novelraw Chapter 195: The throne’s meeting
Chapter 195: The throne’s meeting
Next week, Monday.
9:00 am on the Lord's panel.
Gong...
Gong...
Gong...
A deep, echoing toll rippled through the morning air.
A sudden rustle, like silk tearing under strain, stirred above the spires as birds burst from the rooftops, wings cutting arcs through the pale light.
Feathers spiraled down in lazy loops, catching the breeze like flakes of ash.
From the high vantage point, the view began to lower, sliding past slate roofs, narrow towers, and gilded arches, until it reached a marble corridor patrolled by a squad of sentry soldiers.
One of the guards paused, hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his spear as he glanced up at the disturbed flock.
"Birds again,” he muttered, furrowing his brow. “They always know something’s going on.”
Another soldier let out a small grunt, adjusting the strap across his chest. “Well, they’re not wrong. Today’s the third cabinet meeting under the throne, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” a third replied, exhaling as he leaned casually against a pillar. “That’s why our post got shifted. So many powerful beings crammed into one hall... our weak little bodies would probably turn to dust just standing too close.”
The first guard chuckled dryly. “I saw the Church’s representatives arrive this morning. Some strange figure was leading them. Didn’t expect they'd be invited after the mess with the Broken Blade Legion.”
“Shh” the second guard hissed, raising a hand sharply. “Keep your voice down. With folks like that inside, even a whisper on stone might carry straight into their ears.”
Their voices quieted, the group instinctively straightening their posture as a cluster of maids glided past, their footsteps soft and measured, arms laden with polished trays and embroidered cloths.
One of the guards shot the others a grin, and they exchanged muffled laughs, the tension thinning just a little.
For a moment, all was still, a glimpse of balance between duty and daily routine.
Then, the scene swept past them, lifting above the polished corridor, carried on the flow of air, drawn toward an immense pair of doors carved with dragons and divine beasts.
The doors creaked open slowly, revealing a colossal chamber beyond, lit by hanging crystal lanterns and lined with velvet banners.
Serpentine mark...
The throne room.
Calling it a castle hardly did it justice anymore.
This place had evolved into something closer to a colossal palace, guarded around the clock by both sentry soldiers and the shadow knights.
And deep inside, in a chamber that hadn't existed just months before, stood the newly built throne room, a grand and imposing space.
At its far end, a single figure sat upon the elevated seat, framed by a massive oval window behind him.
Through that arched glass shimmered the ethereal projection of a woman draped in a white dress, asleep upon a strange, jade-like bed.
A soft sigh escaped from the throne.
Liam sat there, his posture relaxed, eyes drifting down over the many who knelt before him, ministers, generals, and figures of growing influence who had been gathered.
Positioned under his command.
To his right stood his four generals: Elias, Saka, Harb, and Aizen, each kneeling at the front of their own followers.
Behind them, dozens of richly dressed ministers waited, people who’d been chosen carefully for their specific skills in governance and management.
The expansion of the territory had been fast, too fast for him to handle alone.
Even Elias, one of his most capable, had already hit his limits managing just a single city.
Now with such a huge territory, the task at hand increased rapidly.
The teams behind them had become the pillars upholding the growing burden of administration.
Behind Elias were twenty scholarly types, hair tied, some with glasses, clear-cut intellectuals aligned for strategy and policy.
Behind Aizen, ten dark-cloaked figures kneeled.
Their presence was unnerving.
The air around them buzzed with a manic edge, unmistakably echoing Aizen’s own unstable nature.
All of them, without question, were lunatics.
But talented enough in the same path similar to Aizen's obsession with magical science.
Harb’s rear guard stood tall in full armor, twenty strong, a mixed group of men and women.
Lords who had willingly given up their titles, each possessing the hero summoning.
Now, they stood here under Harb’s command, positioned as military officers, fully integrated into his force.
And behind Saka?
An elegant row of well-dressed, attractive men and women.
Their appearances were pristine, almost too perfect. There was something off in their smiles.
Liam could tell with a glance, they weren’t quite human.
But he didn’t question it. Saka was in charge of a crucial corner of the territory, and he delivered results.
That was enough.
To the left of the room, another faction knelt dozens of them draped in green and white.
Among them were the three true kings, the ten broken blade true lords, a representative from the Church, with their silent entourage waiting in the back, and the group of nobles recruited from the population.
Liam’s eyes moved, meeting the calm, knowing gazes of the three true kings.
Though technically part of the territory, they did not kneel in loyalty to him.
Their allegiance remained with her, Her Highness, who still slept beyond reach.
Beside his throne stood another presence.
A man draped in black robes, his face hidden behind a grotesque mask.
He was Liam’s new head butler, his right hand, and someone Liam had summoned at a steep, personal cost.
As for the last one?
Something... Happened.
The presence of the three true kings kept him wary.
Even after reaching Tier 7 and evolving the territory, he didn’t feel secure, not with the kind of unpredictability Mize had scattered throughout the realm with her whims.
To keep the Church and the Broken Blade Legion in check, he folded them into the council.
Begrudgingly, the Church had agreed, though Liam could see clearly that the representative sent today was none other than a clone of Harapan.
The hall remained still.
Then Liam spoke, his voice measured, a hand gesturing casually toward the church’s side.
“I’m curious… where are the two Saints? Especially the newly appointed Saint Cahaya, I haven’t seen her face even once. Are they... preoccupied?”
That single question pulled every gaze in the hall toward the white-robed clergy.
At the front stood a tall man with trailing white hair, silver mask concealing his face.
He bowed slightly and responded with careful politeness.
“Saint Harapan is currently preoccupied with pressing matters, My Lord.”
“And Saint Cahaya?” Liam asked, his tone flat but his gaze firm.
“She left several days ago. We’ve yet to locate her exact whereabouts.”
“I see…” Liam leaned forward just a touch, voice echoing low beneath the elevated throne. “Then what about Sir Titrus? Instead of promoting him, a known, trusted figure under my wife's rule, you gave the title to someone even I have never heard of?”
The masked figure nodded once, spreading his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “Lord Titrus is currently deep within the Cursed Lands."
He cast a brief glance across the room before continuing.
“As for the Saint title, Lord Titrus refused it himself. He claimed he was unworthy, as the title wasn’t bestowed directly by the Mother.”
A contradiction, clearly, since they had no issue granting the title to a complete stranger.
But Harapan didn’t seem to care how it looked.
This was a test, set to observe how one particular individual would respond.
And sure enough, it worked.
One of the true kings finally spoke.
“I, Selivara, despise such feeble attempts, church lackey,” she said with a disdainful snort.
She was one of the three true kings created alongside the old man and the green haired man.
As for her name, she gave it herself, Selivara.
Her eyes narrowed as she stared down the masked figure, who responded with innocent confusion.
“Whatever do you mean, Lady Selivara?” he said lightly, arms raised in mock surrender.
“I meant no offense… I’m just a humble church representative.”
“Then act like one,” Selivara snapped. Her voice echoed through the hall, sharp and biting. “You’re the Church’s face here in the palace. So start carrying yourself like it, little one.”
"Your little attempt to test us is such a childish method."
The tension spiked.
Even those who hadn’t spoken yet felt the weight in the air. The atmosphere had changed.
Especially those weak nobles at the back rows, their knees went weak the moment these powerful individuals started arguing.
“Enough.”
Boom...
The pressure sank.
Another True King spoke.
This time, it came from the one seated dead center, the lead figure among them.
He had long, trailing green hair, cold eyes that didn’t waver, and a sharp, almost unsettling gaze that cut through the air like a blade through silk.
“Selivara, stand down…” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean.
And just like that, her fingers, which had curled into a fist mid-air, trembled slightly… then slowly eased.
She breathed out through her nose and withdrew, not saying another word.
Liam watched the scene quietly, unmoved.
His expression didn’t shift much, like someone watching a distant fire that didn’t concern him.
Whatever friction there was between these beings, he wasn’t planning to meddle.
At least, not yet.
They were Mize’s creations.
And in her absence, he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on them.
But if any of them crossed the line... even if they called themselves True Kings, he wouldn’t mind turning this throne room into a blood-soaked battlefield.
His eyes lingered on each one.
'Alvran for the green hair, Selivara for the hot tempered woman, and finally the most troublesome one...'
Then his gaze slid toward the quietest among them, the inconspicuous old man sitting to the side, dressed in layered white robes, hands calmly resting on his lap.
‘Old Darnell…’
He repeated the name inwardly, marking it in his mind.
Each of them had given themselves names. Personal ones. Chosen identities.
'This old man gives me a very uncomfortable feeling... '
Liam narrowed his eyes, but retracted them swiftly after.
‘So... they really are starting to live now, huh.’
The tension between them had already spoken volumes.
Conflicts. Pride. Individual thoughts.
It was clear this wasn’t just a single entity acting under Mize’s will anymore.
There would be more like them in the future, Liam knew that much.
Different forces within the territory, each with their own voice... and perhaps, eventually, their own agendas.
If he didn’t get ahead of things, it would all spiral out of control.
His gaze shifted toward his own generals, standing on the opposite end of the hall.
He began calling them up one by one, nodding slightly for them to report.
Elias stepped forward first.
Clean-cut as always, holding a set of organized notes in one hand.
As the Minister of Management, his tone was measured as he spoke of logistics, population growth, construction updates, and resource movements across the territory.
Next was Harb, the Defense Minister.
Broad-shouldered, firm posture, and an air of blunt authority.
He gave a clear rundown of the current sentry guard numbers, defensive distribution, and updates on various fortress projects cropping up across the huge territory.
Then came Aizen.
The Research Minister.
He looked a little out of place in the formal setting, with his disheveled robe cuffs and an ink stain near his collar.
But his eyes burned with curiosity as he listed several recent breakthroughs, experimental potions, enchanted weapon prototypes, and even new spells he’d begun developing.
And finally...
Saka.
The one who managed Liam’s shadows and also his current war general.
The moment he stepped forward, the room shifted subtly.
His steps were soundless, and even his figure seemed to carry a shadow wherever he went.
He bowed slightly, then began his report.
And as he spoke, the faces of the three True Kings, and even some of the more hardened individuals nearby, twitched slightly.
A few furrowed their brows. One even seemed to sniff the air, as if catching a scent they didn’t like.
Because Saka’s report wasn’t clean or diplomatic.
It was brutal.
Gruesome.
Unlike Harb, who defended the land inside, Saka was the hand that reached outside.
He was the one spearheading the conquest.
The quiet annexation of villages, towns, and entire cities outside the walls.
Even the surrounding lords, those who thought their distance or status made them untouchable, weren't spared.
There were no “accidents.” No convenient misunderstandings. Everything was clean, precise, and intentional.
Saka ensured that Liam's name would echo.
To the everyday people within the territory, the campaign was painted as something noble.
A mission to expand and bring more under their protection. A purge of bandits. A push for stability.
But to those who knew better...
To the nearby lords watching from their towers, counting their dwindling allies...
This wasn’t diplomacy.
It was carnage.
A slow, deliberate machine of war disguised under order and banners.
Any resistance, no matter how small, was crushed. Entire cities soaked in blood.
Streets littered with lifeless bodies, civilians and defenders alike. The shadow army didn’t discriminate.
Not that much racism in this world, no?
Liam's name had already begun to stir whispers in faraway lands.
Some called him a butcher.
Others, a tyrant.
But all agreed on one thing, he was dangerous.
And that fear... was exactly what he wanted.
After all, in this world, strength wasn’t just respected, it was law. The strong took. The weak bent their knees... or perished.
That was the truth of the warp.
And Liam had no plans to pretend otherwise.
Especially what happened before, when some of those pitiful lords dared to say something unholy about his wife.