The Kingmaker System
Chapter 278 - 277. Players And Pawns (2)

Chapter 278: 277. Players And Pawns (2)

I glanced once more at Zale, whose challenging gaze burned into me with a mix of curiosity and veiled defiance. It was almost amusing. Inhaling deeply, I allowed an air of uncertainty to creep onto my face. My hands lifted slowly, fingers curling as if reluctant to act.

I summoned a fraction of mana into my palms. The motion was deliberately careful, calculated, yet not without grace. A shimmering orb of water materialized, hovering above my open hand. The room erupted in startled gasps, the collective shock of the nobles palpable.

"A Water Mage!" one noble blurted, voice trembling with disbelief.

"But... that’s impossible!" another stammered, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.

Water Mages were considered legends, anomalies so rare that their existence had faded into myth for most.

Water Mages were even rarer than healers, the mages who could use other elements were able to materialise their elements but they would have to use the element from around them. For example, an air mage would use the air in the atmosphere to use his spell, the earth mage would use the earth, the fire mage would use the friction in the air and mana and create the fire but the water Mages were capable of materialising water after using the capabilities of all the elements. Especially fire and air.

"How fascinating," Zale murmured, his lips curving into a smirk. The gleam in his eyes was far too sharp to be simple admiration.

I released the orb, letting it dissipate into the air. The room grew silent once more as the nobles’ eyes darted between Damon and me, their expressions a mixture of greed, suspicion, and unease.

"Where did you find a Water Mage, Duke?" King Augustine finally asked. His tone was steady, but there was no mistaking the intrigue behind his question.

Damon inclined his head, the picture of deference. "We will announce the appearance of a Water Dragon—a divine figure sent to guide and reassure our people in these uncertain times. This mage will create a manifestation of the Dragon to deliver a message of hope and unity. A Dragon’s presence will lend undeniable weight to our words, allowing us to shift public perception and stabilize the situation."

The nobles murmured among themselves, the debate immediate but notably restrained.

"This could work," one noble, a Baron with a hawk-like nose, said cautiously. "The people are desperate for guidance. Seeing a Dragon in support of the crown might be the only way to quell their fears."

"I agree," a Duchess with sharp eyes added. "A Dragon’s word is unquestionable. If we can present one as an ally, the people will follow without hesitation."

The nobles around discussed among them, some of them looking at me with obvious greed in their eyes while the King seemed to be pondering over it.

"Presenting a fake Dragon is one thing," another noble, an older man with a gruff voice, interjected. "But what happens when a real Dragon takes notice? Do we truly want to risk their wrath for this deception?"

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of his words settled over the gathering.

Dorrith took the opportunity to stand, his expression a mask of righteous indignation. "Exactly! This is blasphemy of the highest order! To summon a fabricated Dragon in the name of peace is to invite disaster upon us all. The Dragons are not beings to be trifled with. We cannot mock their divinity and expect to go unpunished."

Some of the nobles nodded in agreement, their faces pale with unease.

Damon, however, remained composed. "I understand your concerns, Father," he said smoothly. "But we must focus on the here and now—on what we can control. A Dragon’s appearance, even fabricated, could prevent chaos from consuming the kingdom."

"But is it worth the danger? The fabricated Dragon might also attract the wrath of heavens!" Dorrith insisted.

He didn’t think that before tormenting the child whom they called a Saint.

Damon turned to Dorrith with an air of icy authority. "Besides, apologies, Father Dorrith," he began, his voice sharp and commanding, "but you are merely a representative of the Temple here. Even though His Holiness is absent at this moment, the High Priest remains the ultimate authority. I trust he has not been rendered incapable of making rational decisions."

Dorrith’s jaw tightened visibly, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the armrest of his chair grew firmer. His lips pressed into a thin line, suppressing whatever retort he might have been planning. I allowed myself the luxury of a subtle smirk, my eyes sliding to Zale, who had been observing the exchange with a calm intensity.

For Zale and me, the nobles and clergy in the room were merely pawns. The real players in this game were the two of us. It was our words, our subtle cues, and our unspoken strategies that were directing the flow of this meeting.

As though sensing my thoughts, Zale’s gaze shifted toward me. His smirk mirrored my own, an acknowledgment of our shared awareness of the room’s true dynamics. When he spoke, his tone was measured, each word laced with cunning.

"Pardon me, Your Grace," Zale began, leaning slightly forward, "but I recall reports from the Knights stationed on the borders alongside Marquis Rolais. Their testimonies mentioned a Dragon—a Water Dragon, to be precise—who was responsible for the Marquis’s death and the loss of several knights. If such a creature truly exists, would it not be wise to consider the possibility that an antagonistic Dragon is already moving against Denril?"

I nearly rolled my eyes at his transparent maneuver. His hand was far from threatening, a deliberate distraction to steer the conversation toward his preferred trajectory.

Damon didn’t miss a beat. His expression remained steady, his tone unwavering. "We are investigating that matter, Lord Turquoise," he replied evenly. "And if there is indeed a Dragon threatening the kingdom’s peace, then, as the First Ruler of Sestia once did, we too are capable of eradicating such a threat to protect our citizens."

The room erupted at his bold declaration. Dorrith and Longland rose from their seats, their faces a mixture of disbelief and indignation. Murmurs of alarm spread among the nobles, their reactions ranging from horror to cautious intrigue. Damon’s words, while resolute, had struck a nerve.

"This!" Dorrith thundered, his voice echoing across the chamber. "This is blasphemy! To kill a Dragon is to commit a sin against God Himself! Have you forgotten that we are a nation founded upon the virtues of the Saintess who invoked the Dragons to save this world?"

"And those same Dragons are now threatening the kingdom," Damon countered, his voice cutting through the clamor. "Do you propose that we sit idly by and allow our home to be destroyed?"

The room stilled for a moment, the weight of his challenge pressing down on the assembly. Zale’s gaze flickered toward me again, lingering as if attempting to gauge my reaction. His curiosity was palpable, though masked by his ever-present smirk. I wondered, not for the first time, just how much he knew.

"A human is no match for a Dragon, Your Grace," Zale finally said, his tone almost sympathetic.

"Indeed not," King Augustine interjected, his voice calm but firm. His words carried an undeniable authority that quieted the room. "And this discussion is teetering dangerously close to sacrilege. The Dragons are not mere creatures to be hunted—they are divine beings whose power and wisdom far surpass our own."

"I must agree with Lord Turquoise and His Majesty," Dorrith said, his tone more measured but no less fervent. "Even fabricating a Dragon to deceive the people is wrong, but the notion of fighting one? It is heresy!"

"Are you in support of this solution, Your Majesty?" one of the nobles asked hesitantly, their gaze darting between Damon and the King.

Augustine’s expression remained inscrutable as he regarded Damon. "The notion of lying to the people sits poorly with me," he said finally. "But I understand the gravity of our situation. The kingdom is teetering on the brink of chaos, we are already at war with Sestia, we cannot afford an internal conflict. A Dragon, even a false one, could provide the unity and hope we desperately need."

Dorrith stiffened visibly, his face darkening. "Your Majesty—"

"However," Augustine interrupted, his tone sharp, "the matter of fighting a Dragon is entirely different. It is not something to be taken lightly, nor is it something I am prepared to sanction without substantial evidence of necessity."

Damon inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Of course, Your Majesty," he said smoothly. "I merely wish to ensure that we are prepared for any eventuality. Denril’s safety is my utmost priority."

Zale tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watched Damon. "And what would such preparation entail, Your Grace?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild.

"That," Damon replied, his gaze locking with Zale’s, "is a matter for another discussion."

The tension in the room remained thick as the meeting continued, the nobles divided in their opinions. Some sided with Damon, recognizing the need for decisive action, while others aligned with Dorrith and Zale, their fear of Dragons and reverence for their divinity outweighing all else.

I observed Zale just as the way he was observing me, my mind already working through the next steps. Damon had handled the situation well, but this was only the beginning. The real game was still unfolding, and Zale’s watchful eyes reminded me that he was far from done playing.