Chapter 37: Whispering Blades and Noble Secrets
While Dion monitored his domain’s progress alongside Cleo using the surveillance spheres, far away in the Kingdom of Northgard, the royal palace of the northern barbarians and guardians of the snow-capped mountains,
Blam!
A middle-aged woman slammed the door open and marched inside. Her eyes widened at the sight before her.
"Ow... easy there, Your Highness! If you suck that hard, my nipples are gonna hurt," a top-half-naked maid teased with a flirtatious smile.
"Hehe... Can’t help it, you’re just too cute," replied a heavily built young man with a fiercely intimidating face and a single long braid running down his back.
"Ahem!"
The young man and the maid whipped their heads around to face the middle-aged woman standing in his study. The maid’s face drained of color in an instant. She shoved the young man back and scrambled to pull her clothes over her bare chest.
"Out," the woman commanded sharply.
"Y-Yes, Your Grace! Forgive me!" the maid stammered out.
Without a second thought, the maid leaped to her feet and darted out of the room, failing to even button her outfit properly before fleeing. The woman glared at the young man, who was now leaning awkwardly against his desk, looking thoroughly caught red-handed.
"This is no time for playing around and slacking off, Gred. Remember, you are king now," the middle-aged woman scolded.
"I get it, Mom. What are you doing in my study anyway?" Gred asked.
"Have you read the letter from King Lamberd of the Thetor Kingdom and the official missive from the Lutherias Kingdom?" his mother pressed.
Gred simply rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes drifting over to two sealed official letters crushed directly beneath his body on the desk he had been lounging across.
"Huh. Probably just another update about my arranged marriage with the third princess of Thetor, right?" Gred said casually, sitting up cross-legged on the desk and nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.
"The one from Thetor might be about that, but what about the letter from Lutherias?" the woman asked, crossing her arms over her chest as her expression darkened with suppressed rage.
Gred picked up the missive from Lutherias, casually breaking the seal to pull out the letter inside. As he began reading, his expression remained relaxed and dismissive, until he reached the middle section. His face gradually darkened, turning more somber by the second, before finally draining into a ghost-white pale.
"Hey... What’s with that look? Hand it here, let Mom see," the woman demanded.
Gred handed the letter over to his mother, then reached for the missive from the Thetor Kingdom. Breaking that seal, he learned that King Lamberd was alerting him to the sighting of Gemmeth near their territory. The king requested Northgard to deploy forces to monitor the seal near their southern border. Furthermore, at the bottom of the letter, King Lamberd explicitly requested the intervention of a hero class or an SS-rank combatant, specifically calling upon Gred, who possessed the SS-rank Lord Barbarian class, to team up with the official hero dispatched from the Thetor Kingdom to guard the joint seal shared by the three realms.
"Mom..." Gred squeaked out, his face pale.
Gasp!
Gred stared at his mother, whose face had gone completely white after reading the missive from Lutherias detailing Gemmeth’s unsealing. She slowly raised her head to look at him.
"Mom... What do we do? You know full well my class isn’t Lord Berserker, I’m just an S-rank Warlord," Gred admitted in a quiet panic.
"Yes... This is a massive problem. It’s not just the Thetor Kingdom, Lutherias is also demanding we deploy a hero class to hunt down Gemmeth. And we both know who actually inherited the Lord Berserker class," the woman replied sternly. Suddenly,
Blam!
The study door swung open once again. The woman turned to see a barbarian warrior step inside and drop to one knee before them.
"Greetings, Your Grace King Gred and Your Grace Queen Mother Helga. The official hero dispatched from the Thetor Kingdom has arrived at the palace and requests an immediate audience with you both," the warrior reported.
"What is their name?" Helga asked sharply.
"He identified himself as Rene von Orstrich," the warrior answered.
Hearing the name, Gred and Helga exchanged a tense, knowing look. Helga turned back to the warrior.
"Escort him to the reception hall. You may take your leave," Helga instructed firmly.
"At once, Your Grace," the warrior bowed and exited.
Once the warrior had left and closed the door behind him, Helga stepped forward to approach Gred. She reached up, cupping both of Gred’s cheeks with a cold, calculating smile.
"Go meet him, and head south together," Helga instructed.
"But Mom... What if I actually run into that calamity dragon out there?! I’ll be ripped to shreds!" Gred whined, terrified.
"Calm yourself. I’m certain your younger sister, Sheila, is somewhere out south. My spies spotted her down there living alongside a group of slaves she liberated from an illegal slave ring. Isn’t that region your destination anyway? Surely you catch my drift," Helga said smoothly.
Gred paused to think, staring down at his mother’s composed face. The realization slowly clicked, and a cruel grin spread across his features. He leaped off the desk, bursting with newfound motivation as he stood tall before his mother.
"Understood, Mom! I get it. Since she refuses to let us marry her off or use her as leverage... if we happen to run into Gemmeth out there, I’ll just finish her off while we’re at it," Gred declared menacingly.
"Precisely. I’m so glad you understand," Helga replied, pulling Gred into a tight embrace.
***
At the exact same time, far to the east in the Kingdom of Eredor—a realm featuring a unique blend of Western and Oriental aesthetics—a tense meeting was taking place inside the imperial palace.
Behind a sheer silk room-divider screen,
Blam!
A king struck the wooden floor with his fist, sitting cross-legged as his face flushed bright red with fury. Kneeling before him in a low bow, begging for mercy, was a nobleman dressed entirely in black assassin’s attire.
"You still haven’t located your own daughter, Lord Sion?!" the king demanded.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty King Araki! My daughter... was last spotted in Phobos City alongside the late Prince Yugo. After that incident, her whereabouts became virtually impossible to track," Lord Sion answered nervously.
"You are the leader of the Shadow Hand, yet you cannot even track down your own flesh and blood?!" Araki roared.
"We are still actively conducting our search, Your Majesty! We suspect her disappearance may be connected to the sudden crater that destroyed the seal holding Gemmeth west of the Lutherias capital," Lord Sion offered hastily.
King Araki fell quiet for a moment, his thick eyebrows knitting together. He rested one hand over his mouth while the other tapped rhythmically against his thigh. Lord Sion, noticing Araki’s agitation, glanced at the two sealed missives resting beside the king’s seat, one from the Thetor Kingdom and one from the Lutherias Kingdom. Both seals had been broken, and the letters pulled from their envelopes, indicating the king had already digested their contents.
"I will personally continue the search, Your Majesty," Lord Sion offered.
"No need. I am certain the girl is unharmed. Right now, deploy the Shadow Hand west to keep watch over the seal alongside the forces of Thetor and Northgard... I will personally go search for Mei myself," Araki stated.
"Sending yourself...? Do you intend to execute her, Your Majesty?" Lord Sion asked cautiously.
"Have you forgotten who Mei truly is?!" Araki snapped, leaning his body forward over the screen.
"F-Forgive me, Your Majesty!" Lord Sion bowed his head lower.
"I don’t care that she struck down Yugo! She inherited the SS-rank Dual Wield Samurai class that has been passed down through my clan for generations! I will go retrieve her myself. Am I clear?!" Araki demanded.
"C-Clear, Your Majesty!" Lord Sion replied hastily.
Syuuut!
Without warning, Lord Sion vanished into thin air, evaporating like a shadow into the background.
Left alone behind the silk screen, the king slowly stood up. He slipped a hand inside his kimono, pulling out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he gazed down at a hand-drawn portrait of a little three-year-old girl with a bright smile and a high ponytail.
Araki’s stern, intimidating expression softened completely. He gently traced the portrait with his thumb, his eyes filled with a quiet melancholy. Turning on his heel, Araki stepped through the hidden door behind his throne and disappeared into the inner chambers.
***
As evening set in, inside the dining hall of Dion’s mansion,
Achoo!
Sheila and Mei sneezed simultaneously. Luna, Cleo, and Dion all turned to stare at the pair, while even Gina, who was busy gnawing on a piece of meat, looked up with a thoroughly confused expression.
"Someone must be talking about you two," Dion remarked casually.
"Oh yeah?" Sheila asked, turning toward Dion.
"Hmm... That makes sense," Mei analyzed softly.
"Please! You guys probably just caught a whiff of the food and your noses couldn’t handle it," Luna teased.
"No comment," Cleo added nonchalantly, cutting into her steak.
"Okay... But speaking of which, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask," Dion said, keeping his tone calm and collected.
"What?" Sheila, Mei, Luna, and Cleo asked at the exact same time.
Sheila and Mei, seated on Dion’s left, turned their heads inward toward him. Luna and Cleo, seated on Dion’s right, did the exact same thing. All four of them were crammed together on a single side of the massive dining table, making the wide space feel ridiculously packed and suffocating.
"Why are you all squeezing me like this? This dining hall is huge, and this table is massive! Why are we huddled together like refugees in a storm?!" Dion complained, thoroughly annoyed.
"Kyuuu!" Gina squeaked from her spot on the table right in front of Dion, proudly raising a piece of meat into the air.
"I wasn’t talking to you," Dion deadpanned.
"Oh... Good point! Hahaha!" Sheila, Mei, and Luna burst out laughing.
"I’m simply keeping a close eye on my beloved little brother," Cleo replied smoothly, completely unbothered.
"Grrr... You guys are ridiculous! It’s cramped and boiling hot right here!" Dion yelled in protest.
Despite his complaining, a warm and lively atmosphere filled the room. The group returned to chatting about various plans for the village, which was expanding more and more with each passing day, while automated golems moved back and forth endlessly, serving fresh dishes onto the table.