I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 663: The true Elven Council

The mithril vault existed beneath the palace’s administrative sector in a space that should not have been accessible to anyone without explicit authorization from Queen Morvana herself.

The walls were polished to a mirror finish, so they seemed to create their own light, reflecting torchlight back and forth in patterns that cast disorienting shadows.

The surfaces were deep blue. The architectural design was meticulously crafted to serve a singular objective: to guarantee absolute confidentiality from any individual aligned with King Maelor.

Wards layered upon wards created an acoustic isolation that meant conversations conducted here would never reach beyond these walls, no matter how loud the voices became.

The very stone itself seemed to absorb sound. Mithril was a valuable resource; the wards helped, but the material had magic reflection capabilities.

Temperature control was maintained through similar principles.

The vault maintained an optimal, neutral environment. It was neither warm nor cold, but rather occupied a liminal state between comfort and discomfort. Fostering mental acuity and physical alertness.

Within this space, there was no opportunity for concealment, no solace to be found, and no reprieve from the gravity of the impending discussions.

Eleven grand stone chairs surrounded a massive dark-iron table. Three of them were glaringly empty.

Rowan Starling’s seat sat vacant. Aria Solyus’s chair remained untouched. And Myrine Archon’s position at the table was bare stone, a silent accusation that reverberated through every consciousness present.

The eight assembled Council members sat in tense silence, their eyes constantly drifting toward the empty seats as though the absences themselves carried weight.

Gale Ashwood broke the silence first.

”Where are they?” the Council member demanded, his voice carrying the frustrated aggression of someone accustomed to being heard without question. ”Why do Rowan, Aria, and Myrine refuse to attend?”

”Boycotting,” Fauna Meridan replied, her voluptuous frame shifting in her chair as she processed the implications. Her breasts swelled against the fabric of her crimson robes, her full hips creating an impression of physical authority that belied the uncertainty in her voice. ”They’re refusing to attend because they sense the operation is collapsing.”

”Or they’ve already aligned with Maelor,” Leandros Malakor said quietly, his ancient eyes fixed on the empty seats. ”They sense that supporting the Queen’s faction means supporting a sinking ship. Better to abandon us now and maintain plausible deniability than go down with the conspiracy.”

The words hung in the vault like a blade suspended in the air above everyone’s head.

”We don’t know that,” Orion Anake protested, his voice carrying desperation. He needed to believe the three were simply absent rather than defected. ”They could be...”

”Dead or defected,” Chara Sideris interrupted, her sharp features twisted in an expression that suggested she was calculating probabilities. ”Those are the only two explanations that make sense. And neither one is acceptable.”

Caspian Alyon sat at the lower end of the table, looking like a ghost.

His hands trembled visibly, the fine jewelry adorning his fingers clinking softly against the dark stone with each involuntary movement.

His skin had taken on a grayish pallor. He was operating on rapidly depleting reserves of consciousness.

The trauma from his encounter on the platform, facing the Dragon King’s roar, from standing before Faye Vesper’s divine attention, had hollowed him out completely.

He said nothing. His presence was purely testimonial to failure.

”This is your fault,” Gale said, his voice rising as he turned his full attention toward Caspian. His massive frame leaned forward, his hands clenching into fists that made the table creak under the pressure. ”You personally sabotaged a decades-long covert operation just to satisfy a petty personal grudge against a human emissary.”

Caspian’s mouth opened, but only air emerged.

”I had no choice,” he whispered finally, his voice barely audible. ”The body was positioned. The evidence was manufactured. I was simply meant to arrest him and...”

”And instead, you created a situation where a Chosen One of divine standing publicly claimed him as her destined husband in front of dozens of witnesses,” Fauna said, her voice dripping with contempt. ”Do you understand what you’ve done? Do you comprehend the sheer, absolute humiliation of it?”

She rose from her chair, her voluptuous body commanding attention as she began to pace the vault. Her crimson robes swayed with each movement, her breasts bouncing slightly with the intensity of her anger.

”Faye Vesper is not simply some minor warrior blessed by a god,” Fauna continued, her voice rising to match Gale’s. ”She is a top-tier Chosen One. Blessed by Zephyros himself. The wind god, the deity of fertility and chaos. She moves faster than thought. She perceives threats before they materialize. And now she’s bound herself to Jack Kaiser with the kind of public declaration that makes her his personal shield.”

Fauna’s hands clenched into fists, her knuckles turning white.

”We cannot execute him inside the palace grounds,” she said, her voice becoming noticeably colder as she spoke. ”Because if we move against him, Faye will cut down our own royal guards to protect her ’destined husband.’ We would be forced to watch a Chosen One slaughter the Queen’s elite military force while defending a human. The humiliation would destroy everything we’ve built.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Leandros Malakor ascended from his seat with a measured pace, his seasoned demeanor reflecting extensive experience in the intricate dynamics of political systems.

”The situation is more complex than simple humiliation,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of analytical precision. ”There are three variables now, and each one is individually capable of destroying this Council. Combined, they form something approaching an impenetrable fortress.”

He began to count on his fingers with the careful deliberation of someone laying out a mathematical proof.

”First: the Krogar Alliance. Skarl Gor-Voidgaze and Grom Zor-Grimmarch signed a shamanic trade contract with Jack Kaiser mere hours before the platform incident. That signature binds Krogar’s honor to his protection. Any overt move against him inside the city gates will be viewed as an act of war by the Orc military delegation. They have warriors camped at our borders. They have shamanic resources. They have centuries of accumulated knowledge about asymmetric warfare.”

Orion Anake stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone with a sound like fingernails on glass.

”The Krogar can be managed,” he said, his voice carrying more hope than conviction. ”We can offer them something. Gold, resources, trade concessions...”

”They don’t want concessions,” Leandros replied flatly. ”They want an alliance with Jack Kaiser because Jack Kaiser is their path to positioning themselves against the Elven Kingdom’s Council. They benefit far more from his success than from anything we could offer.”

He continued his enumeration without pause.

”Second: The Dragon King’s Roar. That sound was not a coincidence. That sound was not random. Typhoon, the apex predator of the world, has staked an unexplainable interest in Jack Kaiser. We all felt it. The entire kingdom felt it. And we all understood what it meant.”

Chara Sideris’s voice emerged from the silence with the precision of someone stating a fact.

”If we arrest Jack, Typhoon will interpret it as an attack on someone under his direct observation,” she said. ”And a Dragon King responding to perceived disrespect would result in the complete annihilation of Caeloria. We’re not discussing military defeat. We’re discussing the erasure of our capital city from existence.”