Chapter 89.2

“If Your Majesty truly wishes to aid the North, monetary aid would be greatly appreciated instead.”

“…Very well.”

The emperor nodded, a dry laugh escaping him as he acknowledged the ever-consistent attitude of the Northern delegation.

“These impudent Northerners!”

“Just when I thought they’d become more refined with their celadon and art, their core remains unchanged.”

Meanwhile, the traditionalist nobles of the Empire glared at the Northern envoys with disdain, disliking their blunt rhetoric and overt focus on money.

“How dare they behave so boldly before the emperor!”

“So the rumors of their defiance and boldness were true.”

“Not only are they confident, but they also never forget to secure practical benefits!”

“No wonder celadon and Arad salt come from them.”

In contrast, the envoys from the kingdoms found the Northern delegation’s confidence and pragmatic approach before the emperor quite refreshing.

“How is the Grand Duke of the North faring these days?” the emperor asked.

“He is doing well,” Gard replied.

The audiences during this banquet were intended to be brief exchanges of greetings between the emperor and the delegations—a kind of prelude to the coronation itself. However, the conversation with the Northern delegation turned out to be unexpectedly lengthy.

This was due to the significance of the North and the symbolism of being first in line.

“And what of Arad Jin, the one they call the Sorcerer of the North?”

“…He is also doing well, Your Majesty.”

“I would like to meet him someday.”

“…Pardon?”

“Invite him to accompany the next delegation from the North.”

“…!”

What the emperor had just said was essentially an imperial decree. Refusal was not an option; it would be tantamount to defiance.

The North, at least on paper, was part of the Empire. In historical terms, their relationship was akin to that of the Joseon Dynasty with the Qing Empire. An imperial decree demanded at least a semblance of compliance.

“I’ve heard he isn’t even originally from the North. Living in such a frigid place must make one yearn for the warmth of the South. Tell him to visit the capital sometime.”

“….”

Gard and the Northern delegation had anticipated such a request might come someday.

However, hearing it outright left them at a loss for how to respond.

“I will convey Your Majesty’s message to Count Arad Jin,” Gard replied, carefully avoiding a direct commitment.

Historically, saying “I will pass along the message” often served as diplomatic code for “It’s unlikely to happen.”

“Do you fear something?” the emperor pressed.

“…Pardon?”

With a sharp smile, Canbraman continued, as if to corner Gard.

“Do you fear that we might attempt to sway Arad Jin, or worse, assassinate or abduct him?”

“Th-there is no chance of that happening, Your Majesty.”

Even a bold and defiant Northerner like Gard could not openly admit to such fears in front of the emperor.

“I swear upon this golden throne that Arad Jin’s freedom and safety will be guaranteed wherever the Imperial authority extends.”

Seizing the momentum, Canbraman doubled down, leaving no room for evasion.

“And I, Yulkanes, swear upon mana itself that his freedom and safety will be assured wherever the power of the Tower reaches,” declared the Golden Tower Master, stirred by the emperor’s stance.

“I, Teresia, also swear before God that his safety will be protected wherever the voice of the Church can reach,” added Archbishop Teresia, not to be outdone by her rival, Yulkanes.

“…I will do my utmost to persuade Count Arad Jin,” Gard replied, fully aware that there was no way out now.

The emperor, the Golden Tower Master, and the archbishop had sworn on their most precious honor in front of countless envoys and Imperial nobles.

There was no escape.

Starting with the delegation from the Northern Grand Duchy of Renslet, one audience followed another until the session finally concluded. By then, evening had fallen.

The banquet transitioned into a full-fledged ball.

Thanks to the brightly glowing magic stones crafted by the Tower, the Imperial Palace was illuminated even brighter than daylight.

Beneath this dazzling light, the traditionalist nobles, the Council of Nobles, and the kingdom envoys all temporarily set aside their rivalries and enmities to eat, drink, dance, and laugh, enjoying the banquet.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Of course, that didn’t mean they entirely forgot their diplomatic duties.

“Ah! Duke Gard!”

“Duke Entir!”

From all corners of the banquet hall, nobles and kingdom envoys recognized Gard and Entir and tried to approach them.

Tuk, tuk.

However, three towering figures stepped in to intercept them.

“It’s been a while. Don’t you have something to say to me?”

It was Elisha von Havana, with her striking blond hair and crimson eyes, a hallmark of Imperial royalty.

“Hmm… You really have been acting as a bodyguard.”

Doom, with his towering figure and pallid complexion, exuded an overwhelming presence.

“By the way, there’s something I’d like to ask about Count Arad Jin…”

Yulkanes, who had spent the longest stretch of the past decade away from the Golden Tower, addressed Gard.

“…Uh… Hmm…”

Crown Prince Julian, who had been nearby, quickly gave up on intervening and withdrew when he saw Havana, Doom, and Yulkanes approaching.

“May I speak with my husband first?” Havana said as she approached Entir.

“Do as you wish,” Yulkanes said to Gard as he closed in on him.

“Hmm…”

Doom, meanwhile, cast a keen glance at the mercenary named Phil standing beside Entir and nodded thoughtfully.

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