Chapter 808: Golden Lion Empire

A few days after the chaos in the Elven Kingdom, the city’s rhythm began to settle once more.

Mireya wasted no time.

She summoned the finest craftsmen from the Dwarven Kingdom, offering a fortune to see the destroyed districts rebuilt. Within days, a thirty-strong team of dwarves arrived, their hammers ringing from dawn until dusk.

The elves took heart in their queen’s resolve, their faith in her leadership stronger than ever. She also moved quickly to replenish the Elven Council, appointing capable new members to handle the kingdom’s day-to-day concerns.

The council’s roots ran deep into tradition—abolishing it outright would have caused unrest—so Mireya reshaped it instead, bending the old ways to her will.

Meanwhile, the news of Kaelrath’s downfall had spread like wildfire across the continent. From human cities to beastmen territories, from the deserts of the south to the frostbitten north, every corner now whispered the same story: the proud leader of the Dragon Blood Tribe, broken not only in battle, but in the most personal way imaginable.

Mireya Sylthariel Moonshade—Queen of the Elves—had not just defeated Kaelrath; she had destroyed his manhood.

No embellishment was needed; the truth was damning enough.

The mighty warlord who had once commanded respect through fear now cowered in obscurity, unable to meet the gaze of his own people. Among demihumans, where physical dominance was the core of respect, such a loss was irredeemable.

Far from the Elven Kingdom, in the gleaming marble halls of the Golden Lion Empire, a different kind of power sat upon a golden throne.

The ruler was Raghar—lion-headed, broad-shouldered, and radiating an authority that could crush a lesser man with a glance. Known across the continent as the Crimson Lion, his mere presence silenced the chamber.

"Your Majesty," began Isaac, the goat-headed minister adjusting his glasses, "shall we send Prince Lucien to negotiate a trade accord with the Elves?"

Raghar’s golden eyes narrowed in thought before he answered, his tone measured. "No. Lucien is too arrogant, too quick to speak before thinking. I will not have him offend Queen Mireya... not after what happened to Kaelrath."

A rare flicker of caution passed over the emperor’s face. "I have no desire to see our envoy returned to us in shame—or in pieces."

"A wise call, Your Majesty," Isaac agreed with a small smile. "Then perhaps Princess Lindsey? She is sharp, tactful... and she knows the art of negotiation as well as she knows the blade."

"Hmm. You’re right, Isaac. Send Lindsey," Emperor Raghar said with a curt nod. "She’ll handle the negotiations for Elven craftsmanship. If we’re fortunate, they’ll finally agree to sell us their potions."

Isaac’s eyes flickered, his voice lowering. "Your Majesty... the Dragon Blood Tribe’s diplomats have been seeking an audience with you. They speak of an alliance, but I suspect their intentions run far deeper."

Raghar leaned back in his throne, the golden light from the high windows catching the edges of his mane. "And what is it you propose? Refuse them?"

"I leave the decision to you, Your Highness," Isaac replied, studying his ruler’s face.

"There will be no alliance," Raghar said, his tone like a blade drawn across stone. "Tell them to return to their mountains. I will not jeopardize our dealings with the Elven Kingdom... and since the elves are now sworn enemies of the Dragon Blood Tribe, any association with them would brand us the same."

His gaze hardened. "Send word to Queen Mireya. Inform her of Princess Lindsey’s arrival, and make sure Lindsey understands—this is ’my’ command. She must secure that trade deal."

Isaac bowed. "As you wish, Your Majesty." He turned and left the hall, his hooves echoing against the marble floor.

Silence filled the chamber, broken only by the faint rustle of the crimson banners swaying above. Raghar’s expression shifted—serious, calculating—and then split into a slow, contemptuous grin.

"Kaelrath... you arrogant fool," he murmured. "I warned you not to touch the Queen of the Elves. Terrifying. Ruthless. Just like her mother."

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, building into full, unrestrained laughter.

"And now... you’ve paid the ultimate price—your manhood! Hah!" His laughter boomed off the golden walls.

When it subsided, his voice was cold again. "You talk of revenge, but you couldn’t even survive her first strike. She played with you like a child’s toy... and you think you can win? Pathetic."

His eyes narrowed to slits. "I’ll never side with a man so blinded by wounded pride."

He rose from the throne, stepping toward the massive war map sprawled across the chamber’s far wall. His gaze lingered on the Elven lands.

Mireya—Queen who had torn her people from the grip of the Holy Church. She had faced one of the most powerful organizations on the continent—one with armies of Holy Knights—and shattered them on their own ground.

And she had brought her people home.

There was no denying it—she was strong. Incredibly strong. She had taken her power to heights beyond imagination. Crossing her would be suicide. Anyone foolish enough to stand against her would meet a grim end.

"She’s dangerous... I have to tread carefully around her," Emperor Raghar muttered, his eyes cold, his voice heavy with a quiet warning for the future.

—

"What?! What does Emperor Raghar mean by this?!" The Dragon Blood Tribe diplomat’s voice echoed with outrage, his eyes burning with disbelief. "Does he not value his friendship with our Lord?!"

"He says it was Lord Kaelrath’s own fault that he lost his pride and honor. His Highness has nothing to do with it," Isaac replied evenly, unshaken by the diplomat’s outburst.

"This is... absurd. The Lord is furious—he wants to crush the Elven Kingdom for what that... woman did to him." The diplomat’s voice trembled with frustration before he spat out a curse against Queen Mireya.

Isaac only sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. The Dragon Blood Tribe truly had no understanding of who Mireya was.

"Tell your Lord this," Isaac said firmly. "His Highness refuses to enter this alliance—it would be suicide. You clearly don’t know what Queen Mireya accomplished on the human continent... so I’ll educate you."

He then recounted Mireya’s feats—how she had moved across the human continent, the power she had gathered, and the enemies she had crushed before returning to the Beast Continent.

By the time he finished, the diplomat’s expression had shifted completely. Shock and disbelief flooded his face.

’No wonder my Lord fell to her so easily!’ he thought. ’She’s spent five years in the human continent, hiding her identity... and becoming monstrously strong in the process!’

When their exchange ended, Isaac returned to the royal palace to deliver another message—this time to Princess Lindsey, informing her of her departure to the Elven Kingdom for trade negotiations.

He found her in the training grounds, striking at a wooden figure enchanted with defensive magic. The figure could withstand the full power of a Magic Knight Lord or a Warrior Lord without so much as a scratch—and still, Lindsey was working to carve her mark into it.

"Princess Lindsey," Isaac called out, standing with his hands behind his back and an approving look on his face, "sorry to interrupt your training. Your father has ordered me to inform you—you’ll be leaving for the Elven Kingdom to discuss business with them."

"I see..." Lindsey stopped mid-swing, wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel, and met his gaze.

"What kind of business is he talking about?" she asked after setting her sword down, panting heavily from the strain of her training.

Isaac then explained the trade plan to Lindsey exactly as Emperor Raghar had instructed, leaving out no details.

After a brief pause to think, Princess Lindsey nodded. "Alright. I’ll go to the Elven Kingdom and meet Her Majesty Mireya, just as he expects. But I can’t promise I’ll convince her to sell us their potions. They’re rare and far too valuable."

"It’s fine. At least try to persuade her to part with some. The weapons and armor deal, however, is something you’ll surely secure—after all, you’re already a successful merchant," Isaac said.

Princess Lindsey chuckled. "I’m still nowhere near the level of a true merchant. I’m just a beginner who’s been lucky enough to secure a place among experienced traders."

"You’re far too humble, Princess," Isaac replied with a small laugh before leaving the training grounds, a thin smile still on his face.

Once he was gone, Lindsey resumed her training, the sharp clang of her blade striking the enchanted wooden figure echoing through the grounds.

—

In Crimsonfang Peak, stronghold of the Dragon Blood Tribe, the entire tribe reeled in humiliation and disbelief. None had ever imagined that their proud Lord—the undefeated tyrant—would fall to a woman... and lose his manhood in the process.

At first, many refused to believe the rumor. But as days passed with no sign of their leader leaving the Dragon Temple, doubt turned to grim certainty. Their Lord had truly lost everything, including his pride as a man.

Inside the temple, Kaelrath drowned his days in alcohol, refusing to see anyone—not even his wives or children.

He shut himself away, drinking and cursing Mireya’s name for destroying his honor. He was no longer the imposing figure he had once been, but a hollow shell of his former self.

Suddenly, a knock echoed from the heavy temple door, followed by a voice calling urgently from outside.

"My Lord, may I enter?! I’ve brought urgent news—bad news!" the guard shouted.

"Say it from outside..." Kaelrath growled, his voice thick with rage as he hurled his wine glass to the floor.

"Yes, My Lord," the guard answered quickly, then continued, "The diplomat we sent to the Golden Lion Empire has returned. And... and Emperor Raghar has refused the idea of forming an alliance with us."