Vale watched Ares carefully, his eyes narrowing as a faintly suspicious expression formed on his face.
'Talented students…'
The words lingered in his mind.
'Is he talking about Korin… or Nym?' Vale wondered.
Ares had mentioned that several promising young people had been recruited into the royal guard. Naturally, Vale's thoughts immediately turned toward the strongest students he knew.
Korin and Nym.
Among the academy students, the four of them, Vale, Eskar, Korin, and Nym, had always stood far above the rest. They occupied the very top of the rankings, each with abilities that most other students could barely contend with.
If the royal guard had chosen to recruit from the academy…
It would make sense for those two to be among them.
Vale kept the thought to himself, however, and continued listening as Ares resumed speaking.
"Nonetheless," Ares said calmly, "several unfortunate developments have occurred since the man took control."
Drago leaned back in his chair, letting out a quiet sigh.
"That was practically guaranteed," he said. "So I cannot say I'm surprised."
He lifted his gaze toward Ares.
"What exactly has he changed?"
Ares answered without hesitation.
"He has eliminated most of the public funds previously allocated to the poor," Ares explained. "At the same time, he has increased general taxation across the kingdom."
Vale frowned slightly.
"Living conditions for many citizens have become… nearly impossible," Ares continued.
Drago's fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his chair.
"And the missing funds?" he asked.
Ares, his voice remained steady.
"They have been redirected."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"The majority has been invested into expanding the colosseum, its operations, prize pools, and the general earnings awarded to combatants who win matches."
Vale's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And the rest?" Drago asked.
"The remaining funds," Ares said, "have been added to the royal castle's budget."
"For celebrations," he added quietly.
"For banquets. Parties. Displays of wealth."
Drago closed his eyes slowly and leaned his head back, exhaling through his nose.
When he opened them again, his expression had turned unusually cold.
"So," Drago said slowly, "he is essentially encouraging the poor to throw themselves into the colosseum and die."
Ares did not answer immediately.
After a brief pause, he nodded.
"Yes," he said. "That appears to be the situation."
Drago sighed deeply and lifted his teacup again, taking another slow sip.
"Is there any way to stop it?" he asked.
Ares remained silent for several seconds, clearly considering the question.
Finally, he shook his head.
"None that I have discovered."
Drago lowered the cup and stared at the floor for a moment, thinking.
"I see," he murmured.
Then he straightened slightly.
"In that case, I will increase our food distributions."
Ares raised an eyebrow.
"Giving money to the poor would only encourage Wolf to raise taxes further," Drago explained calmly. "But if we supply them with food directly, it becomes much harder for him to take it away."
Ares nodded slowly.
"That would help," he said. "The royal guard may be powerful, but our resources are limited. We can provide protection… but material aid is another matter."
"I know," Drago replied simply.
For a moment, Ares studied the old man with a strange look in his eyes.
Then his expression returned to its usual calm indifference.
The conversation continued quietly for a moment, but Vale found himself distracted by a thought that had suddenly surfaced.
He hesitated.
Interrupting a discussion between figures like these felt… risky.
Still, the question lingered in his mind.
Eventually, he spoke.
"Sir Ares?"
Ares turned toward him.
"Yes?"
Vale cleared his throat slightly.
"Have you, by any chance, seen three black raven-like birds around this area?"
His ravens should have arrived here weeks ago. Until this moment, Vale had completely forgotten that they had originally been meant to scout the forests surrounding Irea.
Ares frowned faintly as he thought.
"I have not personally seen them," he said after a moment.
"However, we did receive reports about several unusual birds roughly a month ago."
Vale leaned forward slightly.
"They disappeared soon after," Ares continued. "Though the reports mentioned that their mutations had already begun to manifest."
Vale let out a quiet sigh of relief.
He had expected the ravens to mutate in this environment, Drago had warned him about that. Still, hearing that they had survived the journey brought him a sense of comfort.
Following the topic shift, Drago suddenly spoke again.
"That reminds me," he said, turning toward Ivor.
"Ivor, have our scouts reported any sightings of either a white wyvern… or a mechanical construct in the last few months?"
Ivor's eyes widened slightly at the question.
He thought for several moments before finally shaking his head.
"Regrettably, no," he said quietly.
He lowered his gaze and bowed slightly in apology.
Drago nodded once.
"I see."
He turned toward Vale.
"I'm sorry, kid," Drago said. "It seems your friend is still missing for now."
He took another sip of tea.
"But our scouts search across the entire realm every day. If they are anywhere within the kingdom's borders, we will find them eventually."
Vale felt a small wave of relief wash over him.
He gave Drago a weak but genuine smile.
"Thank you, sir," he said sincerely. "I truly appreciate everything you've done for me."
Drago waved a dismissive hand.
"Don't mention it," he replied. "I owe you that much."
Then he leaned forward slightly, returning his attention to Ares.
"For now, however, we should return to the matter of Wolf," Drago said calmly. "His presence is a far greater problem."
Vale nodded quietly and leaned back in his seat, returning to silent observation as the discussion resumed.
Drago spoke again after a moment.
"Tell me," he said, "do you have any contingency plans if Wolf completely loses his mind?"
Ares looked at him, slightly surprised by the bluntness of the question.
After a moment, he answered.
"Not a concrete plan," he admitted. "But realistically speaking, he would not be capable of causing widespread damage."
He gestured calmly.
"Our two organizations control the majority of the kingdom's real power. At worst, he could attempt to order the city's police forces to attack civilians."
Ares paused briefly.
"But even then," he continued, "the royal guard would intervene immediately."
He fell silent for a moment.
Then something seemed to occur to him.
His expression shifted slightly.
"No," Ares said slowly.
"There is one thing he could do… that would be truly catastrophic."
Drago's eyes sharpened immediately.
"And what might that be?"
Ares hesitated for a moment before finally speaking.
"A Category Ten has recently surfaced," he said slowly. "For now, it remains within the Undying Valley. But there is no guarantee it will stay there. If Wolf wished to… he could lure it toward Irea. If that happened, the entire kingdom would be doomed."
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Drago raised a brow and studied Ares carefully, his expression thoughtful rather than alarmed.
"I see," he replied calmly.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers resting against the porcelain of his teacup.
"But to do something like that," Drago continued, "he would have to lose every last fragment of his sanity. Even a tyrant rarely chooses to destroy the very kingdom he rules."
He took a slow sip of tea before setting the cup down again.
"So we should not worry about the possibility too much," he finished. "However, we should not dismiss it either. Prepare for the worst, but do not allow the thought to consume us."
Ares nodded slowly.
"I agree."
Vale listened carefully as the discussion continued. For nearly another hour, the two men spoke back and forth, calmly analyzing potential actions the new monarch might take, each scenario darker than the last. They discussed taxation, military responses, internal sabotage, and possible ways to counteract decisions that could drive the kingdom toward collapse.
Much of it went over Vale's head.
The terminology was unfamiliar, the strategies complex, and the political dynamics far beyond anything he had dealt with before. Still, he listened closely, watching their expressions and movements just as much as their words.
Drago remained relaxed throughout, his posture casual, his voice calm. Ares, on the other hand, spoke with the steady discipline of a soldier delivering reports, precise, measured, and unemotional.
Eventually, the conversation began to wind down.
"Then we should have discussed everything now, correct?" Ares asked as he slowly rose to his feet.
Drago nodded.
"Yes. That should be all."
He gestured lightly toward the staircase.
"You may all leave my office now."
Vale blinked in mild confusion before quickly standing up as well. The meeting had ended so abruptly that it took him a moment to register it. He began preparing to descend the long staircase again when Ares suddenly walked past him.
As he passed, the tall man lowered his hand and placed it firmly on Vale's shoulder.
Vale looked up in surprise.
Ares stared down at him with the same indifferent expression he always seemed to wear, his sharp eyes studying the boy for a brief moment.
"You should visit the Royal Guard quadrons in the near future," Ares said.
His voice was calm and direct.
"Simply tell them you were invited by me. And show them this when you enter."
He extended his other hand and pressed something small and cold into Vale's palm.
Vale instinctively grabbed it.
Looking down, he saw a silver medallion resting in his hand. Its surface was smooth and polished, catching the dim light of the office. Strangely, there was no emblem engraved into it, no crest, no inscription, nothing that suggested its origin or authority.
That alone startled him.
Vale looked up again, already opening his mouth.
"Thank-"
He froze.
Ares was gone.
Completely gone.
Vale turned his head quickly, scanning the office. The tall man had been standing right beside him only a second ago, yet there was no sign of him anywhere, not by the staircase, not by the door, not even near the windows.
It was as if he had simply vanished.
Vale stared at the space for a moment, still holding the medallion in his hand.
Then, with a strange expression on his face, he finished his half-spoken sentence quietly.
"…you."