Chereads / The Necromancer's Servant / Chapter 118 - Chapter 6: The Diplomacy of Fists (Part 1)

Chapter 118 - Chapter 6: The Diplomacy of Fists (Part 1)

Tatalia lies on the northwestern edge of the Barbarian Highlands. It is the only nation on the continent whose territory overlaps with the Highlands. With a small portion situated within the highland terrain, its land slopes westward, descending gradually into the vast western plains. The Saundfest Mountains, extending westward, taper off into this nation, leaving behind vast stretches of hills and marshlands. As if infused with the desolate spirit of the Highlands and the Saundfest Mountains, most of Tatalia's land is barren and inhospitable, a stark contrast to the fertile and prosperous plains of southern Alrasia.

Tatalia's fortunes only began to improve economically when Orford—a bustling hub of commerce—was established, as it happened to be the nearest nation to this thriving trade center.

Unlike Alrasia and other nations steeped in history and culture, Tatalia's region had long been neglected by the larger, more advanced powers. Over centuries of tribal struggles and fluctuating alliances, the native clans in the area gradually transformed from loose tribal coalitions into the Tatalia Kingdom, which developed its unique cultural characteristics. Interestingly, Tatalia is also home to a Lizardmen tribe, making it, alongside Orford, the only nation on the continent to formally acknowledge half-human races.

The throne of Tatalia has passed through eleven generations of kings. A year ago, the late King Tarlos X passed away suddenly before he could leave a final will. Despite his vigorous efforts in producing heirs, whether due to fate or some unknown human factor, among his fifty-eight offspring, he left behind only two sons. The two princes, each backed by different factions among the five major tribes, began a fierce struggle for the throne. After more than half a year of overt battles and covert schemes, the elder prince, Brown, ultimately secured victory with the support of three tribes, ascending as the eleventh King of Tatalia.

Brown, the firstborn son of the legitimate queen, had always enjoyed royal favor. With his commanding height, striking appearance, and imposing demeanor, he was far more pleasing to the late king than his younger brother, Tazir, whose awkward and unattractive looks drew little affection. Brown had grown up assuming he would one day rule Tatalia, and this sense of entitlement naturally led him to indulge in a life of hedonism. Among his many peculiar hobbies was a fondness for keeping swamp lizards as pets, with his favorite pastime reportedly being watching these creatures slowly devour captive slave girls.

Brown's political victory, however, could be attributed to one reason, summed up in two words: mediocrity and ineptitude. This was Theodorus' conclusion after reviewing intelligence on the situation.

Though the three tribes supporting Brown were indeed stronger than the two backing Tazir, the decisive factor was a single individual—Tatalia's Shadow Sage, Nimbras.

In a nation whose culture and magical practices were as rudimentary as its lands, Tatalia owed much of its dignity and standing among other nations to the extraordinary figure of Nimbras, a legendary mage. Tales of his exploits were numerous: he once defeated three highly trained mages simultaneously, each specializing in a different magical school, using their own domains of expertise against them. He had also bested a Church Cardinal in a scholarly debate on magical theory and unleashed a single, devastating spell that annihilated over a thousand rebels in one fell swoop, shattering the morale of the remaining forces. Within Tatalia, Nimbras was virtually synonymous with the god of magic.

Years ago, during a hunting trip, the old king found himself in mortal peril but was saved at the last moment by the passing mage. Grateful and already an admirer of the sage's reputation, the king immediately invited Nimbras to serve as the royal court's Grand Magus. However, the eccentric sage, who was known for his reclusive and wandering nature, showed no interest in political affairs and declined the offer. Only after repeated entreaties did he agree to send his sole disciple, Rosco, to serve as the court mage in his stead.

For reasons unknown, the otherwise aloof Nimbras took a liking to the elder prince, Brown, and expressed support for him. His disciple, Rosco, also formed a close relationship with Brown after becoming court mage. With Rosco's strategic counsel and Nimbras' reputation and influence, Brown was able to decisively defeat his younger brother with almost no bloodshed. After ascending the throne, Brown promptly promoted Rosco to the position of Prime Minister.

Today, in the eyes of Tatalia's people, the Shadow Sage Nimbras has become almost divine, revered as much as the gods themselves.

The great Sage had recently been acting strange. He had always kept a low profile, but for the past few months, he had been entirely out of sight and without any communication. Even his disciple, the Prime Minister Lord Rosco, seemed unaware of his whereabouts.

Grutt strode purposefully down the red carpet, glancing at the documents in his hand as he walked. This set of documents had been delivered to him immediately upon his arrival in Tatalia. The parchment was covered in tightly packed, detailed descriptions of the kingdom's current situation, key figures, and their positions, loyalties, and personalities. Among them, the section dedicated to the Shadow Sage—who had never involved himself in politics or shown his face publicly—occupied a disproportionately large portion. This alone demonstrated the writer's regard for the Sage.

Of course, what the writer painstakingly described in detail now seemed redundant to Grutt. Nonetheless, he was satisfied. The person who compiled this report was not part of the top echelons of Orford's leadership and naturally had no knowledge of the Shadow Sage's true identity or the reason behind his recent disappearance. The writer's ability to infer critical details and nuances showed a remarkable mind. More importantly, the document contained no speculative commentary or conjecture, merely clear descriptions of what the writer deemed significant. This person had not forgotten his duty.

A talent, Grutt thought, a rare smirk appearing briefly on his lips. Then, as if to end the matter, he folded the parchment in his hands, rubbed it lightly, and let it disintegrate into fine wool-like fragments that scattered silently onto the carpet as he walked.

At the great hall's entrance, four guards and a herald looked at Grutt nervously. The herald forced an awkward smile, preparing to announce him, but Grutt didn't even glance his way. He pushed the heavy doors open with both hands, and they swung apart effortlessly, their weight crashing against the walls with a thunderous sound. Without pausing his stride, Grutt walked directly into the hall.

"Envoy of Orford, General Grutt, presents himself to His Majesty the King!" The herald's hurried proclamation lacked any sense of decorum, sounding more like a vegetable seller shouting prices at departing customers.

The great hall was vast and deep. Although it had just undergone repairs and lacked finishing touches, King Brown's penchant for grandeur was evident. At the far end of the hall, a conference table had been set, with His Majesty and the leaders of the four major tribes seated and waiting for the guest of honor.

Bang! The heavy doors, which usually required four soldiers to push open, had slammed into the walls with such force they reverberated through the hall. Yet, the sound of Grutt's footsteps, deliberate and heavy, was not drowned out. Every step landed with a consistent, resounding rhythm, as if he carried the weight of an entire army, each step reverberating in the hearts of those present.

From afar, Grutt seemed diminutive, but the hall, vast as it was, felt stiflingly full with just him in it. His stride, his expression, the sound of his steps—all of it combined into a suffocating aura that pressed down on everyone. Some found it hard to breathe.

"Is Master Sage still not back?" King Brown, unable to meet Grutt's gaze, instinctively turned to ask Rosco.

"Master's whereabouts are always unpredictable. He has probably gone traveling again," the court mage and Prime Minister replied calmly. "Rest assured, Your Majesty. Once Master is aware of the continent's situation, he will foresee the kingdom's troubles and surely return in time."

"If only Master could return now." King Brown's chubby face trembled slightly. He couldn't quite explain why this thought had crossed his mind. Although he was the king and Tatalia's nominal ruler, in his heart, it was the Shadow Sage who provided him with a sense of security and truly reigned supreme. To address the Sage as "Master," even through his disciple, was an honor he considered unparalleled.

If Master were here, what would this man amount to? King Brown muttered internally. Lost in thought, he failed to notice the two swamp lizards at his feet—pets that normally obeyed his every command—scuttling away the moment Grutt entered the hall.

Grutt approached the conference table, saying nothing. His expressionless eyes swept over everyone present. His pitch-black pupils resembled two bottomless voids, giving those caught in his gaze the chilling illusion of being pulled in and crushed. No one even considered whether his demeanor toward the king was appropriate—it was as if such a question no longer mattered.

Rosco cleared his throat. He noticed, strangely, that while everyone had gathered to await this man's participation in the meeting, his mere arrival seemed to have seized control of the room. Suddenly, the others felt like uninvited guests, awaiting judgment. Even the king remained silent, prompting Rosco to break the ice.

"General Grutt, His Majesty and the four tribal leaders are all present. Now that you've arrived, may I ask what critical matter Orford has deemed so urgent?"

The king finally regained his composure, nodding hastily. "Ah, yes. General Grutt, please sit. Lord Theodorus, the Lord of Theodorus, wrote us a most pressing letter, urging us to convene with you regarding a matter of utmost importance to Tatalia's survival. What, exactly, is this matter?"

Grutt did not answer directly. Instead, he fixed his cold gaze on King Brown and asked, "Where are Prince Tazir and the leader of the Lizardmen?"

King Brown replied, "Oh, I've already sent them to the northeastern border."

"For what purpose, Your Majesty?" Grutt's dark eyes bore into him.

"I sent them to attack some beast lairs there and expand our northeastern territory," the king stammered, his thoughts seeming to falter under Grutt's penetrating gaze, as though he could only answer mechanically.

"I hear there are mud goblins and even a cyclops lair in that region. Your kingdom has long struggled to fend off these monsters' harassment. Why, then, have you suddenly ordered prince Tazir to lead such a small force of Lizardmen into battle there?"

"Well... that's because... because..." King Brown began to stutter.

"That is because His Majesty has ascended the throne, and Tatalia now enjoys peace and prosperity. It is the perfect time to expand our borders through military action," the court mage and Prime Minister Rosco quickly interjected on behalf of the king. "The northeastern borderlands are rich in mineral resources. Expanding and fortifying our territory there would greatly benefit the kingdom. Prince Tazir has always been an excellent commander, and the Lizardmen are a formidable force in battle. Naturally, they were chosen to serve the nation in this endeavor."

Grutt's icy gaze shifted to Rosco, his expression and tone remaining indifferent. "I hear that His Majesty also required Prince Tazir and the leader of the Lizardmen to sign a military pledge, vowing to eradicate the monster nests or face military punishment. Is that true?"

"It is," Rosco responded, standing up instinctively, as though doing so might shield him from Grutt's oppressive presence. He tried to make his tone sharper, more authoritative. "If they cannot achieve results, they will have wasted the kingdom's manpower and resources, while damaging morale among the people and soldiers. What use are such men to the nation?"

Then, with a deliberate edge in his voice, he added, "General Grutt, this is an internal matter for Tatalia. There's no need for Orford to concern itself. Based on what we've observed recently, your own kingdom should be preoccupied with its troubles. I suggest you get to the point—what is the purpose of your visit? Is it to apologize for the atrocities your people committed within our borders recently? We've been waiting for Orford to explain itself."

Grutt remained unruffled, scanning the room again before letting his gaze settle on King Brown. He spoke calmly, as if his words carried no more weight than a casual observation. "I'm not here to discuss or negotiate anything. I'm here to help you make a decision."

He paused for a brief moment, then continued, his tone as measured as ever. "Step down. Abdicate the throne and pass the crown of Tatalia to your brother, Prince Tazir."

The hall fell into a stunned silence. Everyone froze, their minds unable to process the gravity of the statement. It was as if their thoughts had ground to a halt. Even if an old king had risen from the grave, such words would not have been spoken so lightly. And yet, this outsider delivered them with such ease, as if he were suggesting something as trivial as changing a piece of clothing or a pair of shoes.