The Lord Is Too Overbearing

Time flies just as fast as an arrow; a week had passed in the blink of an eye. After training together for hours with little to no time to rest, the soldiers of Henosis were ready to return to their homes and take a rest.

To say that they were ready as a team would be lying, but their overall prowess was considerably better than it was a week ago. It was still hard to judge how well they would perform later, but their survival was not something one should question.

All of these were thanks to Basil’s guidance.

“It is rather embarrassing for me to say it, but this week is more enlightening than my three years of constant fight against Demons. I really thank you for that, Head Commander Basil.”

Looking at the politely bowing Cyane before him with a quirked eyebrow, Basil wondered how Cyane became the representative of the Legion Commanders behind him who were also bowing at him and what they were grateful for.

All he had done for the past week was beating the soul out of them without providing them any suggestions so they could get better. He didn’t know why it was enlightening for them, but he didn’t bother to ask and just accepted the gratitude.

“We will meet again in five days,” Basil said. “Until then, take a good rest and stay sharp. We can’t be losing on our debut.”

“We will keep that in mind, Head Commander.”

‘Good; the hierarchy has been properly established,’ Basil thought as he nodded his head.

As the Legion Commanders from Braxtein’s neighbouring Kingdoms left the field to return to their homes along with their troops, the Cohort Commanders, who had been waiting for Basil to be alone, came up to him.

“We greet the new Lord of the Pacifer.”

They all knelt respectfully before him as if they were facing their Empress. Basil, although he didn’t look upset, didn’t look that fond of what was happening.

He didn’t mind the way he was treated, but he was curious how the Elves knew about his identity. As far as he knew, after all, no one but some upper echelons knew about Pacifer Clan and his status as the Fated Child.

‘Even if my troops are all resting in the Manor, it is still risky doing this. What are they thinking exactly?’ he wondered.

Worried that Basil might get the wrong idea, Tinuviel immediately stepped forward and explained the situation. “Pardon for our insolence, Lord Basil. We just couldn’t help ourselves seeing that the successor of our benefactors is here.”

“I thought not many of them even remembered about us, Tinuviel,” Basil said neutrally.

“The day you showed us that miraculous scene where you did something that only the Elf can do, many of the elderly Elves, who were also present at the time, were reminded of Pacifer Clan, Lord Basil. They came to us to ask for some explanation and—”

“I get it,” Basil interrupted and sighed lightly. ‘So, that was Eloreth’s real goal at that time.’

Telling the Elves to get up, Basil looked at their reverend gaze solemnly. That was the look that Ione had always given him two years ago; the look that he wasn’t very fond of since he hated to be revered like a God.

“Are you going to return immediately, Lord Basil?” Aegnor asked.

“Does Eloreth still need something from me?” Basil asked.

“Ah, the Empress is busy dealing with our affairs, so she said that she would spend some time with you after the Conquest of the 27th Obelisk. This request comes from a friend of ours, who is too fragile to meet you, Lord Basil.”

“The Chieftain of Phosdio?”

“Yes, Lord Basil.”

To conquer the 27th Obelisk, the Elven Race sent the best Warriors from the Tribes that possessed the strongest military power in Padeitophys. Those three Tribes were Alphoetra, Skudera and Phosdio.

Each Tribe sent five Cohorts to join Henosis Army. Out of the three Tribes, only two Tribes also sent their Chieftains to the battlefield.

For that reason, Basil had only met Tinuviel and Aegnor. He hadn’t met the Chieftain of Phosdio, so he accepted the invitation to have some tea with the Chieftains.

Following Tinuviel’s lead, Basil and Iliana went to the residence of Phosdio’s Chieftain. The Cohort Commanders had returned to their villages, allowing their Chieftains to mind their business.

“I thought you wanted to hurry to go home,” Iliana said on their way to the residence.

“Why?”

“You want to meet them, don’t you?”

“Now is not the time,” Basil calmly answered. “Besides, Ione hasn’t informed me of anything yet, which means she hasn’t finished her task yet.”

“So, can we spend the rest of our holiday here?”

“Sadly, no. we still have to report to Anthony about the military power of each Kingdom.”

Iliana sighed lightly and then said nothing. She was irked that she couldn’t have as much time together with Basil as she used to, but she knew she couldn’t complain given their situation.

Basil noticed her gloomy mood but could do nothing other than caress her hand reassuringly. He also found it unfair that they wouldn’t be able to enjoy their lives until their enemies perished, but being bitter about it wouldn’t serve anything.

They could only grit their teeth, do their best and stand in triumph. If they bent their knees even slightly, which wouldn’t happen, that would be the end of them.

“We have arrived, Lord Basil,” Tinuviel announced.

Instructing Deacon to stop, Basil and Iliana got down from said Tyrant Saberwolf. The Saberwolf shrunk his body to the size of a puppy and perched himself on his Master’s shoulder as said Master walked into the residence of Phosdio’s Chieftain.

“The Chieftain of Phosdio Tribe is suffering from an unavoidable sickness called old age. She can still perform mundane things, but she can no longer use her skills on the battlefield,” Tinuviel whispered to Basil and Iliana.

She was afraid that Basil and Iliana might misunderstand the condition of the Chieftain. She wanted them to know that the Chieftain was healthy as an Elf but weak as a Warrior, so they would treat the Chieftain like any normal Elves.

Basil barely listened to the explanation Tinuviel provided. He was too intrigued by the overwhelming vitality—the Nature Mana in the residence—to care about such a trivial matter.

After some time of walking, the four people stopped; they had arrived at a minimalistic and beautiful garden. In one of the corners of the garden, an elderly Elven lady, who looked even older than Siofra, was watering a flower with a smile on her face.

“Ah, this presence… really takes me back,” she muttered audibly.

As she turned around, her eyes were instantly planted on Basil. Their eyes met in the next moment, causing her to put her hand on her chest and clutched it tightly.

Even though Iliana, Aegnor and Tinuviel were also there, they didn’t think the elderly Elf could see them. They felt like they were in a world that belonged to Basil and the elderly lady; they were there but they could do nothing other than watch.

The elderly Elf walked slowly toward Basil. He stood in his place motionless and quirked his eyebrow as he wondered what caused the unbearable sorrow she was exuding.

“It has been two millennia.”

She hugged him as soon as she was right before him. He wrapped his arms around her back lightly and patted her back softly to somehow soothe the sadness she was exuding that was starting to overwhelm him.

Silence filled the air for a few seconds as the elderly Elf spent it hugging Basil. She let go of him when she stopped exuding sadness and then looked at him with a small smile.

“Allow me to introduce myself to you, Young Lord. My name is Estel tia Phosdio; it is a great pleasure to be given the chance to meet you.”

“Tell me about The Lord,” Basil said straightly.

“That is… shouldn’t you know The Lord better than me, Young Lord?”

“I have heard a lot of him, but I can’t tell which one is true and which one is nonsense,” Basil replied. “Everyone seems to prevent me from knowing the truth, so they take me spinning around in a circle.”

“What do you want to know, Young Lord?”

Basil’s gaze turned solemn as he said, “The Lord’s appearance.”

…

In the end, things ended the way Basil had expected but didn’t want.

Standing in the middle of the Teleportation Magic Circle with Iliana and the Legion he commanded, he looked at Estel with a small, bitter smile. The Chieftain was sorry that she couldn’t provide him with anything that he wanted to know.

Displeased as he was by the development, he still didn’t blame Estel for that. He knew who was playing this time and was fully aware it was something that she could stand against.

“I can’t remember it, no matter how many times I have tried, Young Lord. The moment the Lord fell, nothing but his presence could be remembered vividly,” was the answer Estel gave him.

Basil had stopped asking about anything at the answer and immediately accepted the invitation to talk while having tea. During that time, he had only paid half of his attention to Estel as he focused on musing about the status quo.

He then realized during his musing that The Lord was forgotten because of the Church but because The Lord wanted it. He didn’t know for what reason but he was sure about it because only a God could pull something like that.

‘Now that I think about it, it seems weird that the Church even has the power to make the entire world forget about such an influential character. They couldn’t even survive in the past, so it was not their doing.’

As the Magic Circle below him lit up, Basil shook his head to clear his head. Again, he thought too much about something that didn’t have much influence on his future.

The light from the Magic Circle engulfed him and the Legion he led, blinding them temporarily. When they regained their vision, they were back in the palace’s backyard.

“Huh? What is this?”

“What is happening?”

“Does the King have an appointment with them?”

The people couldn’t help blinking their eyes in bemusement as they looked around. Tens of people dressed in white, loose garments with golden linings were surrounding them, exuding a fairly intense killing intent.

Basil and Iliana looked at the scene calmly, but they were blasting their killing intents to everyone there, making the situation even more bemusing.

“Basil Pacifer…” someone stepped forward, parting the people in white surrounding them. “You have committed the biggest sin a human can ever make and that is being born into this world as the son of a witch.”

The atmosphere thickened as Basil’s eyes met the eyes of the obnoxious person who had just spoken, the Great Pontiff, Jaheim Abremson. His Dragon Slayer’s Intent pressured the souls of the people so much that some of them had even gone crazy.