The streets were now cleared of the rubble and debris from before. Many people, industrious as worker bees and ants, were quietly cleaning up and rebuilding this ancient city.
As Milmos and Alvis strolled along, the people around them revealed expressions of fear and strangeness, constantly pointing and whispering about them:
"Hey, what is that hideous monster's story?"
"I don't know, but it's walking with one of our own kind, even protected by dragon kin guards. It must be some kind of councillor."
"Is that human man a nobleman?"
The surrounding construction noises of "rumbling" drowned out the people's whispers. Milmos looked around with disdain and envy, saying:
"You see, the reason this place can be so orderly now is because of the management by the human nobles. If you want to seize power from them, of course no problem, the master is on our side - but that would mean losing control, without the vast human-controlled administrative layer that we dragon kin simply cannot handle."
Alvis did not respond immediately. He surveyed the surroundings, noticing small arched bastions at certain crucial street locations or hidden dead-ends, with rows of alloy cannon barrels protruding out.
"Was that your idea?" he asked, pointing at the bastions.
"I don't know, I only check with the blood wyvern if there are any unusual movements in the city districts. I really don't have the energy to ask about the construction details."
Alvis pondered: "So it must have been the idea of the old Morey nobles. They want to fight street battles? Actually concentrating heavy firepower inside the city."
He continued: "Milmos, although you say Raphael insists he holds all sovereignty. In reality, humans easily exploit their proxy positions to gain massive wealth and privileges. You all simply don't have the manpower to take over everything, like how you had no idea about the heavy weapons deployments."
Milmos said quietly: "There's no way around it, we just don't have enough people."
Alvis thought for a moment: "Let's go, we should meet with the dwarf king."
To save time, they had the accompanying big blood wyvern Marri transport them directly to the former Morey royal castle.
From afar, this once magnificent structure still looked exquisitely ethereal, its soaring towers inspiring awe in visitors.
At the same time, this was the only place still flying the Erl banners, two double-hammer flags helplessly flapping in the wind.
The blood wyvern commander landed directly in the outer bailey area. According to traditional castle structure, this should have been an enclosed great hall where knights on horseback prepared to sally and devour enemies. But now it was an open-air lawn garden.
After jumping off the big blood wyvern, Alvis immediately scanned the surroundings, casually wondering aloud:
"These flowers and grasses all look so well-tended, someone must carefully groom them every day. You said the dwarf has no autonomy to command people, could this place have been done by him alone?"
Before Milmos could reply, they heard the sounds of whinnying horses and rolling carriage wheels from behind. Turning around, they saw a group of warriors in anti-diffusion alchemy leather armor, carrying mage-crystal rifles and escorting several exquisite carriages arriving.
Spotting the unexpected guests on the lawn, the warriors immediately surrounded them without a word, aiming their mage-crystal rifles at Alvis's group.
Milmos furrowed his brow slightly, and the accompanying blood wyvern commander Marri defiantly strode forward on her wing claws towards the gun muzzles, magical power starting to flow through her blood sacs.
The rat dragon guards retaliated by loading explosive repeating bowguns, while regular blood wyvern took to the air screeching.
Milmos did not say a word, and the standoff continued, until a voice came from inside the carriages:
"What is going on here! These are the dragon kin! Not enemies! Fall back at once!"
The warriors broke off the encirclement without a word, not showing a hint of fear towards the formidable dragon kin from start to finish.
No one exited the ornate carriages. With a crack of the whip from the driver, the carriage convoy continued on the original king's road into the inner castle district.
"You were right, they are rather excessive," Milmos said coldly, the arrogant attitude of the human nobles stinging his sensitive heart.
Alvis asked: "Whose heraldic crest was that with the quill feather?"
Milmos gestured to the surrounding dragon kin, heading directly inwards: "The Vattier family crest. They are an alchemist lineage who did not earn nobility through military achievements. According to that woman called Amelia, in the old Morey, these nobles possessed only wealth, refinement, taste and knowledge but could never fully integrate into the top nobility circles, so they stuck together."
Alvis pondered: "Those guards seemed like battle-hardened veterans, experienced against many strange foes. Because even on the Strife Plains there are tribes more terrifying than blood wyverns."
...
Evan Vattier was listening to his father speak, with Baron Moran seated beside them.
Shena was saying: "…so Oakland was destroyed. Our scouts easily bypassed the fallen outer blockades and went there in person. One swore he snuck out and glimpsed Oakland from afar just two months ago - at that time it was still towering and formidable, surrounded by outlying villages and towns, with enough space inside for three million inhabitants."
He took out a painted image, a visual record captured by light-magic.
It depicted only rubble and ruin, with billowing black smoke rising endlessly. The granite walls quarried from the Loga Ranges were reduced to shattered debris, the distant untouched patches of forest visible at a glance.
Evan swallowed hard, a trickle of cold sweat slowly rolling down.
He knew the crimson dragon had recently rampaged southward for unknown reasons, prompting an emergency council among the twelve noble houses.
They all feared for Raphael's safety, as logically the downstream Molton River region should have been a fortified breadbasket of human civilization, with the Natterian Empire not far away.
But unexpectedly, the crimson dragon soon returned, dragging what seemed to be a former royal dragon as a trophy, dropping it atop Pillar Mountain.
They quickly dispatched scouts to investigate, resulting in the light-magic image now in Shena's hands.
This horrifying display of power shocked everyone. In the past, even formidable wild dragons were only dangerous on the battlefield. Thousands of years ago, the ancient humans of Midgarth could withstand dragons' occasional incursions using sturdy mountain fortresses, with alchemists' hewn giant rocks specially resistant to dragon's breath.
Oakland was a city whose construction began some 570 years ago, continually expanded using premium materials and designs meant to withstand at least Ulysses' flame breath against the outer walls in testing, with considerable explosive resistance as it was envisioned as a forward base if Pillar Mountain fell to orcs.
Yet now it lay in ashes.
"Is there any information on what method the crimson dragon used?" Baron Moran did not seem overly emotional, his spectacles reflecting a calm blankness.
"The report states that the few survivors unable to flee in time were captured and interrogated. The answer was: fire rained down like a waterfall, then the flames shifted from red to blue, to purple, finally a horrifying pale blankness, before a massive explosion reduced Oakland to this state."
Shena took the report paper from his bag and placed it on the table with the iris-patterned teacup.
Baron Moran carefully lifted the paper with his fingertips, as if some ghost lurked within.
He read through it closely without Missing a word, his expression growing progressively worse.
"First, we have exposed our capabilities," Moran began. "It's about 300 kilometers from Pillar Mountain to Oakland, yet the crimson dragon seemed to arrive within an hour after decimating a whole griffin knight squad en route."
"This means Ryton and Karuk are also within its strike range. Those two nations will not sit idly with such a sword hanging over their heads, and Nattier will worry about being backdoored. Humans will closely cooperate due to their common interests, launching an assault beyond our imagination."
Finished speaking, Moran steepled his hands under his chin in thought, the other two also digesting this information.
The Vattier and Moran houses led the twelve noble families, as both patriarchs possessed extraordinary intellects. In these turbulent times, they had become internal allies, effectively holding the reins of governance in Erl.
"Evan, what are your thoughts?"
Shena suddenly asked his "elder son."
Unexpectedly, he heavily relied on all his offspring, otherwise the abnormal Garry would also wield considerable family authority.
Evan was deeply touched that his father completely lacked the old nobility's attitude of hoarding wealth. Instead, Shena preferred continually promoting them, as no one would dislike holding high positions.
This time, Evan said: "Father, I want to know when the Heretic Wing mercenaries will arrive? And what was Count Amelia's reason for absence that day?"
Moran looked at Evan and suddenly laughed: "Doniel, your son is quite capable. He immediately grasped the crux of the problems we currently face."
The power Raphael displayed in this rampage was secondary compared to how wary it would make outsiders. More critically, it may provoke certain individuals into desperate gambles.
In the end, they did not know if future wars could be won. No matter the effort, they could never truly contend against all humanity. Everything depended on Raphael's own performance in the moment. This seemingly dire issue could ultimately be ignored.
So the key point was whether the current internal environment favored them - that was the vital question.
"Well said. Now that the crimson dragon Raphael is so domineering, only bringing in outside forces provides a chance to counterbalance it," Shena nodded.
No one wanted their lifeline perpetually controlled by others. Shena's original suggestion to hire the mercenary assistance had precisely this intention.
"I've heard there are actual draconic members among those mercenaries," Moran suddenly said. "We cannot directly antagonize the mercenary companies against the crimson dragon. We need it to realize it cannot face external threats alone, requiring our assistance to protect its claimed Pillar Mountain. Then we can exploit that space where it must tolerate relying on outside help, gradually nullifying its influence and taking actual control."
He spread his hands: "But now that it so easily destroyed Oakland, it may underestimate humans due to arrogance and fail to develop any sense of crisis. The mercenaries would naturally be no match for it. It would remain willfully unchecked, leaving us powerless against it. The outside aid may even be enraged into departing or demoralized, ultimately weakening our defensive forces to the point of potential defeat."
"Hmm~" Shena pondered, feeling like a minister guessing at the emperor's thoughts, one misstep risking total failure.
"We'll have to see when the time comes…" he ultimately could only say. "I communicated via liaison orb with the Heretic Wing last night. They ran into some trouble crossing into Ryton's borders - it seems there are large military movements there. But nothing too serious."
"Though the Heretic Wing numbers over ten thousand, they are all seasoned veterans. Dispersing and fording rivers should be easy for them."
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No sooner had Shena finished speaking than a brash voice bellowed from outside:
"Just over ten thousand? Father, you really are underestimating humans! I heard from friends in the general staff that at minimum over three hundred thousand troops will come to siege us. Isn't there over a million people in the city now? We need to start training and organizing immediately!"
Shena's brow instantly furrowed tightly before smoothing out.
Evan just shrugged apologetically at Moran with a slight smile.
Then a young man in an orange formal suit strode in, trailed by over a dozen fully armed warriors.
This was Doniel's second son, put in charge of the estate's security forces.
"Gino! Why did you bring the guards with you?"
Seeing the expressionless escorts behind him, Shena could not help but angrily rebuke, as these were elite troops jointly funded and trained by the twelve noble houses, exclusively loyal to them with combat ability on par with second-rate regular soldiers.
Previously clearing commercial rivals, resolving troubles, and safeguarding internal secrets, they now protected the nobles' manors from rioter attacks. But Shena never expected this wastrel son Gino to simply bring them out as personal bodyguards.
"You fool! These are not just our family retainers! We all paid for their training! You are only supposed to manage them!" Shena raged, now having to apologize to the others.
But Gino seemed completely unconcerned: "So what? Aside from four houses, the other eight patriarchs are all dead. The new clan heads are just brats, how can they compare to Father and Uncle Moran? The remaining Komo turtles live up to their name - we don't need to care about them. Amelia has some ability, but unfortunately she's an old woman, probably menopausal by now. Isn't this our territory at the moment? Why bother with them?"
These words instantly turned not just Shena and Evan's faces liver-colored, but even Moran stared wide-eyed and speechless at Gino.
"What's wrong? I'm just stating facts!" Gino remained obliviously brash.
"My apologies, excuse me." Moran rose to directly leave.
"No! No!my old friend Turio, don't go!" Shena hastily stood to stop him. "Gino is just being senseless, these are his foolish ramblings alone. As the Vattier family leaders, Evan and I would never do anything detrimental to our collective interests!"
Moran said nothing, glancing between Shena and Gino, as if implying something.
Shena immediately understood, ordering the guards: "I am the Vattier patriarch! And one of your financial backers! Give this insolent son a severe beating!"
"Ah!? Father! You-!"
Before Gino could react to the sudden turn, over a dozen burly men tackled him to the ground, mage-crystal rifles raining blows on his buttocks, the unyielding alloy smashing against soft flesh eliciting piercing screams of agony.
"Turio, how's that? I have no intentions of overreaching. The mercantile council remains under all our joint governance."
Shena linked arms with Moran with a smile, clearly unconcerned about his son's anguished cries.
"Very well, this was just the transgression of an arrogant scion. I won't mention it to the other families. But please keep your descendants better disciplined!"
Moran reluctantly accepted this explanation, sitting back down at Shena's urging.
After ten excruciating minutes, Gino's punishment finally ended as he leaned against a pillar, glaring hatefully at the three men seated at the table.
"Alright, let's continue the discussion," Shena said.
He had to discipline Gino, as the latter had infringed on the interests of the other eleven houses.
Although there were intentions to court the Moran family in his words, Baron Moran would never abandon their previously established rules over such remarks. As a nobleman tempered by many storms, he knew deeply that only walking the righteous path could earn tremendous profits, not underhanded plots and schemes.
Moran would think the Vattier family harbored ambitions of subsuming the other houses' power. Afterwards, he would ally with the remaining ten houses to jointly resist the Vattiers. Not to mention usurping other families for a share, they should not subsume any house at all - that was the law of the jungle devouring the weak, not cooperation between families.
Shena could not abandon the united twelve houses, as the talents and resources there were essential for his experiments. He only held managerial authority, though each still retained their own masters.
"Please continue," Moran seemed to put aside the earlier drama, returning to the main topic.
"Very well, next is Amelia's issue. She seems to have-" Shena was immediately interrupted by Gino's aggrieved voice:
"But ten thousand really is too few!"
Shena shot him a look that could kill, Gino immediately ducking his head in fright.
"Fine! Let me explain this to you, you uneducated fool!" Shena furiously roared. "Ten thousand too few? Do you know these ten thousand are hardened brutes who lick blood from blade edges every day? They can simply arm up and directly join battle, without any casualties or public pressures!"
"Train new soldiers from civilians from scratch? Putting aside ideological factors, for a population of one million, even with a heavy burden it's just ten people supporting one soldier - one hundred thousand troops? Any use? You expect a bunch of people wielding hoes, nets, pots, and tools to compare to professional full-time soldiers?"
Venting his rage, Shena spat: "Besides being terrified into retreating by the thunderous bombardments and losing order from panicked routs, they're completely useless! Better for them to obediently stay in the rear doing production work."
"Then why build so many fortresses inside the city?" Gino stubbornly retorted.
Shena ignored this, about to continue on Amelia's issue, but Moran had latched onto this information:
"You said constructing fortresses within the city districts? Whose idea was this?"
Gino seemed puzzled: "That…the decree issuing body said so. Uncle Comoro's propaganda department keeps saying externally we need to strengthen the city's defenses."
Clearly Moran had never heard of this, and Shena too mostly just commuted between the royal castle and his estate, delegating internal city affairs to the various families' younger scions and a bunch of degenerate thugs, hooligans and foreigners.
The two of them could not help but look towards Evan.
Evan hurriedly defended himself: "I've only been assisting Uncle Comoro, who does have considerable autonomy as our equal peer, naturally able to act on his own judgment."
"But from what I know, Comoro is normally quite passive, especially when liaising with Amelia," Shena said slowly.
Moran also sensed something amiss: "You don't think this could be related to Amelia's absence?"
Gino then revealed another piece of information: "Oh right, just now when my carriage passed through the outer city, I saw a bunch of dragon kin gathered there. Did you summon them for something?"
The three were simultaneously struck speechless by this shocking news. Finally showing a flustered expression, Moran asked: "Are you certain? The dragon kin? Raphael's crimson dragon's minions?"
Gino recollected: "I think so - red outer scales, some rat-like, some bat-like. Oh yeah, there was one really weird one too, with a donkey-like face, mostly humanoid body shape but skinny as a rail, its back hunched up like a snail shell."
Shena almost leapt up: "Milmos?"
He urgently rushed over to ask: "Where did they go?"
Seeing his normally composed father and Moran appearing so grave, Gino realized he may have blundered again, trembling as he said: "I don't know. But the guards surrounded them when they suddenly appeared, resulting in an armed standoff for a while. But I ordered us to just leave directly, so I've no idea where they went afterwards."
Hearing the words "armed standoff", Shena's heart clearly sank.
Moran was the first to regain his composure, deducing: "Doniel, you mentioned Milmos is an important dragon kin official close to the crimson dragon, wielding great authority. He should be as occupied overseeing matters as we are, impossible for him to simply wander around recklessly. There must be an important reason for his mobilization."
What inside the royal castle could warrant Milmos's personal deployment? Shena and Moran had been here half a day without any summons, leaving only the dwarven king Naisa - the seemingly forgotten monarch of Erl.
"I knew something was amiss! Let's go, to that dwarf!"
Shena immediately gestured for them to depart.
Gino excitedly said: "Finally time to take action? I've been waiting for this day for so long! Having to issue every decree under the dwarf's name is so vexing."
Shena spun and delivered a slap that nearly knocked Gino flying.
"You stay put! Obediently remain home!"
He ordered the guards to escort this son back before leaving alone with Moran and Evan.
Bringing escorts served no purpose - even if they could defeat the dragon kin unharmed, no one could withstand Raphael's subsequent wrath.
They passed through exquisitely carved corridors and halls adorned with lavish ornaments. After officially taking governing control, Shena had turned this former symbol of Morey's royalty - a castle he could only gaze up at since its construction - into his own office. He specifically reassigned former civilian sanitation and landscaping workers here, who gladly escaped strenuous manual labor with such eagerness.
Arriving outside the royal bedchambers, Raphael's appointed rat dragon guards still kept watch, though now joined by a conspicuously massive blood wyvern.
Its immense body blocked the heavy wooden double doors, a pair of enormous crimson eyes staring directly at the three human visitors.
Shena examined it carefully before realizing this was indeed a blood wyvern, but its size was truly massive - over three times that of ordinary individuals.
"Humans? What business do you have here?"
The great blood wyvern issued a piercing draconic voice, regarding Shena and the others with clear hostility.
Of the three, only Shena was fluent in draconic tongue. Evan and Moran were merely half-proficient, afraid of causing misunderstandings through erroneous speech, so they let Shena take the lead.
"Honored dragon kin, I merely heard there were esteemed guests from Pillar Mountain visiting, so I came to pay respects," Shena replied courteously, even affecting the ceremonial greeting of ancient nobility.
Mary was a female blood wyvern, whose gender dominated their kind. They were the first creations of the primordial Flame Mother goddess, who doted especially on the matrilineal side due to sharing the same sex, bestowing them with greater power.
Mary now puffed out her core blood sac, advancing step-by-step to intimidate the three.
But they were all well-experienced - the blood wyvern's bravado clearly fell short.
"No need, go back," Mary eventually failed to cow Shena into retreating, sullenly retracting her talons.
Shena shot a dark look past the great blood wyvern before offering another courteous bow and leaving with Evan and Moran.
"To the central administration," Shena told Evan after exchanging glances with Baron Moran as soon as they exited. "We'll go together."
"Yes, Father." Evan knew major events were imminent, hurriedly calling for carriage preparations.
Back at the royal bedchambers:
The doors slowly creaked open, Milmos's voice emerging from within:
"Who was that?"
Unfamiliar with Shena, Mary could only answer:
"Three humans, they seemed quite polite - probably the nobles you've mentioned."
No further questions came, the doors silently closing once more.
After securing the entrance, Alvis approached where the white-haired, haggard dwarven king sat at a tea table, Milmos having pulled over a large crate to sit beside him.
"It had to be Shena! And the other nobles too!" Milmos said bluntly.
Alvis felt he had heard that name before: "Shena? Wasn't he that legendary alchemist? Did his descendants also take the same name?"
"No, sir," Naisa spoke in a muffled tone, clearly suppressed melancholy from prolonged subjugation weighing on his heart:
"That was Shena himself - an evil human who used obscure rituals to unnaturally extend his lifespan. I don't know how he resolved the ethical problem of generational succession, but he is now the legitimate Baron Vattier, publicly known as Doniel."
"Shena himself? Alive over six hundred years? That's over twice as old as Raphael!"
Alvis startled briefly before regaining his calm demeanor, for this strange continent hosted many unreasonable phenomena - too much study would probably shatter an ordinary person's sanity.
"Well, it seems our opponent's capabilities have risen another level, allowing us to better gauge what countermeasures will be required," he coolly analyzed, pulling over a chair to take a seat while rubbing his hands.
"Milmos, is there any way to connect Naisa with his dwarven ministers? That could provide effective assistance."
Naisa immediately raised his head with a glimmer of hope, his bearded, bloodshot face no longer bearing the dignified grandeur of once leading all dwarfkind, more like a caged, defanged lion's resignation.
These past few months, he had no interaction with any living being. The rat dragon strictly followed Raphael's vague implication, never allowing Naisa outside communication to the point he feared losing his ability for verbal expression entirely.
But the words at his coronation ceremony clearly resonated with the dwarven elders, as evidenced by Milmos's presence.
"This-"
Yet Milmos did not readily agree, instead falling into contemplation with clear reservations.
"What? You've come all this way and still haven't committed to aiding me?" Naisa desperately clutched Milmos's talons, determined not to let this chance slip away.
He pointed towards the doors: "Didn't you see? Humans wander in and out freely, appropriating the war trophies of your lord, the great crimson dragon leader for their own use! They fancy themselves the unseen kings, bossing the populace around while enjoying the finest food, clothing and accommodations the world has to offer. And what of you? Surely life in the mountains isn't so comfortable, is it? Why is this allowed? Even if the great lord Raphael has no need for such luxuries, they cannot be simply stolen by outsiders! This is brazen arrogance and humiliation!"
Alvis spoke up: "Milmos, you must make a decisive choice. You need to understand that Baron Vattier will certainly realize the dwarven king's isolation has been breached. They do not know this was coordinated between us, only seeing it as Raphael's intent. That is also why they dare not barge in forcefully."
"Now they will most likely employ other means to maintain their current position as much as possible. Direct confrontation is unlikely, but removing this poisonous root quickly is necessary."
Initially Raphael had not thought that deeply, only caring about securing the gold. Anything else like the dwarven kingdom or alliances were just insurance policies - he never seriously considered ruling as the sovereign.
But Alvis aimed to elevate Raphael to that role, for only by becoming the supreme leader could this fragile regime endure the brutal wars of the future. Compared to those forthcoming benefits, gold was merely a trifle.
The first step was consolidating all the dispersed powers back into one clear central authority, rather than the current sham of a marginalized dwarven king, an uninvolved regent foreigner, plus a coterie of shadow sovereigns.
"Exactly! They - they act so lawlessly! More greedy than evil dragons themselves! Ravenously devouring wealth, bathing in golden tubs, dusting meat with silver powder to eat - it's heinous criminality! You must punish them on Lord Raphael's behalf!"
Naisa had descended into frantic raving, unable to fathom returning to his former captive existence, frantically denigrating and even slandering the humans in hopes of using Milmos's power to escape his cage.
"I swear! I'll never speak of self-rule again! I am Lord Raphael's most loyal vassal! With the fealty of a dragon kin as my goal! Resolutely safeguarding His Crimson Majesty's every interest!"
By the end, he even ripped off the false purple crystal crown from his head, kneeling to kowtow as snot and tears puddled on the floor.
To see a dwarven king so degradingly prostrate himself illustrated the torturous toll such solitary isolation inflicted on the soul, capable of reducing a regal spirit to this shameless depths.
"In theory there's no problem, as I could simply tell the rat dragon to let us go," Milmos muttered. "But that would be indirectly overriding orders."
It turned its draconic head to stare at the prone Naisa, then looked at Alvis before them. "To let Naisa out or bring dwarves in, I would have to tell the guards 'The master has rescinded his command, that dwarf can now go wherever he wishes.' Once the master learns of this, what would become of me?!"
Raphael despised treachery above all else - fabricating orders was one of the ancient cardinal taboos, discovery likely meriting a merciful preservation of one's full corpse.
"But you all can enter freely, just bring some dwarves along, no?"
Naisa clutched at this hope, crawling forth to beseech Milmos.
"It's not the same - I am an internal member, Alvis too once held equal status. But dwarves are blatant outsiders. The rat dragon have a very clear logic - I represent the master so can come and go freely without issue. But your elders represent another power faction which is precisely why you are barred from outside contact."
Naisa hastily amended: "Then you can pass messages as intermediaries to negotiate on my behalf?"
The first thought crossing Milmos's mind was the mountainous backlog of paperwork awaiting processing - every vassal across the entire Pillar Mountain dominion awaited its directives, each moment precious lest issues snowball out of control like a stalled engine.
"I-" It wanted to refuse, but recalled Alvis's words about needing immediate action to pull back from the brink and improve overall efficiency.
After a pensive silence, the big blood wyvern outside heard an order issued:
"Mary, return and inform those two human females that administering the dominion's affairs for the next few days now falls to them."