Chapter 133: Chapter 126: The Tower of Stars(Part1C)

The room remained quiet after the Guardian’s final words.

Outside the tower, snow continued drifting across the night sky.

The capital of Asterion slept peacefully beneath its blanket of white.

Inside the Tower of Stars, however, the future of the continent was being discussed.

Lucien sat silently while the old mage poured another cup of tea.

Neither rushed to fill the silence.

The Guardian seemed perfectly comfortable waiting.

As though he already knew what Lucien was thinking.

Eventually the old mage spoke.

"You are wondering why I would involve you in matters that concern the entire continent."

Lucien looked toward him and nodded

The Guardian smiled faintly.

"It is a reasonable question."

The old mage placed his cup upon the table.

"Most nobles spend their entire lives fighting over land."

"Some spend it chasing titles."

"Others spend it chasing influence."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Very few concern themselves with the future."

For a moment his gaze drifted toward the window.

Toward the sleeping city below.

"And even fewer are capable of changing it."

The old mage’s expression became thoughtful.

"When I was younger, I believed magic was the answer to everything."

A soft chuckle escaped him.

"Most archmages make that mistake."

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

The Guardian laughed.

"Oh yes."

"We become powerful enough that we begin believing every problem can be solved with another spell."

His smile widened.

"Unfortunately reality disagrees."

The old mage leaned back comfortably.

"For example."

He gestured toward the city below.

"If a village is starving, an archmage can create food."

"Perhaps enough for several hundred people."

The Guardian shrugged.

"A powerful spell."

"A useful spell."

Then his expression sharpened.

"Or one can improve agriculture and feed millions."

The room became quiet.

The old mage pointed directly at Lucien.

"You understand the difference."

Lucien said nothing.

The Guardian smiled.

"Exactly."

The old mage folded his hands.

"Most of the people attending the summit are powerful."

"Exceptionally powerful."

His voice remained calm.

"But power and vision are not the same thing."

That statement lingered.

Then the Guardian stood.

Walking toward one of the massive maps.

This particular map differed from the others.

Instead of kingdoms, it contained symbols.

Markers,Lines and Annotations.

Lucien immediately recognized it as a strategic map.

The old mage noticed.

"Good eye."

His finger touched one marker.

"The Supreme Mage Council."

The room seemed quieter afterward.

The Guardian observed the symbol carefully.

"You have probably imagined them as some kind of ruling authority."

"I did."

The old mage nodded.

"Most people do."

Then he shook his head.

"They are not rulers."

"They do not govern kingdoms."

"They collect no taxes."

"And lastly they command no armies."

His expression became thoughtful.

"And yet every king listens when they speak."

Isnt it very interesting.

The Guardian continued.

"The Council was formed after the previous invasion."

His finger moved across the map.

"The survivors understood something."

His voice lowered slightly.

"If the races returned to endless warfare, the next invasion would destroy everyone."

The old mage’s gaze became distant.

"The world needed a balance."

"A referee kind you may say."

"A final authority capable of preventing disasters."

He smiled faintly.

"Thus the Council was born."

Lucien listened carefully.

The Guardian returned to the table.

Then sat down once more.

"The Council contains many factions."

The old mage’s eyes narrowed.

"Some believe humanity should prepare aggressively."

"Others believe the invasion remains centuries away."

His smile faded.

"A few believe it may never happen."

Lucien immediately identified the problem.

Complacency.

The Guardian nodded.

"As expected."

He sighed softly.

"Nine hundred and fifty years is a very long time."

His voice became quieter.

"Long enough for people to forget."

The old mage stared into the fire.

"When a man hears stories about monsters from a thousand years ago, they become myths."

"When a kingdom hears warnings for centuries without consequence, they become noise."

His eyes hardened.

"The Council knows the invasion will return."

A brief pause followed.

"But knowledge and action are not the same thing."

The room fell silent.

The Guardian’s gaze shifted toward Lucien.

"Which is why I need you."

The words were spoken simply.

Yet they carried weight.

The old mage continued.

"The summit occurs once every several decades."

"Important matters are discussed."

"Resources allocated."

"Policies established."

His eyes sharpened.

"It is one of the few opportunities to influence the future of the continent."

Lucien considered that carefully.

Then asked:

"You want me there because of Elarion."

The Guardian smiled.

"Partly."

His expression grew thoughtful.

"The Council understands magic."

"They understand armies."

"They understand politics."

The old mage leaned forward slightly.

"But they do not understand industry."

The room became quiet.

"I want them to see what you are building."

His voice remained calm.

"I want them to understand what mass production means."

"I want them to understand what happens when a kingdom can manufacture thousands of weapons rather than hundreds."

The Guardian’s eyes gleamed faintly.

"I want them to see artillery."

"Factories."

"And machine guns."

The old mage chuckled softly.

"I would very much enjoy watching their reactions."

For the first time, Lucien almost laughed.

Almost.

The Guardian noticed.

Again.

"That is twice tonight."

The old mage looked pleased with himself.

Lucien ignored him.

The Guardian eventually calmed down.

Then his expression gradually became serious once more.

"There is another reason."

The atmosphere shifted.

The old mage’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"You have attracted attention."

Lucien wasn’t surprised.

The Guardian nodded.

"Good."

"I would be worried if you were."

He rose once more.

Walking slowly toward one of the bookshelves.

For several moments he examined various books.

Then removed a thick leather folder.

The old mage returned.

Placed it upon the table.

And tapped its cover.

"This."

His voice remained calm.

"Is a collection of reports."

Lucien looked at it.

The Guardian continued.

"Foreign merchants."

"Travelers."

"Observers."

"Agents."

His smile disappeared.

"Spies."

The room became still.

The old mage opened the folder.

Several pages were covered in writing.

Maps,Notes and Observations.

The Guardian casually turned a few pages.

Then pushed the folder toward Lucien.

"Elarion appears frequently."

Lucien glanced downward.

Several reports mentioned factories.

Others discussed military production.

A few described the Warhound project.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

The Guardian noticed.

"As expected."

The old mage folded his hands.

"Your rise has been too rapid."

"Your innovations too unusual."

"And Your results too impressive."

His expression hardened.

"People are asking questions."

The room became silent.

Then the Guardian added:

"Questions you may not want answered."

The implication was obvious.

Lucien closed the folder.

The old mage nodded approvingly.

"You understand."

For several moments neither spoke.

Then Lucien asked:

"Who?"

The Guardian smiled faintly.

"A better question."

His eyes sharpened.

"Foreign kingdoms."

"Merchant consortiums."

"Several noble alliances."

His voice lowered.

"And others."

The final word carried meaning.

The old mage continued.

"There are organizations operating in the shadows of this continent."

His expression became distant.

"Some ancient."

"Some secret."

"Some powerful enough that kings prefer pretending they do not exist."

The room grew quiet.

The Guardian tapped the folder.

"Fortunately, most of them only observe."

"At least for now."

Lucien remained silent.

The old mage leaned back.

"Which brings us to the second part of my offer."

The atmosphere became noticeably more serious.

The old mage’s eyes locked onto his.

"You have been investigating your mother’s death."

For the first time that evening, complete silence filled the room.

Even the fire seemed quieter.

Lucien’s expression remained calm.

Yet the Guardian immediately noticed the subtle tension.

The old mage nodded.

"As expected."

His voice softened slightly.

"Your mother was a remarkable woman."

The statement surprised Lucien.

The Guardian smiled faintly.

"I knew her."

That was unexpected.

The old mage looked toward the fire.

For several moments he appeared lost in thought.

Then he sighed.

"The official story never satisfied me."

His voice became quieter.

"Nor should it satisfy you."

The room felt colder.

The Guardian continued.

"Your mother did not die because she was weak."

His eyes hardened.

"Nor because she was unlucky."

The old mage folded his hands.

"There were irregularities."

"Contradictions."

"Missing reports."

His gaze shifted toward Lucien.

"And several individuals who benefited from her death."

The room became completely still.

The Guardian’s expression grew serious.

"Over the years I collected information."

His voice remained calm.

"Witness testimonies."

"Private correspondence."

"Fragments of investigations."

The old mage’s eyes narrowed.

"Pieces of a puzzle."

Lucien remained silent.

The Guardian studied him carefully.

Then spoke.

"I do not yet possess every answer."

His voice was honest.

"But I possess more than anyone else in Asterion."

That statement carried enormous weight.

The old mage allowed several moments to pass.

Then continued.

"I am willing to share everything."

The room remained silent.

Outside the tower, snow continued falling.

Inside, the conversation had moved beyond politics.

Beyond kingdoms.

Beyond invasions.

Now it had become personal.

The Guardian leaned forward slightly.

"You accompany me to the summit."

"You show the Council what Elarion is becoming."

His gaze remained steady.

"In return, I provide every piece of information I possess regarding your mother’s assassination."

A pause followed.

Then he added one final thing.

"And I ensure certain eyes stop watching you."

The room became quiet.

The old mage’s expression softened slightly.

"There are advantages to being very old."

A faint smile appeared.

"People tend to listen."

Lucien stared at the fire.

The Guardian remained silent.

No pressure,threats or manipulation.

Only an offer.

And perhaps that made it more dangerous than any threat could have.

Because for the first time since arriving in the capital, Lucien found himself genuinely considering an alliance with one of the oldest and most influential men on the continent.

The future stood before him.

And for the first time, it was asking for his cooperation.