Chapter 281: Formation of the Alliance

The Dragon Mother's funeral was simple: a small clearing, a makeshift pyre, and the White Dragon Lord standing quietly aside.

After a long silence, the White Dragon Lord raised a claw. A stream of fire sprayed from it, igniting the pyre beneath the corpse.

Whoosh!

Doused in accelerant, the firewood caught instantly. Flames shot into the sky alongside thick plumes of black smoke. The intense heat melted the falling snowflakes, turning them to water before they could strike the burning white dragon.

The White Dragon Lord stood alone and silent on the pure snow. The flickering firelight danced across him in shifting light and shadow, like a twisting ghost.

Early spring nights were bitterly cold. The north wind howled through the air, whipping the heavy snow into a frenzy.

Freezing snowflakes fell on his body, but a furious fire named hatred burned in his heart—a fire that only the blood of his enemies could extinguish.

"Balinor. The Cult of the Dragon,"

Beneath the pitch-black night sky, beside the brilliant flames, the White Dragon Lord muttered almost inaudibly.

His voice was like the biting winter wind: ruthless, freezing, and brimming with suppressed murderous intent.

In all fairness, among the Dragon Race, the Dragon Mother was an absolutely devoted and responsible parent. Not only had she fulfilled her duty to raise him, but she had also gifted him several scrolls upon their parting.

When it came to enemies who harmed his kin, the White Dragon Lord adhered to a single principle: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Forgiving his foes was a lofty, saintly concept completely alien to him; instead, his mind churned with plans for revenge.

First was the barbarian god Balinor, a deity of Weak Divine Power. The White Dragon Lord lacked the strength to face him right now, so he could only suppress his hatred and wait for an opportunity to strike back later.

Although he could not fight Balinor head-on just yet, he could collect a little interest upfront—such as eradicating the barbarian god's faith in Nordhill.

The Cult of the Dragon was the other chief culprit behind the Dragon Mother's death. However, this organization was incredibly secretive. The White Dragon Lord had no idea where their headquarters was, how many members they had, or how many experts were among their ranks.

Acting rashly would only backfire and plunge the newly established Afiaiv Kingdom into peril. Therefore, until he gathered clear intelligence, he would not make a move against the Cult of the Dragon.

What the White Dragon Lord wanted to do right now was wipe out the Northern Barbarians and destroy the foundation of Balinor's faith in Nordhill.

The pyre, fueled by accelerant, burned at an immense temperature. The dragon's corpse atop it gradually melted, slowly reducing to ash.

The snow fell heavier, piling higher and higher on the White Dragon Lord's body.

By the time the eastern sky faintly brightened, the accumulated snow on his broad back was already as tall as a man.

The shift in light woke him from his thoughts. Emotionlessly, he looked at the completely burnt-out pyre. His tail lashed out, sweeping the blackened remains into a cloud of dust that settled over the pristine snow.

He shook his body, shedding the heavy layer of snow, and turned to leave.

Inside the great hall of White Castle.

The White Dragon Lord sat high upon his throne, his expression freezing cold. Gurgalu Skull-Crusher, Bucky Darkscale, Hogg Riverclaw, Rog Giantfist, Della Blood Feather, and the rest of his subordinates stood in the hall. The silence was terrifying; the monster leaders did not even dare to breathe.

Hogg Riverclaw swore to himself that he would rather fight a powerful enemy on the battlefield than face the White Dragon Lord in this state. Then, his wish came true.

"Hogg Riverclaw, mobilize the army. Prepare for war."

Hearing that war was imminent, Hogg stuck out his scarlet tongue and licked his lips.

"Master, who is the enemy?"

"The Northern Barbarians."

Hogg didn't quite understand how the Northern Barbarians had provoked the White Dragon Lord, who resided far overseas.

But a moment later, the terrifying Half-Step Legendary Rank gnoll threw the question to the back of his mind. He didn't need to worry about such things. If the White Dragon Lord told him to hack someone to pieces, he would hack them to pieces—it was that simple.

Having undergone years of training, the Two-Headed Ogre Chieftain, Gurgalu Skull-Crusher, had long since learned to consider the broader picture. He spoke up with some hesitation.

"Master, the newborn Afiaiv Kingdom has yet to establish a firm foothold, and many nations on the mainland are watching us closely. If we invade a sovereign nation without any justification, I fear it will provoke panic and hostility from the other kingdoms."

After a brief silence, Gurgalu continued.

"We need a legitimate reason to go to war."

The White Dragon Lord lowered his head in thought. Gurgalu's concerns were not unreasonable. No matter how you looked at it, the barbarians were still a branch of humanity. If a monstrous army wiped out the Northern Barbarians, the other human kingdoms would inevitably feel that the fox grieves for the hare.

A newly founded non-human kingdom displaying such aggressive expansionism would definitely put the other nations on high alert, which would be detrimental to Afiaiv's future development.

"Mm, your concerns are valid. We do indeed need a reason for war."

The White Dragon Lord validated Gurgalu's opinion.

"Do you have any ideas?"

Garu spoke up.

"The Rowe Kingdom has suffered barbarian incursions for years. If the Rowe Kingdom initiates a war with them, and White Castle sends its army to 'assist' our ally, then everything will be easily resolved."

The White Dragon Lord pondered the feasibility of Gurgalu's suggestion. Cloaking it in the legal guise of "assisting an ally" was nothing more than covering one's ears while stealing a bell. It wouldn't fool anyone paying attention.

However, having a legal and reasonable facade would indeed mitigate a large portion of the negative political fallout.

Besides, there were no better options at the moment.

"Alright, we will do as you suggest."

Using Mage Hand, the White Dragon Lord picked up a quill and swiftly wrote on a piece of blank parchment. He then folded the letter and sealed it in an envelope.

"Della Blood Feather, deliver this letter directly into the hands of the king of the Rowe Kingdom."

"Understood!"

The Harpy chieftain took the White Dragon Lord's personal letter and stepped back out.

"Hobbes! You are responsible for gathering supplies. Coordinate with Hogg and make all preparations for war."

Standing at the end of the line, Gurgalu's assistant and the Afiaiv Kingdom's domestic officer, Hobbes, hurriedly accepted the order.

The White Dragon Lord considered the logistics. This war would take place deep inland, which severely restricted the Murlocs. However, factoring in the Zhuonai River, he still needed some of them.

"Bucky Darkscale, select one thousand elite Fishman Nightstalkers to support the main army's operations."

"Yes!"

"Gurgalu, dispatch an army of ten thousand Ogres to serve under Hogg's command."

As the monster leaders returned to their respective posts, the massive war machine of the Afiaiv Kingdom sprang into motion.

...

Two days later, at noon.

On a cliff somewhere along the Rowe Kingdom's sprawling coastline, the aging King of Rowe—Baines XXIII—sat in a luxurious chair, waiting quietly.

Beside the old king stood the heavily armored Legendary Guardian Knight, Masefield David, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Bruce Dumbledore.

Baines XXIII basked in the sun, listening to the waves crashing against the reef. Ever since taking the throne, he had toiled daily to strengthen his kingdom; it had been a long time since he last enjoyed the sound of the ocean with such leisure.

It was precisely because of this relentless overwork that his body had aged to look exactly like the father he remembered.

Decades ago, the previous king of the Rowe Kingdom had passed away suddenly without naming an heir. The three princes' struggle for succession sparked a civil war that lasted for years, severely crippling the kingdom's vitality. Had it not been for a foreign invasion forcing the three Legendary Guardians to mediate, that turmoil might have continued even longer.

The aftermath of the rebellion—a kingdom riddled with holes and citizens plunged into misery—remained vivid in his memory. Baines XXIII absolutely refused to allow that tragedy to repeat itself.

However, out of his eight sons, four were exceptional, and each of these four princes had the backing of major domestic nobility. Even as their father, he didn't know who to choose, so the appointment of an heir had been delayed time and again.

By now, Baines XXIII was riding a tiger and found it hard to dismount. The very day after he chose an heir, the other three factions would likely join forces and launch a rebellion.

A new king purging dissidents upon taking the throne—history was full of such examples.

Baines XXIII needed a powerful external force to suppress the domestic nobility.

Thus, when he received the White Dragon Lord's invitation to meet, he was ecstatic. For the White Dragon Lord to request a meeting, he surely needed something from the Rowe Kingdom. Furthermore, the mighty Afiaiv Kingdom perfectly met his need to suppress the nobles. Both sides could get what they wanted.

Baines XXIII looked up at the sun. It was still about half an hour away from the agreed time of high noon.

"Bruce, you've dealt with His Excellency Amos the most. What are your thoughts on this meeting?"

Bruce Dumbledore bowed his head in thought for a moment.

"It may be related to the fall of the dragon in the north. The Scourge of the North Wind seems to have a deep connection with His Excellency Amos."

Baines XXIII nodded.

Just a day ago, word spread from the Northern Barbarians that their revenge had succeeded, and the Scourge of the North Wind had fled on the verge of death. Almost at the exact moment he received that news, a Harpy arrived at his door to deliver the White Dragon Lord's personal letter inviting him to meet.

Baines XXIII didn't believe for a second that the two events were unrelated.

The two men stopped talking and waited in silence.

Half an hour later, intense magical fluctuations suddenly erupted in the sky. A profound Portal materialized, and the White Dragon Lord stepped through it.

"Your Majesty Baines, it has been a long time."

Baines XXIII stood up.

"Your Majesty Amos, it has indeed been a long time. I wonder why Your Majesty requested this meeting with me."

The White Dragon Lord flapped his wings as his massive bulk slowly descended. Even though his movements were relatively gentle, the beating of his enormous wings still whipped up a fierce gale.

Masefield hurriedly stepped in front of the elderly king to shield him.

Landing on the ground, the White Dragon Lord gave an apologetic smile. With a body as colossal as his, even an ordinary movement could inflict terrible harm on normal humans.

If he hadn't restrained his draconic aura, Masefield would likely have been the only person present still able to stand.

The White Dragon Lord selectively glossed over his brief moment of discourtesy.

"Your Majesty Baines, the Northern Barbarians have encroached on Rowe's borders for years. I imagine you harbor a deep-seated hatred for them."

The White Dragon Lord was incredibly direct. Baines's heart skipped a beat. The dragon's goal was obvious: he wanted to eradicate the Northern Barbarians.

Was it revenge, or territorial expansion? Or both?! Did the white dragon secretly harbor ambitions to annex the Rowe Kingdom?!

Baines XXIII felt a sense of powerlessness. Whatever the White Dragon Lord's motives were, the Rowe Kingdom had no strength to resist. When a being reached the White Dragon Lord's level of power, secular forces could no longer stop them.

In all of the North, perhaps only the Elance Kingdom—home to the Northland Witches' Council—could rival the Afiaiv Kingdom.

Regardless of the old king's internal musings, the White Dragon Lord cut straight to the point.

"The Rowe Kingdom will initiate the war, and White Castle will subsequently bear the brunt of the fighting. The barbarian territory will be split evenly between the Afiaiv Kingdom and the Rowe Kingdom."

Despite Baines XXIII's vast worldly experience, he was deeply astonished by these words. He only needed to lend the Rowe Kingdom's name to the war effort to gain half of the barbarian lands?!

The White Dragon Lord's terms were incredibly generous. What king didn't wish to expand his borders?!

The Rowe Kingdom lacked the power to explore alternate planes. Expanding the kingdom's territory and going down in history had been Baines XXIII's lifelong dream.

Yet reality had dealt the ambitious king a heavy blow. To the south lay their mortal enemy, the Pavlan Kingdom, which matched them in strength. To the north were the Northern Barbarians; not only were the barbarians dirt-poor, but they were also utterly fearless in the face of death, making any campaign against them an unprofitable endeavor. To the east was the ocean, and to the west was the Elance Kingdom, a power they could not afford to offend.

With all avenues for expansion completely blocked off, Baines XXIII had given up on the idea. He never expected the White Dragon Lord to offer such an enticing opportunity in his twilight years.

"Your Majesty Amos, is this true?!"

"It is true! To the Afiaiv Kingdom, the barbarian lands are merely an enclave of low value. If I didn't need some resources from the Great Glacier and required a transit station, I wouldn't even want this half."

The White Dragon Lord spoke openly and frankly. Because his faction was overwhelmingly powerful and held no ambitions toward the Rowe Kingdom, there was no need to weave a tangled web of lies.

Baines XXIII suddenly realized he had fallen into a cognitive trap. Subconsciously, he had assumed that the White Dragon Lord thirsted for territorial expansion just as he did. But on second thought, with the Afiaiv Kingdom's might, they could easily explore alternate dimensions for far greater profits.

Understanding this, he felt a complex mix of emotions—both relief and a sense of desolation. However, he no longer worried that the Afiaiv Kingdom would move against the Rowe Kingdom.

Baines XXIII remembered another crucial matter and spoke with a grave expression.

"Your Majesty Amos, the Rowe Kingdom also requires your help!"

"Oh? What is it?"

The White Dragon Lord was somewhat puzzled. After White Castle became an official member of the Council, he had lost interest in those third-rate powers and stopped paying attention to them.

Clearly, the Rowe Kingdom fell under the category of a third-rate power, so the White Dragon Lord was unaware of its internal affairs.

Baines XXIII said, "I foresee that I will soon return to the embrace of the gods, but I fear that a tragedy of fratricide will break out among my children after I die."

"Therefore, I would like to ask Your Majesty Amos to help stabilize the situation in the Rowe Kingdom when I name my heir."

"No problem."

The White Dragon Lord didn't hesitate in the slightest. This matter was incredibly simple for him. All he had to do was make his stance known and deter the other unwilling princes and the nobility backing them.

After establishing their shared interests, everything became much simpler. The man and the dragon discussed a few specific details of their cooperation before signing the contract of the God of Justice.