Chapter 426 426. Fruit Of Labour

River City, Riveria.

In the River Castle, despite the abundance of relaxing fountains and its greenery, the King didn't find solace, for his kingdom was burning, and nobody could see the flames.

In the King's court, King Conrad Fitz Riveria sat on his high throne and looked at his ministers with a face full of frowns. "Incompetent, all of you! Fort Sunflower was my seat of power! I flourished it, and you razed it to ruins! You can't even suppress a mere Slave rebellion! Why do I even pay you? Look at all of you, fat and filthy! Where is your warrior spirit? Where is your prowess? Is boasting about money all that you can do?"

The nobles lowered their heads in shame, and none dared to speak as they knew they had failed. On top of that, they knew their King's anger. The man didn't blink an eye in killing his three hundred brothers, one hundred sisters, and their mothers. Who were they then?

"Your Majesty, the messengers have returned from the Fort Sunflower. May I invite them inside?" Just then, Jeremiah Freeman, the King's Prima, spoke.

King Conrad sat comfortably on his throne and nodded. "Finally, some competence. Bring them in."

Following that, a single man entered the throne room with a wooden crate in his arms. The man was just a low-ranking soldier, but at the moment, he looked worse than the lowest of the lowest peasants. His clothes were torn, his face dirty, and his body so thin.

"Y-Your majesty," the messenger spoke in stutters. "Only I was able to return, as my partner was killed, and his head was sent with me in this box."

The messenger put the wooden crate down and opened the lid, showing the bloodied, severed head of the other man.

The messenger continued. "Their leader, Kaecilius Silvanus, has proclaimed himself the Lord of Fort Sunflower and demands that he be officially recognized, or else he will continue with his conquest and enter further deeper into the Riveria's regions. He revealed that all the soldiers and officials of Riveria are still alive and live in the dungeons as prisoners."

King Conrad frowned. "If he wished for peace with me, then why did he kill the messenger?"

Prima interjected just then. "Messenger, speak with honesty. Did your partner try to berate Kaecilius?"

The messenger nodded. "H-He was my senior, my lord. He repeatedly called them slaves, filth, and lowly humans. It was only on the second day he was beheaded as he began to curse the families of the slaves."

King Conrad rubbed his face in tiredness. "Yet again, incompetence shows. He deserved to be killed if he did such. His task was to hand over the missive and return, not be the broker of peace. You are dismissed — All of you except the Prima!"

No one wasted any time and exited the throne room swiftly. Then, in silence, King Conrad rose from his throne and walked closer to his most trusted advisor and subordinate.

"What do you think? Why is Kaecilius doing this?" Conrad asked.

Jeremiah Freeman, brown-skinned, tall, and strong. He rubbed his thin beard and looked into his king's eyes. "We know why he's doing this. He waited for years for freedom. Now, according to the deal, he has to fight for ten years again and win each battle. Every man has a breaking point, your majesty. I think we touched that."

King Conrad sighed and looked down, thinking deeply. "I do not wish to use the Grand Wizard, for I do not trust them yet. They were too loyal to my father. As for sending an army, I am not very hopeful about it.

"Riveria has seen nothing but peace for so long. Seeing the incompetence in this hall, I'm afraid our armies are useless, too. If too much bloodshed occurs, the slaves will have an even higher bargaining point."

It was quite a predicament where Conrad felt stuck. He wanted to solve the mess, but at the same time, he didn't want to lose too much solving it.

"What you say makes sense, your majesty," Freeman added. "We don't know their strengths yet. Do they have wizards? Or some other weapon? The way Kaecilius is making demands, he does not appear too worried about our retaliation."

"Then… We need to negotiate better… Bring me paper and quill."

…

Back in The Patch, Sylvester organized a funeral for Archbishop Nelson. The entire peasant army was present during the ceremony and poured a small stick into the pyre of the old man as a sign of respect and gratitude for all he had done in his years of service.

Then, Sylvester stored the ashes in two containers. One container was to be placed inside the new royal castle that would be constructed in the Wailing City. The second container would be taken to the Holy Land, where the Archbishop's ashes would be respectfully placed beside the ash containers of other great clergymen.

Then the next day was spent beheading the thousands of Widowmakers. At first, most of the Widowmakers and the pleasant army thought Sylvester was joking, but when the heads began to fall, cries and pleadings resounded.

Sadly, mercy was only shown to those who were first to give away the names of their superiors and other hidden members of the Widowmakers.

However, one day was enough to kill all of them, and burning them in a huge ditch was even easier as they had magic to utilize. They just wanted to be done with the work there, as they still had much to do.

Eventually, on the third day, they began their march to the supposed impenetrable castle of the now-dead Grand Duke. It was still occupied by a tiny number of soldiers and the Duke's family, however.

Infiltrating it was not an issue, however, as the soldiers inside the castle were few and easily scared. They voluntarily dropped open the drawbridge and let Sylvester's army enter.

Quickly, everyone inside the castle, from slaves to nobles, from soldiers to clergy, all were gathered in the grand hall and lined up. After that, the youngest children were separated and sent away with the clergy members. The slaves were interviewed, and the soldiers were checked if they were members of the Widowmakers.

As for Grand Duke's family. Other than children, everyone was put to the sword as standard procedure. The children would instead be sent to the Holy Land for 're-education'. So they never harbor any ambitions too big for them.

Later, the coffers of The Patch were also emptied, and in long, protected convoys, the money was slowly sent to the Wailing City, as that was the capital of the Kingdom. The money was to be used to restore the kingdom to normalcy. Beyond that, with Sylvester's contacts, the cooperation between all the four Kingdoms of the East Sol was bound to increase.

"Finally!" On the fifth day of arriving at the Grand Duke's castle, Sylvester took a seat on the terrace of the castle that overlooked the vast fields in all directions. Beside him sat Sir Dolorem, his closest ally.

"The plague has taken nearly seven million lives already across the Sol," Sylvester mumbled. "I wonder how much longer it will take before things return to normal."

"Not too long." Sir Dolorem cheered him up. "With the timely cure you found, the treatment for the plague is available in every single kingdom. Not just the Holy Land, but many nobles have stepped up to hasten the immunization."

Sylvester bobbed his head, rested lazily in the wooden chair, and enjoyed the fresh air. "So much running around this time. Thankfully, I didn't end up on the brink of death this time."

Sir Dolorem stared at Sylvester's face and asked seriously. "If you don't mind asking me… What is your Knight rank? You were able to deal with two Grand Wizards so… efficiently."

"It was hard, Sir Dolorem. I did get heavily injured at the end. But, I came with preparation and planning this time, so it went better." Sylvester beat around the bush at the start, knowing very well what the old man wanted to hear.

"I know what you want to hear, and I'm sorry to disappoint you. No, I am not at the peak of Knighthood yet — I'm not a Platinum Knight. But, I am half step into it."

Sir Dolorem stood up abruptly. "Then… Level Five Diamond Knight?"

Sylvester bobbed his head. "Indeed… And that's why I'm considering making a special request to the Pope. I wish to become the chief administrator of the unified Sorrow Kingdom. I wish to turn this land into my stronghold… for future use."

Sir Dolorem rested down again and calmed himself. He was baffled by Sylvester already, being merely eighteen and a peak Diamond Knight. He could not remember anyone in entire human history having achieved that.

"Seeing your success with the assignment this time. I believe you deserve to be promoted again. If what you promised me that year was true, to become the Pope at a young age, then you need this promotion."

Sylvester chuckled, knowing very well he was not getting the promotion. "It's not even been a year since I became Archbishop, Sir Dolorem. And I only graduated from the School of Dawn three years ago. The moment I reach the position of Cardinal, even those far away clergymen in Masan or Southern continents, who ignored me until now, will start raising their fingers."

"Fingers will be raised no matter whether you do it now or tomorrow, Lord Bard."

"But I wish to have a stronghold before truly entering the world stage, Sir Dolorem. After all, my rise to the highest se—"

Thud!

Suddenly, a soldier came and saluted stiffly. "Your Grace, a letter has arrived for you. The messenger asked me to rush it."

Sylvester looked at the letter with raised brows. "The letter didn't come through a running man?"

"No, your grace. It's a wizard from Riveria who brought it." The soldier answered.

Sylvester nodded and took the letter, dismissing the soldier too. Then he opened it and read it under his breath first.

"Hah!"

A sudden chuckle left his mouth. But he didn't allow anyone else to read it and simply burned it away.

"Finally, the lamb walks into the lion's mouth." He muttered and silently watched the refreshing sunset with newfound excitement in his heart. After all, one of his greatest plots had come to a critical point.

The letter, albeit with few words, had said a lot to him.

[Letter]

Your most esteemed grace, Archbishop Sylvester Maximilian.

With deep regret and profound apologies, I must impose upon your precious time, whilst you are occupied with your noble and sacred duties. But alas, I find myself with no other option.

A year ago, I had the honour and privilege of appointing you as my esteemed advisor. And now, I humbly request you to be my guiding light, my voice of wisdom in a time of dire need. I find myself in a quagmire, unable to navigate the intricacies of diplomacy with ease. Thus, I implore you to grant me the privilege of your presence, that I may seek solace in your enlightened counsel.

I will forever be grateful.

Conrad Fitz Riveria

King of Riveria

[Letter End]

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