Chapter 830: A Show of Strength

Henwell comes away from his conversation with Nissen deeply satisfied.

Truths long hidden beneath the weight of time are finally beginning to emerge before him.

The more he learns, the more carefully he must approach the future.

Henwell decides that his plans need a few minor adjustments.

Nissen shared those secrets partly as an acknowledgment of Peace Haven.

He also meant to repay Henwell for extending a helping hand.

But both men lead major powers. Anyone who reduces the exchange to personal sentiment alone is a political fool.

Nissen's secrets carried a deeper message as well.

The church and the empire are powerful, but not as untouchable as Henwell had imagined.

Their age of dominance on this continent ended long ago.

Most importantly, the new gods led by the Lord of the Holy Spirit cannot wield their power freely here.

Nissen was effectively telling Henwell to stir up as much trouble as he pleased. The church and the empire could do little to him on this continent.

There is certainly an element of pushing Henwell forward to draw the enemy's fire.

Even so, the information is invaluable as Henwell prepares to face the powerful outsider about to arrive.

Over the next few days, the delegations arrive one after another.

The Western Federation, the organizer of the conference, is the one party that fails to appear.

Every attendee is an influential figure empowered to represent a nation's will, though none is the supreme ruler.

Ika sends Prince Kullen, the Grand Duke of Livos, the Princess of Ika, the Grand Princess, the mysterious Lady of Calamity, and Dilina, who has quietly acquired a godhead.

Ogiro sends Prince Howorth and Prince Austin, a leading contender for the throne.

Lumir lies nearby, and the conference is being held within its territory.

Out of courtesy and because of Lumir's position, King Obilian attends in person.

With so many powerful figures already present, the Western Federation continues putting on airs, determined to make a grand entrance at the end.

Everyone is displeased, though no one shows it.

Only after the others have waited nearly another week does the Western Regions delegation stroll into Seven Kings Town.

Its lineup is far grander than those of the kingdoms' delegations.

Among them are Ashiburn, Archbishop of the Western Federation; Eppdin, the Judgment Bishop; and Beirus, commander of the Church Knights.

Senar, the Eye of the Holy Spirit, is also present on behalf of the Church.

Yet these senior Church leaders in the Western Regions are merely attendants, not the delegation's leaders.

The empire's contingent is just as impressive: Basarom, Chief Administrator of the Western Regions, and Tobias, commander of the Imperial Knights.

Even Luke, Marshal of the Western Regions and the empire's only Glory-Rank professional there, makes an appearance.

Yet none of these men leads the empire's delegation.

After settling the Western Regions delegation into its residence, Henwell arranges a welcome banquet.

Its members never appear. Instead, they send a knight to summon every delegation's representative to their residence for the conference.

Being ordered about so casually only deepens everyone's resentment.

Angry though they are, the representatives still attend.

Henwell enters the residence's meeting room, counts the chairs, and frowns.

The others notice the problem too and cannot help smiling.

A church knight shows everyone to a seat one after another. Only Henwell remains standing in the doorway.

An elderly cleric studies Henwell with a smile. "You must be Henwell. Today's conference is between the Western Regions and the kingdoms. You should excuse yourself."

Everyone waits for the spectacle, but Henwell does not lose his temper. He smiles mildly. "Unfortunately, I am here on behalf of His Majesty Arius of the Vorry Kingdom."

A middle-aged man from the empire laughs. "Heh... Henwell, I have heard about you. So now you can even represent a king?"

The elderly cleric says coolly, "Henwell, you are not entitled to represent the royal family."

Henwell produces a document. "Here. This is not merely my own claim. My king is fighting at the Northern Mountain Front and cannot leave, so he specifically ordered me to attend in his place."

The elderly cleric nods. "I see. Then please come in."

Even then, no one brings Henwell a chair.

A gloomy man beside the elderly cleric says, "Henwell, you are a registered Paladin, but that status carries no weight here. Stand and listen."

Henwell does not answer. He walks straight to the conference table and kicks the long table in half.

As everyone stares, Henwell sits on one of the broken halves. "There. Now I have a seat. Let us begin."

Archbishop Ashiburn shouts, "Henwell! What do you think you are doing? Do you know where you are? This is no place for your insolence!"

Despite his furious expression, malicious delight gleams in Ashiburn's eyes.

The archbishop has long ruled the region like a petty king. Clearly, he resents the Church sending outsiders to divide his authority.

Henwell replies as if the answer were obvious. "Where am I? In my own home, of course. Everything from the chair beneath you to every building in this town belongs to me."

"What is wrong with breaking something in my own house? Does the Church intend to control even that?"

Just as the two Church representatives are about to erupt, Obilian rises. "Go! Bring Henwell another chair, you witless fools!"

Henwell waves a hand. "No need. I brought my own."

Henwell snaps his fingers. Windsor, one of his knights, lifts an enormous, exquisitely crafted chair onto her shoulder and barges past every Western Regions knight in her path.

The doorway is too narrow, so Windsor kicks away part of the frame on his way in.

Henwell settles into the throne-like chair directly opposite the Western Regions delegation. The other powers' representatives cannot hold back their laughter.

The gloomy Church man asks, "Henwell, do you know who I am?"

Henwell rolls his eyes. "Why should I care who you are? The problem is that you still don't seem to know who I am."

Archbishop Ashiburn immediately turns solemn. "This is Juventus, the Paladin Prelate sent by Church headquarters. He is the supreme leader of all Paladins."

Henwell tilts his head and glances at Juventus, the Paladin Prelate. "Tch! I thought the Church's head of the Paladins would be someone formidable. Turns out you are only Glory Rank."

Juventus sneers. "Heh... Then come and find out whether this Paladin Prelate carries enough weight."

Henwell draws both longswords. "Outside."

Everyone clenches their fists beneath the pressure of Henwell's aura as he stands with both locks fully unleashed and blood-red flames rising from his body.

The empire's two representatives study Henwell with open curiosity.

The Church, however, has been left with no graceful way out, especially Juventus himself.

Only now does Juventus realize that Henwell is far stronger than he imagined.