Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1641: Advisory Board Advice

BAMBAMBAM

Aro’s footsteps thundered through the palace corridors, each strike against the marble floor carrying the weight of fury and frustration. His aura blazed around him like a restless storm, speaking volumes more violent than the stomping of his boots.

The moment the servants and palace workers caught the sound of those familiar heavy steps — the rhythm that had become infamous throughout the palace — a wave of fear spread. Just the sound of his breath, harsh and unrestrained, like the snorting of a raging bull guarding a rocky field, was enough to send everyone scattering.

Even the senior officers and officials who happened to be inside the palace at that time hurriedly ducked into nearby rooms or hidden corners, desperate not to cross paths with the Marshal. Everyone knew that when Aro was in that mood, someone — or something — was about to be crushed underfoot.

BAM!

Clad in his elaborate, deep-blue uniform embroidered with silver threads and gleaming medals, Aro kicked open an ancient-looking gate with a loud crash and stormed in, his aura blazing like a blue inferno. ”Did you receive the report on the Cradle Empire’s latest movements?” he barked. ”Damn it, why am I even asking — of course you did!”

The next moment, Aro found himself standing in a dimly lit chamber, its atmosphere thick and heavy. The light was so faint it almost felt like stepping into darkness itself. In front of him stood a massive U-shaped table, its open end facing the entrance — positioned precisely as if awaiting his arrival. With a few more firm strides, Aro found himself standing right in the center of it.

Then — creak — the great door behind him closed on its own.

Ancient sounds began echoing one after another from all around the room, a symphony of age and mystery.

”The report has been received.”

”This is bread falling from the heavens in the 100 sector.”

”The grass always looks greener on the other side, and this case, it’s true.”

”His Highness Caesar is indeed as fortunate as you’ve always claimed.”

”Yes, yes,” Aro waved his hand impatiently several times, pacing as his voice grew sharper, ”but what am I supposed to do with that? This is the Council of the Thirty-Six Elders! You are the oldest beings alive in my dominion, the wisest under my command — surely you have something to offer beyond repeating the obvious!”

One of the voices replied, this one rough and jagged, like stones scraping together. ”In terms of direct conquest and occupation...”

”...you can only match the Cradle Empire in one way,” another voice followed seamlessly.

Then a third joined in to complete the chain, ”...by taking full control of the Imperial Guards.”

”You all know that’s impossible!” Aro’s tone flared as he gestured furiously. ”I’ve already earned their cooperation — fully — but only after giving His Majesty my word that I wouldn’t attempt to command them as subordinates! I even promised I’d merely borrow their reputation, send them on a few symbolic missions, nothing more!”

”What’s wrong with that?” one asked.

”...Circumstances change,” said another.

”Find a way to reach His Majesty and compel them to return.”

”When it comes to expanding his empire and protecting the Seed...”

”...he certainly won’t deny your request!”

Again, the voices shifted, blending and overlapping — an eerie chorus that spoke as one, finishing each other’s sentences like a single ancient consciousness.

”...” Aro stopped for a moment, frowning deeply. Then he shook his head, sighing as he resumed pacing. ”No. I won’t go back on my word. That would destroy my credibility completely. What else do you have?”

”Then you must abandon your attempt to surpass the Cradle Empire in conquest numbers — for now.”

”Continue at your current pace. Don’t push your soldiers beyond their limits.”

”You already hold dominion over one hundred and thirty-two planets — a record for someone with your years in this sector.”

”...Who knows, perhaps fortune will smile upon you, and a few empires will fall into your lap just like his.”

”Indeed,” one of them added, ”ever since the rumor spread of that dominant being’s death, everyone expects a surge of cosmic wars in the near future.”

”...Focus on other means of expanding your reign until that opportunity comes.”

Aro halted abruptly, his steps coming to a sharp stop as he turned toward the last elder who had spoken. His expression was a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. ”Like what, exactly?” he muttered, his voice low yet edged with impatience. He raised his hand and rested his chin on his knuckles, pacing a few steps before speaking again. ”I’ve already tried the political approach. Half of the planets I currently rule were subdued not by bloodshed, but through careful negotiation and a bit of strategic intimidation. But the rest—those stubborn powers that still exist within this starfield—don’t care for diplomacy. They reject peace. They don’t understand anything except raw, merciless strength.”

His voice grew louder as his frustration boiled over. ”And that miserable fool I made a deal with,” Aro snapped, waving his arm through the air. ”The one I promised to free after ten thousand years if he proved useful? What a joke! He’s been a burden since the start. Two missions—that’s all he managed to contribute before collapsing each time more broken than before. A pitiful clown who can’t even serve as a proper pawn!”

He let out a harsh laugh. ”Honestly, I’d rank him just a step above those two rented Nexus States! And as for being a spearhead? He’s not even worth the tip of a radish! The infuriating part is that this time, it’s not fear or any curse holding him back—he’s simply weak for my needs!”

Crack! The sound of bones popping filled the air as Aro clenched his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. ”Damn it all!” he roared. ”I despise this weakness! I despise being chained to the Young Belt like some domesticated beast! If I were a Nexus State myself, I’d burn the heavens and crush those worthless scum beneath my feet! I’d summon storms that tear open the skies and thunder that would make the stars themselves tremble!”

”Your greatest strength has always been politics and subjugation without bloodshed...”

”...Why abandon that now?”

”...It’s true, those remaining nearby have stopped answering your calls for surrender...”

”...But they don’t need to surrender completely to serve your cause.”

Aro blinked, frowning, his voice rising again. ”What do you mean by that?” he demanded. ”How can I make them submit, yet not have them truly submit? That doesn’t make sense!”

”Alliance,” came the reply — a deep, rumbling word that carried ancient power.

The chamber trembled faintly as the voice echoed through the walls. It belonged to the figure seated in the very center of the council’s circle. Slowly, the figure leaned forward, and the dim light revealed a being entirely made of dark, aged wood. His face, gnarled and cracked, bore the expression of something older than time itself — it was the wooden incarnation of Father Tree Lapican.

”Long ago,” Lapican’s voice creaked like old timber, ”the human tribes united against us — the seven Tree Fathers. None ruled the other. Their powers were fragmented, scattered across the lands. Yet through their unity, through coordination and shared purpose, they became a rock in our pass. They returned again and again no matter what we did. We could never eradicate them completely.”

Aro fell silent, rubbing his forehead as he gazed down at the dark stone beneath his boots. ”...We do have allies,” he murmured, ”but they’re merchants, informants, opportunists. Our bonds are shallow — trade agreements, intelligence exchanges, polite visits to save face. There’s no real loyalty, no strength in it. Certainly not like the alliances the humans once forged in Greenland.”

”Then that is your starting point,” said one of the shadowed elders.

”What are you waiting for? Build something real.”

”Forge a web of alliances that can’t be undone by a single blow.”

”And for the love of the stars, don’t follow the Shadow Swords’ way. Their allies are forced — made through fear and coercion. Temporary tools. The moment an opening appears, such allies will stab you in the back without hesitation.”

”No one but you, Marshal, possesses both the cunning and authority to achieve this.”

Aro’s eyes darted across the council chamber, lingering on the ancient figures around him. The flickering light reflected off his tense face. ”Do you truly think His Majesty would approve of this?” he asked slowly. ”Would he really allow me to form strong alliances, just to compensate for my slower expansion rate compared to the Cradle Empire?”

”You are not failing,” another elder replied, his tone calm and solemn. ”It’s not that you lack effort — it’s that fate currently favors His Highness Caesar.”

”Continue your conquests at their current pace. Don’t break your soldiers for the sake of appearances.”

”Instead, use this time wisely. Weave connections across the stars. Seek out new partners — even from other starfields, if you must.”

”His Majesty’s only true concern is the protection of the Nihari Seed on the Day of Ascension. Everything else is insignificant beside that purpose.”

”You must simply find the right ally... and pay the necessary price.”

Silence enveloped the chamber. Aro stood unmoving for a long moment, absorbing every word. Then, slowly, he nodded. His cape swayed as he turned his back to the council. Without speaking further, he began walking away — his steps heavy, echoing against the cold floor like distant thunder.

The vast, ancient door behind him creaked as it closed on its own, the sound long and hollow.

Creeeeeeak...