Another World Witch Training Manual

128. Another Clash

Xinlai nodded slightly and led Fern towards the Hall of Radiance. Passing through the long corridor, the murals on both sides depicted the glorious history of Asgard since its founding, and the faces of the past kings appeared solemn and dignified in the dappled light and shadow.

Fern's gaze was involuntarily drawn to the murals, but his feet remained firmly planted in Sinley's steps.

The doors of the Hall of Radiance slowly opened, and bright sunlight poured in through the towering stained-glass windows, casting dazzling light and shadow on the ground.

A faint magical aura permeated the vast palace, the lingering effect of the protective barriers set up by the court sorcerers throughout the ages.

On the throne in the center of the hall, King Bemmir sat upright. Although he was old, the sharp glint of his youth still lingered in his deep-set eyes.

Beside the throne stood Simien, clad in a dark blue mage's robe.

The moment Xinlai stepped into the hall, she felt Simien's gaze upon her.

That gaze contained scrutiny, vigilance, and a deep-seated fear.

Although Simeon never openly expressed hostility towards his younger brother, Sinley knew better than anyone how insignificant blood ties were in the face of power.

"Your subject pays respects to Your Majesty." Xin Lai stood in the hall, placed his right hand on his chest, and bowed respectfully.

Fern also knelt on one knee and paid his respects with a military salute.

Bermelt slightly raised his hand, gesturing for the two to stand up.

His gaze fell on Fern behind Xinlai, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly: "Xinlai, the Royal Guards reported that you brought Marquis Tanstin's personal guards back to the city?"

"Father's question is just right," Simien suddenly spoke, his voice calm and composed, carrying a sense of complete control.

"Xinlai, as far as I know, you haven't reported your departure from the city to the palace recently. And now, during this sensitive period of unexplained magical fluctuations within the capital, city gate controls have been raised to the highest level. As the third prince, you left the city without reason, and returned without reason—"

His sharp gaze swept over Fern. "He also brought a stranger into the palace who is said to be a member of the Marquis of Tanstin's personal guard. This matter probably needs an explanation."

"Explanation?" Xin Lai tilted her head slightly to meet her brother's gaze, her tone calm, yet each word clear.

"I'd like to ask you a question first, Second Brother: As the one who promised to keep a close watch on the Marquis of Tanstin, you haven't finished punishing him for being tortured to death in the royal dungeon, have you?"

The atmosphere in the Hall of Radiance suddenly froze.

Simeon's gaze turned cold for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure, even letting a subtle, enigmatic smile appear on his lips.

"I admit that the Marquis of Tanstin's death was partly due to my poor management of my subordinates, but as you know, the Marquis of Tanstin was guilty of a serious crime. Torture was just a matter of whether it was excessive or not; he was going to die anyway. Wouldn't it be better to get some information out of him?"

Upon hearing this, Fern clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles cracking. He was about to step forward when Xinlai calmly raised her hand to stop him.

"Is it all the same, death either way?" Xin Lai's voice remained calm, but every word was as if it had been chilled to the bone.

"With bones shattered and flesh torn apart, wasn't this death a bit too hasty?! Second brother, we are both of royal blood. In front of Father, it's best to refrain from using such disgraceful excuses for the royal family."

Bermilt's gaze swept back and forth between the two brothers, his expression unreadable.

The old king, who had ruled Asgard for decades, was well aware of the undercurrents among his sons, but the sudden appearance of Sinlai in the Hall of Radiance with Marquis Tanstin's personal guards made him sigh.

"Sinlai," Bermelt began slowly, his voice low but authoritative, "tell me why you left the city."

Sinley gave a respectful bow to Bermilt, then gestured to Fern behind him:

"Reporting to Father, the reason I left the city was because I learned that the Marquis of Tanstin's former troops were filled with grief and indignation after learning of their commander's tragic death, and a contingent of his personal guards had come from the border to garrison near the capital to observe the situation."

His gaze met Bermelt's scrutinizing eyes calmly, and he continued:

"Although Marquis Tanstin has passed away, his 50,000 heavily armored cavalry remain the strongest bulwark on the frontier. If the news of his tragic death in the capital were to spread among the troops, the rage of his 50,000 cavalry would be enough to trigger a mutiny on the border."

Your subject believes that rather than watching the situation deteriorate, it would be better to proactively leave the city, meet with the Marquis Tanstin's personal guards remaining in Wangcheng, understand their demands, and relay the true situation back to the border to reassure the army.

Bermelt tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest of the throne, a habitual gesture when he was thinking.

His gaze fell on Fern, and he asked in a deep voice, "Are you Marquis Tanstin's personal guard?"

Fern knelt on one knee and responded with a military salute, his voice deep and resolute: "Your Majesty, this humble general is Fern of the Lion Iron Cavalry Scout Battalion, and has served the Marquis for twelve years."

Bermilt remained silent for a long time, his gaze lingering on the sturdy scout before finally asking, "What are the 50,000 iron cavalry on the border thinking now?"

Fern raised his head and met the king's gaze calmly: "Your Majesty, our soldiers have followed the Marquis to defend the border for twelve years, and have fought in more than a hundred battles, large and small, without ever retreating."

When the Marquis was summoned to the capital, he admonished all his soldiers that no matter what happened, they must hold the border and protect the city.

However, when news of Marquis Tanstin's torture and death leaked to the border, the soldiers were filled with grief and indignation, wishing they could flood into the capital and demand justice for their lord.

He paused, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed emotion: "It was the old battalion commander who led us to kneel before the Marquis's command tent and cry for half the night before we managed to stabilize the troops. But the resentment of 50,000 men cannot be suppressed for long by mere forbearance."

Fern, who was behind him, suddenly knelt down on one knee, and tears welled up in the eyes of the sturdy veteran.

"This humble general dares to humbly beseech Your Majesty, in consideration of the more than ten years the Marquis has served on the frontier, risking his life for Asgard, and grant an explanation to the brothers on the border who are still eagerly awaiting the Marquis's return!"

Bermelt's gaze lingered on Fern for a long time before slowly shifting to Sinley.

A barely perceptible curve appeared at the corner of his mouth, a smile that seemed to see through everything but was unwilling to reveal it.

The old king knew better than anyone that Sinley's claim of "investigating outside the city" was not entirely true, but Sinley's reasoning was flawless:

He left the city to appease the border troops who might mutini, a matter of national security, and no one, including Simeon, could use this as a pretext to attack him.

"You did very well," Bermelt said slowly, his voice carrying a hint of approval. "The Marquis of Tansten was loyal throughout his life, and his men should not suffer injustice because of his wrongful death."

Informing them of the truth is a sign of respect for the deceased and a responsibility to the living.