The Royalist nobles were busier than ever, reorganizing the kingdom's forces and preparing to send them south as planned.
It wasn't just about restructuring the troops and issuing orders.
With many commanders dead, new ones had to be appointed, and great care was needed to ensure proper armament and supplies.
Despite being overwhelmed by their tasks, the nobles' eyes gleamed with hope. The northern army's continuous victories had fostered a growing belief that the war was nearing its end.
"When the war ends, the vast southern lands will be left vacant."
"Hahaha, it's the kingdom's finest granary region, brimming with resources. The rewards will be tremendous."
"We might even have more than enough to divide among ourselves."
For the high-ranking nobles who didn't directly fight, war was nothing more than a numbers game. They were busy calculating how much they could gain once the war ended.
They wouldn't grasp the gravity of war until a blade was at their throats.
Watching these jubilant nobles, Marquis Branford let out a sigh.
'How is it that only people like this thrive.'
Nobles were born as nobles. Having been raised this way all their lives, their mindset was not easily changed.
That's why accidents had occurred repeatedly during the war.
No matter how strong his power was, this was something he couldn't change. Short of replacing everyone and starting anew, this would never end.
'But now is not the time.'
Not all nobles were like them. There were still those who fulfilled their duties as nobles, upholding honor and responsibility.
It was thanks to them that the kingdom still stood.
Steadying his thoughts, Marquis Branford turned to the knight by his side and asked,
"Have the chamberlain and that man not emerged yet?"
"No, my lord. We don't know what they're doing. Meals are delivered at set times, but that's all."
"Hmm...."
Viscount Domont and the mysterious mage had not left the King's chamber for several days.
Even the King refused to meet with anyone else.
"Prepare for my visit after this meeting concludes."
"Understood."
Having given his orders, Marquis Branford resumed the meeting with the nobles.
Not long after, a shocking figure appeared.
"Your Majesty!"
Someone exclaimed, rising abruptly. The other nobles stared with mouths agape.
The King, long bedridden and unable to move, had arrived. Though he leaned on the chamberlain for support, he was undeniably moving.
Berhem wore a cheerful smile and said, "Hahaha, it's been a while since we've all gathered. You've worked tirelessly for the kingdom's well-being in my stead."
Marquis Branford, though equally astonished, betrayed no emotion as he rose from his seat. The King's presence meant he must yield the head seat.
But he needed to understand what was happening.
"Your Majesty, are you well?"
"Indeed, indeed, I am well. It's been so long since I felt this good."
Berhem slowly sat down. While his movements seemed somewhat labored, he showed no serious issues.
He surveyed the stunned nobles with a crooked smile and said,
"I understand your confusion. You must have thought I'd never rise again."
"Y-Your Majesty...."
"That's not what we meant...."
The nobles were flustered. While it was true they had thought that, they hadn't expected the King to confront them so directly.
Berhem narrowed his eyes, glancing at the nobles once more before continuing.
"The mage behind me is extraordinarily skilled."
All eyes turned to Flaccus, who stood behind the King.
The nobles had heard rumors—a wandering mage claiming he could heal the King's ailments had appeared.
They'd assumed he would be arrested along with the chamberlain and paid little attention. But to think he had genuinely restored the King's vitality.
"This is Sir Flaccus. From now on, treat him with the same respect you show me. He is a hero who saved my life. On that note, I wonder what the kingdom's mages and priests have been doing all this time."
Berhem's sarcastic remark left everyone silent. Depending on how one interpreted it, it could imply they had deliberately neglected to treat the King.
Marquis Branford glared at Flaccus, who maintained a gentle smile. Outwardly, he looked every bit the scholarly and disciplined individual he claimed to be.
'What on earth did you do?'
The King, bedridden for over a decade, was now walking freely after just a few days. This was no normal method.
While the King's recovery was a welcome development, something Branford had long wished for, it must not have come from dark magic.
Flaccus would need to be interrogated to uncover the truth of his methods. Yet, having healed the King, forcibly detaining him was not an option.
"Your Majesty, I believe it necessary to verify the methods used by this man."
"What do you mean by that? My health is improving by the day."
"If deceitful dark magic was employed, severe side effects may manifest later."
Berhem erupted in anger at Branford's words.
"Marquis! Are you telling me to lie down and die?"
"Your Majesty."
"No one is to touch him! Unless you wish to be branded a regicide."
"...."
The room fell silent.
The King's sentiment was understandable. How many would reject improved health, regardless of the means?
After glaring at the nobles, Berhem slowly rose and said, "That will be all for today. From the next council meeting onward, I shall preside. Be prepared."
With that, Berhem, supported by Viscount Domont, left the room.
The nobles turned to Marquis Branford.
"This is quite...."
"The King suddenly presiding over council meetings...."
"What will happen now?"
For over a decade, the King had been absent from governance. Even the prime minister had relinquished his duties to Marquis Branford several years ago due to aging.
Now, with the King abruptly inserting himself, governance was unlikely to proceed smoothly.
How could decisions be made when he had no understanding of current affairs?
Commander-in-chief Maurice, responsible for coordinating reports and managing troops in the capital, furrowed his brow and said,
"We're at war. If the King, who knows nothing of the situation, takes charge, decisions will only be delayed. Perhaps it's better to suggest he govern after the war ends."
Marquis Branford maintained his neutral expression as he replied.
"It is not unusual for His Majesty to preside over governance. Prepare accordingly from now on."
With that, he too left the meeting room. Though outwardly calm, his mind was far from at ease.
"Toleo, what do you think?"
Most nobles lacked the skill to sense or evaluate someone's energy. Though many had dabbled in swordsmanship for the sake of decorum, few were truly proficient.
Maurice, though a high-level knight, also seemed unable to detect anything unusual.
"I'm unsure. If he used dark magic or sorcery, its energy should be detectable, yet I sense none. However...."
"However?"
"The mage is undoubtedly suppressing his energy. I've felt this since our first encounter."
"Hmm...."
Indeed, unless the individual deliberately revealed it, even the best knights would struggle to discern the nature of their energy.
And for someone as frail and untrained as the King, it would be impossible to notice anything amiss.
From that day forward, Berhem attended council meetings frequently, his health improving daily.
"Haha, what a refreshing day. I never knew the joy of simply moving until now. Tell me, how is the war progressing?"
"Most of the troops have been reorganized and are preparing to move south to the front."
After receiving numerous reports, Berhem, having gained a rough understanding of the situation, said with a hint of surprise,
"To think there's been no shortage of supplies despite being at war. I hadn't realized how abundant the northern region's production has become. It's vastly different from before I fell ill."
"It's all thanks to Count Fenris."
"Count Fenris... I've heard much of him from the chamberlain. Truly a blessing for the kingdom."
Though he spoke praises, his gaze was far from warm. Noticing this disparity, the nobles grew uneasy.
Berhem soon spoke in a commanding tone.
"From what I've observed, the rifts and this war have caused immense suffering for the people. Thus, I've made a decision."
"What is it, Your Majesty?"
"I believe it's time to end this war. I will proceed with negotiations with the Duchy. I intend to forgive them and create a peaceful world."
"....!!"
Marquis Branford's eyes widened. The other nobles were equally shocked.
The Duchy had committed treason and initiated this war against the royal family. For the King to propose negotiations with them was unheard of.
What kind of King would suggest such a thing?
Marquis Branford responded coldly.
"Your Majesty, such words are unacceptable."
"What do you mean?"
"The Duchy are rebels who have betrayed the royal family."
"I said I will forgive them."
"That is not all. They have colluded with a cult to create rifts, resulting in countless deaths. If we do not punish them, greater chaos will follow."
At Marquis Branford's words, Maurice added furiously,
"Your Majesty! Because of them, countless soldiers of the kingdom have died! Allied troops who came to aid us have suffered the same fate! How can a King ignore the deaths of his people?"
The other nobles also voiced their opposition.
"The Salvation Church has been declared an enemy by the Four Great Churches! Forgiving them would make the kingdom their enemy as well!"
"This cannot be allowed!"
"How can we trust the Duchy and the Salvation Church for negotiations?"
Some nobles did wish for the war to end but didn't dare oppose Marquis Branford. The King was powerless compared to the marquis, who wielded absolute authority.
With everyone opposing him, Berhem's face trembled with fury.
"My first decision since rising again! And you all oppose it!"
"This cannot be allowed, Your Majesty."
Seeing Marquis Branford's icy expression, Berhem clenched his fists, breathing heavily.
He was still a puppet. Everyone was watching Branford, not him.
Bang!
Berhem slammed the table and rose, declaring,
"This meeting is adjourned! We will revisit this issue soon. Halt all troop movements immediately."
With that, he stormed out. After the King left, Maurice exploded in anger.
"I knew it! We're running out of time, and now decisions will be delayed! The army is barely reorganized, and some units haven't even deployed yet! My nephew must be waiting—what do we do now?"
Units that had already moved could claim they acted before the King's order. But those still on standby couldn't be deployed without his approval.
The King would need to be pressured to issue the necessary commands. It was a headache for everyone involved.
"Ugh, if only the old hag were here to tell me what to do."
"...."
The room fell silent. Maurice placed more trust in a fortune-telling hag than in the King.
He had already sent search parties to the southern front, desperately trying to find her.
Marquis Branford rose from his seat and said,
"Let's try persuading him for a few more days. After all, state council meetings are always this tedious."
The only reason decisions had been made relatively quickly was thanks to Marquis Branford. Ordinarily, such meetings were long and drawn-out affairs.
Though he spoke as if there was no choice, Marquis Branford had other plans in mind.
'We'll have to kill that mage first.'
From the look of things, it seemed that the Duchy and the Salvation Church were up to something. There was no other way the King would spout such nonsense.
That so-called mage was undoubtedly a priest of the Salvation Church. The King must have orchestrated this scheme to heal his body.
Marquis Branford spoke to Toleo.
"Toleo, assume the enemy is a superhuman and prepare soldiers, knights, and mages. We'll strike and kill him at the first opportunity."
"Understood."
If the enemy was indeed a superhuman, capturing him would require the best knights and mages from the Branford family.
Even if the opponent was strong, a lone individual could be subdued. There would be sacrifices, but the mage had to be eliminated.
While Marquis Branford made his preparations, Berhem attended council meetings for several days, persistently advocating negotiations with the Duchy.
However, he faced unanimous opposition from the nobles and couldn't proceed as he wished.
Frustrated and powerless, he returned to his chambers, venting his anger.
"Marquis Branford! That wretched dog! How dare he defy the will of his King! If he isn't a traitor, what else could he be?"
Berhem was growing desperate. His recovery was only temporary. To fully regain his health, he needed something the Duchy possessed.
The Duchy had agreed to exchange it for the royal family's treasure and proposed a ceasefire negotiation.
But Marquis Branford's opposition had thwarted the plan.
Though some forces were on standby, others had already mobilized, and there was no stopping them now. It was clear that Marquis Branford was secretly fanning the flames.
If this continued, another battle would break out before Berhem could secure what he needed.
"What am I to do? Marquis Branford refuses to heed my words."
In response to the King's desperate query, Flaccus smiled gently.
"It seems we may need to advance the lion hunt."
The lion was the emblem of the Branford family—meaning, they intended to eliminate Marquis Branford.
Berhem cautiously asked,
"Is it possible?"
"I have expended considerable energy treating Your Majesty, but with the Royal Knights' support, it's not impossible."
Flaccus had drained much of his strength treating Berhem. To recover it, he needed to perform a special ritual, which required Berhem to consolidate more power.
"What must I do?"
"Continue to push for ceasefire negotiations during the council meetings to buy time. I will coordinate with the commander of the Royal Knights to set a date."
"Very well, this must succeed."
Berhem's voice trembled as he spoke.
Marquis Branford was a man of unparalleled authority. Preparing for this without his notice was nerve-wracking.
From that day forward, Berhem wielded his royal authority at every council meeting, causing a commotion.
The nobles grew increasingly frustrated. The war needed to resume quickly, but the King's interference was delaying everything.
Eventually, Marquis Branford took the lead and said, "Your Majesty, we can delay no longer. The Duchy is preparing for battle even as we speak."
"I have told you I want negotiations!"
"My apologies, but this is a matter of the kingdom's survival. We cannot allow it."
After speaking, Marquis Branford turned to Maurice.
"Move the remaining forces immediately. Once mobilized, they will take orders directly from the Northern Army Commander."
"Understood."
"Your Majesty, it is time to release the chamberlain and the mage. An investigation is necessary."
Berhem, furious, erupted in anger.
"You dog! I am the King! I am the King! How dare you act as you please!"
"...."
"You insolent wretch! You are a traitor! You are a traitor!"
"Escort His Majesty."
There was no other choice. Seeing Berhem's outburst, Marquis Branford turned and left the council chamber.
"You traitor! You're no different from her! I am the King! This kingdom is not yours!"
Even as Berhem's enraged voice echoed behind him, Marquis Branford closed his eyes.
'The war must end.'
If the Duchy were eradicated, no one would threaten the kingdom or the royal family again. Once that task was done, he planned to retire.
But even that seemed increasingly difficult.
Late into the night, while working at his estate, his butler entered to deliver a report.
"The Royal Knights and the palace guards have begun mobilizing. Their target is here."
Marquis Branford remained silent, his expression unchanged.
The butler, equally composed, continued his report.
"The knights and soldiers are fully prepared. The city's defensive forces have also moved to encircle the royal palace. Operatives within the palace are ready to act at your command."
"...."
"Awaiting your orders, my lord."
Flaccus and the Royal Knights had begun their covert operation to target Marquis Branford.
But Marquis Branford was already aware of every detail.
[T/L: I have reduced the price for extra chapters: https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]