The return to the Royal Capital was exceedingly lively—at least, on the surface.
Flocks of aristocrats, officials, and citizens lined the grand avenues, showering the diplomatic procession with welcoming cheers and polite blessings. As for what these people truly felt in their hearts, what venomous rumors they might whisper behind his back, or whether they harbored dark, ulterior motives... Regulus couldn't care less.
Given the centuries of bloody friction between humanity and the demi-human race, coupled with the brutal civil war that had only just concluded, if he were to truly hold everyone accountable for their private bigotry...
Not to say ninety percent, but conservatively, at least fifty percent of Lugnica's population held bitter, toxic opinions regarding His Majesty the King's peaceful concessions. If fifty percent of the Kingdom were to be purged for their secret resentment, Lugnica would instantly collapse from the inside out.
Of course, Regulus wouldn't bother wasting his energy on hypocrites who merely gossiped behind his back. But if someone actually harbored malicious intent or dared to do anything harmful—or even slightly displeasing—to him or his loved ones, his response would be absolute and violent.
However, he reasoned that there shouldn't be that many suicidal idiots in high society. Even if they didn't respect the Old King's authority, facing a entity whose combat power surpassed an entire army was not a death sentence anyone actively courted, nor could they survive the inevitable retaliation.
That evening, a lavish victory banquet was held inside the Royal Palace.
The Old King attended in person. Facing their monarch—who seemed different from before, now radiating the firm, resolute aura of a true sovereign—everyone present felt somewhat reserved and cautious. Everyone, that is, except for Regulus, the guest of honor, who sat beside the throne with complete, relaxed indifference.
Still, this rigid hierarchy was for the best. The world never lacked simple-minded fools, and with the King personally presiding over the hall, many unpleasant, aristocratic provocations were neatly avoided.
This peaceful atmosphere continued until the banquet reached its conclusion.
"Your Majesty," Regulus called out casually, swirling his wine glass. "I have a small request."
"Oh?" The King turned, raising an eyebrow with genuine interest. "What is it, Lord Regulus?"
"I wish to secure an official, high-ranking royal status for one of my people," Regulus stated smoothly. "I wonder if Your Majesty would be willing to grant it."
"An official royal appointment? That is simple enough," the King replied straightforwardly. "However, could you tell me the specific reason why you seek an official title for her?"
"Actually, it is because she is extraordinarily skilled in international commerce," Regulus explained. "If she holds official royal credentials directly backed by the Crown, it will save us a massive amount of bureaucratic trouble down the road."
"Hmm... skilled in commercial trade, I see," the King nodded in instant comprehension.
Regulus hadn't stated the full picture explicitly, but his political meaning was already crystal clear. A master merchant backed by his authority, overseeing trade between Lugnica and the Demi-Human alliance. After all, the recent war had originally erupted precisely because an unverified merchant caravan had been attacked and the legal dispute had been mishandled by corrupt local nobles.
Giving an official royal mandate to the trade mediator would permanently prevent such a silent failure from recurring.
"Your Majesty, absolutely not!"
An obnoxious, shrill voice of opposition immediately cut through the hall. Regulus glanced over at the speaker with a flick of his eyes.
It was Leip Barielle.
Although Regulus deeply detested this greedy, arrogant noble, on a grand day like this, all attendees were technically guests of the Crown. He temporarily didn't bother to crush him for his previous arrogance and petty conflicts.
However, with Leip taking the lead in protesting, several other conservative lords also chose to speak out, loudly voicing their objections. All of their noble rhetoric boiled down to nothing more than selfish, monopolistic interests—they didn't want a neutral, protected entity taking away their lucrative border tariffs.
Just as Regulus's patience was beginning to wear thin...
"All of you, silence," the King commanded, his voice echoing across the marble pillars like thunder.
The protesting nobles instantly fell dead silent, bowing their heads in fear. Facing the subdued court, the King turned back to Regulus with a sharp, calculated smile.
"Lord Regulus, I can fully agree to your request," the King declared. "Furthermore, I can provide her with total royal authority and military backing across all provinces. But in return... how about the Crown takes a fifty percent cut of the final net profits?"
The King's sudden counter-proposal caught Regulus slightly off guard.
The deeper meaning behind the monarch's words was simple: he wanted to make the Royal Family a primary shareholder in the trade network.
The political weight of such a shareholder was immense. Forget about a fifty percent cut—if word got out that the King was personally backing a trade route, merchants across the continent would bleed themselves dry just for a tiny fraction of cooperation.
Besides, a fifty percent cut was perfectly fine with Regulus.
'Fine by me,' Regulus mused with an internal smirk. 'One day, this entire Kingdom will belong to me anyway. Giving the treasury half the profit right now is just moving gold from my left pocket to my right.'
"No problem at all," Regulus agreed easily.
"Then it is settled," the King chuckled, extremely pleased. "I will have the Royal Council draft the official documents and deliver the royal seal to your mansion tomorrow."
The monarch's absolute decree was finalized, and facing this outcome, every noble in the hall fell into complete, defeated silence.
Although traditional law stated that royal officials should not compete directly with common merchants, the glaring problem here was that this wasn't a standard official—the King himself was personally investing the state treasury into Regulus's venture. To openly oppose the King now would require risking one's head.
As the absolute ruler of Lugnica, the Old King had recently become surprisingly assertive and unyielding, even facing down the conservative elders of the Council of Sages without backing down an inch. Watching the submissive, terrified reactions of his subjects, the King felt immensely satisfied. This absolute authority gave him a vibrant feeling of returning to his youthful prime—back when he had first taken the throne and, in his fiery vigor, had never given a single damn about these scheming aristocrats.
'When did I start becoming so timid and cautious in my dealings with these flies?' the King thought, secretly shaking his head.
He turned his gaze back to Regulus, who was lazily sipping his wine beside him.
He had agreed to Regulus's request just now with his own deep, political considerations. If it were any other ambitious lord asking for royal trade backing, he would indeed need to analyze the threat to the Crown meticulously.
But for Regulus... a man who possessed zero ambition for political power, state gold, or historic fame, and whose sole hobby and driving desire was collecting beautiful women...
Honestly, the King naturally kept a layer of guard up, but relatively speaking, his level of anxiety was extremely low. After all, even if he wanted to be paranoid, with Regulus's god-like physical strength, if the white-haired anomaly ever decided to overthrow the Kingdom, literally no one on Earth could stop him.
Because even the current Sword Saint...
The King had already secretly learned through confidential military reports that even Theresia van Astrea, the legendary Sword Saint, was completely helpless in battle against Regulus.
Given that reality, it was infinitely better to be magnanimous, fulfill his desires, and permanently maintain a warm, unbreakable relationship between the Crown and this living calamity.
'Fortunately, this terrifying monster is only interested in beautiful women,' the King sighed with profound relief internally. 'If he were ambitious for conquest instead of hedonism, the consequences for every nation on this continent would be an unthinkable, apocalyptic disaster.'
"By the way, Lord Regulus," the King requested pleasantly. "Since an official royal status is to be conferred, let me first meet this person of your household."
The King had no choice but to make this reasonable request. There was simply no way around it—for any normal noble, a 'member of the household' typically referred to a single wife. But this white-haired man famously harbored over a hundred wives in his mansion, so it was extremely necessary to confirm exactly which beauty was being granted royal authority.
"Mm," Regulus nodded, signaling to the royal maid standing behind his chair.
The maid bowed respectfully and departed toward the annex.
The women had not participated in today's grand political banquet; even Sphinx was currently resting in the luxurious backyard suites. It wasn't that they weren't permitted to attend, but on such a rigid, formal political occasion, they simply didn't want to show their faces—especially since, in a strict legal sense, they hadn't held their formal public weddings yet.
In their own hearts, although Regulus lovingly called them his wives, without a grand, official ceremony, they felt they were wives in name only. Therefore, after this diplomatic trip was completed, a proper, magnificent wedding had to be held for them as soon as possible so they could obtain a truly meaningful status in society.
It wasn't long before the maid returned, guiding two figures into the grand hall.
Shion and Laila stepped through the gilded doors, their elegant presence immediately drawing the eyes of the entire court.
"Are these the two ladies of your household whom you mentioned are skilled in commercial trade?" The King looked at the two Elven Maidens, a hint of surprise in his eyes.
He truly hadn't expected that the 'people of his household' Regulus spoke of would actually be two breathtaking Elf Maidens from the demi-human race.
At the exact same moment...
Shion's emerald eyes widened in utter, horrified shock, while Laila's brow furrowed into a deep, deadly scowl.
Because when Regulus had casually asked the King for a title for 'the people of his house' , the traditional phrasing broadly implied wives!
While Regulus had used the term casually to cover his bases, the Old King had naturally understood it as a formal introduction of his new royal consorts—leaving both Shion and Laila standing in front of the entire Kingdom's high society, suddenly announced as the newest wives of Regulus Corneas!
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Give me powerstones.
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