episode_0105

105. Entering Zarmark

Zarmark’s highest council chamber.

A gathering space for all manner of mages and intellectuals to debate.

And the critical place where future directions are discussed and determined.

The courtyard nearby.

A woman with streaks of gray covering her hair was puffing heavily on a cigarette.

“Fuck this.”

Adela Wizden.

A native of Zarmark and the only heir of the Wizden family.

And Erika Grace’s first strategist.

She seemed heavily stressed by the old fogeys.

Exhaling smoke along with a torrent of coarse curses.

“Goddamn fuckin’ old geezer bastards. If you’re old, just drop dead quietly. *Ptooey!*”

Spitting freely as she hurled insults at Zarmark’s mages.

Currently, about a week ago—

After the detachment formed to subdue the Ternova army—

She had entered Zarmark ahead to persuade the stubborn old men.

“You already agreed to hand over the land, so why bother convincing them?”

Before answering that, Marcus Kepon, an old friend of Erika and Cecilia, approached from behind.

Handing her a glass of juice as if to console her.

“You’ve had a rough time dealing with the elders.”

“Yeah… well…”

“They’ve gone deaf with age anyway. They forget yesterday’s promises today… haha…”

With Erika’s forces arriving, the elders had clammed up.

News had reached them that Erika’s detachment had engaged Ternova’s soldiers.

Adela had no way of knowing the outcome—

She had only devised the strategy without seeing the unfolding war.

But one thing was certain…

“I’d love to do something nice for my friend, but…”

“Ugh… goddamn old bastards…”

“I’m also extremely frustrated…”

Zarmark’s old fogeys had no intention of handing over the land.

Adela alternated between burning through cigarettes and wetting her dry throat with juice.

Then she flung the tin cup far away.

Marcus Kepon, far from getting angry at her behavior,

Laughed warmly and comforted her.

“You should head in soon.”

“Fuckin’ hell…”

“Stop grinding your teeth and take a deep breath.”

A week.

A full week of relentless arguments.

The stress had built up dealing with the old men’s evasive rhetoric daily.

As a final act, she spat once more in the courtyard before reaching the council chamber’s entrance.

Adela swept back her stress-streaked white hair.

Taking deep breaths to steady herself—

Then slapped her cheeks sharply to steel her resolve.

“I’ve arrived.”

Her demeanor transformed into that of a composed strategist.

Her tone grave, she moved to the center of Zarmark’s council chamber.

Leaning on the table with both hands, she addressed the elders.

“Have you gathered your thoughts by now…?”

“Ah… truly, there are obligations in human interaction.”

“Obligations?”

“Of course! It’s a strong one’s duty to aid the weak—it’s even written in scripture!

Yet you seek to steal our land under the guise of personal favors? We’ve branded such acts as thievery.”

And so it began again.

Adela barely swallowed her rising fury.

She craved another cigarette, the stress mounting unbearably.

But she forced a smile and began persuading them.

“Then let me ask you one question.”

“Permission granted.”

Even now, the elders spoke as if they held all authority.

Adela wanted to dance a bloody blade before them—but that would disgrace Erika.

Suppressing her rage, she thanked them with a strained smile.

“I understand your reluctance to hand over the land.”

“Obviously! This is a region we mages built with blood and sweat…!”

“But what will you do after receiving Erika Grace’s help now?”

Adela cut off the lead elder.

Then delivered a killing blow.

“Let’s be honest—you know she’s a complete thug, right?”

“How dare you—!”

“She mobilized for the price of land, and now you call it a personal favor? You think she’ll lift a finger next time trouble comes?!”

Silence fell among the elders.

She pressed the advantage ruthlessly.

“Who comes after Grace? Albrecht Aldrins?”

“Indeed! That towering gentleman understands righteousness!”

“Ha! The butcher invading to unify the north?”

The elders clenched their lips.

Zarmark bordered the lands of Albrecht, Erika, and Balduin.

This war began with Balduin’s invasion.

If they spurned Erika’s aid, only Albrecht remained.

But alas, Albrecht was another lord ravenous for territory.

Who else could they turn to?

The elders had no answer.

Having pressured them enough, Adela loosened her approach.

“Elders… think about it. Aren’t there no regional nobles in Zarmark anyway?”

“Grr…”

Regional nobles.

The slaughtered imperial Pendleton bloodline had erased the local kings.

Now, regional nobles acted as de facto rulers.

And regrettably, Zarmark lacked even that.

“I’ve heard Marquess Cecilia Laxxia is quite astute…”

“True, but Redmain sits between us!”

“What of Silvania’s regional nobles?”

“They’re getting beaten by Ternova too—you think they’ll help?”

The elders twisted their words to stall.

Marcus Kepon waited silently for the right moment.

Then one elder—

A mage and intellectual of considerable influence—

Flicked his fingers, summoning a document out of thin air.

“Fine, we’ll hand over Zarmark.”

Finally.

A smile nearly broke through—but there was more.

“A document outlining our terms. We’ll comply if these are met.”

Adela took the offered document.

Reading slowly, her stoic expression twisted uncontrollably.

The contents were outrageous.

“Are you fucking joking right now?”

The document’s key terms:

Erika Grace would have no involvement in Zarmark’s politics or administration.

As an autonomous region under House Grace, she would contribute to Zarmark’s development.

Military deployment was barred except in emergencies, per tradition.

Effectively, they were only lending her name—nothing more.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

To rephrase it plainly:

We’ll slap your name on Zarmark’s throne, lol.

But we run things best, so we’ll handle it, lol.

Oh, but we like one of your geniuses? Since you’re nominally in charge, you gotta develop stuff.

Your name’s on the land now, so defend it, lol.

‘This is why I fucking hate these mage geezers…’

Adela gritted her teeth.

The elder merely smiled benignly, spouting pretentious nonsense.

“We’ve honored our promise to hand over the land.

But magic is delicate, easily shattered—we have our own culture.

We respect and acknowledge Erika Grace’s majesty and prowess, but we fear Zarmark’s collapse from within.

Growing old makes one cautious.

We hope you’ll understand this old fool’s worry.”

She wanted to punch him—

But she had to endure.

These old fogeys were vital to governing Zarmark.

Without their accrued power, ruling would be impossible.

Even if they prided themselves on their stupid wisdom, playing petty games—

Even if they’d later gild their honor with this farce as proof of their “kept promise”—

Endurance was the path to sweet rewards.

“Please revise these terms.”

“That won’t be possible.”

“My lord will not accept this.”

“Oh? Refusing land freely offered? Erika Grace must truly be a paragon of virtue.”

He insinuated:

You’re virtuous, and this precedent is set—so behave, eh?

We tried giving land, but you refused, lol?

Disgusting implications.

As her chest tightened and fury neared eruption—

The ornate doors of the council chamber burst open with a crash.

“Oh dear, am I late?”

Erika Grace kicked the door open, entering with vulgar flair.

The elders froze like statues.

No news had mentioned Erika’s arrival in Zarmark.

She strode to the central round table with confident clicks.

Stopping boldly before the elders.

“Well, my land should be ready as promised?”

The same elder who handed Adela the document now offered identical terms to Erika.

Boldly, shamelessly.

As if thinking:

If you don’t like it, what’ll you do?

Can’t run Zarmark without us, lol. Can’t kill us.

Erika took the document and read it.

A contract making her little more than a glorified guard dog.

She didn’t rage.

“Ahahahaha—!!”

Instead, she laughed uproariously, as if it were hilarious.

Doubling over, clutching her stomach, cackling wildly.

She slammed the document onto the table—

Then drew the sword at her hip and drove it down like a skewer.

The blade pierced the document and table like tofu, impaling both.

The elders trembled at the sight of a weapon in the council chamber.

But Erika wore a delighted smile.

“Zarmark’s humor is truly amusing! Battle fatigue just vanished!”

“Th-This is…”

The elder who’d been brazen with Adela now shriveled like a dog before a butcher.

“What? More jokes left?”

“This is sacrilege.”

“Hah?”

A middle-aged man of courage stood abruptly.

Rebuking Erika for brandishing a weapon in the council.

Yet—

“And?”

“‘And’?! You violate Zarmark’s laws—!”

“What laws?”

Erika yanked her blade free from the table—

“I’m the master here. Since when do laws apply to me?”

The middle-aged man gaped at her shamelessness.

The elders fell silent.

“Ah, I nearly forgot—presents!”

At the word “presents,” greed flickered in the elders’ eyes.

But when Erika clapped twice—

“A gift for you all.”

“KYAAAAAAHH—!!”

“Wh-What madness is this?!”

“Guh—! Ugh!”

Severed heads rolled into the chamber.

One? Two? Ten? A hundred?

No—

“Why the shock? Aren’t these the villains tormenting *my land’s* subordinates?”

“Surely this isn’t…”

“Count them. Exactly 300,000.”

The elders panicked.

None dared speak.

Intellectuals who’d lived cloistered among books now felt war’s reality for the first time.

“Standing so long has stiffened my legs.”

Her white coat fluttering, Erika strode forward.

Her officers and officials followed.

Then she flopped onto the lavish throne—

Zarmark’s long-vacant seat of regional nobility, equivalent to a king’s.

Propping her elbow on the armrest, she smirked arrogantly.

“Still playing Zarmark’s little joke?”

The intellectuals stood frozen—

Until one man rose and shouted:

“All hail the new master of Zarmark—Erika Grace!”

Marcus Kepon.

Erika’s old classmate, a young and honorable man of loyalty.

As he knelt in fealty—

“““““All hail the new master of Zarmark—Erika Grace!”””””

The elders knelt, swallowing their pride.

Erika smiled in satisfaction, drawing a sword—

Not her famed blade, but a ceremonial one.

“You know of investiture ceremonies?”

Investiture—

Where the emperor formally grants noble titles.

Or awards honorary nobility to commoners of great merit.

Crucially, it’s held only in lands under one’s firm control.

Effectively proclaiming sovereignty.

Erika grinned, raising the ornate sword—

Then called to a man hidden among the officials.

A long, arduous journey had led here.

“Our… no, Cain. Step forward.”

She lifted the ceremonial blade and addressed Cain.

The time had come.

“The baronetcy investiture begins now.”

Held in Zarmark, this ceremony proclaimed Erika’s undisputed rule.

No one could deny it now.