Chapter 8: Fists and Minds

The corpses of former King Brown and Prime Minister Rosco were left in a heap by the wall, as if they were piles of trash. The meeting resumed, with the leaders of the non-major tribes also invited to attend.

The Lizardmen chief entered alongside Prince Tazir and took a seat at the conference table with the other tribal leaders. The unconscious chief of the Hari clan had been carried out, and his son, the late King Brown's cousin, took his place at the meeting. At first, the young man raged upon being told that the throne had been usurped, roaring, "This is treason!" But as soon as he saw the bodies of Brown and Rosco, he fell silent.

The tribal leaders who arrived later were also shocked by the sight of the two corpses. However, their fear wasn't directed at the corpses themselves but at the thought of the legendary Shadow Sage behind them. Grutttt's explanation quickly replaced their terror with a mix of confusion and apprehension. Tossing the medallion that once hung from the Shadow Sage's neck onto the table, Grutttt said coldly, "Rest assured. I guarantee he will never appear again." With that, he turned and walked out of the hall, indifferent to the gazes following him.

Tazir was officially declared king, transitioning seamlessly from prince to monarch. Given the extraordinary circumstances and the fact that Tazir was the only legitimate male heir of the royal family, the tribal leaders—known for their straightforward ways—saw no need for formal ceremonies and raised no objections.

Of course, their lack of objections was likely due to another reason: the persuasive power of the two bodies in the corner was undeniable.

 "Some of you may feel in your hearts that I've invited outsiders to meddle in Tatalia's affairs and betrayed our nation," Tazir began, addressing the assembled tribal leaders. "I know this is something every Tatalian despises. But I think you all understand what it would mean for Tatalia if my brother were to remain on the throne. I acted out of necessity."

Tazir spoke with measured confidence. While his appearance was undeniably ugly—almost comical—his gestures, tone, and demeanor exuded calm authority. There was an intangible quality to his presence, a subtle but undeniable charisma that made his words difficult to refute. "General Grutttt came only at my invitation to assist me. He will leave immediately and has no intention of interfering with Tatalia's affairs in the future. So I ask that you accept my somewhat extreme measures."

With the exception of the Hari clan, all the leaders nodded slightly in agreement, some even smiling faintly. In stark contrast, the Hari clan chief's son sat with a face as grim as death. The fall of the Hari clan's dominance was inevitable with the shift in the throne, and their previously monopolized benefits would now be redistributed. Even if Tazir's methods were indeed extreme, his actions appealed to the other tribes. Moreover, Tazir was demonstrably more capable than his brother—by far the better choice for the throne.

Tazir continued, "I've convened this meeting to discuss a matter with you all. I plan to form an alliance between Tatalia and Orford. While some of you may want to link this decision to General Grutttt's assistance, I urge you to consider the benefits Orford can bring to Tatalia."

One tribal leader immediately spoke up. "In the short time since Orford's founding, trade has already increased so much that our tribe's income from furs has doubled."

Another chimed in, nodding. "The market for ores has also improved. With convenient transport to Orford, we can directly supply goods to merchants from other nations. Cutting out the middlemen means more coins in our pockets."

"With Orford as a trade hub, there's no need to smuggle goods to Alrasia in secrecy anymore. We can openly and ruthlessly earn gold from those Alrasian bastards," one of the tribal leaders said, smirking.

Another chimed in, "We're the closest nation to Orford, and it's growing so damn fast—faster than the weeds in my yard."

The tribal leaders nodded in agreement. Talking about gold had a way of lightening the mood.

However, the oldest of the chiefs, a slow-speaking elder with unclear enunciation but sharp reasoning, raised a concern. "But Alrasia has also cut off trade with Orford. Everyone here knows that Orford's situation isn't good. I admit we've benefited greatly from them, but will that continue? More importantly, do we really want to provoke the other religious nations for their sake?"

His words struck a chord, and several other leaders nodded. Alliances between nations weren't about gratitude but calculated interests.

King Tazir inclined his head toward the elder. "Chief Trosah, you make a good point. But in my view, Orford's situation isn't merely bad—it's dire. In fact, it's teetering on the edge of danger."

He scanned the room, speaking with increasing gravity. "You all remember that Pope Magnus expressed dissatisfaction with Orford in the past. Now, due to deliberate sabotage and framing, Orford's relationship with the surrounding religious nations has grown increasingly tense. Even though Theodorus has no interest in war and is doing everything to mediate, conflict may only be a matter of time."

The king paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "The latest intelligence tells us that the Pope in Celeste recently convened several cardinals. While the details of the meeting are unknown, a cardinal reportedly remarked afterward that the pope is deeply displeased with the actions of heretical nations and the sacrilegious beasts roaming the land. Shortly after, dozens of holy knights and several paladins stationed at the Radiant Fortress were dispatched across the religious nations."

The tribal leaders stirred, the scent of smoke and blood hanging in the air as if war were already upon them. One chief voiced what many were thinking: "If you know the situation is like this, why are you still proposing an alliance with Orford?"

Another added, "That pope's warnings may only target Orford. We've had minor conflicts with Alrasia over the years, but they've never launched a full-scale invasion."

King Tazir sighed, his heavy expression casting a shadow over the room. Even his comically ugly features couldn't diminish the weight of his words. "Perhaps the pope's words do primarily target Orford. But I trust none of you are short-sighted fools. Think about it—if Orford falls under the siege of the religious nations and is conquered, what happens next?"

"What happens next?" The leaders murmured amongst themselves. Only Chief Trosah, after some thought, trembled as he answered, "Are you saying they'll turn on us next?"

Tazir nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Orford's value as a central city in the highlands has already been proven. Under Theodorus' leadership, the orcs have built Orford into a well-developed city, with nearly all its structures made of stone. No matter the scale of battle, Orford won't be reduced to rubble. Once they've claimed Orford as their own, the highlands will fall under the church's control. And when that happens, what do you think they'll do to Tatalia—the only other nation in the highlands, and the one closest to Orford?"

One barbarian chief roared in response, "We're not afraid of those church pigs! Let them come, and we'll deal with them. Just like last time, I'll strip those white-robed swine naked and stake them alive!"

"That's reason enough for them to start a war with us," King Tazir said, shaking his head slightly at the fiery tribal leader. With a sigh, he addressed the assembly, embodying the raw courage and simplicity of Tatalian culture. "I have never doubted the bravery and strength of our warriors. But after standing off against Alrasia for so many years, I trust I don't need to explain the disparity in strength between our two nations. The only reason we are able to sit here today is because the vast swamps of our land make it incredibly difficult for Alrasian armies to advance, and because our lands and resources are not worth enough to justify the losses they would incur fighting our warriors, who would gladly die to defend their home. However, should they decide it is necessary to eliminate us—and if they ally with other religious nations to invade from the highlands—then the day of our downfall will come."

Before the king's voice had fully faded, a cacophony erupted.

"Let those church pigs dream their filthy dreams!"

"The warriors of the swamps will never be defeated! We'll defend our home to the last drop of blood."

"I'll ram their crosses where the sun doesn't shine and make them lick them clean afterward!"

The hall filled with thunderous roars and pounding fists on tables, as the volatile chiefs hurled curses at Alrasia and the religious nations.

But King Tazir paid little attention to the raucous leaders. Instead, his gaze lingered on the heads of the Four Great Clans, who sat in comparative silence, their expressions calm and calculating. These were men of pragmatism and foresight, individuals whose positions were earned not by brute force but by cunning.

Addressing them with a firm tone, Tazir said, "And that is why I say we have no choice but to ally with Orford."

Chief Trosah, the slow-talking elder, rubbed his chin. "But even if we do, how can Orford and Tatalia stand against Alrasia and all the religious nations combined? There must be another way."

Tazir leaned back slightly and let the tension settle before offering an alternative, his voice deliberately louder to ensure it reached every corner of the room. "There is one other way: We could submit to Alrasia and the church, becoming their vassal state. I doubt they would refuse such an offer. We would avoid war, though it would mean bowing to them from now on…"

The response was immediate and explosive.

"Never!"

"Submit to those church pigs, who are dumber than lizards and filthier than swamp flies? Over my dead body!"

"Pray to their wooden idols on our knees? By the ancestors of my tribe, such a thing will never happen in the Swamp Nation!"

Chiefs rose from their seats, pounding their fists and shouting oaths of defiance. The mere suggestion seemed to offend them more deeply than the prospect of war itself.

Then, the lizardman chief, who had remained silent thus far, spoke in his cold, emotionless tone. "If Tatalia submits to the church, I will lead my people to secede and join Orford instead." His reptilian expression betrayed no feeling, but his words were weighty, and everyone present knew he would follow through. The pope's declaration against "heretical beasts" made it clear that even submission offered no salvation for the non-human tribes.

"This solution is not viable," Chief Trosah coughed, raising his voice to be heard above the uproar. Though his pragmatism told him that surrender might be the safer option, he understood that neither the other chiefs nor their warriors would ever accept it. Raising a hand to quiet the others, he turned back to Tazir. "But if we ally with Orford, will it truly be better than that outcome?"

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to the king, awaiting his answer.

Tazir hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the corner of the hall, where the two corpses lay. Then, with measured confidence, he said, "I believe we can have faith in them."

The leaders followed his gaze to the grim display. The sight of the two lifeless bodies stirred something within the more impulsive chiefs, reigniting their energy and optimism.

Murmurs of approval began spreading. "Perhaps this alliance might not be so bad after all…"

The meeting was shrouded in an unusual atmosphere from start to finish. The two corpses constantly reminded everyone of what had just transpired, their minds haunted by the figure who had cast aside the shadow card—a symbol that had once struck terror into their hearts—before walking away. This was especially true for the leaders who revered strength and simultaneously feared and dreaded the Sage of Shadows.

The Sage of Shadows rarely appeared in public and only showed favor to those he deemed necessary. To offend him meant facing a dire fate. While the royal faction of the Brown King worshipped him as a deity, most others kept their distance, driven by a mix of awe and fear of his mystical powers.

Now, that fear of power had shifted to the one who killed him, especially when they realized this person might stand on their side. Although the leaders needed to think carefully as rulers, as warriors, who wouldn't want the opportunity to fight alongside such a man?

"Let us not forget the tale of the five thousand soldiers from the Einfast Empire," King Tazir reminded them at the right moment. "They marched a thousand miles, only for Orford to annihilate them all without even a single orc getting injured. That was not just a demonstration of combat power but a testament to their strategy and methods. The Einfast Empire has since signed a peace treaty with Orford. The dwarves of the Kalendor Basin have always maintained good relations with them. Their situation is far from dire. And let's not forget that in the wildlands, the orcs have an undeniable advantage."

"Moreover, we know that not all 'Church Pigs' are fanatical zealots. Those cowardly ones will falter at the sight of too much blood. When corpses pile up with no real benefits gained, even their so-called devout politicians will momentarily forget their god, turning instead to rational, economic thinking. Their god won't appear to hand them soldiers or coins. At that point, they'll reconsider whether this war is even worth continuing. Does Alrasia truly dare to sacrifice their entire military strength in the wildlands? Will they leave Nigen unchecked? Does that woman Catherine want her bedchamber turned into a roost for harpies or her boudoir overrun by minotaurs ravaging her?" King Tazir's voice rose, his tone becoming more dynamic. His gaze fixed on the more impulsive leaders. His usually grotesque, almost comical face now brimmed with vitality, every feature working in harmony with his tone to stir the emotions of his audience.

"And what of the Church? What can it accomplish alone? Without the support of the other theocratic nations, Celeste is nothing more than a foolish place incapable of earning gold or even baking bread. Can the priests of the Tower of Light pray bread and gold into existence? In the end, Magnus, that senile old fool, will have no choice but to retract his nonsensical words born of dementia and acknowledge Orford—and Tatalia."

The king paused, taking a deep breath, before continuing with a tone full of determination and strength: "This is not just a crisis; it is an opportunity—an opportunity for the entire continent to witness the power and courage of Tatalia. We will rise in this moment of peril, becoming a kingdom that no one dares to ignore. Even those arrogant knights of Alrasia will shudder at the mere mention of the warriors of the wetlands."

"Agreed! I pledge the full support of the Futah clan in forging an alliance with Orford," declared a barbarian leader whose face was covered in intricate warpaint. "I am willing to shed the last drop of my blood for the rise of our great Wetland Nation!"

"Yes, I support it too!" Other leaders quickly followed suit, voicing their impassioned agreement. The atmosphere in the great hall soared to a fever pitch. Even two of the five major tribal leaders, who were usually more composed, seemed somewhat moved. Though they knew such decisions should not be made impulsively, as warriors of the Wetland Nation, they couldn't help but feel stirred.

What's more, from a rational standpoint, there seemed to be no better alternative. Perhaps it was worth taking the gamble. Sighing, the leader of the Trosah clan, under pressure from the others, finally voiced his agreement as the last holdout. And so, the proposal to ally Tatalia with Orford passed unanimously.

Far from the Tatalian royal palace, Grutt was riding a Wivern, carrying a young human as they left the country and headed toward Orford. The details of the alliance were to be negotiated and executed by Theodorus.

"Are you sure it's okay to leave just like this?" the young man asked. "Shouldn't we at least wait until Prince Tazir has fully secured control of the situation before—"

"I trust he'll handle it," Grutt replied calmly.

"Oh," the young man fell silent.

Grutt gave a slight nod in his mind. This was indeed a clever and capable person. He was a spy sent by Orford to gather intelligence in Tatalia, the one who had written the extensive report for Grutt. With that information and Theodorus' ongoing plans, Grutt had gained a complete understanding of Tatalia's situation, enabling him to identify the critical points and strike decisively. Coupled with Tazir's abilities, it was only through this synergy that such a monumental shift in the country's direction could be accomplished in such a short time with remarkable efficiency.

Even the strongest fist is useless without a brain.

However, Grutt's expression remained serious, showing no sign of ease. His mind was preoccupied with other matters. He knew that, while his task here in Tatalia had been straightforward and clear-cut, the negotiations in Alrasia, though devoid of violence, would be a hundred times more difficult and a thousand times more dangerous.

Because over there, there were no fists—only minds. And a mind without fists was undoubtedly the most dangerous, for there were those who might seize this opportunity to strike a fatal blow.

At the same time, in the imperial palace of Alrasia…

"Lord Borugan, the Orford envoy, is here to meet Her Majesty the Empress," the herald's voice, usually the clearest and most authoritative in the land, sounded slightly awkward due to the cumbersome and somewhat ridiculous title.

A short figure, dressed in what seemed an attempt at ornate and dignified attire, strode up the red carpeted stairs. Suddenly, he stepped on his trailing cloak, and like a gourd, he tumbled and rolled down the stairs in a chaotic flurry.