Azure Scepter

Page 101

While Edith may seem to lack wisdom, it is more due to her naivety and lack of systematic education as a ruler. And it is precisely because of her naivety that she dares to charge at the Balrog.

It is true that she lacks extraordinary willpower, but this is indeed the result of deliberate guidance from those around her.

Her so-called lack of power is only relative—from birth, she was destined to be passively drawn into the power struggles between demigods and even gods.

Trier put down his pen, stood up, and rubbed his forehead vigorously.

Looking at the city outside the window, he suddenly realized that his thinking ability was being influenced by his emotions. He inexplicably thought of the coffee Edith had brought him that morning, and also of her somewhat clumsy but sincere words.

Regardless, he and Edith do share common interests.

"I'm not writing anymore." Trier took a deep breath and made up his mind.

He put away his pen and folded the two summaries of prophecy he had written.

He sat in the room for another half hour, and when dawn came, he took the summary of the prophecy to Nordman's subordinate Williams and Granny Lauer.

After ensuring that Edith, Oris, Nordmann, and Vercingetorie all received the message, Trier was put back into the room.

"Next, we just need to wait for the impact of this information to slowly unfold," the time traveler thought.

He glanced at the wall clock beside him; it was exactly 8 a.m. He then lay back down on the bed and, controlling his army of undead, launched a surprise attack on King's Road near Danles.

Just as he had predicted, a small squad of ghostly riders from the Silent Whisperers happened to be passing by, and these elite undead, like him, did not regard the ghouls controlled by Trir as enemies...

In their haste to get there, they didn't even notice the almost invisible corpse demon.

Therefore, when the ghouls charged into the ghost cavalry and began their massacre, the leading cultist mage was completely stunned. By the time he reacted, an invisible ice blade had already slashed his neck—blood gushed out like a faucet, and his bald head, like a boiled egg, fell to the ground with a "thud" and was then crushed by the ghost horses' hooves.

The longsword bit through the ring armor, piercing deep into the chest of the headless corpse, and then suddenly cleaved it in half at the waist.

Trier narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew that this was only a small part of the Silent Whisper's reinforcements for the mobile forces. There were still many valuable enemies on this King's Road.

The killings spread rapidly.

Two hours later, when the Silent Whisperers' scout ravens flew across King's Row, the people controlling them witnessed this hellish scene:

Blood flowed like a river; the silent King's Road was littered with corpses lying in pools of blood. Armor riddled with dents and holes, rotting armor stained with minced flesh lay scattered like trash. Corpses littered the ground, the glaring blood flowing between the gray cobblestones, and tattered flags swayed precariously in the chilly breeze...

The decapitated plague zombies; the mage with a broken sword piercing his neck; the Silent Whisper warrior slumped against a tree stump, his face riddled with crossbow bolts; and the Death Tomb Knight, covered in wounds and nearly chopped into mincemeat, yet still standing—all silently testified to the ferocity of the battle.

The cultist mage controlling the ravens couldn't help but shudder; the scene before him was far too terrifying!

Chapter 202 Morion

The young necromancer suppressed the horror rising in his heart and tried his best to control his magical pet to descend. As the altitude decreased, more and more details were revealed to him.

He saw the snow-like dust produced by the burning of powerful spirit knights, the frost that condensed on the cuts of various corpses, and the maggots crawling and wriggling in the eye sockets of zombies—the stench of negative energy, decay, and blood clung to the entire land.

It let out a "ga" sound, then hovered and landed on a mangled corpse.

When the cultist found the nearly exploded head of the deceased in a crevice of a tree stump, his heart skipped a beat—the dead man was Morion, the "Dead Whisperer."

Moraine is a renowned necromancer in the City That Never Sleeps, having served as the manager of a goblin farm for many years. He is powerful, ruthless, and meticulous in his actions; all the necromancers in the City That Never Sleeps know that Moraine is only one step away from becoming a legendary mage.

Morion was undoubtedly a great man, and I had never even been qualified to meet him before—the only time I met him was when I was a necromancer, just after graduating from the School of Necromancy, and I heard Morion give a speech as an outstanding representative of the school.

The necromancer rubbed his nose.

He had heard from a friend that Morion had also come to the Kingdom of Orko. He came to this dilapidated place with its low level of magic and backward economy just to earn some extra money. But now, this renowned necromancer had died silently under the tree stump.

The necromancer stared intently at the bloodstains spreading from the head. The gray earth beside the tree trunk thirstily drank the blood, and the withered weeds slowly turned dark red—he couldn't help but feel a little bitter.

"Perhaps I should run away," the necromancer thought. "This money is too hot to handle, and the disputes in this place are not for me to get involved in."

With this thought in mind, the young necromancer immediately began packing his things.

At that moment, he couldn't help but feel fortunate that he didn't have much money on him—the advantage of being poor is that you don't have valuables on you, so you can run away at any time.

Trier stared at the screaming raven, then watched with great regret as it took flight.

—A dozen minutes ago, he controlled the ghoul to leave a magical trap on Morion's head. If anyone tried to use magic to flip the head, he could invade the other person's will and thus lock onto the location of the Silent Whisperers' camp.

But now it seems the other party was completely terrified.

Soon, the raven disappeared into the sky.

Trier couldn't help but sigh.

The transmigrator naturally recognized Morion, the bald man who was instantly killed by a ghoul in a sneak attack. In the original history of the game, he had accomplished something great—in the bug plague version, he successfully ascended to the legendary level, and then, through some unknown method, he actually reached an agreement with the insane god-like being who had no intelligence and only knew how to reproduce and kill. He used necromancy to further enhance various bizarre and grotesque insect derivatives.

In the Blade of Strife version, this Morion went even further by making a deal with demons to uncover a demiplane left behind by an old lich, thus becoming a well-known figure throughout the entire Material Plane.

However, this legendary necromancer died mysteriously in the early stages of the God's Descent expansion—most players were unaware of the details, but Trier happened to know the whole story.

At that time, Trier, as a demigod lich, was only one step away from becoming a god. He attempted to seize an important artifact from the Church of the Radiant in order to achieve godhood. To this end, he sincerely invited Morion, who was also a necromancer. However, although Morion verbally agreed to Trier's proposal, he secretly tried to inform the Church of the Radiant, which already had a god who had reached the material plane in a saintly state.

Trier was prepared and ruthlessly killed the informant.

However, it was precisely because of Morion's mysterious death that the Church of the Radiant became wary of Trier, which ultimately led to the failure of the Trier operation.

The time traveler took a deep breath, shook his head, and banished the memories of the past from his mind.

Staring at Morion's bald head, he couldn't help but feel a sense of irony—this future renowned necromancer had died here so silently.

As an absolute authority on necromancy, Trier was quite certain that the bald man had no backup plans such as cloning or reincarnation—in short, the guy was definitely dead.

"What high-level mage goes out without a backup plan?" Trier examined the bald head that had been flattened by a horse's hoof for a moment, then chuckled. He then controlled the corpse demon and stomped on the other's skull until it was completely crushed.

"boom!"

"Bang, bang bang."

Just as Trier was immersed in the strange feeling of killing his future enemy, there was a knock on the door.

He was startled and immediately stood up.

The next moment, the door was gently pushed open, and Noy slowly walked in, the priest's heavy black skirt sweeping across the floor.

She glanced at the military map on the wall, then said softly, "Master, I have already contacted the mercenary through Futia, the one you specifically mentioned, Cyrus Schwartz. He is currently at the tavern where you met with Vercingetori last time, and you can go see him anytime."

Noi paused for a moment, then pursed her lips.

“However, Cyrus Schwartz seems to be very dissatisfied with the bishop. He accuses the bishop of defaulting on due commissions and threatens to plunder church property as compensation, which I think you should know.”

Trier raised an eyebrow; he could tell that Neu seemed to have more to say.

So he expressed his doubts frankly.

Noi sighed, clutching the folds of her skirt, and continued, “Master, please forgive my presumption, but I still feel that relying on these mercenaries who lick blood from their swords is not a good thing. Loyal and professional knights and soldiers are the foundation for maintaining good rule. I have also contacted Aunt Rolina, who is very willing to provide you with the necessary military and financial support.”

Rolina Hall is Noy's aunt and the current head of House Hall in the Southern Duchy.

In Trier's memory, the Hall family was once an important landed noble family in the territory, but most of their fiefdoms were later taken away, and they then turned their wealth to industry and commerce.

"What are her conditions?" Trier sat down and poured himself a cup of tea.

“Her exact words were that she hoped she could fulfill the necessary military obligations of a vassal.” Noy blinked.

Upon hearing this, Trier couldn't help but think to himself: the Duke is only seriously ill and in a coma, not dead yet, and the Earl of Cohen, the theoretical first in line to the throne, is still alive and well.

PS: I'll post a short chapter now, and then I'll post another one later, making it a total of three chapters!

Chapter 203 Humans and Elves

According to Trier's memory, the Hall family is no longer the powerful feudal lords they once were. They now own very little land. The entire family combined only has a few scattered baronies and manors. As for the current head of the family, Rolina, she doesn't even have a single fief.

Therefore, theoretically speaking, Rolina was not a vassal who was required to fulfill military obligations, making her statement all the more intriguing.

She wanted land in return.

Trier pondered for a moment, then asked, "How many people can she provide?"

“Two hundred professionally trained family guards, including five knights. The Hall family will provide all supplies and salaries.” Noy hesitated for a moment, then spoke in his mind. “Completely trustworthy. If you need to physically eliminate those arrogant outsiders, they can all participate directly.”

Trier tapped the table lightly with his knuckles, then nodded.

The most urgent task now is to relocate the excess population. In the past, the concentration of real estate holdings was intended to exchange for something of greater value at a critical moment, and now is clearly that critical moment. Moreover, from his personal perspective, he does not yet control the real estate market, so this is a risk-free business.

Noy lifted the heavy hem of her black wool skirt, slightly bent her knees and bowed her head in a standard ladylike gesture. Her movements were light and graceful, and her soft, silver hair fell down her temples.

Trier raised an eyebrow slightly—according to the code of conduct for clergy in the Church of Radiant Light, nuns should not engage in such indecent behavior.

“Master, I’ll contact Aunt Ruolina right away. It might take some time for her to allocate resources and gather manpower.” Noi looked up and winked playfully. “It will probably take about a week.”

“Thank you, Neu.” Trier took another sip of tea. “Would you like some water?”

Noe smiled and shook his head.

“Master, if you are going to see that mercenary leader, please remember to bring Fythia along, as well as Jessmin, Fythia’s classmate who always goes with him.”

“Also, I asked Nordman to collect some information about the other party, and it’s here.” Noy said, taking out a parchment. “Ceres is a half-elf. Before becoming a mercenary, he was the Earl of Butaya in Gedlan. He was banished by King Ironfist Ciri II because he forcibly married an elf of unknown origin.”

“Ceres was dissatisfied with the king’s verdict, so he launched a rebellion, but no one supported his absurd demands, so he failed disgracefully. Afterwards, he formed a mercenary army with his huge fortune and a small number of confidants.”

“This is too exclusive, an unreasonable ruling,” Trier commented.

Noy narrowed his crimson eyes slightly: "Forgive my bluntness, Master, but maintaining the purity of human blood is a fundamental duty of nobles. Half-blooded heirs would give elves an excuse to interfere with us, which is irresponsible to everyone. Seres is already a half-elf, and if he marries an elf, his offspring will have three-quarters elven blood. I think no human would accept such an elven lord. King Gerdran's decision is very wise."

Before Trill could speak, Noi sighed and then said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, Master, I wasn't talking about Futia. I was just analyzing King Gerdran's motives."

Trier stood up and put away the map drawn by Futia.

"You're going there now?" Noi asked, somewhat surprised, as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Trier nodded slightly: "Of course, I see no need for delay."

“I see no need for this delay!” Cyrus Schwartz slammed his fist on the table, sending a wine glass crashing to the floor. “According to the contract, you should have paid the balance three months ago. Now you’re telling me you need another three months?”

Sitting opposite Seres was a pale-faced priest who yawned nonchalantly—the midday sun was rather glaring.

“Your Excellency, you are being extremely rude,” the priest said deliberately. “You should trust the Church’s credibility. As a strong candidate for the next pope, Bishop Vercingetor has no reason to delay payment—it’s just that now, those golden dragons are to be used in more important areas.”

Seres was so angry he laughed. He sneered, "You said in the first half that you wouldn't delay payment, but in the second half you said that delaying payment is normal. Don't you think that's absurd?"

The priest gritted his teeth and glanced at the elf's long neck beside Seres.

"Anyway, it's no use you coming to me. I'll pay you when I have the money. Oh, by the way, the bishop asked me to give you this."

As he spoke, he tossed out a money bag.

The heavy money bag slammed onto the table, the coins clinking together with a pleasant sound.

Seres' wife, Jasmine, eagerly grabbed the money bag, then her face darkened.

"All silver wolves?" she mocked in a rather sharp tone. "What do you think that's enough to pay for?"

“Interest, and the necessary expenses to maintain your army,” the priest replied coldly. “The bishop plans to pay the principal and interest in installments, and it should be paid off in two years—during which time we will provide you with the necessary supplies, and you should continue to serve us.”

“You despicable humans are really good at calculating,” Jasmine said coldly. “What you’re saying is basically asking us to do your work for free.”

The pastor lowered his head and began fiddling with his fingers.

Seres stared coldly at the priest.

The dilapidated tavern fell into complete silence.

The painted statue of Saint Sebastian on the second floor looks kindly at everyone.

After a long pause, Seres said in a deep voice, "Please tell the bishop that I do not demand repayment of those debts, but I still hope that he can restore my past reputation and allow my wife and me to return to the land where my family has lived for generations."

"That'll have to wait until Bishop Vercingetorie becomes Pope." The priest waved his hand impatiently. "Ceres, we've known each other for so long, I'm not going to beat around the bush—you really should marry a decent wife. I really don't understand, when you were a count, you had so many noble young ladies around you who were of noble blood, well-mannered, talented, and morally upright. Why did you have to choose such a barbaric thing?"

The next instant, a flash of sword light appeared, and the cold blade was pressed firmly against the priest's neck.

“I will not allow you to insult my wife,” Cyrus said coldly.

Even with a sword pressed against his neck, the priest remained nonchalant, casually ruffling his curly hair.

"Alright, Cyrus, stop with your silly tricks. You did the same thing last month—I'm telling you the truth, violence can't change anything."

Seres remained unmoved, his forehead veins bulging with anger, while Jesmin's face was flushed, and tears glistened in her eyes.

At this tense moment—

"boom!"

Suddenly, the tavern's dilapidated wooden door was pushed open, and the worn planks hit the wall with a dull thud.

“Little Deer! No, Feudia.” Seres heard his wife’s voice, which was trembling with tears. “Please help us!”

Seres subconsciously turned his head to look at the wooden door of the tavern.

P.S.: Keeping my promise, this is the third update. Thank you to the generous donors for their donations, recommendations, monthly tickets, and requests for more updates.

Chapter 204 Mediation

The midday sun shone through the wooden door into the room, and Seres could not make out the appearance of the people who came in. He could only vaguely make out that the people who entered were a man and a woman, and there were no servants with them.