At that moment, Kedfer, who still hadn't noticed the change in Karl's expression,
still full of enthusiasm and pride, introduced in his rough voice: "Lord Karl, look! To perfectly reflect your supreme majesty and divinity,"
"We strictly followed your requirements, using the sun pattern and the most sacred and noble color scheme!"
He pointed to the golden throne, and his tone became even more passionate: "I think no color in this world can better show your sanctity, grandeur, and power than gold!"
"This throne behind your statue is cast from a single piece of the strongest brass."
"To achieve the best visual effect, we coated the surface with layers of extremely pure gold lacquer and manually carved these patterns, symbolizing eternity and strength, by our finest masters."
"Unless someone deliberately destroys the throne structure, anyone who sees it will think it's made from a single, huge block of pure gold! We all call it the 'Golden Throne'!"
Kedfer finally finished his introduction, turned his head expectantly, looked at Karl, and asked: "My lord, what do you think... How is it?"
Karl's eyelids twitched, and he was enveloped in an ominous silence.
A golden throne made of brass... Imperial laurel... An iron halo... Very lifelike!
Did this Kedfer not only want him to sit on a golden throne, but also want him to moonlight as a tyrant?
At that moment, Kedfer finally noticed Karl's indescribably complex expression.
He swallowed hard, his voice dropping as he cautiously asked: "Uh... Lord Karl, what do you think... How is it?"
Karl looked at him expressionlessly and was silent for a few seconds before speaking in an even tone that betrayed neither joy nor anger.
He said something that sounded like a compliment but was more of a negative remark: "The design... is very thoughtful. But next time, don't do it like this."
He deliberately strengthened his tone, his gaze sweeping over the golden throne: "Especially this golden throne..."
When Kedfer heard this, his heart instantly clenched, and cold sweat trickled down his skin.
Did this lord mean... they had designed it poorly? He wasn't satisfied?
Then the huge sum they had worked so hard to earn, the one they were waiting for... would it all be for nothing?!
Seeing Kedfer's instantly pale face and expression that looked about to cry,
the speechlessness in Karl's heart largely dissipated because the statue and design were too bold.
He understood that these dwarves were just doing their best; their designs were just... too unrestrained.
He turned his head and ordered Hans, who was quietly following him: "Hans, go and deliver to Master Kedfer and their team the full compensation they deserve."
"Including all the additional rewards I promised to give earlier. Not a single point can be missing."
Hans bowed slightly and replied respectfully: "Yes, Lord Karl."
He immediately turned to Kedfer, who looked like he was about to collapse, extended his hand, and made a gesture of invitation: "Master Kedfer, please come with me."
Kedfer looked as if he had received a general amnesty, and surprise dispelled his previous fear.
He quickly cast a grateful glance at Karl and hastily followed Hans out of the main hall.
Karl was alone, again looking up at the statue of himself, which was a fusion of several elements.
He shook his head helplessly, thinking: "Setting aside those that are too much... Well, apart from the unique designs,"
"these dwarves are truly masters of carving."
The contours of the face, the lines of the muscles, and even the sharp eyes of the statue were carved extremely vividly and filled with power.
It was just this "sacred packaging" that he found unbearable.
Just as he was secretly complaining, a familiar voice with a unique magnetism and calmness, mixed with slightly heavy footsteps, came from the temple entrance.
A flicker of surprise passed through Karl's eyes, then the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, but he didn't turn around or immediately go out to greet him.
He still stood with his back to the entrance, as if concentrating on admiring his statue.
The footsteps approached closer and closer, the heavy plate armor of Dalton in front stepping on the smooth stone slabs with a clatter.
Behind him followed lighter, but not intentionally soft, footsteps, rather steps formed by some long-standing habit.
"Lord Karl! Master Geralt is here!" Dalton stopped at a distance and reported loudly.
Only then did Karl slowly turn around, as if he had just noticed.
His attention was drawn to Geralt's familiar figure, but at this moment he looked very disheveled.
His Wolf School leather armor had several obvious tears and stains.
There were a few fresh bruises and dried bloodstains on his face, and his long silver-white hair was also a bit disheveled.
However, the most striking thing was the clear, ambiguous... lipstick marks and hickeys.
Karl's gaze swept over Geralt and finally fixed on the marks on his neck.
He couldn't help but laugh, with an openly teasing tone: "Geralt, the last time I saw you in Ellander, you were injured dealing with a Striga."
"This time... did you provoke some enthusiastic sorceress?"
Geralt's usually expressionless face rarely showed a hint of embarrassment, and he didn't answer immediately.
Seeing this, Dalton on the side immediately turned around with great interest, left the main hall, and completely left the space for the two of them.
When Dalton's heavy footsteps completely disappeared outside the temple's outer porch,
Geralt raised his hand and somewhat awkwardly touched his nose, admitting: "Yes... as you said, she is indeed a sorceress. And... also very troublesome."
He sighed, his tone very helpless: "The most important thing is that she is probably still tracking me, right here."
"Karl, I really have no choice but to run to you for help."
He looked at Karl with an apologetic expression in his eyes: "Sorry, Karl. On my escape route, your territory was the closest to me."
"Moreover, you are the only one I know who is... well, close friends with a sorceress."
"Perhaps... you have a way to deal with her or help me mediate?"
Karl heard this, slightly enhanced his sense of smell, and carefully observed Geralt at the same time.
Besides the smell of blood and dust, there was a very faint but unique fragrance in the air—the scent of cloves mixed with currants.
He even noticed that among Geralt's disheveled silver-white hair, there were one or two strands as black as raven feathers, slightly curly.
╔══════════════════════╗
📘 Want more?
Join me on Patreon for bonus chapters
and early access!
🔗 https://www.patreon.com/cw/OverlordD
╚══════════════════════╝