"Nebra, is it..."
Mohg, currently resting in bed after a long day, reviewed the intelligence sent by Horulf.
Nebra was once a valiant knight under the Storm Lord, earning vast lands and the title of Count through his illustrious military achievements.
But what was the price? The price was that he could never again tap into the power within his body. If he did, he would suffer continuous physical degradation, significantly shortening his lifespan. Every time he drew upon his strength, his internal organs would be wracked with unimaginable agony.
This information wasn't particularly secret within the Count's domain; anyone who had lived there for a while knew of it. Their Lord rarely left his manor, yet he was genuinely regarded as a decent ruler.
However, the predicament he faced left him in constant torment. He had never stopped searching for a cure, but no miracle had ever occurred. Ironically, the party most likely to possess a cure was the Golden Order—the very people he was least likely to seek help from.
Refusing to simply wither away and die, he had begun exploring every possible alternative. Horulf had mentioned the Beastmen he encountered in his report, and Mohg, recalling what that Beastman had said previously, could guess the general nature of the agreement reached between the two parties.
"So, the only remaining question... is what price this former Storm Knight is willing to pay for his life..."
The corners of Mohg's mouth curled into a slight smirk, though he quickly suppressed it. It was too early to celebrate; nothing was set in stone yet. Still, the thought of recruiting such a man made him want to laugh. Given Nebra's status and strength, if the recruitment succeeded, he would likely become the most capable assistant in Mohg's service.
"Horulf, go and test him. Spread word of our Dynasty's deeds. Make him understand that beyond the things he already knows, we too have the power to heal him!"
"By your will, Sovereign."
As his consciousness returned fully to his body, Mohg prepared to close his eyes and sleep. He still had to study Carian spear and halberd techniques tomorrow, after all.
"Hm?"
Mohg, having just closed his eyes, suddenly heard a knock at the door. Confused, he sat up and walked to the door, pulling it open. The moment he did, a familiar voice—and a familiar scent—greeted him.
At this point, identifying people by scent was becoming almost instinctive for him.
"Sorceress Sellen? It's quite late. Is there something you need?"
"Late? The night is young. Let's skip the pleasantries; I need your help with an experiment."
Sellen brushed off his comment and stated her purpose directly.
Mohg blinked. "Don't you know yet?"
"Know what?" Sellen asked, looking puzzled.
"I have officially joined Lady Rellana's service. I am now one of her knights."
"Oh. And are you still an apprentice of the Academy?"
"Uh... yes." Mohg was taken aback by her lack of reaction, but he answered truthfully despite his confusion.
"Then there's no problem. Come, help me with the experiment."
Without waiting for a rebuttal, Sellen reached out, grabbed Mohg by the sleeve, and began dragging him toward her workspace.
Mohg's eyes turned into "dead fish eyes" of pure exasperation. With a long, weary sigh, he followed her anyway. After all, he still intended to "kidnap" her into his service eventually.
"What do you make of the news brought by the flying dragon?"
King Engyll turned to the elderly man beside him. The man wore ornate, flowing robes and possessed a long, white beard that reached his chest. However, his refined attire sat in stark contrast to his bulging, powerful muscles and the heavy, massive scepter he held in his hand.
"Mmh. If I may be blunt, your Majesty, this is a draconic ploy," Bugyes replied, narrowing his eyes as he shared his perspective. "The flying dragons stand to gain the most from the war between the Golden Order and the Ancient Dragons. Since the death of the ancient rock-clad Gransax, the Dragon Mother has lost the one rival capable of truly suppressing her. Naturally, she wishes to expand her influence over Caelid."
Bugyes continued, "But Caelid is home to the sorcery town of Sellia and powerful lords who have mastered gravity magic and battle arts. They are no less a threat to the flying dragons than the Ancient Dragons were. Furthermore, there are those who still follow the Ancient Dragons and the Dragon Hunters. The flying dragons want to use our hands to eliminate their enemies."
"I am aware," Engyll replied slowly. "But the problem is that the intelligence the dragon brought is genuine. Several Caelid lords have already made their choice."
"Then I ask that your Majesty only launch expeditions against those specific lords who have defected," Bugyes advised. "If we mobilize on a grand scale, the complex terrain and fractious power dynamics of Caelid will only swallow our strength, leaving the flying dragons to reap the rewards. Our relationship with the flying dragons... has never been cordial, has it?"
Seeing that Engyll had already made up his mind, Bugyes stopped trying to talk him out of it and instead focused on steering him toward a wiser course of action.
"It shall be so."
Engyll nodded. He trusted both the competence and the loyalty of his Chancellor.
As Bugyes had said, the "waters" of Caelid were incredibly deep. No single power controlled everything there. It was a chaotic mix of Ancient Dragons, flying dragons, Beastmen, sorcerers, the Nox, Dragon Hunters (also known as Dragon Communionists), extraterrestrial races, and those who wielded gravity magic.
Ancient legacies and modern factions were intertwined. The long-standing lack of external interference meant the land was home to many unknown powerhouses and hidden secrets. If they made too much noise and disturbed some ancient being, they might suffer catastrophic losses, leaving them unable to face the inevitable invasion from the Golden Order.
Indeed, Engyll never believed Caria could hold back the Golden Order's offensive forever. The Golden Order's march south was merely a matter of time. All he could do was use that time to accumulate strength and eliminate unstable factors in his rear.
As for launching a proactive strike... setting aside the interference from the Lake region, the sheer geography of the Golden Order's territory acted as a natural barrier that his armies could hardly cross. Their only hope was to wait for the opponent to make a mistake. Only then would there be a chance for a counter-offensive against the Erdtree.
He firmly believed: Only the storm can topple the Great Tree!
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (415 Chapters – Ongoing)
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