Final Lord

Chapter 276 Bucks Meeting
In the Great Hall of the Stag, the gilded floor tiles reflected the flickering candlelight, casting long, distorted shadows of the civil and military officials.

On the gilded throne, King Charles the Stag leaned back, one hand supporting his chin, his knuckles resting on his cold, handsome profile, like a silent statue. Morning light streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting a shadow beneath his deep-set brow, but his amber eyes remained as still as a frozen lake.

An official of the Interior lay prostrate before the throne in the most humble posture, his forehead pressed against the cold marble floor, the back of his brocade robe soaked with cold sweat, gleaming sickly in the morning light.

"Your Majesty..." His voice trembled like the last withered leaf in the autumn wind, almost breaking, "Urgent report from the front! Viscount Hank's Silver Shackled Knights have been completely annihilated."

His Adam's apple bobbed laboriously as he swallowed the metallic taste of blood from his throat.

"The rebels have breached the Shackles Pass," he continued, each word like a bead of blood squeezed from between his teeth. "They've looted all the granaries, burned down the lord's treasury, and even... even the gilded floor tiles have been pried off."

The air in the hall suddenly froze, and no noble of any rank dared to raise their head.

“What’s even more terrifying is…” the Interior Minister’s voice trailed off. “The shackled leader’s million people have vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of their lives or bodies.”

According to the refugees, the rebels ordered harpies, cavemen, and other alien races to forcibly seize civilians.

Our three groups of scouts, totaling thirty-seven elite detectives, have uncovered the rebels' movements.

His voice stopped abruptly, and his forehead slammed against the ground with a dull thud.

"Thirty-seven elite scouts, none survived."

Dead silence.

Even the crackling of the burning candlelight could be heard clearly. On the high platform, King Charles the Stag's long fingers slowly caressed the stag head relief at the top of his scepter, his amber eyes colder and more unfathomable than polar glaciers.

"What do you all think?"

The Bucks King's voice was soft, yet it was like an ice blade slicing through everyone's throat.

"Outrageous!" The Minister of Military Affairs roared as he stepped forward, his gilded armor creaking in the silence.

The white-haired old general's beard trembled violently with rage, his calloused hands slamming heavily against the gilded pillars. "Such traitors should be torn apart by chariots! We should gather thirty thousand iron cavalry and hang their heads on the lintel of the royal city!"

"How dare these border bandits so blatantly defy the monarchy!" The Chancellor of the Exchequer followed closely, his jade thumb ring cracking on the desk as expensive tea spilled onto the memorial. "We must mobilize the entire nation to eradicate them, exterminate their entire clan, and serve as a warning to others!"

The shouts were deafening, and the nobles echoed their sentiments, instantly filling the hall with roars of fighting and killing.

until--

"clang!"

The dull thud of the gilded scepter striking the ground was like a death knell, instantly silencing all other sounds. The Buck King slowly raised his eyes, a chilling smile curving his lips:

"Which of you, my esteemed subject, is willing to serve as the vanguard?"

The once bustling hall was now so quiet that one could hear the faint sound of wax dripping onto the gilded candlesticks. The Minister of War's armor was no longer clanging, the Minister of Finance's fingertips were gripping the hem of his robe tightly, and even the most radical young count suddenly became extremely interested in the gilded patterns on the toes of his shoes. This floor, indeed, is quite something.

No nobleman is stupid. Hank's Silver Shackles Knights are a formidable force capable of crushing a demonic tide head-on! That monster legion, a mix of humans and fowl, is one that even veteran earls avoid.

Even Hank's troops were completely wiped out, so the suppression mission was no longer a lucrative opportunity to earn military merits, but a ravenous tiger. The Duchy of the Buck was an aristocratic federation, not a monarchical autocracy. The soldiers under the control of the nobles were all paid for by themselves; the King of the Buck didn't provide any subsidies.

We cannot use my troops to quell the rebellion of the royal family.

His gaze slowly swept over the group of nobles who had suddenly become mute, and the cold smile on his lips grew more pronounced. His slender fingers tapped lightly on his scepter, each tap feeling like a blow to the hearts of these nobles.

"It seems," the Bucks King's voice was as venomous as a snake's, "that your courage, my esteemed ministers, is all just talk?"

The temperature inside the hall seemed to drop several degrees, and even the flames on the gilded candlesticks flickered uneasily, as if frightened by the chill. The cold light reflected from the crystal chandelier cast varying shadows on King Charles the Stag's stern face, and his sharp, hawk-like eyes slowly swept over the assembled courtiers, sending a chill down everyone's spine.

Anyone could hear the Bucks King's dissatisfaction; his suppressed silence was like the calm before a storm, suffocating everyone.

The gilded floor tiles reflected the tense figures of the civil and military officials; even the slightest rustling of their clothing could be clearly heard. Everyone knew that the atmosphere couldn't be allowed to remain so tense, or the consequences would be unimaginable.

“Your Majesty!” Treasurer Brandon suddenly stepped forward, his gold-embroidered robe standing out conspicuously in the hall. He bowed with his hand on his chest, his voice loud and almost deliberately clear:

"Minister of War Howard is a master commander. Last autumn, during the exercises, his Iron Wings Legion broke through three enemy lines in a row! If he were to lead the troops to suppress the rebellion, victory would be assured!"

Howard, the Minister of War, whose name was called, paled instantly, his white beard bristling with anger. He hastily stepped forward, his medal-studded armor clanging with each movement: "This old minister is nearly seventy, and my old injuries have flared up again; I am truly incapable of shouldering such a great responsibility!" He glanced furtively at the inscrutable King of the Stag on the throne, and added:
"Besides...the Steel Wings Legion is stationed on the border and cannot be easily mobilized."

As he spoke, he suddenly turned to his right, his age-spotted finger pointing directly at Earl Iris: "Iris Territory borders Shackled Territory, and Earl Roy's Bauhinia Knights are valiant warriors. Last year, they wiped out a bandit group entrenched in the Moonlit Heights! If Earl Roy were to send troops, he would surely annihilate the rebels!"

Count Roy of the Iris Flower nearly jumped up upon hearing this, his well-maintained face instantly turning bright red. "Your Majesty, you are wise!"

He nearly tripped over his own mink cloak as he hastily stepped out of the ranks, exclaiming, "My land has suffered from disasters year after year; even the rats in the granaries are so hungry they're gnawing on my armor!"

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away non-existent sweat, his voice growing increasingly mournful:
"Last month, a mob stormed the manor and smashed a corner off my ancestral iris emblem. Forget about sending troops; I'm barely managing to keep the territory safe."

An eerie silence fell over the entire court, broken only by the occasional murmur of excuses echoing between the gilded pillars. The sound of the Stag King's knuckles tapping the armrest of his throne struck the hearts of everyone like the tolling of a death knell.

Just as the atmosphere in the hall became so heavy it was almost suffocating, the Crimson Flame Sword Saint suddenly stepped forward, his calloused hands gripping the sword hilt tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"Your Majesty!" His voice was deep and powerful, like a sharp sword drawn from its sheath, instantly piercing the oppressive silence in the hall.

All eyes of the courtiers turned to him. The aged swordsman stood tall, his eyes beneath his white brows gleaming with a sharp light. He surveyed his surroundings, finally meeting the gaze of the Stag King on his throne, and said, word by word, "Kate Gru is merely an ordinary border baron, without a distinguished family background or a powerful army, yet he dared to openly betray his country and even defeat Viscount Hank's elite troops—there must be something fishy about this!"

His voice echoed in the hall, carrying an undeniable firmness.

(End of this chapter)