Ethan straightened his posture, preparing to end his speech. "Now, for the conclusion, the operation will begin in four days. This time will allow the king's military to prepare, mobilize, and coordinate their forces. The adventurers who choose to join us will also have these days to make their own preparations."
He paused, allowing the information to sink in. "During these four days, registration for the operation will remain open. If you wish to participate, you must register at the reception desk before the deadline. Once registered, your name will be added to the list of confirmed participants, and you will receive further details regarding your role in the mission."
Ethan's voice grew firmer. "This is our chance to protect the kingdom and its people. Whether you choose to join or not is up to you. But remember, a threat like this will not go away on its own. Four days from now, we march north to face whatever lies within the dragon's nest."
With that, he concluded the briefing, leaving the room and allowing the weight of his words to settle over the room.
As the meeting wrapped up and adventurers began filing out of the room, I decided it was time to go speak with Ayanokoji. It had been a while since I'd seen him, and I wanted to check on his progress.
Making my way through the bustling crowd, I couldn't help but notice an adventurer in expensive-looking gear walking past me. He seemed dissatisfied, glaring at me as he snorted under his breath.
'Ah, this must be the S-rank adventurer they mentioned.' I thought, instantly recognizing the attitude.
I could sense his displeasure with the way I'd spoken earlier about higher-ranked adventurers on top of that expensive gear, Only an S rank or a noble can afford it, but I paid him no heed.
His irritation wasn't worth my time.
Instead, I ignored him and continued toward Ayanokoji.
As I approached, I placed a hand on his shoulder, expecting to feel the usual mana flow. But to my surprise, I barely felt anything. His control over his mana had become so refined that it almost felt like he was no different from a regular human.
'Impressive, especially considering how raw his power was before.'
Ayanokoji turned, surprised for a moment, but then his eyes softened in recognition. "Master." He said, his voice calm as ever.
I gave him a small nod. "You've made some real progress, haven't you?" I remarked, genuinely impressed by how far he had come. "You've been busy."
Ayanokoji smiled, though just barely. "I've been training hard, as you ordered. It's been... fruitful. I've learned more about mana, its flow, and how to control it. I was planning to return to the mansion next week, but since I've met you now, I'll come back with you."
"So any affinities?" I asked, my voice showing that I was expecting something cool from him... And he did not disappoint.
"Yup, I did discover my affinity to the ice element." He stated with his usual stoic face.
"Wait a moment here? By any chance, are you the 'Frozen prince'?" I did hear some talk about a new promising adventurer, they say his expression is as cold as his ice magic or something like that. Girls are all over him in town.
"That's what they call me." He confirmed.
"Damn... So you already have a title huh? And all the bitches want you on top of that!" I slapped his back a few times with a wide grin. "Anyways. You've done well, Ayanokoji. I am really satisfied with your progress. I'll need your strength soon enough."
We left the guild as well walking to the mansion, Ayanokoji turned to me, his expression thoughtful. "Master, what do you make of the situation? Is there something you'd like to do about it?"
I glanced at him, chuckling lightly. "To be honest, I find this whole thing... interesting. Fun, even. It's been a while since I've felt any real excitement. These past three months? Boring. Just a string of basic missions, no real challenge." I shrugged. "But this... this dragon situation might just relieve some of that boredom."
Ayanokoji looked ahead as we continued walking, processing my words. He always listened carefully, which I appreciated.
"I've decided I'll be sending you and Fubuki on this mission." I continued, my tone calm but firm. "You've both been growing stronger, and I think it's the perfect opportunity for you two to test yourselves. As for myself..." I trailed off, glancing up at the sky.
"I still need to think about it. I'm not sure if I want to get directly involved just yet." I paused for a moment, then continued with an excited smile on my face. "Or maybe I will come in clutch and save everyone at the last moment, hahaha."
Ayanokoji nodded, ignoring the last joke and understanding my reluctance to fully commit. "Understood, Master. I'll do as you command."
I walked alongside Koji in the street, both hands in my pockets thinking to myself. 'As much as this is fun and all, I still don't want to die. There would be no purpose to all of this progress if I got myself killed. This is as stressful as much as I find this exciting.'
*Sigh*
Thinking about it for a second, I made up my mind.
"Alright! It's decided. I will fuck Fubuki when we get back home!" I punched air up with both hands.
On the other hand, Ayanokoji couldn't help but let out a tired sigh.
-??? POV-
In the heart of Daloria's grand castle lies the throne room, a vast, imposing space lined with marble pillars and expensive wooden frames. High-arched windows allow rays of light to stream in, casting a regal glow over the ornate red carpets and tapestries that tell the history of the kingdom.
Intricate chandeliers hang from the ceiling, their shimmering crystals catching the sunlight, while a massive stone fireplace roars quietly at the far end, giving the room an air of warmth despite its grand size.
At the center of this throne room sits King Bertrand Daloria, an aging man whose once-powerful frame now appears frail with the passage of time.
His face is lined with deep wrinkles, a testament to his long years of rule and the burdens of leadership. His eyes, though exhausted, still hold a flicker of authority.
His silver hair, once full and majestic, now hangs thin and wispy over his weathered features. Draped in royal robes, he leans slightly forward on his grand throne, a massive chair of gilded wood with cushions of deep crimson, its design signaling the power of the Daloria lineage.
To the king's right stands his younger son. The younger prince, with his long blonde hair falling neatly down his back, has brown eyes that gleam with intelligence and cunning.
His features are sharp and delicate, with a slight feminine quality that lends him an air of grace. Despite his slender, almost fragile build, there is a quiet power in his posture, his thin fingers resting lightly on his chair arms, for while his physical strength is lacking, his intellect makes him a formidable player in the court's power games.
On the king's left is his elder son, a towering figure of strength and dominance. At 193 cm, he stands like a wall of muscle, his broad shoulders and powerful physique barely contained by his luxurious clothing.
His short blonde hair is slicked back to the side, revealing the fierce scar that cuts a brutal path from his left eyebrow down to his upper lip, a mark of the many battles he's endured.
His brown goatee frames his strong jawline, enhancing his aura of rugged masculinity. His presence alone commands respect, and it's clear from his stance that he's a warrior first and a prince second.
The contrast between the two brothers, one all brains, the other all brawn is stark and undeniable, each embodying different aspects of power and ambition.
This difference was palpable even in the way they spoke...
Breaking the silence, the younger prince spoke first, his tone laced with concern but underpinned by careful calculation. "Father, how is your health today? It seems every passing day takes its toll upon you." He said, his voice soft, respectful, and yet probing.
The king sighed deeply before replying, his voice weakened but still carrying the authority that came with years of rule. "It has not improved much, Alistair... the doctors have done what they can, but time spares no one, not even kings."
Alistair nodded sympathetically, his expression a mask of concern. "It has been difficult since mother passed... her absence weighs on you, and it is understandable. But we must take care of you, Father. Your wisdom is what keeps this kingdom strong, especially in such troubling times."
The king smiled faintly but said nothing. Alistair continued. "If there is anything more we can do, anything to ease your burden..."
At that moment, Prince Hadrian, who had been sitting on his chair silently with his arms crossed, cut into the conversation, his deep voice commanding the room's attention. "Enough of this health talk."
He said bluntly, his tone dismissive. "We have more pressing matters to discuss. The dragon mission is upon us, and I will lead the kingdom's forces as always. My experience on the battlefield will ensure we win against this creature, just as I have led us to victory before."
He puffed out his chest proudly as if his mere presence would guarantee success. "And, Father. Since your health is failing... perhaps it is time for you to pass the crown. I am the eldest son, and it is my right to take the throne. You know I am the one who deserves it."
The king's eyes darkened at Hadrian's words, but before he could respond, Hadrian continued his voice firm. "This kingdom needs strength, not weakness. With the dragon threat looming, I will bring back its head as proof of my worth."
King Bertrand straightened slightly, his voice regaining some of its authority. "You is worthy of the throne... not yet. Neither of you are." His eyes flicked between both sons, his disappointment clear.
"It is not strength or power that makes a king... It is wisdom, and neither of you has shown me that yet."
Alistair remained silent, though he agreed with his father's words. His thoughts drifted as he considered the state of the kingdom. 'Father is right,' he thought to himself. 'I may be a little bit... capable, but not yet ready for the crown. The way Father has managed this kingdom, especially through these recent hardships, shows that he is still the most suited to wear it.' He glanced toward Hadrian, whose boldness often blinded him.
Prince Hadrian's face tightened, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as he tried to mask his frustration. The king's words had cut deep, but Hadrian knew better than to lash out openly before his father. His voice, however, betrayed his restrained anger.
"I will show you, Father." Hadrian said, his tone sharp, though he attempted to keep his emotions in check. "When I defeat the dragon and bring its head to you, there will be no more room for doubt. I will prove that I am worthy of the throne. And after that, I will not accept 'no' as an answer."
Without waiting for a response, Hadrian turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the throne room, his heavy footsteps echoing through the grand hall as the large doors slammed behind him.
The king sighed heavily, the weight of both his illness and his family's internal strife pressing down on him. His hand rose slowly to his temple as if the very thought of dealing with Hadrian's ambition was exhausting.
Prince Alistair, standing beside his father, stepped forward, his voice gentle as he sought to offer some form of consolation. "Father... do not let his words trouble you. I will do my utmost to rise to the expectations you have set for us. I may not have Hadrian's strength, but I will work tirelessly to meet the level you wish for."
King Bertrand gave a weary nod but said nothing. Alistair could see how his father's health was deteriorating, the toll of ruling this kingdom while dealing with the death of his queen, and the constant pressure of a potential power struggle between his sons.
Alistair's thoughts turned inward. Though he was 25 years old now, a man grown and well-versed in the kingdom's politics, he still wasn't sure if he could manage the country should his father pass away. 'Am I truly ready for this burden?' He wondered. The very idea of ruling filled him with uncertainty, and as he glanced at his father, the realization hit him again, time was running out.
'I must find a cure for his illness, I cannot let him wither away like this, not while Hadrian waits in the wings.'
But even as he made this promise to himself, his thoughts took a darker turn. He couldn't shake the growing suspicion about his brother. Hadrian was bold, brash, and had amassed a great deal of influence within the military thanks to his many victories.
His men were fiercely loyal, and with his reputation on the battlefield, it wouldn't be difficult for him to gather those willing to support a coup.
The thought was unnerving. 'If Hadrian were to betray us... he could take the throne by force. He wouldn't hesitate to kill me or even Father if it meant securing power for himself.'
Alistair's eyes narrowed slightly as his mind played out the scenarios. Though tiring and distasteful, the prospect of dealing with his brother's ambition was one he knew he couldn't ignore. 'But it's nothing I can't handle.' He thought, steeling himself. 'If you want to go on an all-out war against me, you better be prepared to get completely destroyed, Hadrian.'
He placed a hand gently on his father's shoulder. "Rest, Father. I will see to it that everything is under control."
Bertrand nodded slowly, offering a faint smile to his younger son, though the shadows of worry and exhaustion never left his eyes.
But... What Alistair did not know, was that there was a way bigger threat than his brother roaming freely in the country.
TO BE CONTINUED --->
--Note--
Sup guys! You can read all the advanced chapters as well as lemon and spicy [+18] content on:
p a t r e o n .com/Nouflex_Naoufal
Or simply type 'Nouflex_Naoufal' on the patreon website/app.
Support me to have access to many advanced chapters for very affordable prices, I would really appreciate it, it would mean the world to me!