Chapter 255: The Monarch’s Sentence

The weight of the King’s gaze upon the hall was comparable to a mountain collapsing onto the marble floor. The monarch straightened on his throne, resting his elbows upon the gold and stone-carved armrests.

"Advisor Varis," the King’s voice boomed, devoid of any flicker of mercy. "Your incompetence and your reports riddled with omissions have cost the lives of three thousand elite soldiers, the loss of two Royal Auditors, and the maiming of a noble heir. For the crime of gross negligence threatening the security of the crown, I declare your life forfeit."

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, mercy! I beg of you!" shrieked Varis, crawling across the floor toward the dais steps.

The King did not blink. With a nod toward Beatrix Le Croix, he gave the command.

SNAP-CRACK!

The silver-barbed whip sliced through the air with precision. The metal tips wrapped around Varis’s neck, and with a sharp tug from Beatrix, the advisor’s head was severed, rolling across the marble. The body hit the floor with a dull thud before the guards dragged it out of the hall like trash.

Prince Caelen kept his eyes locked onto the floor, pale as wax, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. He knew that Varis’s death was a warning aimed straight at him.

The monarch then turned his attention toward the two chained warriors.

"General-Adjutant Valerius... Count Gideon," stated the monarch coldly. "You held command over the advance. Even though intelligence failures conditioned the outcome, the vanguard’s defeat cannot go unpunished before this court."

The King paused, letting the tension choke the hall.

"Valerius, you are stripped of your military rank and confined to the central bastion dungeons pending the military restructuring. Count Gideon, due to the loss of your limb and your mana state, you will be placed under medical custody in the Auditors’ tower. Both of you will remain under the guardianship and supervision of Beatrix until your final role in the forest campaign is decided."

As the guards dragged Varis’s corpse out of the hall, medical attendants led the battered Count Gideon toward the healing towers, and the stripped Valerius was escorted down into the depths of the dungeons.

The King stared at the marble before turning his gaze toward the dais where the Council of Elders and the high military command stood.

"Generals, councilors... what is your stance regarding the forest territory?" inquired the monarch in a commanding tone.

"Absolute extermination, Your Majesty!" bellowed a division general, slamming his fist against his breastplate. "Deploy the Second and Third Legions! We must crush those savages and reclaim the honor of the royal banner!"

A roar of agreement erupted among the majority of the nobles and officers in the hall, echoing demands for a war to eradicate Kellar’s tribe.

Yet one figure remained motionless amidst the clamor: Julian Montfort, the Grand General.

"We must not march to war against that forest," declared Julian, his dry voice silencing the shouting throughout the room.

The King raised an eyebrow, surprised. That Julian Montfort himself—a veteran famed for his ruthless nature and thirst for battle—would object to launching a military campaign was unheard of.

"Can you explain your reasoning, Julian?" inquired the monarch, leaning forward.

"Of course, Your Majesty," replied the Grand General, stepping forward with composure. "Just a couple of days ago, we confirmed the loss of the Northern Hill Fort following a surprise assault by the Kingdom of Aethelgard. On top of that, border posts report we have lost a fortress to the east against the Kingdom of Valoria."

The assembly of nobles froze in silence.

"Our primary borders are currently under direct threat from two rival kingdoms," continued Julian, folding his arms. "If we mobilize our core legions into the depths of the forest to hunt down a fortressed tribe of savages, we will be left exposed and struck down by Aethelgard and Valoria on two simultaneous fronts."

"I concur entirely with the Grand General," interjected Eldridge Granville, the elder leader of the Council of Elders, stepping forward while leaning on his carved cane. "Attacking them right now is not merely a poor option, but an utterly stupid idea, Your Majesty."

The elder’s words fell like a slap across the faces of the younger officers of the royal guard. Several captains tightened their grip on their sword hilts, and the division general who had demanded total extermination stepped forward, his face flushed red with rage.

"A stupid idea?!" bellowed the division general, unable to contain his fury at the insult. "With all due respect, Elder Eldridge, the crown’s soldiers did not come here to listen to cowardice! If our proposal to defend the kingdom’s honor strikes you as stupid... then what, pray tell, is your brilliant idea?"

Eldridge Granville did not flinch. He planted his carved cane onto the marble floor and raised his eyes toward the throne.

"Your Majesty... the true reason our kingdom has been able to expand so openly without the constant fear of surprise invasions has been, precisely, the great forest at our backs," explained Eldridge in an unyielding voice. "Our rear has always been protected by that natural barrier. We do not know what exactly has transpired in those lands or where these new enemies came from, but we must not forget one fundamental truth: it was us who brought blood to their doorsteps."

The silence in the hall began to fracture into a murmur.

"That tribe has always traded with us peacefully in the past," continued Eldridge, locking eyes with the monarch. "I propose that we dispatch an official delegation to seek peace and restore commercial ties before that shaman decides to march upon our borders."

An explosion of jeers, uproar, and insults echoed throughout the entire hall.

"Peace with savages?!" shouted a noble from the upper dais. "Send diplomats to those who decapitated our Auditors?! What a disgrace!"

"The senile old man wants us to kneel before forest barbarians!" shouted a voice from among the officers’ ranks.

Amidst the chaos and the mocking laughter of the nobility, Prince Caelen shook his head in silence. In his mind, the elder’s proposal was nothing short of utopian foolishness; he had witnessed firsthand the icy glare of Kellar and the ferocity of his beasts. Believing that such a man would accept a diplomatic apology after the slaughter was a delusional fantasy.

For his part, the King remained silent upon his throne. Ignoring the uproar and the shouts shaking the hall, he stared at Eldridge Granville and Julian Montfort, meticulously weighing every single one of their words upon the scales of the crown.