There were still seventeen and a half days until the Necromancer King would arrive at Dehya Valley. This time was calculated based on the last reading from the elven magical map, just before it became ineffective.
As the Necromancer King advanced, more and more creatures were transformed into undead, either by the dark aura enveloping them or summoned from the depths of the earth as massive undead monsters. The undead army surrounding him grew ever larger, and the dark aura he emitted grew stronger. Even through the map's remote sensing, one could feel the terrifying, soul-chilling presence. Eventually, during the last reading, the ancient elven empire's precious magical legacy exploded.
Fortunately, no matter how much the Necromancer King's vast undead army expanded, its speed remained constant, and its path was clear. After emerging from the ruins of the Glory Fortress, he headed straight south, in the direction of Dehya Valley.
The ominous aura slowly began to spread throughout the royal capital. First, rumors began circulating about the incident at Glory Fortress, followed by a chain reaction of subsequent events.
The path from Glory Fortress to the Spiral Shadow Mountains was not a barren stretch of land but passed through the territories of two nations. And now, those two nations had turned into lifeless, blackened wastelands, devoid of any vitality. While the news from Glory Fortress could be contained, and teleportation magic circles could be controlled, the scale of devastation across these two countries made it impossible to hide such a huge event behind any impenetrable wall.
The messages from merchants coming from the West were vague, but some had already recognized the frequent visits of the paladins and bishops to the Magic Academy recently, which served as undeniable proof.
The Magic Academy had already become semi-closed off. Many mysterious figures traveled through the teleportation magic circles each day, but none of them left the academy or interacted with others. Yet, their presence and demeanor gave off an unmistakable air of power and importance—clearly not ordinary people.
Rumors spread rapidly. There were countless theories about what had happened at Glory Fortress, and some even quietly speculated that all of this might just be fake news, a prelude to a rebellion. In fact, the Holy Knights and the Prime Minister had firmly taken control of all the kingdom's affairs, while the emperor, once only a symbolic figure, now completely secluded himself in the palace. If not for the overwhelming prestige of these two figures, and the fact that other nobles and ministers showed little reaction, the royal capital would have already descended into utter chaos.
However, within the Magic Academy, no one paid attention to these matters—not even the Prime Minister or Captain Roland. Compared to the rumors and gossip, what they had to face was far more troubling, ten times over.
What they were dealing with now was how, within these seventeen days, to concentrate all available military forces and bring them face-to-face with the undead army, then forcefully carve a path through it to bring Asa and Grutt before the Necromancer King.
And the person suffering the most right now was Asa. He had never imagined that he would one day be in such a painful situation.
Although he never considered himself the type who could be a hero or a leader, he certainly never expected that being such a person would come with such exhaustion and overwhelming pressure.
As had been promised earlier, it seemed that the Pope had indeed entrusted everything to him. It was unclear what Elder Lloyd had said to them after arriving, but whether it was the Pope, Lancelote, or the two Tower Masters from Tooth Tower, none of them had raised any objections. They had tacitly accepted his role as the leader of the plan. All deployments, preparations, and strategies were entirely in his hands.
While on the ancient war tree, it was easy to be resolute and grand, putting life and death aside. Unfortunately, the problems in reality were never as simple as in knight novels, where one person could heroically charge through, facing the enemy with swords drawn. Only now did he truly understand—without a shadow of a doubt—that he was not cut out for such monumental tasks. Even though the Pope and Lancelote had not made things difficult for him and had actually been very helpful, providing many advisors to assist with planning, statistics, and other work, the daily tasks of sorting through data, analyzing, and making decisions were still overwhelming.
"The Duchy of Yuda has refused to send troops. This is understandable, as they lost all their elites in the Battle of Orford. However, they have agreed to provide logistical support to the neighboring countries' armies. But their resources are limited. They've already provided for Alrasia, so they can't spare any more for the other smaller duchies. Who should we allocate this logistical support to?"
"Alrasia has dispatched an elite army of 10,000, led by the Royal Knight Order. Their equipment and combat ability are flawless. The combined forces of the other nations are roughly equal in strength. Their departure schedules are as follows…" A priest immediately reported the relevant data, marking the troop numbers and marching routes of the various countries on the map.
In Glory Fortress, there were not only priests and mages, but also many specially trained military strategists.
"Alrasia has the strongest national power, so let's allocate the support to the other duchies," Asa thought for a moment before speaking.
"I believe it's better to allocate it to Alrasia," Lancelote said in the tone expected of an advisor.
"Why?" Asa asked.
"Alrasia is contributing the most troops, nearly going all in, and already exceeding our expectations. As a model for all the countries, giving them logistical support now would boost the morale of their troops, maximizing their combat effectiveness. It would also inspire the other nations to send their forces with greater confidence," the Pope explained. Then he chuckled. "Catherine really knows what to do under this situation… I hope it's not just because of Inham."
"And from a logistical perspective, Alrasia is also the farthest away. Look here…" Lancelote tapped a spot on the map. The priests responsible for military strategy had already marked all the necessary data, but Asa didn't understand it well. Even if he did, it would be hard for him to draw conclusions from it. "If they were to manage their own logistical support, they might not make it to the battlefield within the scheduled time."
"Hmm, then let's go with that," Asa nodded. This was the phrase he had said the most over the past few days.
The Pope and Lancelote, acting like advisors, continued to explain and offer suggestions to Asa. This was certainly the most advanced and efficient advisory system in the world. No matter who it was, they would never have imagined having such capable people strategizing for them, but unfortunately, Asa was still struggling with his headache.
The priest continued reporting, "The Duchy of Kross is only willing to send 2,000 soldiers. And they are not the elite royal guards we requested, just regular soldiers drawn from their standard army."
Lancelote shook his head. "Such a force wouldn't even qualify to be cannon fodder against that undead army. The number of undead they'd manage to eliminate would probably be fewer than the number that would rise as undead from their own casualties. In the end, they'd just waste the priests' purification spells."
"This isn't about being unable to send troops, but about unwillingness to send them. There are many mages and priests in the Duke's royal guards, and they would certainly be useful in battle. Every bit of strength is precious now; we have to secure it," the Pope replied.
"Why doesn't he want to send troops?" Asa frowned and asked.
"To conserve strength," the Pope answered indifferently.
"Save strength in a situation like this?" Asa couldn't make sense of it.
"The undead army and the Death King are too distant for these people; they haven't seen it by themselves. A small piece of land or the loss of a few thousand gold coins is far more persuasive to them. If it weren't for the fall of the Glory Fortress and the full mobilization of Orford, these people might not even care. The Duke has made many enemies; otherwise, he wouldn't have put so much effort into building such an elite royal guard. He's afraid someone will take advantage of this situation to deal with him... Moreover, his ambitions have always been great. If all the elite forces of the other nations are depleted or nearly wiped out, yet he still has strength left, his Duchy can undoubtedly expand its influence," the Pope explained.
"Then... what do you two think should be done now?" Asa asked, his second most frequent question over the past few days.
"I believe we should kill him first, then frame him with a crime, and in the name of His Holiness the Pope, appoint a successor. The Falcon Empire has long been a shell of its former self, so the Pope's appointment will suffice," Lancelote said, after considering for a moment.
"The Duke's brothers and nephews also have great ambitions and capabilities. The cohesion within the Duke's family is strong; we cannot leave any forces behind that would hinder this operation," the Pope added suddenly.
"Hm, then let's kill them all. I'll handle it personally. It won't take long to get there by griffin from Alrasia," Lancelote nodded.
"It's better to use negotiation to resolve issues." Asa couldn't help but feel a bit incredulous, almost as if he were facing a bandit leader like Hilika instead of the Paladin and the Pope. No matter how fierce and bloodthirsty a bandit might be, they wouldn't just kill the entire family of a Duke with such cold-bloodedness.
"Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. Do you think we have time to play diplomacy?" The Pope smiled mockingly, as if the idea were laughable.
"Even so, there's no need to go as far as killing an entire family."
"First offer them respect, then strike when the time is right. If they have been given time to prepare, it will be harder to take action. The Duke is no fool. This kind of decisive action also serves as a message to other nations and duchies. They need to understand the gravity of the situation and know that this is not the time for internal scheming. We will not tolerate it."
Asa thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Even so, it's too... well, maybe it's not worth bothering about those two thousand men."
"It doesn't matter. We've said it from the beginning, you are the supreme leader of this campaign. Whatever you decide, it's up to you." The Pope said coldly. "However, we do have a responsibility to remind you that if we set this precedent, other countries will surely have second thoughts and make unnecessary moves. Whether they decide to hold back and prepare against the Duke, or try to benefit from the chaos, what we lack isn't just those two thousand royal guards."
"Are you sure negotiations won't work?" Asa asked again, though even he felt his own question was somewhat foolish.
"Yes, because Pope Magnus is dead." the Pope replied in his usual cold and indifferent tone. "The Duke's ambition has only been suppressed because of Magnus's presence. Now, with him gone, the Duke no longer has any need to hold back." He paused and added, "I hear they were very good friends when they were younger."
The surrounding priests and clergy remained unfazed. They had come to accept the new Pope, Adra, but in his heart, he still didn't fully see himself as one.
"There's no need," Asa sighed deeply, clearly weary. "You can finalize all the strategies. Once you've settled everything, just let me know. The outcome seems inevitable anyway."
The Pope and Lancelote were surprised, though they had sensed this conclusion coming.
"You're leaving it to us? Weren't you fighting so hard to take control of your own fate before?" The Pope's expression was tinged with a hint of mockery. "Aren't you afraid we might secretly scheme against you?"
"I trust you. I believe that by this point, there's no need for any scheming. Just let me handle the result." Asa's voice was tired but resolute. "At least, I can say that the outcome won't be that you're sending me to my death, but rather that I'm taking a chance at surviving."
"I don't see the difference. It's the same ending." the Pope said, his smile sharp and biting.
"The way you look at the ending is different from mine." Asa shrugged and even patted the Pope on the shoulder. "So, I'll leave all these bothersome matters to you. Sorry, you'll have to work hard."
One thing is never just one thing; every little meaning and every possibility it represents extends into greater, broader realms. This is politics.
Asa knew this, but he didn't fully understand it. Knowing and understanding are two completely different things. Asa was clear of that.
Politics isn't as dirty as many people think. In a broader sense, it is the highest means humans use to handle matters, a reflection of intellect, capability, and vision. The concept of "dirty" is simply a self-imposed comfort for those lacking intelligence and ability, who fail to recognize their own limitations. Asa didn't know this before, nor did he understand it, but now, he at least understood this much.
He truly wasn't the kind of person suited to handle such matters; he realized that. And that's exactly why he was doing it this way.
"No need to apologize. I will try my best to send you to the sword of the Dark Star," the Pope coldly waved his hand. "Now get the hell out of here. Having you in front of me is reducing my thinking ability significantly."