Arche, the capital of the Garlist Kingdom, is suddenly filled with a commotion.

　It gradually intensified like a rainstorm, and at some point it began to rain heavily. Rumors bring on anxiety, anxiety brings on fear, and fear brings on new rumors.

　A while before the message was sent to Valerie Brightnes, the watcher, there was a rumor floating around the capital.

　--Hordes of demonic beasts are turning into a tidal wave, a disaster facing the Kingdom of Garleist.

　In the royal castle, the Political Machine House. In the gaily decorated halls of the chamber, the most important figures of the Garlist Kingdom, as well as the senior nobles, are gathered in a crowd.

　Everyone in attendance wore garments woven with gold and silver thread, adorned with unmistakable prosperity and honor.

　This is the hall of the noble ones. And so the gathering of those who practically control the politics of the Garlist Kingdom. At least that's what they understand deep down.

　Such a chamber, where normally only rumbling voices can be heard, is different today.

　At times, you can hear raspy voices and the sound of hard knocking on the round table. I could see the servants rushing about, carrying wine and parchments.

　A high-ranking nobleman with several medals on his chest said, his lips pursed.

In addition to the national army, the deployment of the entire nobility's private army is out of the ordinary. Now it's dead snow. How much of the national budget and manpower will be spent on this? We also have to hold back the Illyssarde in the south and the Borvat dynasty in the east. What do you think, Protector?

　Those were the words of the head of the Gilraeage family, who had many private armies and castles. The falcon-like eyes of the head of the Gilraeage family, with its numerous private armies and castles, stared at the only man in the vast political machine.

　As a high ranking nobleman, he acted as if everything from the quality of his voice to his body language had been perfected. In particular, he knew exactly how to behave in this place to make more allies.

　But he didn't care about the fierce gaze or the nobleman's behavior. The slender man who was given the gaze said. His white face was wrapped in a black garment trimmed with gold.

"For the good of the nation, Lord Gilraenegh. Without the state, his lands and privileges will disappear. The only thing that will prevent that from happening is the concentration of power. It's not hard to see.

　At these words, the head of House Gilraeage snickered for a moment. The man's words were so quiet that they seemed to resonate strangely in his throat. For a moment, the political machine was enveloped in silence.

　Protector Jace Brackenbury. The Protector of the Realm, Jace Brackenbury, a man who holds full power over his country's armed forces and still wields great influence in the political arena.

　However, it is rare for him to appear in politics. This is because his ideal is that the military and politics should be distant from each other.

　Brackenbury's appearance at the political center, the House of Political Machines, was already unusual in itself.

　There was only one reason for this.

　A group of hexenbiests had sprung up from the northwest. Brackenbury judged it to be an undeniable threat, one that was causing more and more damage every day.

　And so he says. It's not something the national army can control alone. It's a threat that should be met with the private armies of the nobility.

　Of course, the private armies of the nobility are naturally the armies of the state. This is because the king grants territories and privileges to the nobility, and the nobility has soldiers in the service of the king.

　Therefore, all nobles are obligated to gather their troops there when the king gives the order.

　But it is not strictly speaking a national army. The national army, over which Brackenbury has authority, is a private army under the king's direct control. These are the professional military men and women who are paid for and trained by the government. He has no authority over the private armies of the nobility.

　So now Brackenbury was here. A pack of nobles. Stepping into the crucible of vanity, hatred, and lust, and trying to tame them.

I assure you the hexenbiest to the northwest is not as easy as you think. Dropping troops in succession is a fool's errand. I propose to mobilize all troops except for the defenders immediately. I, as Protector of the Realm, will assume all command and responsibility.

　Brackenbury's assertion was ridiculous. It's only a hexenbiest, most of the nobles say.

　It's only a hexenbiest. This is a common understanding among those of a certain rank. A hexenbiest is a threat, but it is no different from a thief. They are nothing to be afraid of if you handle them properly. They believe that the armies of other nations are far more vicious.

　Therefore, only a few of them agreed with Brackenbury's words. This was especially true of the higher nobility.

　One of them, a large man, waved his hands and shouted into the chamber.

I agree with the Protector of Brackenbury. Troops should be dropped when and where they are needed. Holding it alone can make it useless.

　The voice came from the senior nobleman, Reumetz-Fomor. His words caused a slight murmur to be heard in the chamber.

　The words of Reumetz, a senior aristocrat with a large grounding in the political field, were far more weighty than those of any other aristocrat.

　The Gilreath family, the main opposition group, also turned a blind eye to Reumetz's words. This is because the Guilherrages are not particularly opposed to Leumetz. On the contrary, they usually work hand in hand and even share interests.

　This is because they understand that they are on the same page. We trust each other because we know we can talk to each other, and we trust that we are not going to say something stupid.

"...... Lord Fomor. I'm trying to be straightforward. What makes you think it is necessary to mobilize the entire army?



　The words twisted from his lips, the head of the Gilraeage family said. It's hard to believe that a man of Roimets' stature would just be taken in by the Protector's words.

　There must be some thought and calculation there. Human beings, or rather nobles, do not stop calculating and scheming, even in times of national crisis. In fact, it is precisely at such times that they may try to flap their hands and feet.

The Northwest Land is the land of our kingdom, but half of it is under the direct control of the Cathedral, and the other half is trampled under the feet of demonic beasts. There is no land at our disposal. On top of that, when it comes to deadly snow, the government's expenses will only continue to bleed in the face of the rampaging monsters.

　Reumetz, wielding his originally large body, spoke to the entire chamber. The heat of his words was so intense that they naturally penetrated the ears of those around him.

　This man is often seen like this in politics. He was good at making friends with the sympathy of others, rather than instigating them.

Therefore, now is the time to strike the hexenbiests with blood. The other countries will not be able to make a big move because of the dead snow. In the meantime, we will recover some of our lost ground. I see this as an opportunity to do so, Lord Gilraeus.

　Recover lost ground. Those words are very dear to the hearts of the Garristian people, especially the nobility. They have been etched into our minds since we were children. From our parents, our teachers, everything around us.

　The Garleist Kingdom was once a great empire. It conquered many kingdoms, it enjoyed the wine of prosperity, it was all about glory and splendor. Its territory stretched from the west to the east.

　The empire's name was Altia. The Unified Empire of Altia. A time when mankind was at its greatest.

　But all glory must fall at some point.

　After the loss of the first great emperor, the nation was divided, territories were lost, and Garleist, then the capital of Altia, was reduced from an empire to a mere state.

　The nobles of Garlaist still remember that time.

　Even if it was a long time ago, we are the descendants of that great one. The thought that they are descendants of the supreme empire is ingrained in their souls.

　We will recover our lost ground and eventually regain our former glory. This is the one philosophy shared by the Garristian nobility. Of course, we all understand that this is close to a pipe dream.

　But that is why Reumetz's words touched the hearts of the nobles in no small measure. It is true that it costs money. It would be a huge expense if it were snowing death.

　But if there is a reward... If there's honor in it. Wouldn't that be nice?

　So, just when the scales were about to tip slightly. There was someone holding back the other plate.

"Hold on. I think we're discussing this too quickly. The more serious the matter, the more carefully we should search our feet.

　It was a woman's voice. It was a woman's voice, not trembling, but rather glaring at the chamber itself. She said with an air of dignity, even though she was still young.

And it's all up to His Majesty the King to decide. We, his subjects, should not argue too much.

　The woman's name is Olivia Belch. She is the daughter of the Belch family, who, despite being a senior nobleman, has shown a conciliatory attitude towards the cathedral and has even acquired commercial interests in the lands directly under the cathedral.

　There are two main reasons why she is still young enough to be able to walk in and out of this political machine and act with dignity.

　The first is that her father, the original head of the family, has been ill for a long time, and she was the only one who had the talent to take over for him. In this respect, she was indeed excellent.

　However, no matter how talented she was, the political machine was not a place so crude that a person with a weak foundation could have a say. And the seniors don't like the words of a young man.

　There was another factor that clogged things up. 　

　--Olivia's acquaintance with the saintly Alueno.

　The existence of a saint is still very influential in the Garlist Kingdom. Even those who advocate hating the High Holy Church don't want to touch that point.

　That is why Olivia had the right to speak, which she should not have had. A voice that sounded like a bell rang out in the chamber.

"Your Majesty, what shall we do?

　At the sound of Olivia's voice, everyone looked up. The king was one step above the others in the chamber.

　The pinnacle of the Garleist Kingdom. King Amelites-Gerleist. His long white hair hung down, revealing a number of deeply etched wrinkles.

　King Amelites is revered as the "Reigning King", and in one generation, he overhauled the laws, judicial system, and flood control in the Kingdom of Garleist. He was truly a great ruler, or so they called him.

　Now, it's all in the past.

　Is it old age, or is it something else? The great sovereign's eyes have darkened and changed so much that he can no longer even see what is in front of him. In his appearance, there is not a trace of the man he was when he was called the Reigning King.

　In front of the old king, everyone in the room fell silent. Then, they waited for his voice to slowly fade away. The old king's wrinkles became deeper and deeper.

"...... Brackenbury.

　The Protector Brackenbury hung his head reverently as his name was called. The old king pondered for a few seconds before continuing.



"Your leaving King's Landing is unacceptable. You're a national shield. Consider your position. Half the army will be assigned to the northwestern hexenbiests and half to protect King's Landing. If necessary, seek the cooperation of the lords.

　That was all he said. As if to cut off all discussion, the old king said and put his weight on his elbow. That means there are no more words to be said.

　And so, in this House of Political Machines, the King's decisions are not allowed to be discussed again.

　Lords and ladies. All to Brackenbury, hang your heads. And swore to obey his word. All thoughts and reason are shattered here and now.

　Only Olivia Belch had a gentle line drawn across her cheek.