"If this place were in the wasteland," he said, "the beastmen would only need to perform a single sacrifice, and not only the fortress, but the entire mountain range could be torn apart into a chasm."

As he spoke, Cesar saw Gouzi appear beside him. Although he couldn't see her expression beneath her mask, judging by their recent interactions, she must be craving blood. He truly didn't want to use the scimitar, so he borrowed Altinya's sword. The sword was exquisitely crafted, its cold material the same silvery-white as her hair, reflecting the barely visible morning light. The blade's edge slid across his fingertips, and a few drops of blood slid across the mirror-like blade, seemingly gleaming in the morning light.

Altinya took the sword and brushed the blood on the blade with her fingers. Suddenly, she looked down at the valley below the city wall and grabbed his wrist.

Cesar couldn't help but lower his head.

The rocks were somehow a dark red, like blood, a magnificent and terrifying sight, as if the fortress didn't stand on the ground, but on the surface of something else. The wind whipped against my face, carrying a scorching breath from the earth to the sky, so hot it felt like my skin would buckle and break. A stone broke loose from the wall and fell, rumbling down into a deep abyss of molten lava.

Cesar raised his gaze, following the dark red patch toward the mountains. With each lift, his vision widened, and the hue grew darker. The mountains surrounding the fortress had always been devoid of vegetation, not even a spore to be seen. Now, there was only a mass of rubble and a scorching, oppressive sky. The rolling hills, each a brilliant crimson, gave off a scorching, oppressive feeling. The undulating hills resembled undulating scales. From Sodoris, far beyond the fortress, past Gural Fortress, and on to the jungles further north, hill after hill seemed to stretch endlessly.

Standing on the top of the fortress wall, he felt like he was sailing in a small boat across a vast, crimson ocean, its waves rolling like hills. This scene aroused wonder and fear in him.

Cesar wanted to say that this was fake and deny what he had seen with his own eyes, but before he could say anything, the scene disappeared like a dream.

At this moment, when he came into contact with the princess because of the blood that had been breathed by a true dragon, and when the two of them created this magnificent scene, he felt that he had vaguely glimpsed the secrets of the Temple and the Kasar Empire.

Cesar stood in the dark rain, his mind full of the scene he had just witnessed. The mountains were its arched back, the hills its dark red scales, and even the climate and sparse vegetation of northern Olidan were due to this motionless true dragon.

Since in Neuen's castle, a being with unknown purpose summoned Firil's dream, transforming it into a small Firil. Then, on another continent that has sunk to the sea, is there an unknown ritual that summoned the dream of the true dragon, causing it to be shattered among the children of the sacrifice, and the fragments fell into the souls of these unknowing royal descendants, or even themselves?

Before Cesar could say anything, Altinia had already lowered her head and kissed his finger. He imagined that Gouzi must be wondering why this guy was fighting with her for blood. And then he saw that dreamlike scene again. Altinia raised her head, pursed her blood-stained lips, and stared out, saying nothing. This sight seemed to need no words or expression; it was enough to bridge the gap between their souls.

The dog bit his finger, and Cesar felt a little pain and immediately came to his senses.

"What should I call this, sir?" Altinia asked, remaining quite calm. "If Grandmaster Ferriers' dream hadn't been with you, I might not have figured it out so quickly."

"A dreaming dragon? Or a dream of a real dragon?" Cesar shrugged. "Whatever it is. We can use it to scare the templars we find and see if we can trick them into giving us something."

"I originally wanted to win over the Holy Temple after I gained a firm foothold," said the princess.

"Don't you want to now?"

"Let's wait until it's confirmed," Altinia sighed. "It's just a pretense at best."

Chapter 253: Temples and Monastic Orders

......

Trisius touched the tip of the sword with the tip of his index finger, watching the morning light cast a radiant glow on the silver-white blade, gradually seeping out a bright red. He did not withdraw his finger until his courtier Laelius bent down according to etiquette.

"General Clefas asked me to invite you over, Your Highness. The people from the Hisai School have arrived," said Laelius.

"Still no news on the operation he personally ordered?"

"No, Your Highness," Laelius said, "and there has been no report. The Sanctuary has concluded that everyone has met with misfortune. Whether it's the mages of the Hisai School, the invisible assassins, or the renowned swordsmen the general prized, no one has survived."

A renowned swordsman? The title was truly humorous. Thinking of that insane homosexual, Trisius felt the old general was overconfident in his judgment. Those two were more suited to the strict confines of a secular tournament than to the wars of various temples and schools of magic. While Trisius admired skilled swordsmen, the thought of this man drooling over him made him uneasy.

Now, upon hearing of their unforeseen fate, Trisius felt like celebrating with a sword dance. For as long as he could remember, Clefas had been the core of the empire, a steel hook holding the three precarious provinces to the brink. He had crushed every rebellion, maintained order, and prevented any province from falling into the abyss. However, Clefas had meddled too much, too confidently, in areas beyond his reach.

No one dared to question him, no one even dared to doubt him, not even Trisius.

Trisius appreciated this failure, eager to see what excuse his dear grandfather would come up with. Perhaps he'd condemn the Templars for sending trash, or the Hisai School for not staking enough of a stake, or Holmonks for having too many flaws, making it worse than them getting involved. But he certainly wouldn't condemn his own vision.

Ever since the attack on Neuen years ago, the steppe people along the border had been quite docile, undoubtedly presenting a significant opportunity. An unprecedented military force was being assembled, not only those stationed on the border, but also the provincial governors of the northern peninsula, following the alliance, had dispatched large ships, determined to aid Clefas's military operations. It seemed that after repeated setbacks, the old general had finally found the only correct diplomatic path: uniting with the nobles of the southern kingdom to defeat their king and thereby open up a north-south route.

Clefas had been in a very good mood recently, as everything was moving in a positive direction. First, the northwestern peninsula, after assessing the situation, became their vassal, sending multiple troops in exchange for economic and material assistance. Then, the bankers, who had brought great assistance from the Chancellor, also offered excellent funding and agreements to help them rebuild a more efficient economic system from the ruins.

Despite being a skilled verbal strategist, Ms. Rolaisa conceded considerable ground during the negotiations. She paid a greater price than anticipated to secure exclusive agency rights, and she promised to allow nobles loyal to the general to participate and share in the profits. For the old general, banking was uncharted territory, and he had to proceed with caution. Just as he had placed his own men and spies within the army, the more loyal veterans he had on the banking matter, the more confident he could be with Rolaisa and her team.

Beyond that, there was the princess that Clephas had so often mentioned. Although Trisius admired her, unfortunately, the memory itself was far from pleasant. Back then, as a young boy, he had been deeply impressed by the speech, which drew parallels between history and modern times. Instead, the old general, with his unsettling red eyes, surveyed him from head to toe, then, using his grandfather-mentor persona as a vehicle for a lifetime of unforgettable memories.

Not only was he beaten in public, he was in so much pain that he couldn't even ride a horse and had to lie down on the carriage. He was also grounded until he could recount the history of the empire one by one and give his own opinions. Only then did Clefas relax his supervision and stop calling him a "castrated brat" and "an idiot who can only be a male concubine."

Both names came from the old general's heart, and were originally insults used by the grassland people. The older generation of border guards had adopted an unimaginable number of grassland customs, especially their fierce and insulting language.

Clephas believed that the blood marriage he had proposed to the Vizier would be effective. Once Artinia's talent was discovered, her power-hungry mother would seize the opportunity to cause trouble. With her abilities, she would find a way out of her predicament and a rhetoric. Once she found herself with nowhere else to turn, she would seize the hand he offered. The Vizier, like many who disrespected royal blood, merely manipulated the royal family to gain the support of the Holy Church. In reality, he loved his own daughter more, as evidenced by their eldest prince, a mediocre and incompetent man who was no match for the royal family.

If it wasn't for the purpose of controlling a puppet, who would let that kind of person be the emperor?

Trisius tried to gauge Clefas's reaction. "What do you think my grandfather would have thought of this, now that he's suffered another setback with my cousin? He said it as if she were already on her knees in the palace."

He swung the sword in his hand, shook off the blood drop, and then returned it to the scabbard. Recently, he had been inexplicably fascinated by his own blood.

"The general is ready for further planning," Laelius said. "He is not angry. He has more patience with His Highness Altinia than he can count."

Imagine.

Trisius nodded. It was true. Clephas, the exact opposite of the chancellor, was an incredibly fanatical royal admirer, and he understood this most profoundly. His childhood sweetheart and maid had been politely dismissed by the old general, and now only Laelius remained by his side, ensuring the purity of his offspring's bloodline.

Even if something unexpected happened in Artinia, Clefas still won over the Northern Peninsula and wanted to find the princess there as his potential marriage partner.

According to the old general, if the royal bloodline becomes too mixed, the Holy Temple will no longer recognize its master, and no matter how talented, it will not be able to gain loyalty. Therefore, intermarriage is almost inevitable for them, and it will occur every one or two generations. It is also for this reason that those royal descendants who are lost in the outside world will naturally lose their eligibility to inherit the throne after only two or three generations of reproduction.

Trisius straightened his robes and glanced down at the invisible assassin, who was half a head shorter than him. "Then lead the way, dear friend," he said. "It seems we haven't seen each other for a while. What has the Templar been planning lately? Which royal family is more worthy of its former glory?"

"The Templars are searching for the whereabouts of the Hermit Order, Your Highness," Laelius said. "Ever since the Beastmen burned the Great Library, the Templars have been desperately searching for the ancient Hermit Order. A few days ago, they found a few traces of them in a northern town, but the Corpse Eaters attacked and burned every city in their path to ashes, then stuffed everyone into their golems."

The Hermits were a catch-all term, essentially a collection of undead who weren't even worth worrying about, or so Trisius thought. They came from various extinct sects, ignorant of life or death, without desires or pain, without attitudes or inclinations, and with no motive for anything beyond acquiring knowledge and observing the unfolding of history.

It is said that some hermits sailed across the ocean with the fleet a thousand years ago, and it was they who brought the history that sank to the bottom of the sea to the Kasar Empire, but they treated everyone very kindly, so the current rulers of the temple were also very kind to them - but this is just a polite way of saying it.

Grandfather said that the only characteristic of a hermit is harmlessness. Despite this, the Holy Temple approached Ferriers and used her research to create a blade capable of killing a hermit. Only then did the Holy Temple finally reassure itself. As a gesture of leniency, it exiled the losers of various sects to the hermit order, assigning them even the most insignificant tasks in the Great Library, leaving them to rot along with the ancient texts.

Historically, the hermits were indeed harmless and peaceful. As long as the Great Library stood, they would have rotted away along with the piles of ancient books. However, now that the Great Library has burned, trouble has begun. Many hermits have been scattered, haunting various regions with the secrets they have uncovered. Some of these secrets are not friendly to the now-imperiled Kasar Empire. If they fall into the hands of the Southern Kingdom, they are bound to cause an uproar.

Trisius quickened his pace and climbed the steps of the palace. It might be called a palace, but compared to the rumored imperial palaces of the north, it looked more like a simple castle. There were no servants singing hymns, no ceremonial candles emitting a halo of fragrance. All he could see were massive walls without curves or domes, huge gray stone pillars illuminated by the firelight, and a towering ceiling, engraved with reliefs of ancient myths and ancient spirits that would never be seen again in this world.

Laelius methodically told him about the Hissaic school, beginning with the rumors about the Hissaic school and their long-standing feud with the Yesterlen school.

"According to the Sanctuary's informants in Istrias, the two schools had already been at odds since Firiels's generation, though it hadn't reached the point of enmity. Several prominent young mages from both schools came together, attempting to lead by example and ease tensions, but they all died elsewhere for unknown reasons. A renowned wizard, exceptionally gifted and aspiring to take over the Hisai School, also perished in a place where even precognition was untraceable. It's said to be the tomb of cursed ancestors, and the sole survivor was Firiels, then a complete unknown."

"After that?"

"After that, the Xisai School lost its heir and remained in decline for a long time. The Yesterlen School also quickly fell apart. The heir died in the war that destroyed the dynasty. Only Ferriers..."

Chapter 254: Holding a Grudge

"Any rise is accompanied by bloody means," Trisius said. "You can judge it however you want, Riley."

"I dare not speak rashly of the Grandmaster," Laelius said, "but she did rise rapidly in less than five years, becoming the most powerful mage from the Northern Empire to the Southern Empire. Later, it was she who helped destroy the Franks' empire that rose from the ruins, shattering them into pieces and preventing them from threatening our empire's foothold in this land. The Sanctuary believes this represents terrifying tactics and political ability, and her talent in magic is beyond words. To win her attention, you need—"

"I know the Grand Master's prophecy," Trisius interrupted. "Grandpa always repeats it whenever he mentions Altinia. Even now, my younger siblings keep telling me about the Fire Queen, saying she's going to burn everything. But no matter what, the point of a prophecy is to keep the person being prophesied about firmly in your hands. I've heard Grandpa say this countless times."

"I think there's truth in what the general said."

Trisius couldn't help but gasp. "No wonder you're the old man's least valued student, Riley. You have to know that loving him like this won't earn you any respect. You have to resist, show your confidence and pride. You really worry me, my dear friend. Lately, I think the old man is almost falling in love with my cousin because of her resistance. When he sends her here, the first thing he's going to do is definitely not to throw her to me, but to make her his own student."

Laelius acted as if he hadn't heard him. "The Xisai School is here to leverage their power against the Yesterlen School, but they also have a historical grudge against Ferrieres. The General has requested that we avoid mentioning the Grandmaster's case as much as possible and focus solely on ourselves, emphasizing our arrangements at the fortress."

"Even without the School of Magic, this many people could raze Gular Fortress and march straight into it," Trisius continued. "Grandpa talks about taking the fortress without bloodshed, yet he's also asking informants and spies to help my cousin. I think he's treating her like a student kneeling in the palace before he even captures her. Is it really necessary to put off military instruction so early? Aren't they afraid of being hit by a rock?"

"General, I hope to defeat the princess not only by utilizing our superior military strength, but also through every level of strategy, leaving her convinced. Of course, you will also have to lead the troops in battle and demonstrate your abilities, Your Highness. If necessary, you may also be called upon to pursue her escaping the fortress and cut off her last line of retreat."

"Another test from the old man? What's he going to do if I can't catch up with my cousin? Is he going to catch me and beat me so hard I can't get out of bed for three days?"

"The general simply... has high hopes for you," Laelius said. "Gular Fortress isn't the most crucial step, but Her Highness Altinia is. The princess on the peninsula is ultimately a poor choice."

"I don't mean to find a lover of my choice, Riley, but at least I've spent some time with her, and I haven't even met the princess on the peninsula."

"I do not understand you, Your Highness. The General only asks you to stay away from women until you are married. After that, everything is up to you."

"Nothing, just expressing displeasure. How are things going over there, Riley?"

Laelius frowned. "Although my sister has changed a bit and looks like she's been through a lot, my uncle says it's her. Every subtle feature matches."

"What would you do if we discovered that your sister had developed feelings and attachments that were beyond her comprehension?"

"I will correct her with the general's advice, Your Highness. She is a member of our family. When she sought freedom and went to the Great Library, she made a name for herself. We had no objection. She could choose the lover she loved. But now, she has been exiled here, completely losing her wisdom and dignity. She must shoulder the responsibilities of a family member."

Trisius knew that this guy was, in every sense, an admirer and follower of Clefas. Laelius seemed decisive because of Clefas's decisiveness, but when it came to making his own decisions, he lacked the courage to stand up, even when it came to family affairs.

"So, you've already found a marriage partner for Rhine."

"For the sake of his family and honor, the knight will lead his troops to rescue his fiancée who is trapped in the enemy camp."

"When did you learn the Frankish language?" Trisius couldn't help laughing. "I didn't know you were so fond of novels from the Southern Kingdom. While that's amusing, let's be practical, Riley. Did the Hisai School bring their military slaves, or just a few mages?"

He blinked. "The Xisai School has brought an entire army of military slaves, Your Highness."

"So, the Xisai School doesn't want to be pampered artillery, but rather an army with independent command? Did they bring any marching supplies?"

"Very sufficient, Your Highness."

"So these mages don't want our supplies either," Trisius pondered. "In that case, I can assume they won't obey any orders. Not only will the Hisai School not obey, they'll even act on their own. If we want them to work, do we have to go to their camp and negotiate patiently with them?"

"Maybe...

...Perhaps it will be so.' Laelius hesitated.

"I really hope the Hisaean school doesn't just declare its end after capturing the young wizard from the fortress and return to Itris," Trisius said. "What happened to the temple of Zagaros?"

"They claim there's a high-ranking insider in Olidan."

"Are there so many spies on Olidan's side? Are they bribed too?"

"No, it has nothing to do with profit," Laelius said. "It's a man with a grudge. He has a grudge against Cesar Borgia, the commander of Gural Fortress and the governor of the Gonzales region. He has been involved in several previous attempts to murder the young Borgia. Now, he's communicating with the temple of Sagarus, even sharing battle updates. It seems that the hatred is extremely deep, and he seems willing to pay any price to kill the young Borgia."

"That's ridiculous," Trisius said. "To abandon our position for personal grudges? How much personal grudges are there in this war?"

"To be precise, I'm also pursuing a personal vendetta, Your Highness," Laelius said to him calmly. "Perhaps I'll be the one to discuss how to resolve this personal feud with the culprit. If you don't wish to get involved, you can let me go for a while."

"Riley, you..." Trisius shook his head, "You always hide your emotions too deeply. I'll help. We've been through so much together. No matter who has personal problems, we should both handle them together."

Chapter 255: The Old Devil in Human Skin

......

Their meeting room was simple, but not as simple as Cliface's attire. The old general stood under the huge stone pillar in the circular room, looking like a taciturn swordsman. He was extremely tall and strong, with scars on his hands and face, silver streaks in his golden beard, and wrinkles on his forehead and brow that looked like knife-cuts.

Clefas, dressed in gray military uniform, stood by the stone pillar, unseated. Naturally, the others didn't dare sit down either. Several ministers and their servants stood in separate places, whispering about the meeting's agenda. Their gazes shifted, and whenever they landed on the old general, they would always have different expressions, either fear or reverence, the former being more prevalent.

In the eyes of the people, Cleface was not only a general guarding the frontier, but also the foremost swordsman of the empire before its division. At a young age, he earned a host of prestigious titles in the imperial capital and entered the Holy Temple for training. Later, he served in the southern borders and achieved remarkable military success, leading his troops to repeatedly repel the invasions of the steppe barbarians, preventing them from even a single incursion into the empire.

The old general's son, or rather Trisius's father, was a brilliant general himself. But with Cleface standing beside him, he would forever remain unknown, overshadowed until his death by the old general. As for why he died first, it was simple: of all the monks who had entered the temple over the past century, Cleface was the most capable. Even now, Trisius's father's hair was gray, while the old general looked as young as if he were in his thirties or forties. He would undoubtedly die sooner than his father, and perhaps even Trisius himself.

Trisius's father not only lived his entire life under the old general's shadow, but later even lost control of his marriage. Despite already having a fiancée and children, he was forced to become a tool for raising the princes and princesses. In Trisius's father's eyes, Clefas was always a terrifying nightmare, a father who forced him to give up his beloved, abandon his children to the temple, and marry the princess they had brought him.

When forcing his offspring and apprentices to make decisions, Clefas's violence was unimaginable to ordinary people. The old general's encounter with Grandmaster Phyriels had already left Trisius with a lifelong memory. If he were not a prince, the beating would have been many times more severe—in that case, it would have been close to the beating his father had suffered.

Trisius had no idea how the old general had persuaded his son, but he knew their relationship was strained. His father was more interested in secretly meeting with his former lover and doting on his illegitimate son and daughter. If Trisius hadn't taken the initiative to get to know them, treating them like brother and sister, his father probably wouldn't have welcomed him. As for his mother, the refugee princess forced to become empress on the frontier, she was not only passionate and skilled in fighting, but also had a penchant for beautiful women and a deep affection for a certain earl's daughter.

It's said that before Trisius was born, a month after his parents' wedding, Clephas suddenly had the earl's daughter imprisoned on suspicion of treason, a charge that threatened the death penalty. She remained incarcerated for five years, until Trisius and his two siblings were born. The old general then acquitted her, claiming the charges had finally been cleared.

His mother's maids often discussed this unhappy marriage and the terrible secrets it contained, but Cleface paid no attention. He simply set about cultivating a true royal heir. Come to think of it, his poor parents might not have even slept together before Cleface had the earl's daughter imprisoned and sentenced to death. They were both deeply affectionate, but their affection wasn't directed towards each other.

Even now, when these two men saw Cliface, their eyes were filled with nothing but nervousness and fear, as if they were looking at an old demon in human skin. As for hatred, where did they get the courage to hate him? The higher one's position, the more they realized that there were some people they had no right to hate.

Trisius stood at the conference hall's entrance for a moment, observing the ministers and nobles approaching from the corridor, admiring each one's attitude towards Clefas—each one distinct and worth his careful scrutiny. In a sense, the old man was like Grand Master Firiels of the Frontier. At his level, with his demeanor, blood kinship was merely a name.

Cliface's greeting startled him.

"Take a seat, Trisius. The Hissae are arriving."

After the still robust old general took his seat, some old ministers who could barely stand sat down one by one, leaving only the guards and servants standing against the wall of the hall.

The old man could undoubtedly stand all day without taking a breath, but his younger ministers couldn't. Waiting for Cleface to take his seat wasn't kind to the frail physiques of some of these elders. Perhaps one of them would have to die of exhaustion in the meeting room, or on the road trying to keep up with his monkey-like pace, before Cleface realized how unkind his actions were to his ministers.

Although Trisius would soon become emperor, he took the seat designated by Clefas and remained silent. Whenever he glanced at Clefas, he saw the old man's brow furrowed in discontent. He felt that the old man could find a multitude of flaws in anyone he looked at, and then he would fixate on them, making the person nervous and terrified, wanting only to crawl into a hole in the ground.

To be honest, many years ago when he ran back home from the Grand Master's castle in anger, he actually felt a little happy, like a prisoner leaving a dark prison.

After escaping from prison, he not only saw the light of day again, but also the bright sunshine. Although his butt was so painful that he couldn't sit on a chair, he hugged his father's illegitimate son and daughter for the first time, got to know his younger brothers and sisters, and eased the tense relationship with his father.

So, who was Clephas frowning at? Thinking about it, it was indeed his cousin. It was said that the old man was also arrogant in his youth. Perhaps he saw a reflection of himself in her. If he failed to perform properly during the campaign, either failing to catch up and capture Artinia during the attack on the city, or if she overshadowed him in subsequent battles with the troops the old general had given her, Trisius could imagine what the old man would say to him if such a thing happened.

"Your performance disappoints me, Trisius," the old man would say to him.

So next, no matter how Trisius defended himself, Clephas, who only recognized facts, would shake his head regretfully and say, "I have talked to your future queen."

"I don't know what you mean, Grandpa."

"She performed exceptionally well and impressed me deeply. She has earned the respect and love of our troops. If I'm absent in the future, she will be the first person people will listen to." Cliface would undoubtedly answer him like this.

Just thinking about this sentence made Trisius want to vomit. Because he had heard this sentence before, the words and tone were exactly the same, but he was the one who played a different role back then.

"But the name..."

"My words are just a formality." The old general's tone was always similar to an order. "Although you are the one who will be the emperor, you must consult her on everything, act according to her ideas, and even obey her when necessary."

Until Trisius was undoubtedly on the throne, he couldn't afford to slack off, and this sense of urgency was exactly what Clephas desired. The chancellor was said to be quite open with the royal descendants, with some princes and princesses even enjoying themselves in the pleasure quarters, spending entire days and nights in the secular world. However, that was predicated on a puppet emperor taking power and the chancellor's own daughter ruling from behind the scenes. To put it bluntly, it was a competition to see who was more useless.

As for the prince they had chosen, he could only say that if someone stood out from them, it would no longer be due to his extraordinary talent, but rather to the fear of others.

He must take advantage of the weakness of Altiniya's forces and defeat it. Once he misses this opportunity, how easy will it be to make plans in the future?

As he pondered, the mages of the Xisai School approached, their slaves leading the way. In Itris, if one wanted to join a school of magic without being a mage, there was only one way: slavery. The only difference was that some slaves had higher status than others. The mages of the Origin Society trusted no one outside their own kind.

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