Chapter 176: A Special Delegation
The Bosk Duchy hadn’t sent just an Envoy—it had dispatched an entire high-ranking Delegation, complete with a Historian, a Minstrel, a Court Mage, and all the trappings of a grand diplomatic mission.
At its head stood Baron Trelsh, a master of diplomacy renowned for his endless travels across the Holy Faedran Empire. Though his title was merely a ceremonial honor, devoid of any actual Fiefdom, it stood as a testament to his exceptional diplomatic achievements—and a clear signal of the Duchy’s respect for the nations it engaged.
As the Guard escorted him into the hall, the elegant Baron, draped in a sumptuous Formal Attire, bowed deeply, his movements smooth and graceful, exuding the refined elegance of Northern Nobility refined over centuries.
"Good evening, Most Revered King of the Burnt."
"I bring greetings from Duke Leo."
Kai Xiusu remained sprawled upon the Iron Throne, gazing down with a cold, unblinking stare. He offered no immediate reply.
The air grew thick, still.
The Guards tightened their grip on their Spears.
Though Trelsh maintained a composed demeanor, his hands trembled faintly, and his eyes avoided direct contact—small betrayals of inner tension.
Behind him, the rest of the Delegation was even more visibly shaken.
Even though they’d prepared themselves mentally, the sight of a twenty-meter-long Dragon—its sheer, overwhelming presence—was too much for the aged Historian Moor. His face drained of color, cold sweat poured from his brow, and he nearly collapsed, only barely steadying himself with the help of an attendant.
The famed female Minstrel Yelina, known as "The Bloom of Straph," who once enchanted thousands at grand court banquets with her music, now stood pale and trembling, her voice cracking as she gasped in terror.
Kai Xiusu couldn’t help but smirk.
The Red Dragon narrowed its eyes. Then, slowly, it spoke—breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.
"From the Bosk Delegation, I too would gladly return your greetings, out of courtesy."
"But your Duke recently orchestrated an assassination attempt against me. How can I be certain… you’re not another batch of traitorous assassins?"
The words struck like a blade.
The Delegation froze. Hearts pounded in their chests.
Even Trelsh broke into a cold sweat, though he remained composed—this was all part of the plan.
He steadied his voice, reciting the rehearsed lines with calm precision.
"Most Noble King of the Burnt, that operation was not sanctioned by the Bosk Duchy. In fact, we knew nothing of it. It was the Norton Duchy’s unilateral decision."
"And you are well aware—they have already been punished for their crimes."
"As for those Lionheart Knights? They have been expelled from Bosk society. Their actions were personal. We had no authority over them."
"Enough."
Kai Xiusu cut him off mid-sentence.
"Envoy of Bosk, there’s no need to pretend before me. Everyone here knows what truly happened. And I know exactly what your Duke is scheming."
A cruel, jagged grin curled across the Red Dragon’s lips. The scales along its eye ridges lifted slightly, sending a shiver through the entire delegation.
"But I welcome your presence here as so-called 'Observers'—because only when you witness the true gap in power will you stop meddling behind the scenes."
A puff of Sulfur-Scented Breath escaped its nostrils.
"After all… a fly is easy to crush. But a fly that never stops buzzing around your ear? That’s infuriating."
Hearing this assessment, Trelsh felt a spark of anger burn in his chest—but he dared not show it.
After a moment’s hesitation, he summoned his courage and spoke, voice steady, neither submissive nor defiant.
"Master Kai Xiusu, I admit your Strength is undeniable. Even if a thousand men like me stood together, we could not match you."
"But..."
He lifted his head slowly, forcing himself to meet the Dragon’s golden eyes, despite the instinctive fear clawing at his soul.
"Are you not… beginning to grow too proud?"
The words hung in the air.
Behind him, the Delegation trembled. They expected a roar, a blast of fire, an instant end to their lives.
But Kai Xiusu did not rage.
Instead, he studied Trelsh with a flicker of genuine interest.
"Why do you say that?"
Trelsh steadied himself, continuing.
"To be honest, Anzeta is but a remote backwater. Everything here is barren—like a desert. No wealth. No culture. No real Strength."
"For over a decade, I’ve traveled far—south to the Faedran Empire, west to the Free Trade Confederation. I’ve seen lands flowing with milk and honey. I’ve beheld emperors’ boundless collections. I’ve witnessed warriors who walked like demi-gods among men. The splendor of those realms… it’s beyond imagining for anyone from the Northern Regions."
Now, Kai Xiusu understood.
The Envoy’s true aim was clear: Redirecting the Storm Southward. Use the Red Dragon’s insatiable greed to lure it away—away from the North, away from the balance of power.
How amusing, Kai Xiusu thought. With my current strength, if I were to go south, I’d be torn apart by half the nations there.
The Red Dragon’s eyes narrowed, but it said nothing—only spoke in a tone as cold as winter.
"Your flattery grows tiresome, Bosk noble. I will assign you to the Tiriel Throat. You will witness the coming battle."
"Record every detail. Return and tell your Duke."
"Perhaps it will teach him to stop playing petty tricks."
With that, Kai Xiusu signaled to the Goblin Guard.
The Delegation was escorted out of the Council Chamber.
Moor and Yelina, already near their breaking point from the oppressive atmosphere, exhaled in relief. To them, it felt like escaping a death sentence.
They had survived. They were alive.
But Trelsh remained silent, his gaze fixed on the massive Metallic Gate closing behind them.
Outside the hall, the old scholar fumbled for a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from his brow, then snapped, voice laced with fury.
"Trelsh, you were reckless! If you’d angered that Red Dragon, we’d all be ashes now!"
Yelina shivered, arms wrapped tightly around herself. "That… that was like standing before a guillotine. One wrong move, and it would have dropped."
"Yes… thank the gods we’re still breathing."
Trelsh, however, frowned deeply, his eyes dark with concern.
"If he were truly so easily provoked… then he’d just be a common Red Dragon—fickle, bloodthirsty, greedy for destruction."
"Such creatures don’t last long. The Guardians of Order would crush them eventually."
"But he didn’t."
"He didn’t react. He didn’t burn. He didn’t rage."
"No… I believe he’s not the textbook monster. Not the mindless, destructive beast of legend."
"He’s something far more cunning. Far more dangerous."
"And perhaps… he truly will shatter the leadership of the Northern Regions."
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
