Chapter 307 : Chapter 307

Chapter 307. Preparing for War

Logaris ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍looked at her, his gaze behind the lenses calm and profound.

“So,” ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍he said, his voice not loud, yet exceptionally clear, “do what you believe is right, Sylvia.”

He ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍did not say, “I will help you,” nor did he say, “We will do it together.”

What ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍he said was: do what you believe is right.

Sylvia ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍raised her eyes and met his calm gaze. Suddenly, she tugged at the corner of her mouth and deliberately teased in a relaxed tone:

“I ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍thought you would make the decision for me and share my worries.”

Yet in the face of her teasing, Logaris only spoke with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Because no one can decide another person’s fate on their own. No one can bear the weight of someone else’s life.”

He looked at her, as if he wanted every word of that sentence to be branded clearly into her heart.

“A person can only rule over their own life—Sylvia, that is your wish, is it not?”

For a moment, Sylvia was actually stunned.

Yes. That was her wish. But when this heavy freedom and responsibility were handed back into her hands so solemnly and completely by him, she realized just how much she longed for a shoulder she could rely on.

This feeling of being completely trusted... was heavier than any promise.

Whether she chose to meet Dorg with weapons drawn, wash the Royal Capital in blood, and establish a brand-new centralized kingdom, or whether she chose compromise and completed the transfer of power in a gentler way,

no matter what her final decision was, and no matter whether that decision was seen by the world as wise or brutal, he would support her.

A thousand words blocked Sylvia’s throat, but in the end, she could not say a single one.

The two of them leaned side by side against the soft sofa. In the firelight from the Fireplace, neither of them spoke again.

The room fell silent once more.

The firelight from the Fireplace stretched their shadows very, very long, making them nestle closely together, inseparable.

No one knew how much time had passed before Sylvia’s curled fingers moved slightly.

Logaris felt it. He reached out without the slightest hesitation and held her cool fingertips.

Her hand was very cold, like a piece of cold jade from the Moon Palace forgotten in a winter night.

His hand, however, was very warm, dry and strong, like a hellfire furnace that would never go out.

Their hands intertwined just like that, wrists pressed together, as if doing so could bring their hearts closer and allow them to draw a trace of strength and warmth from each other.

They passed the night without speaking.

...

At the same time, the Royal Capital, Redleaf Manor.

Cold moonlight poured through the enormous floor-to-ceiling window and spilled across the empty study.

First Prince Dorg stood before the window, his back facing the room’s only light source—a magitech lamp that emitted a dim yellow glow.

Nevira, the loyal captain of his guards, stood behind him in full military attire. Her expression was exhausted, and her eyes carried undisguised sorrow.

“Your Highness,” her voice was somewhat hoarse, “have you... truly made up your mind?”

Dorg did not turn around.

He raised his hand and covered his mouth with a snow-white handkerchief, letting out a series of suppressed, heart-rending coughs.

When he lowered the handkerchief, that glaring smear of crimson looked especially shocking beneath the moonlight.

He looked at the bright moon outside the window, then lowered his gaze to the bloodstain in his hand.

Yes. He had already decided.

He slowly folded the bloodstained handkerchief and placed it inside his clothes. Every movement was meticulous, as if he were completing some final ritual.

“In any case...”

He spoke softly, his voice so quiet that it was almost scattered by the night wind.

“...I have reached the end of my life.”

...

The continuous rain that had lasted for three days finally paused slightly on the day of the state funeral.

The lead-gray clouds still pressed heavily over Silverglow City, and the air was full of damp, cold moisture mixed with the distant, deep, and solemn tolling of funeral bells from the cathedral.

This was the grandest and strangest funeral the Astrelia Kingdom had seen in a century.

The coffin of King Astrelia VI was carried by sixteen Royal Guard knights clad in silver armor, slowly passing along the central axis of the Royal Capital.

On both sides of the road, the dense crowd stood in silence. Most of their faces were numb and bewildered.

Their king had died, yet it seemed as if he had died long ago. This absurd reality made even grief feel out of place.

Behind the coffin, Sylvia and Dorg walked side by side.

She wore a solemn black court gown. Her long silver hair was bound with a simple black jade hairpin, and her face was expressionless. Her silver-gray eyes stared coldly ahead, like a moving ice sculpture.

Dorg had also changed into a plain black robe. His face was still pale, his figure thin, and from time to time, he needed the attendant beside him to support him, as if he might be blown over by the wind at any moment.

Members of the royal family, important Cabinet ministers, lords from every region... everyone wore their most solemn attire, with grief of just the right degree hanging on their faces.

However, beneath this solemn and dignified appearance, countless concealed gazes crossed and collided in the air.

A meeting of eyes, an inadvertent nod, or a whispered sentence in a lowered voice could all be a confirmation of political stance or an exchange of interests.

When the long and hypocritical ceremony finally ended, Pope Gregory VII finished reciting the final eulogy, and the coffin was sent into the depths of the royal cemetery.

Golden Rose Palace, side hall.

As soon as the funeral ended, Sylvia and Dorg went there directly.

The heavy oak doors closed with a thud, cutting off the outside gazes and clamor.

On either side of the long table, Sylvia and Dorg sat facing each other.

Grand Duke Grahaed of the Western Territory sat below Dorg. This old duke, who was over seventy years old, was one of the core figures of the old nobles. He held a mahogany cane inlaid with a mana core.

Logaris stood behind Sylvia and pushed up his rimless glasses. Behind the lenses, his pale-blue eyes swept coldly over everyone present.

“According to intelligence, three elite corps of the Valeria Empire have already begun to move,” Sylvia went straight to the point, her voice cold and hard, without the slightest circumlocution.

“That old fox Theodore is waiting for us to fall into disorder. Once the Privy Council talks collapse ten days from now, they will immediately cross Thunder Gorge and advance directly toward the Royal Capital.”

Dorg coughed twice, lifted the hot tea on the table, and took a sip. His pale fingers rubbed the wall of the cup. “What is your idea?”

“The Northern Territory’s Thunder Mark Rifles and Magitech Armor have already completed their equipment replacement. The First and Third Mixed Corps have already reached the northwestern border.” Sylvia stared at Dorg.

“I demand that the Western Territory open the strategic position on the right side of Thunder Gorge and hand it over to the Northern Territory for management, allowing the Northern Legion to station troops there for joint defense. Only magitech firepower can contend with Valeria’s standard-issue Combat Mage Corps.”

Old Duke Grahaed abruptly raised his head. The cane in his hand struck heavily against the marble floor with a dull thud. “Absurd! The Western Territory defensive line is as solid as iron. It does not need the Northern Territory’s army to interfere!”

Allow the Northern Territory’s army to enter the Western Territory?

He knew all too clearly how Sylvia had dealt with the nobles in the Northern Territory! Purges, confiscations, stripping away titles!

Once that well-equipped army entered, it would be no different from letting a wolf into the house! When the time came, would they be guarding against the Valerians, or guarding against their own people?