Over the next two days, Raven led Mohg on a series of visits to several high-ranking officials to build momentum for the upcoming Roundtable meeting. Mohg memorized his speech until it was second nature, prepared for every possible question, and trained in etiquette through the night. His rate of progress was truly astonishing.
Late on the second night, a group arrived at Raven's manor to deliver the official documents requesting the Deeproot's return to the Golden Dynasty, along with various non-classified data regarding the region.
"The population of the Deeproot is even larger than I estimated," Raven said as he inspected the documents. "The area, the resources... good. This will make convincing the Roundtable much more certain."
Machno's sallow face seemed even yellower than before, framed by deep dark circles under his eyes. "Time was too tight; the precision of the data isn't quite where it should be."
"It doesn't matter," Raven said, looking at him. He hadn't expected Morgott to send Machno. "My thanks to you all for the hard work."
"I wish to attend tomorrow's meeting."
"It is a closed-door session; the attendees are all high-ranking members of the Dynasty," Raven said, shaking his head. "You cannot participate."
"In that case, I shall await your 'good news' here." Machno shot a deep look at Raven before turning to Mohg. "You were appointed as the representative for everyone in the Deeproot without an election. I hope you prove worthy of that responsibility."
"In any case, if the agreement reached is not 'good news'..." Raven said flatly, "you won't abide by it anyway, will you?"
"We are currently constructing defensive lines in the sewers." Machno's voice was calm, devoid of any hint of provocation.
Raven tapped the documents into a neat stack on the table, the sharp sound echoing, before placing them into a kraft paper envelope.
"In the room on the right at the end of the hallway, there is a basement. You will find four crates of Explosive Stones inside—high-grade military supplies from Fort Laiedd," Raven said, looping the string around the envelope's fastener. "Have them transported down into the sewers."
Machno finally showed a look of surprise. "You mean—"
"If the meeting fails to reach the desired outcome, blow the tunnels leading to the Deeproot. If the demolition is done correctly, even if the Capital mobilizes Stone-Digger Trolls, it will take them years to dig their way back in."
Raven finally finished winding the string and looked up to meet Machno's gaze. "And by then, the Golden Dynasty may no longer have the strength to deal with you."
"There are miners in the Deeproot who are experts in explosives," Machno said, standing up and offering a deep bow. He extended his hand to Raven. "Comrade Raven, I offer my formal apologies for my previous behavior."
Raven shook his hand.
"Is Machno your true name? According to Tricia, your past is quite a mystery. Some say you were an assassin who fled to the Deeproot after murdering numerous nobles; others say you led seventeen armed uprisings under different names, always somehow returning to life after being suppressed and executed."
"I am but an ordinary man from Ravenmount; I could not have done all those things," Machno said, donning a skeletal mask that covered his entire face. "But beneath the mask, there is not just flesh, but an idea. And ideas are indeed impossible to kill—they can appear everywhere at once."
Skeletal Mask A skeletal mask that covers the entire face, appearing as though it is being consumed by bone. Armor worn by the assassins of Ravenmount.
This is a cursed implement used to maintain human consciousness while they mimic the Deathbirds. It grips the wearer tightly and continuously.
The following morning, Raven and Mohg entered the Roundtable Hold through the main gates, led by two Confessors. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the pale winter sunlight struck the cold floor, failing to bring even a hint of warmth to the vast interior space.
Dozens of meters above, on the vaulted ceiling, was a monumental mural of Queen Marika uplifting the Elden Ring, emphasizing the immense distance between god and man. The peal of an organ permeated the air; one could not tell where the raspy, heavy tones originated, as if they were a natural hallucination born of the overwhelming atmosphere.
The Confessors leading the way moved without the slightest sound, dissolving into the solemn aura like two drops of water. Raven suspected their silence-inducing incantations were developed specifically for this purpose. In contrast, Mohg's footsteps were incredibly heavy, sounding utterly out of place in these surroundings.
"Relax. You can do this," Raven whispered.
Ascending to the second-floor meeting hall, Raven exchanged greetings with several senior ministers of the Roundtable. He led Mohg to a seat at the table, waiting for the others to arrive.
At the center of the Roundtable was a swirl of golden light. Raven knew this was the Great Grace; Queen Marika could listen and speak through it, though she typically did not interfere in the Roundtable's proposals. Her last interference had been to reward Raven for exposing the volcanic conspiracy, ending the meeting in less than fifteen minutes.
It seemed no different from the last Roundtable meeting—or so Raven thought until he noticed that a door, which had been tightly shut last time, was now slightly ajar. Behind it lay a deep darkness, and the faint silhouette of a person could be seen sitting inside, appearing mysterious and inscrutable.
Curiosity piqued, Raven closed his eyes and used the sensory perception of Wild Strikes to probe the room behind the door.
Sitting inside was a stooped old woman. Her vitality was like a candle gutting in the wind, with nothing particularly special to be sensed. Raven moved his perception past her, casually sweeping over the room.
A silent thunderclap erupted in his mind.
Raven let out a muffled grunt, the wine glass in his hand instantly crushed flat.
"What's wrong?" Mohg asked hurriedly.
"Nothing." Recovering from the spiritual shock, Raven unobtrusively tucked the ruined glass into his pocket.
Deep within the room sat a Two Fingers. Raven used his peripheral vision to look at the doorway; the Finger Reader Crone remained motionless, seemingly unaware of what had just happened.
These envoys of the Greater Will were said to reside atop the Divine Towers; he hadn't expected to find one within the Roundtable Hold. It seemed that every previous Roundtable meeting had been conducted under the surveillance of the Two Fingers.
Raven's mind raced. That door had never been open before. Was the Greater Will planning to use the Finger Reader Crone to openly interfere in politics?
"His Highness Godwyn." At that moment, everyone in attendance rose to offer their respects.
The tall, golden-haired prince entered the meeting hall. He touched his chest in return, his smile as brilliant as the sun.
He sat down beside Raven and raised a glass. "Prince Raven, it has been a long time."
"Your Highness looks more radiant than ever." Raven raised a fresh glass and clinked it against Godwyn's.
Godwyn's arrival was within Raven's expectations. He exchanged a glance with several Loyalist ministers across the table and began to chat casually with Godwyn as if everything were normal.
Once everyone had arrived, a white-haired Grand Scholar struck his gavel. Following the exile of Goldmask due to his Tarnished status, this scholar was the foremost authority on Golden Order Fundamentalism—and, of course, a member of the Loyalist faction.
"I believe everyone has already reviewed the agenda. I shall not waste words; Prince Raven, please begin the proceedings."
"Thank you." Raven interlaced his fingers and calmly began his brief opening statement.
"...As stated, resolving the Deeproot situation through violence is not advisable; recognizing its existence is more in line with the Dynasty's interests. Rather than dropping in a foreign noble from elsewhere, I believe appointing one of the Golden Bloodline as the Lord of the Deeproot is the more stable choice. Lord Mohg, please begin your presentation."
Godwyn did not speak, and no one else raised an objection.
Mohg stood up and took a deep breath. In a clear, booming voice, he introduced the basic situation of the Deeproot, expressing the residents' loyalty to the Golden Dynasty and their strong desire to become part of the Royal Domain.
During the presentation, a few questions were asked—some of which were outside the pre-prepared scope—but Mohg answered them all fluently. Several consistently neutral members of the Roundtable began to nod slightly in approval.
When Mohg finished his statement, the golden light at the center of the Roundtable continued to spin quietly. Queen Marika showed no intention of interfering.
Raven let out a silent sigh of relief, thinking the matter was essentially settled.
The members of the Roundtable knew Mohg and Morgott's true identities, but for the sake of decorum, everyone tacitly referred to them as a branch of the Golden Bloodline. Raven's main concern was Queen Marika denying the Omen brothers' lineage; fortunately, that had not happened.
Bang! Someone slammed the table.
Crepus, the head of the Confessors, stood up with a dark expression, his eyes fixed intently on Raven.
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Elden Ring: The Unborn One's Journey Through Elden Ring(170 Chapter - Ongoing)
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