Far Eastern alliance. The second was commanded by Princess Olivia Arken.”
“That is correct.”
“After closely reviewing both the records submitted by the Valdrova Princeps Territory and the legion’s own reports, I have been left with two possible conclusions.
“The first is that the Far East received divine protection and achieved an impossible victory.
“The second is that every member of the Fourth Legion was drunk, agreed to an absurd strategy, and threw themselves into the flames like moths.
“Which explanation do you personally find more likely?”
Alexander looked troubled as he answered uncertainly.
“The Far East had long-standing experience in dealing with magical beasts, and their military strength was overwhelmingly superior to ours.”
“Did the Far East not fight while also dealing with a colossal beast?”
“According to our findings, aside from its reproductive ability, it possessed no direct combat power and should effectively be classified as a noncombatant entity.”
“Then it would follow that, had you attacked earlier, this disaster would most likely never have occurred.”
“…That is correct.”
As expected of a grand duke.
He was highly skilled at cornering people through conversation.
‘Of course, this is part of the scenario as well.’
Had Ferda not received Helus’s reports, even he might have briefly mistaken Valdemar’s questioning for a genuine attack on Alexander.
But Valdemar’s true target was Ferda.
This was merely groundwork.
Ferda shifted his gaze toward Consilus and gave him a questioning look.
Would things proceed smoothly?
Consilus immediately shook his head.
“That concludes the questioning of this witness. We will now move on to the next.”
Alexander, drenched in cold sweat, stepped down.
Akad called the next name.
“Representative of the Far East, Regent Ferda Valdrova. Please come forward.”
Ferda rose from his seat.
“May Alte’s blessing be with you.”
Consilus quietly murmured a prayer.
Would a god truly help a man who had spent his entire life cursing the divine?
‘Only humans can help humans.’
Ferda stepped onto the witness stand.