Chapter 155 - The Golden Council

Ferda arrived at the entrance to the Golden Council.

The nobles who had come as spectators all focused their attention on him.

Their gazes resembled those cast upon a man who had committed a horrific murder and been caught.

A moment later, a man pushed his way through the frozen crowd of spectators and rushed toward him.

It was Alexander.

'As expected, my imagination was too shallow.'

Ferda had expected Alexander to come looking for trouble if he witnessed this procession.

What he had not expected, however, was that the man's behavior would be even more disgraceful than he had imagined.

"My respects to His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince."

Knowing it would only make Alexander's temper boil, Ferda greeted him with deliberate indifference.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

"What do you mean, Your Highness?"

"As a noble of the Empire, have you no pride?! What in the world is the meaning of this spectacle that humiliates the Empire's nobility?!"

In truth, what Ferda had prepared was something close to a taboo.

Nobles were meant to shine at all times.

They were figures to be admired, and winning the sympathy of commoners would only make them appear weak.

"I heard there were no ceremonial uniforms that fit them."

"There were no ceremonial uniforms?!"

"Yes. The armor those soldiers from the Far East received from the Empire was all they had."

"Don't be ridiculous! You're working together with the Pascal Trading Company, yet you're telling me you don't even have ceremonial attire?!"

"If we don't have it, then we don't have it. Wouldn't claiming we do when we don't simply be deception?"

"How dare you...!"

Alexander glared at Ferda and released his aura.

Yet Ferda remained completely unmoved.

Instead, it was Alexander who instinctively turned his head away, seized by the chilling sensation that he might be swallowed by those eyes.

"Count Consilus!"

"Yes."

Alexander redirected his anger toward the old man standing beside Ferda like an aide.

Ulvera Consilus quietly bowed his head.

"Do you honestly think that procession was befitting the dignity of the nobility?!"

"I see nothing wrong with it."

"W-What did you say?!"

Consilus answered calmly.

"From my perspective, every one of them reacted appropriately to this incident."

"Appropriately?"

"Yes. Rather than laughing and cheering, shouldn't we be honoring the annihilation of an entire legion and the soldiers who died in the Far East? I believe their conduct suited the situation."

"How dare you...! So you're saying this is all my fault while the two of you bear none?!"

"How could that possibly be? Your Imperial Highness is, in effect, His Majesty the Emperor himself..."

Though his head remained bowed, his voice rang out clearly.

Alexander felt an overwhelming urge to execute the two insolent men who dared defy his authority.

Just as he was about to lose his restraint and explode—

"A pleasure to see you again, Regent."

A single voice seized control of the atmosphere.

It belonged to Valdemar Golt, the true authority behind the Crisis Response Headquarters.

Even the reckless Crown Prince visibly changed expression the moment he stepped forward.

Ferda moved to step forward as the representative.

However, Consilus took the initiative instead and subtly gestured for Ferda to stay back.

He was telling him to leave this to him.

"It is truly an honor to meet the great hero, Grand Duke Golt, once again."

Though respectful, his voice carried a faint chill.

From that greeting alone, Ferda realized the two already knew each other.

"It's good to see you again, Ulvera. Life in the Far East must have been difficult."

"Is there anywhere in this world that isn't difficult?"

"Indeed, there isn't. But isn't it important to maintain one's dignity even in such places?"

The remark subtly alluded to the issue of ceremonial attire.

Consilus lowered his head once more.

"My apologies. The knights of the Far East simply could not afford to keep ceremonial uniforms."

"It seems your finances were in dire straits. Did you never request assistance from the Empire?"

"Everyone is facing difficult times, aren't they? The Empire itself is struggling. How could we so casually ask for aid?"

"The nobles may never cross the wall, but private soldiers are another matter. What happens if their weapons become so worn that they fail at a critical moment and the soldiers die because of it?"

Consilus flinched.

Those words reminded him of the days before Ferda joined hands with Stephan.

Back then, a soldier had died a senseless death because his worn-out weapon snapped under pressure.

Consilus couldn't help recalling his own incompetence at the time.

"You needn't worry about that any longer. We won't disappoint anyone like that again."

"Hm. Good. That's reassuring."

Bringing the conversation with Consilus to an end, Valdemar shifted his gaze toward Ferda.

"A pleasure to meet you, Regent Ferda."

"The honor is mine, Grand Duke Golt."

"I must say, I'm genuinely impressed. To think you'd deliberately dress them in that armor and completely turn public opinion upside down."

"We merely showed everyone what kind of work we had done."

"Indeed. No matter how hard you work, if nobody notices it, then it's all for nothing."

Valdemar briefly glanced at Alexander before turning away.

"I look forward to seeing what else you've prepared."

Both Ferda and Valdemar understood.

This hearing would not become a battle against Alexander.

It would become a battle against the Far East.

Ferda silently watched the old man's retreating back.

'What a truly peculiar old man.'

His deeply wrinkled face seemed suited to the stooped posture of an elderly man.

Yet his body stood perfectly straight.

Ferda had checked several times because it seemed so strange.

There was no doubt about it.

'His skin may belong to a man in his nineties, but his body has remained around thirty.'

It was ironic.

Ordinarily, if someone could rejuvenate themselves, they would restore both their appearance and their body.

And if forced to choose only one, most would prioritize their appearance.

People tended to underestimate those who looked old.

'He's doing it to lower people's guard.'

If he appeared to be a man in his thirties, everyone would remain vigilant.

But who would seriously fear a frail old man nearing the end of his life?

It was far more profitable to flatter such an old man than oppose him.

After all, when he eventually left behind his inheritance, having even a single line bearing your name in his will would be worthwhile.

Using himself as bait...

Olivia's face suddenly came to Ferda's mind.

"Regent, it's time for you to enter..."

"I know."

Ferda walked down the corridor toward the assembly hall.

There, he saw groups of nobles lined up alongside knights.

These knights served as security officers, the only individuals permitted to use force within a council where battles were fought with words.

Unlike the Grand Ducal Council, this was a human-built structure, so everyone had to undergo a thorough security inspection.

They repeated the same line to every noble like parrots.

"No weapons are permitted inside the postwar conference. Anyone attempting to bring in a weapon, regardless of the reason, may be removed from the premises or face equivalent penalties. Please keep that in mind."

"Understood."

Consilus handed his sword to his escort knights.

Before his own turn arrived, Ferda calmly removed his ceremonial sword and handed it over as well.

It was much the same as what Consilus had done.

However, there was one additional sentence directed at Ferda.

"I understand you're a mage, Regent Ferda?"

"That's correct."

"In that case, we'd appreciate it if you would wear this."

The security officer held out a mana restraint.

It was a magical device designed to interfere with spell Incantation, suppress mana output, and render the wearer unconscious if they suddenly attempted to concentrate a large amount of mana.

It certainly didn't feel pleasant to be treated like a criminal simply because he was a mage.

Still, history had seen mages attempt suicide bombings before, so the measure was unavoidable.

"Very well."

Ferda accepted it without complaint.

As he put on the restraint and attempted to walk inside, the officer stopped him once again.

"You can't bring that staff inside either."

His gaze fell upon the elegant staff Ferda was carrying.

"Do I look like I'm planning to beat someone to death with this staff?"

"Ordinary walking sticks are allowed, but magical artifacts are prohibited."

"Unfortunately for you, it isn't a magical artifact."

"In that case, may we have a mage examine it personally?"

If it truly were a magical artifact, the normal reaction would be to deny it and try to bluff one's way through.

Allowing another mage to handle your magical artifact was considered deeply humiliating.

"Go ahead."

But Ferda had nothing to hide.

Although puzzled by his confidence, the security officer summoned mages to inspect it.

In reality, the staff had indeed been created by the First Witch, Lucy Phyliaz, making it a genuine magical artifact.

The reason Ferda could remain so confident was that he had tested it repeatedly before coming here.

The conclusion had always been the same.

No one except Ferda could use the staff as a magical artifact.

There were no residual traces of mana and no evidence of spellcraft engraved upon it.

As such, no one could identify it as a magical artifact.

'Which is superior... the First Witch, or the Empire?'

The verdict soon arrived.

"It's just an ordinary staff. My apologies."

As the inspector handed it back, he added,

"It's a magnificent staff."

"Even if it's just flattery, thank you."

Carrying the staff, Ferda entered the chamber.

For the first time while fully conscious, he gazed upon the hall of the Golden Council.

The Grand Ducal Council had been new to him.

The Golden Council, however, was a place he had seen several times before.

Yet the feeling it gave him never changed.

It was magnificent, splendid, and unmistakably imperial.

A place designed to fill every noble who entered it with pride.

'And a place designed to make them desperately cling to their seats.'

It deepened factionalism.

The rising faction struggled to climb higher.

The traditional faction fought desperately to preserve its status.

Both sides committed unspeakable acts against one another without hesitation.

To those in power, not only commoners but even nobles themselves were nothing more than expendable tools.

Ferda had no interest in that struggle.

Whether they belonged to the rising faction or the old guard, he had already shown exactly what happened to anyone who dared lay a hand on him.

People gradually filled the Golden Council.

The assembly seats were packed with nobles, while journalists and spectators crowded every available space on the second floor.

"We will now convene the Arken Empire's Crisis Response Conference."

The man presiding over the opening ceremony was one of Valdemar's closest aides and a member of the Supreme Committee, Marquess Akard Dvelung.

Unlike the thin, elderly Valdemar, he was a plump middle-aged man with a gentle appearance.

His warm smile naturally put others at ease.

Yet standing behind the chairman's podium, he spoke with solemn authority.

"Our Empire..."

The gravity in his voice struck straight to the heart.

"...Possesses a long and glorious history and has always upheld the slogan that nothing exists which mankind cannot conquer. It is our duty to inherit, preserve, and further the legacy of our ancestors. However, one month ago, this large-scale monster summoning incident contaminated one-tenth of the Empire's territory. One of our great legions was completely annihilated. The surrounding villages also suffered devastating losses. Had we responded more swiftly, we could have reduced those damages by half."

His heavy tone deliberately steered the opening into an emotional direction.

"Unable to overlook this tragedy, we have convened the members of the Crisis Response Headquarters for the first time in twelve years. We shall now begin the postwar conference—the postmortem."

Akard turned the page of the document.

"Witness, Acting Representative of His Majesty the Emperor and Crown Prince Alexander Arken, please come forward and deliver your testimony."

Alexander rose from his seat at the front and walked toward the podium.

His face was twisted with grief and solemnity.

Even so, it was obvious that he was acting.

"I am Crown Prince Alexander Arken. In this sacred Golden Council, I swear to speak nothing but the truth. First, I would like to offer my deepest condolences to the soldiers of the legion who lost their lives in this tragedy."

Alexander's testimony continued.

He explained the strategy he had formulated.

He described how they had intended to deal with the monsters.

Everything unfolded exactly according to the scenario Ferda had anticipated.

"Your Imperial Highness."

"Yes, Committee Member."

"According to these records, you communicated with Regent Ferda through an Imperial mage. What exactly did you discuss?"

"That communication took place when the first colossal monster had formed an encirclement. It was a message from the Far East."

"And what was discussed?"

"Regent Ferda requested reinforcements, and I informed him that I would dispatch a relief force."

Naturally, he omitted every detail about the confrontation and power struggle he had with Ferda.

"But you never actually sent those reinforcements, did you?"

The one who suddenly spoke up was Erdes.

The woman, who had been absentmindedly braiding her hair with a bored expression, interrupted without warning.

"Representative Roton, please obtain permission before speaking."

"Oh, right. Right. So... are you going to give me permission or not?"

"...Granted."

Marquess Dvelung shot her an unmistakably displeased look.

Erdes, however, acted as though she couldn't care less and continued.

"As far as I know, the legion was wiped out within a month of the incident. I've heard that no expeditionary force was sent during that entire month, and only afterward was one hastily dispatched. Am I mistaken?"

"Ah... well, that account is somewhat distorted..."

Alexander desperately began defending himself.

"The unit that was organized was the 4th Legion, a force specializing in monster extermination. Fighting demon beasts rather than ordinary large-scale monsters required us to formulate our strategy very carefully. As you know, demon beasts are completely different from ordinary monsters."

"I know. But I guess the fools in your legion spent an entire month gathering information and still managed to do something stupid?"

"Yes. As the commander-in-chief, I take full responsibility for that."

"Hmm, that's enough."

She waved her hand dismissively, as if telling him to wrap it up.

Just as the matter seemed about to be brushed aside without much impact, someone raised a hand.

"I find myself unable to let that answer pass without asking a question of my own."

"Yes, please proceed."

Valdemar politely obtained the floor before turning his gaze toward Alexander.

Within the old man's eyes gleamed a blade sharp enough to split a mountain in two.

"Crown Prince Alexander. According to the records, the Grand Duchy of Valdrova operated while divided into two separate divisions. The first consisted of the existing Far East allied forces, while the second was commanded by Princess Olivia Arken."

"That is correct."

"After carefully comparing the records submitted by the Grand Duchy of Valdrova with those of the legion, I have arrived at two possible conclusions. The first is that the Far East received the blessings of the gods and achieved an impossible victory. The second is that the entire 4th Legion was drunk, agreed to an absurd strategy, and charged in like moths to a flame. Personally, which explanation do you believe is more likely?"

Alexander wore an uncomfortable expression as he answered hesitantly.

"W-Well... the Far East had long known how to deal with demon beasts, and unlike us, their combat strength was overwhelmingly superior."

"But didn't the Far East fight while having to deal with a colossal demon beast as well?"

"Based on our investigation, aside from producing more monsters, it possessed virtually no combat capability. It should essentially be regarded as a non-combat entity."

"In other words, had you attacked earlier, the chances of this disaster occurring would have been much lower?"

"...That is correct."

As expected of a Grand Duke.

Ferda couldn't help thinking that the old man was remarkably skilled at cornering people through questioning.

'Of course, this is probably part of the script as well.'

Had he not received Hellus's report beforehand, even Ferda might have been fooled into thinking Valdemar was genuinely targeting Alexander.

But Valdemar's true objective was Ferda.

This was merely the setup.

Ferda casually shifted his gaze and signaled to Consilus with his eyes.

He was asking whether things seemed to be proceeding smoothly.

Naturally, Consilus shook his head.

"That concludes our questioning. We will now proceed to the next witness."

Sweating nervously, Alexander stepped down.

Akard called out the next name.

"Representative of the Far East, Regent Ferda Valdrova, would you please come forward?"

Hearing his name, Ferda rose from his seat.

"May Alte's blessing be with you."

Consilus quietly murmured a prayer to himself.

Would that so-called god truly help someone like him, who had spent his entire life cursing the heavens?

'Only humans can help other humans.'

Ferda stepped onto the witness stand.

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