The king slapped Ambrose's shoulder so heartily that it nearly broke his Shapeshifting spell.

Ambrose hurriedly bowed and stepped back. "Your Majesty is wise. I will make the arrangements at once. As for these gentlemen..."

His gaze shifted to the three court mages. All of them looked tense.

As Ambrose glanced their way, they took deep breaths and prepared for a fight. Given what had just transpired, the Ragetide Kingdom might well attempt to take them down right here, right now.

But they were all also keenly aware that they might not survive a direct fight.

Tharok, for one, was an alchemist with limited combat capability. The kingdom could not afford large-scale development of magical automata, and he had come to the meeting unprepared; he did not have enough potions on hand for a real fight.

Winston, the necromancer, was even more on edge. He was moments away from summoning undead—but he hesitated. The king's eyes were already turning silver-white. At such close range, a necromancer might be annihilated instantly by a stormpriest.

A necromancer was not a lich. Winston did not have a phylactery of his own.

As for the third court mage, he had quietly retreated to the side, clearly intending to remain out of the conflict altogether.

"Relax," Ambrose said mildly. "We may yet be at war, and your strength remains valuable. Now that everything is laid bare, it'll be easier to cooperate, won't it? Do you truly believe you could storm out of here and find another kingdom willing to employ you as court mages?"

Tharok and Winston froze. Despite their secrets, was the Ragetide Kingdom still willing to work with them?

"Oh, come now," Ambrose continued coolly. "A discredited alchemist and a necromancer whose identity has been exposed—do you truly think you'll be able to come by another position as court mages? You can yet remain an asset of the Ragetide Kingdom, but you'll have to take a pay cut next year. Agreed?"

The proposal stunned everyone. Even the king blinked.

Could business negotiations really be conducted like this...?

"Monge," the king began, puzzled, "you still intend to keep them?"

Ambrose bowed slightly. "Your Majesty, forgive my bluntness. Our kingdom cannot compare to others. The sea is vast, yet yields us too little. We need Master Tharok's potions. We need Master Winston's scrolls. We simply do not wish to remain fools being fleeced.

"Now that everything is out in the open, I trust these two masters will make amends. Isn't that so?"

He turned to the mages pointedly. After a moment's hesitation, both Tharok and Winston nodded. "Your Majesty," Tharok said stiffly, "we will naturally compensate the kingdom for any... misunderstandings that have taken place."

The king was rendered momentarily speechless. Moments ago, he had been ready to kill at least one of them on the spot. At this distance, he was confident he could crush one outright.

Trained for violence, he was discombobulated by Ambrose's sudden change of tack.

Ambrose, after all, had no intention of letting them fight. In such confined quarters, a single spell could disrupt his disguise. Once exposed, how could he stand to profit?

The best possible outcome was if the two mages backed down.

Whatever thoughts they harbored, they would not turn on him immediately. By the time they retaliated, Ambrose would be long gone.

"Very well," he said smoothly. "I trust you will honor your word. Your Majesty, I shall arrange the military preparations."

With that, he turned and left.

Leaving the great council hall, Ambrose headed to issue orders to the Ragetide Legion, only to find Ariel blocking his path.

Of all people, the violent princess was among those he least wished to see at the moment. Still, he bowed politely.

"Your Highness, do you require something?"

Ariel studied him with her emerald eyes for a long moment. "Monge, your ability to deceive surpasses my expectations. How did I never notice?"

Ambrose's soulfire flickered. "Deceive, Your Highness?"

"I overheard everything. You deceived the undead of the Silent Sea Pirate Company, and you deceived Tharok and Winston. You're not going to let them off lightly, are you? You didn't expose the last mage's crimes either—I refuse to believe he's innocent. You must have further plans. You intend to eliminate all three of them eventually, don't you?"

Ambrose stared at her, baffled. What kind of narrative had she constructed in her head?

He was no stranger to such personalities. Many young warriors who invested heavily in strength felt compelled to prove they also possessed Intelligence. They overanalyzed events, filling in gaps with elaborate speculation to achieve a satisfying sense of superiority.

And Ariel was precisely that type, eager to demonstrate her supposed wisdom.

The best solution was to flatter her.

"Your Highness's insight humbles me," Ambrose said solemnly. "Such minor tricks could not escape your eyes. Since the kingdom stands at a critical juncture, I ask that you keep this confidential. If they discover my plan, we won't be able to face our enemies in light of the resulting turbulence."

Ariel's face lit up.

"I knew it! I was right!" she crowed in delight. "Don't worry. I'll keep your secret. Monge, you're far more clever than I thought. Why have you been hiding your skills all this time?"

"That... is a conversation for another time, Your Highness. I truly must attend to urgent matters."

He needed to extricate himself from the Ragetide Kingdom's affairs and assist Aige in killing the founding emperor of the Lyon Empire.

Just imagining it thrilled him. If he truly accomplished such a feat, the Necromantic Codex would surely dedicate an entire chapter to his glory.

But Ariel suddenly declared, "I'm coming with you."

"...Why?"

Monge Greywater and the princess had rarely seen eye to eye. Arguments between them were common; harmony was not.

Had she truly been won over by a few words?

Her bright, eager gaze suggested exactly that.

"I thought you merely agreed with my political views," she said firmly. "I didn't realize you had your own vision, and an even better one at that. You can change this kingdom. I will help you."

Lord of Storms above... Was this truly his chosen champion? Little wonder that he couldn't defeat the Lord of Dawn. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The Ragetide Kingdom was simply too isolated. The royal succession was determined by fists, not politics. Over centuries, the monarchy's political acumen had atrophied.

After all, only one or two heirs ever became legends in a generation. Why bother with politics when a duel solved everything?

Ariel had no real rivals at all. She had never needed to rely on political cunning.

Given her environment, the fact she tried to think at all was almost admirable.

Perhaps that was why the Lord of Storms had favored her. She was, at least, a slightly smarter ruler than the usual musclebound brutes.

But Ambrose could not let her follow him. If he were exposed—

"Your Highness," he said gravely, "though I have resolved the issue with the court mages, they may still harbor ulterior motives. Your duty now is to remain by His Majesty's side and ensure his safety."

"No need," Ariel replied lightly. "Look, they're leaving."

She pointed. The three court mages were already departing from the hall, hurrying away without so much as a greeting.

She continued, "Monge, for someone who claims to be a strategist, you're neglecting the obvious. You're the easiest target for revenge. You know how weak you are. If anyone requires protection, it's you."

Ambrose: "..."

He had completely forgotten that Monge Greywater wasn't even a legend. Not only that, he had invested all his ability points in leadership.

He was utterly useless. No wonder Ambrose had kicked him aside so easily.

Ariel looked determined. There was no shaking her off. Ambrose could only allow her to follow him—for now. She likely wouldn't see through him. And if necessary... he could always sell her to a paladin as sparring practice.

He prayed silently, "God of Alchemy, grant Captain Aige strength. Her opponent's just a heroic spirit. Let her finish him off quickly!"

Outside the palace, the plaza had transformed beyond recognition. Massive craters scarred the earth. Not a single stretch of flat ground remained.

Aige and Arthur Lyon's battle had not abated. Rather, it had intensified.

At first, they had contained their power within the square. But as both unleashed their full strength, the shockwaves spread outward. Districts two or three kilometers away were already being affected.

Aige's magical blasts flattened entire blocks. Arthur Lyon's sword energy began to spill beyond control. A single Sacred Slash tore a fissure hundreds of meters long across the ground.

Had Ambrose not ordered an immediate evacuation, the casualties would have been severe.

Aige was astonished by the heroic spirit's strength.

He was terrifyingly powerful, even as a spirit far weaker than his living self.

She couldn't help but murmur, "Arthur Lyon, you're truly a legend among legends. The founding emperor of the Lyon Empire is extraordinary indeed."

Arthur swept his blade, dispersing the nearby corruption. "Cease your pretense," he said coldly. "I will not believe your lies. The Lyon Empire? Seventeen centuries? These are surely fabrications of the Dragon Tyrant, meant to deceive me. I am no founding emperor, merely the most handsome paladin on this continent."

For a moment, Aige felt pity for the spirit. He had guarded this place for seventeen centuries solely to slay the Dragon Tyrant. His will hadn't dulled; his vigilance hadn't wavered. Yet even with that wish fulfilled, he could neither believe it nor allow himself to.

"Arthur Lyon," Aige said quietly, "you are a human worthy of respect." She raised both hands high. "I will fight at my full strength."

Dark power gathered across the heavens. A colossal battleship emerged from a vortex of black clouds.

Aige had decided that she would summon her true body and unleash the complete power of a demigod.

To go all out was the greatest respect she could offer Arthur Lyon.