Chapter 259: The Consul

CH259 The Consul

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The war—or rather, the battle—between the Fury Army’s Northern Dankrot Defence Force and the Kellerman invasion force lasted effectively for only a few hours, with the cleanup afterwards dragging into the rest of the day, but the outcome was clear.

The Fury forces had seized an indisputable victory; the Kellerman army’s highest-ranking officer lay dead, and Josiah Kellerman, heir of the Kellerman Family, had been captured alive.

At the same time, Exercitus Alexii—the Fury Army’s taskforce division deployed to deal with the Wildkin invasion in the Kellerman northwest—also reported its own triumph. The Half-Legendary Orc Chief was slain, along with the Clan Chiefs of the Mantisari, Taurus, and Snakemen tribes who had joined the campaign.

Yet while the victory against the Wildkin was loudly announced to reassure the Empire’s anxious citizens, the Fury Family itself kept their triumph over the Kellerman invasion force curiously quiet.

When asked by the few people outside the military in the know, a Fury high command officer dismissed the feat with words that would quickly spread through the ranks:

"It was just another day in the life of a Fury soldier... nothing worth mentioning."

However, this façade of casual dominance masked a brutal reality.

Exercitus Alexii had set out with five thousand elite troops. After weeks of bloody skirmishes against Wildkin forces several times their number, only about two thousand or so marched on their way back home. A casualty rate of over fifty percent.

At the Northern Dankrot Fort, the defenders had fought off a Kellerman force, who had three times their size as well as months—perhaps years—of preparation.

These brave defenders of Fury lands paid a significant price in blood, losing seventy-five percent of the troops under its banner.

To call such battles "easy victories" was truly making light of the reality.

It would be years before the Fury Army fully recovered from the losses, especially among the irreplaceable elite of Exercitus Alexii.

Still, war’s cruelty was never without its gifts. For those who survived, baptised by slaughter, they carved new paths forward on their path to power.

Many broke through bottlenecks in cultivation; others gained clarity they had lacked before. Even those left unchanged found themselves granted generous financial and in-kind remunerations that softened the burden of loss.

They, as winners, had their spoils.

But for every winner, a loser was birthed.

The obvious losers were the Kellermans and the Wildkin. Yet beyond them lurked others in the shadows—quiet figures who had gambled on this war, and who would now pay for backing the wrong side.

On a prairie at the easternmost edge of the Virellian Empire’s northwest, a man sat calmly upon the corpse of a slain beast as he drew a crystal orb communicator from his waist satchel.

The orb was slightly larger than what the satchel should have reasonably been able to contain, a clear sign that it wasn’t an ordinary item but rather a rare storage satchel.

Another clue to the man’s identity lay in the beast beneath him. It wasn’t some common prey, but a Green Dragon—the overlord of this prairie.

"I have the Dragon," the man said.

It was the same voice Joselin Holt would have instantly recognised—had she still been alive. He was the mysterious figure on the other end of her secret communications, the one who had guided her failed attempt to assassinate Alex.

"Send people to my location to collect the corpse within the hour. Any longer, and I’ll leave."

"Don’t worry," the voice on the other end replied smoothly. "I already have people nearby. We wouldn’t want the product to go bad."

"Any news I should know?" the mysterious man asked.

"The Kellerman lost the war," came the blunt reply. "Our collaborators are not pleased."

The man’s eyes narrowed, a sharp glint flashing across them.

"How? And so quickly, no less? How many days did the fighting last? Did the Fury deploy a secret force we weren’t aware of?"

"Days? Ha!" the voice sneered. "It barely lasted a single day. The Kellerman army collapsed within hours of the first clash. Even that Schaumer heir you pushed into taking revenge against the Mad Earl—he fell to the Dark Bulwark Hound’s hands."

"Didn’t Casper Schaumer use the Domain Prohibition Scroll?"

"He did. But Jared Rivia proved far stronger than we anticipated. He stands at the peak of Sword Master, halted only by his Saint rank from stepping up as a Sword Grandmaster. Once he ascends to Legend—or maybe even Half-Legend, as this plane’s laymen call it—he’ll almost certainly become a Sword Grandmaster as well. He’s shaping up to be a major obstacle to our plans."

"Don’t blow the trumpet out of proportion," the man scoffed. "Another Legend, even a Sword Grandmaster, won’t change the outcome. If Jared was there, then his brigade must have been as well."

"Not exactly. Only a company from the Dark Hound Magic Armour Brigade was present. The real linchpin wasn’t Jared at all, but an unidentified mage. That one used Grand Spells to turn the tide."

"A mage capable of casting Grand Spells? That shouldn’t be possible. The Fury family has a few capable mages to begin with, and we’ve already accounted for them. They’re not exactly famed for their magical talent pool. So how did this one slip through our information net?" the mysterious man demanded, his tone sharp with irritation.

"I don’t know. We’re still investigating," his contact admitted reluctantly, taking the blame.

"You still don’t even have an idea who it might be?" The man’s voice carried a note of disbelief.

"No, we have an idea. It’s just... unlikely."

"What do you mean?"

"Rumours among the Fury soldiers claim that the assassination target himself was responsible."

"Which assassination target?"

"Alex Fury, the Mad Earl’s heir."

The man froze for a moment, then scoffed. "Isn’t he just an Intermediate Mage? How could he possibly wield a Grand Spell?"

"They say he used some kind of formation. But there’s no record of the Northern Dankrot Fort possessing such a formation, nor any sign of an Array Master capable of creating one having been stationed there."

The contact hesitated, then continued, "And before you ask—yes, I checked. The Fury family doesn’t have an in-house Array Master capable of that level of work. None of the Array Masters with that calibre of skill have entered Fury lands recently, let alone appeared at the Northern Dankrot Fort."

The mysterious man tapped his foot in a steady rhythm, falling into heavy silence. Several tense minutes passed before he finally spoke again.

"Alex Fury... Then what of the Shadow who was attached to Casper Schaumer? Why didn’t it eliminate such a dangerous variable before it grew into a threat?"

"The Shadow did move. Unfortunately, the Mad Earl himself appeared at the fort. He killed the Shadow before it could take down either the target or the Dark Bulwark."

"Drake showed up at the fort?" The man groaned in frustration. "What is going on with this Fury family? Every single time, one annoyance after another emerges to ruin our plans."

"There’s more," the contact added grimly. "Our collaborators are furious. After killing the Shadow, Drake stormed into the Kellerman Palace. He nearly killed both Earl Kellerman and Unfettered Freedom, who tried to shield him. He only pulled back when Prince Caesar arrived and invoked the royal writ, forcing him to accept ransom instead."

The mysterious man’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Our collaborators are livid that their piece in the northwest was crippled, while the Mad Earl’s reputation and potential soared at their expense. This is not the outcome we promised them."

"Hmph. If Drake Fury were so easy to handle, they’d deal with him themselves," the man sneered. "If he was able to kill the Shadow and still had the strength to clash against Justin Kellerman, then Drake is far stronger than anyone assumed."

"Yes. According to what Prince Caesar revealed in private conversations at the Imperial Capital, it is highly likely the Mad Earl has already surpassed the Domain Expansion stage," the contact reported.

"Drake Fury... he’s becoming more troublesome by the day," the mysterious man muttered darkly.

"Shall I dispatch more resources? Either to pressure the Fury family further or attempt to eliminate the Mad Earl outright?" the contact asked cautiously.

"No. That won’t be necessary." The man shook his head. "The plan is still intact, yes?"

"Yes. Although the Shadow failed to eliminate the Mad Earl’s heir, nothing substantial was exposed. Everyone assumes the Kellermans were the ones behind the Shadow. Our hand remains hidden."

"Good. Then we continue as planned. Any rash move now would only tip Drake Fury off. Let them bask in their so-called victory. As always, we will strike when they least expect it."

He paused before adding with a sneer, "And as for those old foxes in the Capital, tell them this is nothing more than a minor setback, one that will be smoothed over in time. Besides, learning that Drake has advanced beyond Domain Expansion is compensation enough. After all, we paid the price in Legendary power to confirm it. Let’s see if they dare deny how valuable that information is in the game of power they are playing against him."

"Understood. I’ll pass along your words," the contact replied.

"One more thing," the mysterious man said coldly. "Keep a closer watch on the Mad Earl’s heir. He seems to sit at the centre of every recent failure we’ve suffered against House Fury. Like his father, he is proving to be a thorn in our side. I want to know whether this is mere coincidence and he remains a pawn for sacrifice... or whether he is becoming a dangerous variable that must be cut out."

"Understood. I’ll assign more eyes around him," the contact assured.

"Good." The man nodded, his mood lifting slightly after the string of grim reports. "Where are your people? I’m growing tired of waiting."

"Please, be patient, Consul. They will arrive in just a few more minutes."

"They had better," the Consul replied with an edge in his voice. Then, with deliberate calm, he stretched out upon the dragon’s still-warm corpse, gazing up at the painted hues of the evening sky.

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