VOLUME 15: CHAPTER 34

VOLUME 15: CHAPTER 34

Time flowed quickly when a person was having fun.

Without them realizing it, it was already an hour away from midnight.

The other parts of the capital were already asleep, but the Entertainment District was still bustling with life. This was probably due to the festive atmosphere brought by the unannounced fireworks display tonight.

Whenever the fireworks ended, half an hour later another batch of pyrotechnics would be brought out from somewhere to light up the sky again.

Honestly, Lark hadn’t expected this simple date to turn out so pleasant.

What was meant to be a short stroll through the capital had somehow stretched into an entire evening filled with laughter, playful banter, and quiet moments he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

Holding a stick of skewered meat, Lark watched the fireworks bloom across the night sky beside Princess Vivienne.

“Did you know,” he said casually, eyes still fixed upward, “your father’s trying to arrange a marriage between us?”

Princess Vivienne nearly dropped her empty stick in surprise. Although she already knew about the proposal, she didn’t expect Lark to bring it up so suddenly.

Regaining her composure, she stole a glance at him. The fireworks painted shifting colors in his eyes, and he looked content and at peace.

“I know,” she replied softly.

As though on cue, the fireworks ended, and the night sky regained its darkness. Only the lanterns on the streets and the occasional kalrane stones inside large establishments illuminated their surroundings.

Laughter from a nearby tavern could be heard, and several drunk men passed along the street across from them.

The Princess continued, “And I’m not against it.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” said Lark, smiling. “Once everything is settled, I hope we’ll meet again, Vivienne.”

“Wait! Are you saying you’ll reject my father’s offer?”

“We hardly know each other,” said Lark. His tone wasn’t sharp, but it carried the weight of honesty. “I did enjoy our stroll through the capital, but that alone isn’t enough for me to ask for your hand in marriage.”

Princess Vivienne fell silent. Eventually, she said, “It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be something contractual—a deal… or something along those lines.”

Only men could inherit the throne in Thornforge.

From the moment she was born a daughter, her path had already been written for her: to be married off to another powerful family or foreign monarch in the name of alliance. Love was never part of the equation.

Since she was going to be married off anyway, she would rather marry this man than some pig from an unknown land. Even if she ended up as a mere concubine or a lowly assistant, she didn’t mind.

As strange as it may sound, she didn’t detest the idea of being with this person at all.

Did the Seer’s prophecy influence her decision? She didn’t know.

“Just take me with you, Lark,” said Princess Vivienne. “As a royal, I’ve been trained in all sorts of disciplines! Court etiquette, public speaking, governance, estate management, music and poetry, calligraphy—you name it, I can do it!”

Seeing no change in Lark’s expression even after listing all of her skills, she added the final nail in the coffin.

“And I’m skilled in Hayangji! If you have me as your daily match partner, even someone as bad as you at the game will improve greatly!”

Lark’s brow twitched. It was the first time someone had told him straight to his face that he was bad at the game.

Given that he had won a few matches in the Republic of Everfrost’s tournament, Lark believed he was actually quite decent. The Princess was simply too skilled and believed he was a complete beginner at it.

Seconds, which seemed like an eternity, passed.

Unexpectedly, Lark laughed. “Hahahaha!”

“W-What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” said Lark, shaking his head. “You said you’re adept in governance?”

“I believe so.”

“Vivienne, Hayangji is different from real life. The world is far more complex, and some of the humans living in it are vile and twisted. Unlike Hayangji, your pieces might not move as you tell them to, and they may stab you in the back the moment you show even the slightest hint of weakness.”

“I’m not saying I’m good at governance just because I’m skilled in Hayangji! Although I don’t have any claim to the throne, my father made me undergo mandatory education normally available only to princes.”

Unaware that her father planned on joining the Coalition even if Lark refused the marriage offer, Princess Vivienne did her best to sell herself as someone Lark needed.

She believed that their country should join the Coalition if they wanted to survive the chaos that would soon befall the continent.

Although the demons had retreated, she could feel that it would be only a matter of time before they returned.

If by some cruel luck the portal opened right at their kingdom’s doorstep, there was nothing they could do to stop the demon race’s advance.

The only right pathway forward was to join the Coalition and seek protection from Lark.

“I see. Then let me ask a couple of questions,” said Lark. “Would that be alright with you, Vivienne?”

“Go ahead,” she said, nodding.

“Tell me, Princess,” he said, his voice even but curious, “if a famine were to strike one of your border provinces, would you feed the people using the royal treasury—knowing it would weaken your army’s budget—or wait for the lords to act on their own?”

The princess had considered this scenario before.

Although the Kingdom of Thornforge was blessed with vast, fertile land, they’d also suffered from the Black Famine many years ago. Thankfully, unlike their neighbors, they managed to save more than half of their fields, allowing them to feed their subjects without much hardship.

After pondering carefully, the Princess gave her answer.

“If famine strikes,” said Vivienne, “I would open the royal granaries first. Hungry soldiers do not fight, and desperate people do not stay loyal. But I’d make the lords contribute as well—through loans or shared levies—so they remember that stability is a burden carried by all, not a favor granted by the crown.”

She met his eyes calmly. “Charity without order is chaos. Order without compassion is tyranny.”

Lark nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “That sounds fair… but idealistic. In times of famine, lords think first of their own coffers. Some will hoard their grain and claim their granaries were burned by bandits. Eye Collector Clan, was it? They’ll be a great excuse at that time. Others will beg leniency, then sell the aid meant for their people.”

Lark continued, “Would you punish them? Even if it means crippling the few houses that still support the crown?” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Compassion’s easy when the treasury still has gold. Harder when mercy starts costing loyalty. What would you do, Vivienne?”

“Then I would cripple them,” she said, her voice calm but unwavering. “A lord who profits from hunger is already an enemy of the crown. Better to lose one vassal than let ten learn they can starve their people without consequence.”

Her tone softened slightly. “But I wouldn’t start with the whip. I’d start with the mirror. I would show them how easily their own kin could suffer the same fate.”

Satisfied with the answers, Lark continued with another question.

“Suppose two barons quarrel over a river that separates their lands. Each threatens rebellion if the other gains control. How would you settle it without drawing a sword?”

This time, it took the Princess several minutes to answer.

“A river feeds both lands,” she said after a pause. “I would make it belong to neither. Declare it royal property, guarded by the crown, with usage rights shared by both houses. Then I’d host a festival there, forcing their banners to fly side by side.”

She smiled faintly. “Sometimes peace begins with something as simple as forcing people to stand on the same ground.”

“A clever answer,” said Lark, “but rivers don’t stay calm forever.”

He glanced toward the distance, as if seeing the water himself. “When the next drought comes and one baron claims the other’s been drawing too much, who will they blame? The other baron? The vassals tasked to oversee the river? Or maybe the crown?”

His tone was mild but sharp beneath the surface. “A shared resource is a shared resentment. Sometimes, peace built on compromise is more fragile than war itself.”

“That…”

It took Princess Vivienne some time to think of a response to that statement.

Although King Lark was younger than her by ten years, she had to admit that he possessed wisdom far beyond his years.

Vivienne hesitated, her brows knitting slightly as she watched the dim reflection of the lanterns ripple over the nearby fountain. When she finally spoke, her tone was thoughtful, not defensive.

“You’re right. Compromise can rot if left untended,” she admitted. “But peace isn’t a structure you build once and walk away from—it’s a garden. You prune it, you feed it, and sometimes you have to cut away the rot before it spreads. If resentment grows, then I’ll shoulder it. Let them curse the crown if it means they don’t draw their blades at each other. A ruler’s pride isn’t worth the blood of her people.”

A faint, almost wistful smile touched her lips. “Besides, I’d rather be hated for keeping the peace than loved for winning a war.”

Lark looked at her incredulously. When he asked her those thought-provoking scenarios, he hadn’t really expected her to answer them so well.

It felt like he was talking to a seasoned scholar who’d worked under the government before.

Of course, her answers weren’t perfect, but they passed Lark’s standards at least.

“Are your brothers as smart as you?”

“Pardon?”

Lark chuckled. “I don’t know if I should regret asking those questions. Now that I’ve heard your answers, it feels like a waste not to bring you back with me.”

“Then—!”

“—Let’s get to know each other first, Vivienne,” said Lark. “If you’re fine working as one of my secretaries, I’ll take you back with me. Of course, assuming that King Gram is fine with it.”

She would be a fine addition to Secretary Irene and Mokuva Boris.

Just by her answers alone, she should be comparable to those two in terms of insight and judgment.

She wasn’t naïve like most sheltered princesses. Although compassionate, she could be ruthless when the situation demanded it. More importantly, she possessed a keen sense of judgment, able to see through people and weigh their intentions with startling clarity.

Honestly, she had all the qualities that would make a great Queen.

Of course, their time together was short, and it wasn’t enough for Lark to know if his current judgment was accurate.

“My father will definitely agree!” said Princess Vivienne excitedly. “And even if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure he does!”

Lark was amused by the last part.

This woman was really enigmatic.

When Lark first heard about her, he expected her to be a pompous woman who hated mingling with commoners. A princess who would retch and curse the moment she stepped on a slum’s puddle.

But after meeting her, he realized that most of the negative rumors surrounding the princess were false.

She was compassionate—incredibly so. And she truly cared about her people.

Even King Gram, who was supposed to be a tyrant, was quite amicable.

Well, the political prisoners in King Gram’s harem may say otherwise, but Lark knew there were always two sides to a coin.

“Alright,” said Lark. “I’ll talk with your father.”

“Thank you! I’ll do my best as your secretary! I promise I won’t disappoint you!”

The Shadows who’d been tailing them nearby heard bits of the conversation. Upon seeing the Princess almost jump around in joy, their leader ordered one of his subordinates to send a message to King Gram.

“Looks like it’s a success! King Lark probably agreed to take her as his wife! Quick! Report this to His Majesty!”

“Yes, right away!”

That night, after receiving the updates from the Shadows, King Gram’s laughter reached even the hallways of the royal palace.

***

The next day, as promised, Lark visited King Gram in the royal palace.

King Gram was already expecting the visit, but he pretended to be unaware that the foreign king was going to ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage today. Buried in a mountain of documents, King Gram said to Lark the moment he entered the office, “You’ve come.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Lark. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’ve enjoyed my stay in the capital.”

“Sounds like you’re leaving soon,” said King Gram. “I heard you had a date with my daughter? How was it?”

“It was fun. We strolled the streets and tried numerous local delicacies. I also met the Seer.”

King Gram frowned when he heard the last part.

“That man is a con artist. Please don’t take whatever he said last night to heart.”

“A con artist?”

Lark hadn’t expected the King’s opinion of the Seer to differ so much from the Princess’.

“He said I’ll fall in love again in the near future,” King Gram said, his tone sharp with indignation. “What nonsense! I loved only the late Queen, and I’ll never love another!”

Lark wondered what King Gram’s dozens of concubines would think if they heard that. He wisely kept the thought to himself, simply offering a polite nod.

“Still,” said Lark, “he seemed rather… convincing.”

“Convincing because he’s skilled at reading people,” the King grumbled. “He tells you what you want to hear, then makes it sound like fate. The man’s been living off gullible people for years.”

Lark smiled faintly. “Perhaps. But even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

King Gram snorted, crossing his arms. “If that clock ever predicts me falling in love again, I’ll smash it to pieces. I swear! If not for the fact that my daughter is quite fond of him, I would have thrown him in the dungeons long ago!”

Based on King Gram’s words, it seemed that he was aware that his daughter had been secretly going out to stroll the streets of the capital, visiting various establishments, including the Seer’s Pavilion.

Unfortunately, it appeared that King Gram was unaware that the Seer was a monster capable of annihilating small armies on his own. Had he known, he wouldn’t have spouted such bold words.

Lark recalled his meeting with the Seer.

The old man’s control over mana was so good that there was hardly any leakage from his body. To an untrained eye, he would look like nothing but an emaciated old man.

Realizing that he’d started ranting, King Gram cleared his throat and changed the topic. “I didn’t have the chance to ask this before, but how did your visit to the Dukedom of Mauko go?”

“Uneventful,” said Lark. “I couldn’t fulfill their conditions for joining the Coalition, so they refused.”

King Gram inwardly smiled.

That outcome was the most favorable for the Kingdom of Thornforge.

If the Dukedom joined the Coalition, they would be able to move away from the clutches of their kingdom. As their greatest shield from the United Grakas Alliance, King Gram didn’t want them to break free from their shackles. It was far better to keep them leashed—close enough to protect, and dependent enough never to stray.

“May I know what kind of condition they asked of you?”

“They want me to convince the Beast King to concede the Mauko Plains to them.”

“You visited the United Grakas Alliance before coming here. What did the White Lion say?”

“He refused, naturally.”

“Hahahaha! Of course!”

King Gram felt genuinely pleased after hearing Lark’s story.

For generations, the Dukedom and the Kingdom of Thornforge had stood on equal footing. It was only during his reign that the Dukedom began to crumble. Seizing the opportunity brought by their neighbor’s civil war, King Gram backed Duke Ricardo, securing his victory in the struggle for the throne.

Of course, that help came with a price.

Unbeknownst to many, that was the day Thornforge began quietly annexing the Dukedom.

King Gram couldn’t help but feel amused by how foolish Duke Ricardo was.

Had the man accepted Lark’s offer, his territory might have broken free from Thornforge’s grip. But the Duke had likely weighed the risks and chosen to remain under Thornforge’s shadow—too afraid to defy the kingdom that loomed right beside his borders.

What a pitifully short-sighted move.

“What a shame. It saddens me that the Dukedom made such a foolish decision,” said King Gram, his words contradictory to the smirk that kept slipping out. “King Lark, since you’re returning to your country today… perhaps you’ve made a decision?”

Lark answered without hesitation. “I plan to bring your daughter back with me to the kingdom.”

“Hahaha! That’s wonderful! So, when’s the wedding?!”

Lark shook his head. “We’re not getting married, Your Majesty. I spoke with Princess Vivienne last night, and she agreed to become one of my royal secretaries.”

King Gram’s laughter died mid-breath. He stroked his beard, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Royal secretary… hmm…”

It was a familiar gesture. The old king always did that whenever he mulled over something important—just as he had when he learned that Lark’s rule was temporary, that he planned to return the throne to King Alvis someday.

“It could be the first step,” he murmured. “It’s not as though the door’s closed.”

Then he smiled broadly and nodded. “Very well. I’ll take this as fulfillment of our agreement. From this day forward, the Kingdom of Thornforge shall join the Coalition.”

Had Big Mona been present, he would’ve surely scoffed. The fat merchant would’ve said that King Gram should feel honored to even be granted the chance to join.

“King Lark.”

“Your Majesty?”

“You’re aware of my harem, yes?”

Lark gave the old king a puzzled look before nodding. “I’ve heard about it.”

“What I mean to say is…” King Gram leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice, “…I don’t mind if you take several women as your wives. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who mistreats women, so I’d rest easy knowing my daughter’s in good hands.”

Of course, the fact that Lark wielded overwhelming power also played a part, but that was something King Gram would never admit aloud.

“Our armies may not match yours,” the old king continued with a grin, “but our lands are fertile. As a father, I wouldn’t mind sending several thousand bushels of grain every year to my son-in-law. Kuhum… if you understand what I mean.”

Even without the exaggerated wink, Lark understood perfectly well what the king was hinting at.

He felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

Didn’t Emperor Sylvius make a similar proposal once?

Lark’s mind flickered briefly to the Seer’s prophecy. If that eccentric old man truly possessed foresight, then perhaps there was a reason Princess Vivienne stood beside him by the lakeside villa that night.

“I’m grateful for your generosity, Your Majesty,” Lark said finally, offering a polite smile. “You’ve already given me more than I could ask for.”

King Gram laughed heartily, his mood brightening. “Nonsense! It’s only natural for a father to make sure his future son-in-law is well taken care of. Who knows—perhaps the heavens themselves favor this union.”

Lark only smiled faintly at that, unsure whether to laugh or sigh.

Their discussions soon shifted to Lark’s proposal to erect a barrier to protect the Kingdom of Thornforge’s capital.

“A barrier?” said King Gram.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

According to Lark, he planned on extending this offer to all Coalition members.

He couldn’t do this before due to the lack of proper medium to use, like mithril or adamantite. But after the discovery of the adamantite vein in the Bottomless Gorge, it should now be possible to protect at least the capital of each allied nation with Heaven’s Dominion.

He’d already asked Gorovir to make him a couple of small adamantite steles, which would serve as the medium of the barrier.

Crafted by the Legendary Blacksmith, the steles would allow the barrier to be stronger and more stable than the ones Lark had cast before.

Some people may call Lark crazy for handing out adamantite steles just like that, but he believed that a block of adamantite was a cheap price to pay if he could save hundreds of thousands of lives.

“I’ll return eventually to Thornforge, Your Majesty. In the interim, please prepare a place where I can erect the stele. It must be kept somewhere safe and protected, yet at the same time easily accessible in the event of an emergency.”

King Gram didn’t object to the creation of the barrier. Only a fool would turn down this golden opportunity.

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you.”

“No, King Lark. I should be the one thanking you. As for my daughter, please keep her safe. That’s all I ask of you.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

***

[The forest leading to Dried Leaf Village]

While Lark was meeting with King Gram, a man with a half-burnt face sped through the sea of trees.

The promise of being lent an ancient poison artifact had driven him this far—an object said to be powerful enough to dissolve steel, bones, and flesh. An artifact powerful enough to massacre an entire city overnight.

For someone like him, whose life had long been reduced to vengeance and survival, it was an opportunity worth any risk.

With that item, he would be able to easily slaughter the citizens of Blackstone City and the mages of the Wizzert Tower!

“It should be around here.”

The path twisted sharply before narrowing into a single trail hemmed in by towering trees. Their branches curved overhead like the ribs of some ancient creature, blocking most of the sunlight.

Thunderlord Nickolai emerged into an open patch of forest and stopped.

The ground here told a clear story.

Trees lay uprooted, their roots jutting out like broken limbs. Several massive trunks had been hurled aside, their bark stripped clean as though struck by invisible hands. No scorch marks. No signs of fire or explosion. Just raw, brute force.

“The Elder fought here,” he muttered. “But against what?”

He crouched and brushed his fingers over the soil. The ground was pressed down in places, the grass flattened in spirals, and streaks of dark, dried blood marked the dirt. The scent of iron lingered faintly in the air.

“Hm?”

Sensing several presences nearby, Nickolai stood up. He frowned and said, “Show yourselves.”

The silence stretched for a heartbeat. Then there were movements.

Seven figures emerged from the forest shadows, their steps soundless, their formation careful. They fanned out instinctively—five forward, two behind—like hunters circling a wary beast.

One of them said, “I told you. It’s another impersonator.”

“I agree. I don’t think that man has any connection with the leader.”

“Tch. Just when we thought we’d found a lead.”

Nickolai didn’t like the mocking tone in the figures’ voices. He snarled, “Who are you?”

“That’s what we wanted to ask you.”

“We heard that our leader appeared in this forest. Who are you, and why are you investigating this place?”