Chapter 577: Monarch and People, Ship and Water, an Artistic Woman
The dinner left Aragorn and his companions thoroughly satisfied. To the weary travelers of Middle-earth, this meal transcended mere sustenance; it was a feast beyond anything they had ever experienced.
Gimli, in particular, refused to put down his fork. The dwarf had also indulged a bit too heavily in the drink. After polishing off his first round, he had demanded another bottle of strong liquor. Ren had provided something different this time—a mellow, deeply fragrant spirit that went down smooth but carried a hidden kick. Gimli loved it so much that his entire face was flushed a deep, merry crimson.
Legolas, whose tolerance for alcohol was notoriously light, was already sporting a glazed look in his eyes. The sweet wine tasted like innocent fruit juice on the tongue, masking the heavy intoxication that crept up on him moments later.
Aragorn, however, remained steady. His constitution was hardy, and he had paced himself with the wine, leaving his mind sharp. Beside him, Gandalf sat completely unfazed, puffing quietly and enjoying the warm atmosphere.
Aragorn turned his gaze to Ren, a faint, nostalgic smile touching his lips. "Your food is just as extraordinary as I remember."
Ren wiped down the counter, his movements unhurried. "When you put your heart into the craft, the results speak for themselves. You're about to be crowned king. How does it feel?"
Aragorn let out a slow, heavy exhale, the weight of his destiny briefly showing in the slump of his shoulders. "A bit excited, and more than a little nervous. But I will give it everything I have."
Ren smiled faintly. "If you want to know whether you'll be a good king... I can ask you a single question. Your answer will tell you everything you need to know."
The casual chatter at the table faded. Gandalf peered out from beneath his bushy eyebrows, his interest piqued. Legolas, ever the observant Elf Prince, leaned in to listen. Gandalf had already witnessed the deep principles Ren had imparted to Aragorn before, and he was deeply curious about this new test.
Ren leaned against the counter, his voice quiet but carrying clearly across the room. "Aragorn. Between yourself as the King, your kingdom, and your people... which of the three is the most important?"
Silence fell over the group. It was a heavy question. A kingdom, stripped to its bones, was territory. Land without borders could not be called a country, yet a country devoid of life was merely a wasteland.
Legolas tilted his head, his brow furrowing. "It should be the kingdom itself, shouldn't it?"
Gandalf kept his thoughts to himself.
Aragorn stared down at his empty plate, his jaw tight with thought. "If forced to choose... logic dictates I should choose the kingdom itself. But... my heart tells me I must choose my people."
Ren's smile widened slightly. "You're going to be a good king."
Legolas blinked, clearly confused. "Why is that?"
"Your kingdom is your territory," Ren explained, his tone even. "But it is just dirt and stone. Without people to work it, to live on it, all you possess is a desolate wasteland."
Legolas opened his mouth to counter, but Ren raised a hand, anticipating the argument. "Mr. Legolas, I imagine you're about to point out that as long as the land exists, the people will naturally follow, yes?"
The elf nodded slowly.
"It's not entirely wrong," Ren conceded. "But let me ask you this: what do people actually need?"
"Peace," Legolas answered immediately.
"That is the grand ideal. But what is their most primal, basic need?"
Legolas hesitated. "The most basic...?"
Ren looked at the uncertain elf and chuckled softly. "Believe me, the common folk do not care who sits on the throne. They don't mind changing kings. All they truly desire is a ruler who doesn't bleed them dry—someone who ensures their bellies are full, provides a roof over their heads, and maintains justice and safety in their streets."
He shifted his gaze back to Aragorn. "You considered the kingdom, but a true ruler must weigh the people heavier. No one rejects a better life. If your subjects genuinely feel that you are fighting for their well-being, they will offer you absolute loyalty. They are living, breathing souls with families and dreams, not cattle to be casually grazed upon your lands."
Legolas fell silent, absorbing the weight of the words.
Ren picked up a glass, polishing it with a cloth. "In my world, we have an old proverb. It translates roughly to this: The monarch is the boat, and the people are the water. The water can carry the boat, allowing it to sail... but the water can just as easily rise up and swallow the boat whole. The monarch is never as important as the people."
Aragorn closed his eyes, letting the proverb sink deep into his bones. When he opened them, his gaze was resolute. "You are right. The people are the true foundation. Thank you for your guidance."
Ren shook his head dismissively. "I'm just a human. We may not share the same world, but I still hope that the King of Men—the first king of the Human Era, an era bought with the blood of countless sacrifices—will be a just ruler who leads humanity into an age of peace and prosperity. Consider it a humble reminder from one human to another."
Aragorn nodded solemnly.
Gandalf blew a smoke ring, his eyes crinkling with warmth. "To hear such deep wisdom spoken so freely... this world is far more peaceful than I ever imagined."
"I wouldn't go so far as to call it perfectly peaceful," Ren replied dryly. "But at the very least, the food here is something most people can afford to enjoy."
Aragorn laughed, the tension finally leaving his frame. "My friend, both times I have crossed your threshold, you have gifted me with very useful teachings and unmatched food. You have my deepest gratitude."
"Receiving such high praise from the first king of the Human Era? I must be the first to claim that honor," Ren teased.
Aragorn just smiled and shook his head.
Ren then turned his attention to the grey wizard. "Mr. Gandalf, you practice magic, don't you?"
"Sorcery?" Gandalf chuckled. "I am quite proficient, yes. Are you a practitioner as well?"
"No, not at all," Ren said. "You just remind me of another old gentleman who also calls himself a wizard. He isn't from your world, but his magic is incredibly potent."
Gandalf leaned forward, his curiosity sparked. "Oh? And what is this gentleman's name?"
"Albus Dumbledore. He's the headmaster of a school for wizards. The two of you share a rather distinct vibe—neither of you fits the mold of a frail ascetic. You don't shy away from good meat or strong drink, and you both have a massive sweet tooth."
Gandalf's eyes lit up. "A school for wizards? Oh, what a brilliant concept! If the opportunity ever arises, I would very much like to meet this colleague of mine and exchange a few ideas."
"He's been tied up with some personal matters lately, so he hasn't visited in a while," Ren noted. "But he promised to return and bring some new guests. If fate allows it, you'll cross paths eventually."
Gandalf nodded, looking pleased. Meanwhile, Aragorn sat quietly, his mind racing. The mention of a school had planted a new seed in his thoughts. What if he invited the wisest minds of Middle-earth to educate the public? To teach the children of Gondor? The possibilities began to take root.
As the guests settled back into their drinks, Lucifer leaned over the counter, a sly, amused smirk playing on her lips. "I didn't realize you were capable of spouting such deep philosophy."
Ren didn't even look up from the glass he was wiping. "That's exactly why I keep telling you to read more books."
"I do read!" Lucifer shot back, her pride instantly flaring. "I read countless grimoires when I was in Heaven! And in Hell, when I wasn't buried in administrative documents, I read even more magic texts! I still read every single day! I am a highly cultured, artistic woman, and you should cherish me!"
Ren paused, giving her a deadpan look. "So that's your excuse for hoarding all those bizarre light novels?"
Lucifer puffed out her cheeks, a faint blush dusting her pale skin. "I call it having wide-ranging interests! Strange novels are still literature! I don't care what you say, I am a maiden of the arts—no, an artistic woman!"
Ren sighed, his tone dripping with dry amusement. "Yes, yes. Whatever you say, Your Majesty."
Lucifer crossed her arms, turning her head away with a haughty, satisfied sound. "Hmph."
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