At this point, Garon felt much more comfortable in his smaller dragon form, which allowed him to truly enjoy the banquet's offerings. Using transformation magic, he had reduced his size and was now feasting to his heart's content, swiftly clearing dish after dish as they were presented to him. Despite his reduced size, it seemed he possessed a stomach capable of melting down anything, with vast quantities of food disappearing into him as though flowing into a vast sea, leaving behind only a trace of ripples.
After consuming copious amounts of meat and downing large cups of beverages, Garon slightly squinted his eyes, inwardly praising the exquisite quality of the food. The meals, crafted by master chefs, were far more flavorful than anything he could prepare with a simple blast of fire.
Moreover, Duke Thorn had ensured that the dishes prepared for Garon were made mostly from magical beasts, which were rarely ordinary wild game. The flesh of magical creatures, refined by elemental energies and meticulously cooked, was indeed a treat.
Garon ignored the covert glances directed at him from around the room, focusing solely on his meal.
As time passed, two hours quickly flew by. The guests at the banquet had mostly ceased eating and gathered in small groups to chat about partnerships or the shifting political landscape among the duchies. Initially, Garon had drawn much attention, but as he continued to eat non-stop for over two hours, interest waned since he seemed unbothered by external affairs.
Back in the kitchen of the inner city, it was still bustling. Freshly slaughtered ingredients were continuously delivered, processed by skilled hands, and then expertly cooked—a well-oiled machine in operation, all to satisfy Garon's appetite. Duke Thorn had gone to great lengths to gather renowned chefs from across MoSha Duchy to prepare a variety of gourmet dishes for Garon.
After another fifteen minutes, Garon finally slowed down his eating pace. He let out a long sigh, stroked his belly with his claw, and squinted his eyes in satisfaction as he returned to his original size.
Noticing this, Duke Thorn, who was conversing with a middle-aged man in a tight-sleeved black robe, shifted his attention and approached Garon with the man, smiling. "Are you satisfied with the meal?"
Garon nodded.
"It was decently managed," he responded.
Duke Thorn, pleased, said, "I'm glad you're satisfied."
He paused, looking at the middle-aged man next to him hesitantly before introducing him to Garon, "Allow me to introduce Mr. Matthew Ronald from the Alva Duchy, a respected high-ranking spellcaster of the Transmutation School."
Before Duke Thorn's introduction, Garon's gaze had already settled on the lean middle-aged man, the most powerful and radiant among all the guests. Garon had noticed him earlier but hadn't paid much attention. High-ranking spellcasters were once a concern for him, but not anymore.
"Your mastery of transmutation is impressive," Matthew said with a light smile, offering praise that Garon perceived as mere courtesy.
"I dislike pleasantries. Speak plainly if you have something to say," Garon responded flatly, looking Matthew over.
Matthew's expression stiffened. As a high-ranking spellcaster, he was accustomed to respect wherever he went. Even duchy leaders like Duke Thorn treated him with utmost deference. Across the entire continent of Noah, high-ranking magicians were highly esteemed.
Yet, before a mysterious true dragon capable of easily subduing a mature red dragon, his status was significantly diminished.
Matthew understood this and quickly adjusted his demeanor, maintaining a smile. "Very well, since you prefer directness, I will not beat around the bush."
He paused, looking intently at Garon, and spoke in a grave tone, "I am here on behalf of Alva Duchy to request your assistance for the Golden Alliance Army."
"This war among human nations is nearing its end, and to minimize unnecessary casualties, we hope you can lend your support."
"Of course, your assistance will not be unrewarded."
"We are prepared to offer gold, gems, spell scrolls, magical items—anything you agree upon."
Garon glanced at Duke Thorn, who quickly explained, "The Dimo Royal House is incompetent and under its vampiric rule, the people have long been in turmoil, rising up a year ago."
"Alva Duchy is the core of the resistance against the Dimo Royal House, and together with other like-minded duchies, has formed the Golden Alliance Army, which is advancing southwards, steadily approaching the capital of Dimo."
"Replacing Dimo is only a matter of time."
Garon listened to Duke Thorn's explanation, gradually understanding the situation to the south.
This war, which had lasted over a year, was now drawing to a close. The duchies coveting Dimo had initially fought independently but had gradually unified under Alva Duch
y's leadership, achieving consecutive victories. Now, the Golden Alliance Army had reached the Baki Plains.
If the Golden Alliance Army could conquer the defending forces on the Baki Plains, they would be just tens of miles from the Dimo capital.
Pushed back to the Baki Plains, the Dimo Kingdom was clearly on the decline, and some formerly steadfast duchies had shifted their allegiance to the Golden Alliance, hoping to share in the spoils of victory to offset the damages of war.
As for MoSha Duchy, it had become weakened due to a conflict with the Walker Duchy and the loss of three high-ranking magicians half a year before the Alliance was formed, making it vulnerable.
Had it not been for Garon's protection, MoSha Duchy would likely have become a vassal of Alva shortly.
No human empire had ever unified the entire south of Noah continent.
Dimo had been the strongest nation for a millennium, supported by vassal states and protected by legendary magicians in every generation.
However, over time, accustomed to receiving tribute, the Dimo royal family had grown decadent and indulgent, turning a once vigorous kingdom into a faltering giant.
Particularly after the death of Dimo's chief magician, a legendary spellcaster, several years ago, the kingdom mourned, but found itself without a successor capable of filling the chief magician's role.
With this vacuum of power, the ambitious duchies, no longer willing to be subordinate, first ceased their tributes, then deliberately stirred minor conflicts to test Dimo's resolve.
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