The supreme ruler on the recliner had a playful expression on his face, anticipating what kind of clever rhetoric his courtiers would use to sway him.
After all, with He maintaining a superficial relationship with neighboring countries like Fussac and Intis, and a nominal harmony already achieved on the surface, if Terensus were to rashly start a war at this point, He would inevitably bear the stigma of disrupting the peace, a stigma that would be difficult to shake off.
The Second Empire of Trensost, which occupied East Byron, was already a thorn in the side of the Northern Continent. Now, the pressure it would face for doing such a thing would be no less than the pressure that Roselle had faced in the past.
Putting aside the false pretense, the newspapers all said that Orsono Trensost launched the war against the Highlands... Only ignorant mortals would believe such a clumsy claim, even if it seemed true to most people.
Orsono Trensost?
What is He?
In the early years, before the highlands were destroyed, He, the King of Rune, was indeed wary of this "Emperor" who inherited the name "Night Emperor" and became his great enemy. But now?
Step by step, He has gradually transformed from the most mediocre puppet into a true mythical being, catching up with Orsono, and is even about to enter the core of power, becoming a candidate for the chess player.
The last "Hand of Order" lies deep within the "Ghost Empire," filled with the Night Emperor's cowardly love for his offspring and wife, and his last hope for the future before facing death.
But what about His descendants?
Orsono failed his father's expectations, just as unworthy as the name he inherited. He couldn't muster even a shred of courage, and as he watched the barbarians of the southern continent kill his sister, he didn't dare to shout to the true creator, to express his true thoughts, or to fight for the "Hand of Order" that rightfully belonged to him.
Ah, a "balancer".
A Sequence Two... "Emperor".
The curve of George III's lips became increasingly subtle, a hint of mockery—no, He didn't even deign to mock.
What virtue or ability does Orsono possess to be compared with Him?
War is what the true Creator desires. Orsono, the nominal emperor, was merely following the trajectory predetermined by the true Creator from beginning to end, venting his anger and dissatisfaction in the name of his heart. In the end, this dignified emperor was no different from the jesters and clowns that could be found everywhere.
As for where the anger came from and how to vent the dissatisfaction, that was not something George Augustus needed to worry about.
The ruler of the Kingdom of Rune, and the future emperor of the Rune Empire, felt only envy towards Orsono.
Yes, George III envied Orsono.
This short-sighted lucky guy has a uniquely advantageous reputation, a group of old vampires who are determined to regain their former transcendent status, and can easily gather several angels and countless personal guards, all of which he does not possess.
"Storm" and "Night" will never allow Him to have such a position. Before He truly becomes the "Black Emperor," the arrogant "Founder" above Him, His family elders, will not fully support Him.
All the current agreement is nothing more than the old man's helpless flattery of Him, seeing no hope of becoming the "Judge."
If He hadn't happened to be an emperor, if the "tyrant" had allowed the king of Rune to rule alone for a thousand years, He wouldn't have had this chance at all.
Hahaha, after thinking about it, the Creator is truly generous...
The king's thoughts were difficult for others to fathom. In the eerily silent stillness, Zarathustra finally composed himself and took a small step forward.
"Your Majesty, the problem is actually not complicated."
"You did just sign a contract, and we did indeed start a war against public outrage, openly opposing the peace that the public expects..."
"But... so what?"
"Do you really care about the so-called public opinion and popular sentiment?"
As he spoke, the former heir to the dukedom of the Solomon Empire revealed undisguised disdain and sarcasm on his face.
"Perhaps we need an anchor, we need others to believe in us, to agree with us, and to help us solidify the foundation that gives us our superior status and power..."
"However, Your Majesty, it's fine to say these things to others, but we don't need to talk about any high-sounding words."
"'Tyrants' take advantage of their current situation and act directly, whitewashing pavilions and creating a facade, putting on a show of God's love for the world to fool mortals who only have a few decades to live. We don't need that."
"The Lord never needed to be like them!"
Zarathustra raised his voice slightly, keeping an eye on George III's gaze, and simultaneously waved his hand, perfectly mimicking the attitude of whichever lord was behind him.
"We are good at deception, we are good at lying, and what we are best at is how to shut up the annoying chatter of other people with all the facts that are visible."
"The news of the war has spread, and there has been no opposition in Trensost so far. But in the North, people are indignant, maritime merchants are worried, and plantation owners with businesses in the highlands are living in fear that their existing profits will be wiped out in an instant."
Zarathustra took another step forward, his hand pressed against his chest.
"You know, I'm one of the older folks who's more willing to try new things."
"I have invested a lot of money in the stock market and manipulated my banks to cheat others out of a lot of money through the stock market. I only won your favor by winning in business."
"I know all too well what bankers, businessmen, and nouveau riche like myself are thinking."
"Too many people have tied their industries to the colonial business of the Southern Continent, too many products rely on specialties from the Southern Continent and the sea, and many nobles have made it a habit to send their sons to the Southern Continent for 'gilding' their resumes. People can't live without the highlands, and our war has touched their interests—the interests of the second largest group in the world after gods and angels. That's why you don't think highly of us..."
"Yeah?"
The final question was gently posed. King George III, leaning back in his recliner with his eyes half-closed, remained silent for a moment before lightly bestowing a single word.
"yes."
Zarathustra's dark, lifeless eyes showed no emotion, as if any other answer would have been the same; He had been prepared from the beginning to face any answer and any unexpected possibility.
Thus, He maintained the arrogance befitting a messenger of the Creator, yet also the necessary humility of a subject toward His Lord, continuing to speak amidst this contradiction.
"Therefore, before the war has even truly begun, you and your so-called allies have already thrown yourselves into disarray."
"You know better than I do what we are facing now, and you are also more aware of the various crises and terrifying existences that exist in the high heavens."
"The gods are not divided into so-called good gods and evil gods; most of them guard the borders of the astral plane, protecting the barrier, but the Creator did not..."
"Your Majesty, if the Creator had personally led the expedition at the very beginning of the war and had truly conquered a portion of the highlands, shaking the Northern Continent's accustomed source of profit from colonies, would your people not have felt fear and begun to question the oaths that the nation and faith have always proclaimed to protect them equally?"
Of course it would happen. These things have played out many times in the past civil wars of the North, but each time the scope and intensity were not large... George III did not answer Zarathustra's question, but he gave the answer with his actions.
The king nodded, which was both an answer and an affirmation, so Zarathustra did not stop.
"So this is your golden opportunity."
After giving an ambiguous hint, He suddenly fell silent again.
"A golden opportunity?"
George III broke free of his feigned drowsiness and braced his hands on the armrests of the chaise longue.
"Yes, Your Majesty, yes." Zarathustra straightened up, his sleek, beardless chin, belonging to Viscount Hunter, beaming with a smile. "This is certainly a good opportunity for you to take the initiative."
It was obvious that, after the verbal offensive, yet another emperor He served, like His predecessors, bowed down to Him in a subtle and understated manner.
"Does Secretary Hunt mean you want to take advantage of the treaty I just signed?"
George III was certainly not a fool who allowed his subjects to manipulate and shape his thoughts. On the contrary, the peace treaty between Rune and other northern continent countries was a victory he quietly pushed forward after he saw that the mediocre Fenneport, who was kept in the dark by the true head of the family, had revealed a flaw.
He needs a false peace to conceal His ambition for ascension.
In the original plan, He intended to use the power of that unspeakable gathering to mobilize one or two members who had a voice in other countries to stir up disputes, create opportunities for Him to tear up the treaty and stir up the emotions of His subjects. Unexpectedly, the true Creator who took the initiative to ally with Him saved Him even this step.
"Why not take advantage of it, Your Majesty?"
"Did you sign this treaty so that you could be a good neighbor, uphold something we all know is impossible, and fulfill the will of a 'tyrant' like your family, continuing to push forward the developments He wants to see?"
Zarathustra shook his head and laughed, seemingly regretting that His Majesty the King had not yet grasped the full picture of the situation and made a firm decision.
"The Highlands and Pass have been divided among four countries, with smaller countries like Remburg making trouble... You have indeed drawn up spheres of influence on maps and in your archives, but when we attack those areas, do we really need to go through all that trouble on maps and in your archives to decide whose territory we're attacking?"
"Russell has some very sharp views. He believes that economic damage is sometimes far greater than an inch or two of territory or ridiculous face."
"A country like Fussac, which is limited by its geography and reputation and is subject to control in many ways, simply cannot afford to lose too many colonies at once."
"Their snow-capped mountains and ice fields are unsuitable for production, and large tracts of territory are practically abandoned. Colonies are an important source of profit for them. In addition, Fenneport suffered similar trauma at the same time, and there were some minor incidents happening in their own country. How chaotic will the situation in Fursac become when major grain-producing countries can no longer support it?"
"A nation that worships the God of War is suffering repeated defeats on the front lines, which is undoubtedly another blow. Unless the God of War himself is willing to risk his life to face the Creator while also protecting himself from the darkness, this is probably how it will end."
With a sigh of relief, Zarathustra spread his hands, as if to show his true feelings to George III.
"Your Majesty, you know the nature of the Fussacs, and you've probably heard how we've ruined Intis. When your colonies are safe and sound, and your domestic affairs haven't been significantly impacted by our war, you'll be eager to uphold treaties and peace, and fight against shameless and despicable aggressors like us. But then your northern neighbor will take advantage of your unpreparedness and suddenly turn against your colonies. What justification will you have then? What furious subjects will you have who share your hatred and will fully support you!"
Unfortunately, Zarathustra's heartfelt words did not receive an immediate response.
The topic was too dangerous, and even George III, who had become the "Prince Killer," panicked at this moment.
Zarathustra's words were certainly good, and the two angels were more than capable of preventing most unexpected events from being overheard by those behind the wall.
But what about the one in heaven?
Will the one who holds the secrets of the empress notice?
Now that the path with the greatest chance of success was laid out before him, the ambitious emperor, driven by desperation, began to worry about the most dangerous one.
Zarathustra noticed the king's worry and chuckled.
"Your Majesty, you need to deal with Fussac, not your Rune."
Oh, right, it's Fussac, the god of war Fussac... George III's heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally settled down, and his tense face relaxed.
He cautiously looked around, taking in the surrounding environment.
Very well, there's no water source, the weather is quite dry today, not to mention electricity, so it's unlikely that the "tyrant" will notice this place. If the Goddess of Night were watching Him and heard these words, she would be even less likely to let the "tyrant" notice.
With Fussac gone and the God of War fallen, the next group to fall will be those three, while "Night" and "Earth" will be the relatively safe ones.
"Lord Zaratu, do not betray my trust."
Putting aside all distractions, George III smoothly continued the conversation as if nothing had happened.
"Of course, Your Majesty, of course."
Zarathustra stroked his white beard, the wrinkles on his cheekbones rising high, completely tearing away his disguise.
"We are clowns, rats that can't be seen in the light, but also the most skillful and useful tools. You can trust our professional abilities."
"major..."
King George III pondered the words, a wide smile spreading across his face, growing increasingly undisguised until it alerted the guards in the distance.
Zarathustra smiled, but he was very reserved, only the corners of his mouth turned up, and then he bowed to pay his respects.
Without a doubt, it was a perfect audience, a meeting where both host and guest enjoyed themselves immensely.
...
What do you think?
King George III, his face as cold as ice, turned his head to the side. At the entrance to the courtyard, an old man with black hair streaked with silver had just walked out, his expression arrogant.
"It sounds very sincere."
"The former Duke of Southville, Delink Augustus, glanced at the floor tiles where Zarathustra had just stood and spoke rapidly."
"Yes, it sounds like..." The king's sigh was ambiguous.
Help Him become emperor, the emperor of the earth, and then the Creator, as His ally, reclaim the lost authority—how wonderful is this mutually beneficial cooperation!
Just as they tried to cooperate with Roselle and Solomon to fight against the six gods, the Creator always has a preference for the "Black Emperor," and such cooperation is not a one-off event.
But... George III's chest heaved, and the shadows around him churned with his unease.
Solomon fell twice, his empire was divided among his servants, and his once mighty power was nothing more than a shield for the true creator to buy time; Roselle died a violent and tragic death, and the empire he built became someone else's trophy; Intis still lacks a clear voice, and even considerable power is held by the "Faceless Man"...
The first two "Black Emperors" met such an end because they had cooperated with the true Creator. How could He cooperate with them peacefully?
George III lowered his hand to soothe the restless shadow, then looked again at his elder who was more senior than him but less powerful and ranked than him, and his tightly pressed lips parted as if bestowing a favor.
"Tell the ancestors to set limits on key members of MI9."
Tell me, let me? The former duke beside him stared incredulously at the king in name, unable to comprehend where this junior got his confidence from, showing no respect whatsoever for the "founder of the nation," not even a semblance of feigned reverence.
King George III had already looked away, completely unconcerned about Delink Augustus's reaction to these words.
He has more important questions to consider.
How can one avoid becoming another fallen "black emperor"?
How can His plan be perfectly realized?
How can we establish an empire that is not subject to the constraints of a real creator, or even a future omniscient and omnipotent creator?
Unlike the cowardly Roselle and the indecisive Solomon, He would not allow the "Faceless Man" and the fanatics of the Creator to roam freely in His Empire.