"The Gelmir Knights are loyal and steadfast. They survived The Shattering—how could they suddenly collapse? Unless Rykard has done something truly heinous."
"Your Grace, this could be a ruse."
"A ruse that involves stripping their armor and meeting swords with bare flesh?"
Morgott's retort hung in the air. He paused, considering.
"Volcano Manor is already the weaker side. Abandoning their outer defenses would be suicide. Still, you've reminded me of something."
His thoughts turned to Caria. If the intelligence was false, and Caria had allied with Volcano Manor to lure him into a trap, the danger would be immense.
Hmph. I'm no fool—why risk it alone?
"Notify all legions. Miles will continue leading the army north. The Night's Cavalry will accompany me to Mt. Gelmir to verify this truth or falsehood."
Morgott's tone was decisive, his reasoning clear. If it was false, he could retreat, and the Gelmir forces' collapse would have been for nothing. But if it were true...
"Then it becomes a top-priority threat. If the Ancient Great Serpent grows, this monster will be unimaginable."
A creature that endlessly expands, driven only by gluttony, was something no guardian of order could tolerate. The Night's Cavalry would not oppose his decision, but Erickson still offered a reminder.
"Without us holding the line, those people won't move quickly."
It wasn't just slow movement—reaching the Haligtree meant crossing the Mountaintops of the Giants, plagued by year-round snowstorms. It was torture. Morgott hesitated. There truly was no way to have the best of both worlds—urgency demanded prioritization.
"Bishop Hughs is at the Haligtree. The Primeval Sorcerer can't escape. Even if she does, it doesn't matter. All I need is a pretext to station troops there." He muttered to himself, then made his decision.
"We'll go to Mt. Gelmir and resolve the immediate threat. If that serpent emerges, Leyndell will be the first to suffer."
---
"If my expectations are correct, Leyndell has already received the intelligence."
Near Mt. Gelmir's first outpost, Throne sat inside a cave, the hot wind howling outside. He hadn't gone far—this mountain, riddled with caves, was too easy to hide in.
"According to my information, Leyndell will set out within two days. Their target is the northern Haligtree," Ranni said quietly. Powerful backing had its advantages—Caria's intelligence network simplified many things.
"It seems my luck is good. I arrived just in time. Had I acted a few days later, the Golden Army would already be at the Mountaintops of the Giants, forced to push forward."
Throne exhaled in relief. Turning back a large army wouldn't be easy—it would only hasten their pace. Mentioning Sellen, Ranni fell silent. After a moment, she asked, "How did it feel to fight Rykard?"
"As a demigod, he's far stronger than Godrick—easily the power of six Godricks."
"Nonsense. Answer seriously."
Ranni didn't understand what "the power of six Godricks" meant.
"Fine. His melee combat and incantations are formidable. His defense and recovery are downright perverted. Worse, he hasn't lost his sanity, making him even more troublesome."
Throne pinched his chin. No wonder the 'Old Thief' showed mercy—a monster like that would take forever to hack down. Besides, the volcano was someone else's lair, the terrain complex. He wouldn't dare roll around or bathe in the lava.
"So you want to borrow Morgott's hand?"
"A little. Mostly, I want to lure the Erdtree Army over."
"I'll ride a dragon north. No one will catch me. And it'll be safer for Teacher to break free."
"Hmph. Always talking about that Primeval Sorcerer."
Ranni wrinkled her nose, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Teacher's just a side benefit. I've studied Morgott. He's not running north for one person. It's not that simple."
Throne frowned, answering his own question.
"He wants the Haligtree."
Morgott was honorable by nature, diligent without seeking reward—a model worker of the age. But that didn't make him a fool. The Lands Between lay fractured. The Tarnished had carved out their own factions. Caelid was too distant. The Haligtree was the only place that could aid Leyndell directly. Now the Haligtree stood leaderless, guarded by knights and warriors hardened in The Shattering. Morgott already held power and prestige. Officially, he was Regent of the dynasty, above the other lords. Practically, he controlled the Perfumers, key to combating the Scarlet Rot.
"I can't let him reach the Haligtree. Where there are people, there are factions. Finlay can't make the decisions. If the Golden Army comes, she'll surrender without losing face."
Ranni fell silent, conceding Throne's point. Morgott was plotting something big.
"But if the Haligtree's so valuable, how can you be sure Morgott will come to Mt. Gelmir?"
The question struck true. Throne extended two fingers.
"First, Morgott despises betrayal and usurpation. Rykard's crimes disgust him more than mine."
"Hmm. A Golden Lord defiling the great rune, committing cannibalism—he can't tolerate it."
"Second, Mt. Gelmir's close to Leyndell. A fast horse gets there in two days. No matter how suspicious he is, he'll come to see for himself. And being cautious, he'll bring an army."
Ranni smiled too. Morgott didn't know what waited at Mt. Gelmir.
"Heh. He's probably afraid we'll ally with Rykard and set a trap."
"Exactly. That's human nature. He'll come."
Throne's tone brooked no argument. Ranni believed him. But before she could ask what came next, Throne spoke again.
"Ranni, how strong is Leyndell, really?"
The question hung in the air. Then Ranni's voice came, intrigued.
"You've never asked before. Why now?"
It was curious. Everyone knew Leyndell was the final target, yet Throne had never questioned its strength.
"I've been interested for a while. But back then, I was too far from Leyndell. If you said it was weak, I'd misjudge. If you said it was strong, I'd resent it. Why trouble myself?"
"Hmm. Fair." Ranni conceded. After a moment's silence, she began to speak, her voice measured.
"Leyndell is the heart of the Erdtree. Its power is mainly divided into several types: the priesthood system represented by the Church of the Two Fingers, which includes priests, confessors, and Finger Readers, and various other messy things; the Erdtree Army composed of nobles, including heroes, knights, soldiers, and various puppets, which are numerous and well-equipped."
The Erdtree's personal guards stood ready—Tree Sentinels, war machines, Perfumers. All loyal. Then there were the Night's Cavalry, led by the Fell Omen. A recent creation, but they'd carved their name deep into the Shattering. On paper, that was the full tally. Every blade answered to Morgott. In practice? Control had its limits.
Throne rubbed his temples, the ache swelling behind his eyes. Hearing it laid out like this—he was glad he hadn't asked sooner. A behemoth. Individual heroes meant nothing against this. Even demigods would break on it. And this was just the Golden Army's discarded blades, cast aside by Marika. If Godfrey still led the full host? No one would dare raise a hand against this world. It made cold sense. A king couldn't rule by words alone. Power needed steel behind it.
"Lucky for us they're tearing each other apart. Lucky Leyndell's defenses bled them dry. Otherwise that army would've rolled down from the Altus Plateau already."
Throne exhaled, tasting the bitterness of his own fortune. When the Tarnished arrived, the pieces were already broken—Night's Cavalry shattered, Two Fingers withered, nobles scattered. Only Morgott remained, standing alone. But Throne? He faced the full spearhead, and it kept growing sharper.
"Which is why the Haligtree's power can't fall into their hands."
Caelid staying neutral was a mercy. If Morgott's forces swelled further? No one in the Lands Between could stop them. Throne had seen Elphael's iron cavalry firsthand. Ranni's laugh cut the air, edged with mockery.
"Morgott's trapped by his own balancing act. Nobles, the church—he can't muster full strength against Caria without upsetting the scales. Everyone hoards their pieces, afraid to lose what they've got."
"A vacant throne means nobles can haggle for better prices. Let a new king rise, and their power vanishes. Morgott dares not bleed the Night's Cavalry too much either—break the balance, and no one listens anymore."
Guns made kings. Throne nodded. He knew the game. Morgott's hunger for the Haligtree made sense. With that power, he could shatter the stalemate. Throne's smile turned jagged. Caria stood united, ready to burn the world anew. The Erdtree? Still playing politics.
"Morgott lacks the teeth for it. Me? I'd throw a banquet. Slaughter every defiant noble in one night."
But Morgott was too busy chasing ghosts—dropping the Haligtree siege to poke at the volcano. A righteous hero. Throne wasn't.
"Here's the play. Moongrum takes the army to the Grand Lift. The rest of Caria's forces move in shadow."
"You want to ambush Morgott? I know there's a small path to the Altus Plateau."
Ranni's voice sharpened, alive with possibility. Cut down the Night's Cavalry, and Leyndell would eat itself alive.
"Worth trying. Morgott's righteous, not stupid. He'll have countermeasures. We watch. We adapt."
Throne arranged quietly, then suddenly changed the subject: "By the way, have you spread that secret?"
"It has been spread, but there is no movement yet. Speaking of which, are you really sure Morgott and Margit are the same person?"
"Very sure. He would rather die than ascend the throne; the various factions in Leyndell must be whispering in their hearts."
"Then why is there no movement?"
"Don't be impatient, the contradiction is fermenting. The Omen, giving Limgrave to the Tarnished—these two things have already ignited the fire. After all—" Throne paused for a moment, his voice becoming increasingly cold.
"There is never a shortage of arrogant and short-sighted fools in this world!"
Throne was in Mt. Gelmir, and his next move had already been made. He had long discovered the problem within: Some things are beneficial to the golden order but will harm the interests of those who should have upheld the order. And between justice and private interest, very, very few people can distinguish clearly.
"Fine, I will go make arrangements. Maybe I can find some allies."
Ranni did not have moral cleanliness. Why face them head-on when she could force them to submit without fighting? But at the end, she muttered again: "I have an opinion, it must be raised!"
"Speak."
"Can you change your habit? Every time you go out, you have to pick someone up!"
The princess's voice became sharp; she was truly annoyed to the extreme. Ah, this is not my fault. Throne, who was mocking just a moment ago, put on a wry smile and looked into the depths of the cave. Melina was chatting with Rya, and he didn't know what they were whispering about, but the girl's mood was much better, and she was no longer shutting herself off.
"Rya is just traveling with us, and I couldn't possibly leave her at Volcano Manor to wait for death. As a kind princess, you must be able to understand me, right?"
Ranni snorted. Traveling together, yeah right. This snake-person was not even as good as Millicent; in the current chaotic The Lands Between, where would she have the ability to survive?
"Fine, fine, find a time to bring her back to the academy. I have observed her; besides being too weak, there is nothing wrong with her."
"You are indeed kind."
"Don't butter me up. I just lack a maid, and I see she is quite professional at cleaning the house."
Ranni hummed, but a satisfied smile appeared on her face. She liked hearing Throne praise her.
"You can rest assured about this; if you are not satisfied, you can return her at any time."
"Who wants to return her! But let me ask you one more time, Millicent can at least be linked to Malenia, why pick up such a useless person?"
Throne put away his smile and said solemnly: "Doing a good deed by the way never hurts."
Can someone with blood-stained hands be considered a good person? Ranni did not know the answer, but she did not hate this version of Throne; at least it was a hundred times better than being immersed in slaughter. The two cut off contact. Throne stood up and stretched his shoulders. He rarely chatted with Ranni for so long; it was truly interesting to chat with someone of equal intelligence. He walked slowly to the depths of the cave. Rya hurriedly stood up to salute him, but Melina pulled her back and said irritably: "Don't be so restrained. I just said it earlier, this guy's majestic appearance before was all pretended, just as unserious as a certain princess."
Why are you exposing my past? Throne glared at the girl viciously, but she was already used to it and just turned her head away. Only Rya stood there blankly, not knowing what to do.
"Alright, don't be afraid. I am usually quite easygoing."
Rya's mouth twitched. She didn't know how the strong man who violently shattered the Fallingstar Beast and chopped the Bloodhound Knight into pieces was easygoing, so she still performed a formal salute.
"If you have anything to do, just order me. Since leaving the manor, I've put my future in your hands."
Polite words, but the weight behind them unsettled him. Entrusting one's future? Throne pushed the thought aside. Rya sat slumped before him, all fragile limbs and downcast eyes—a rare sight in these brutal lands.
"Does that bother you?"
She exhaled through her nose.
"I need to be useful. Otherwise... I can't bear it."
"Good. Then you're just in time."
Throne unfurled the map across the dirt, jabbing a finger at the parchment.
"Hermit Village. How do we reach it?"
Torrent's hooves kicked up gravel as he climbed the mountain path, three riders straining his back. The spectral steed never faltered, though the saddle creaked under their combined weight. Throne gripped the reins, hyperaware of the warmth pressed against his spine—Melina wedged so close he could count her breaths. Every jolt sent twin curves bouncing against him. He shifted, grinding his teeth.
"Stop squirming."
Melina's whisper carried an edge.
"This isn't... comfortable for me either."
"Blame Torrent. I'm not your damn saddle."
Throne jerked his chin toward Rya.
"Why not turn spectral? Let the horse carry just us two."
"She is timid, and I want to accompany her. Speaking of which—" Melina's nails dug into his waist as Torrent leaped a fissure, "—why insist on horseback for terrain like this?"
Throne snorted.
"Because it's a gods-damned mountain!"
Gelmir's slopes stretched endless, all jagged cliffs and barren rock. Not a single wheat stalk broke the wasteland. Demigod territory indeed.