Translator: AnubisTL
"The King of Lothurn is gravely ill and bedridden."
Gordon's voice, transmitted through the bloodline link, echoed clearly in the depths of the red-iron dragon's consciousness.
"The atmosphere within the court is thick with tension. The prince, who usually appear so obedient and humble, along with the archdukes and prince of the blood, are now like venomous snakes lurking in the shadows, coiled and ready to strike. They hold their breath, waiting in anxious anticipation for the final moment that will decide the kingdom's fate."
As the colossal pillars that once held up the sky suddenly collapsed, leaving the structure teetering on the brink of ruin, the existing fissures and contradictions within the Lothurn Federation widened further.
Beneath the deceptively calm surface of the lake, a violent and dangerous whirlpool churned.
The current King of Lothurn, already advanced in years and far from his prime, should have been able to lay down his burdens and enjoy his twilight years. Instead, the mounting administrative duties and the crushing psychological weight brought on by the Federation's intensifying internal crisis had utterly exhausted him. He had finally collapsed, falling gravely ill.
His physical and mental state was now like a flickering candle in the wind.
Hearing the secret report from Iron Dragon Gordon about the King's critical condition, the red-iron dragon's heart tightened.
After a few seconds of rapid thought, he said, "Critically ill... A man who controls the resources of the entire Kingdom of Lothurn, who can mobilize countless top physicians and rare magical artifacts... What kind of terrible disease could drive him to a hopeless, incurable state?"
Iron Dragon Gordon replied, "I don't know the exact cause, but I suspect it's related to his soul."
The people of the Kingdom of Lothurn were known for their martial spirit.
Moreover, as direct descendants of the legendary powerhouse who founded the kingdom, all members of the Royal Family were subjected to rigorous training and unlimited resources from birth. They were far from ordinary humans.
However, one crucial fact could not be ignored.
The current king's innate talent was mediocre compared to previous Lothurn monarchs. This, combined with his own lack of diligence—even bordering on indolence—meant that while he reached Level 20 at his peak, his abilities steadily declined as he aged.
Throughout his entire life, he never managed to step into the Legendary Domain, the realm that symbolized a qualitative leap in power and vitality.
The only reason he had lived so far beyond the normal human limit was largely due to the life-extending treasures and massive resources stored in the Royal Family's secret vaults, which had forcibly pushed his life potential to its absolute limit.
Things had been manageable before.
But now, the escalating internal strife within the Federation was like a relentless hammer, repeatedly striking his already fragile spirit and body until they finally collapsed in a chain reaction.
His condition was like an avalanche triggered on a snowy peak—a precipitous decline that could no longer be halted.
This ultimately led to the depletion of his soul's essence and his inevitable collapse into critical illness... In Garos's view, this was a logical, unsurprising outcome.
After a moment's thought, Garos posed a crucial question to the Iron Dragon.
"Gordon, when was the news of King Lothurn's critical illness confirmed and spread within the royal court?"
On the other end of the mental link, Iron Dragon Gordon thought carefully before replying, "About seven days ago."
"The Chief Royal Physician and several archmages jointly confirmed that the King's condition has deteriorated beyond recovery. He is currently being kept alive solely by the legendary-grade life-sustaining artifact stored in the Royal Family's treasury, which are forcibly prolonging his last breath."
"Even if this breath can be sustained, or if there is some recovery, he will be severely affected. He likely doesn't have many years of lingering life left, and most of that time will probably be spent in a state of extreme weakness."
Deep within the Burning Steel Citadel.
The red-iron dragon's eyes snapped open, a contemplative light flickering intensely within them.
The exact moment King Lothurn was confirmed to be critically ill—seven days ago.
This date coincided closely with another major event that sent shockwaves through the federation—the very day the Duchy of Abel brazenly tore off its mask and formally declared war on the Duchy of Haltai, which in turn responded without hesitation by declaring war in return.
The king had just fallen critically ill, and the royal court was plunged into chaos and suspicion.
The two duchies, which had been locked in a tense standoff at the border, engaged in long and arduous diplomatic negotiations to seek compromise or at least maintain a superficial peace... had so abruptly thrown down the gauntlet of a war to the death.
Coincidence?
Perhaps... it truly was just a low-probability temporal coincidence.
But Garos's dictionary never easily accepted the word "coincidence."
He was more inclined to believe that behind this seemingly accidental coincidence lay a deeper, more inevitable cause.
The red-iron dragon closed his eyes again, immersing his mind in the bloodline link.
He asked calmly, "Gordon, how many people outside the royal court know about the king's critical illness?"
Iron Dragon Gordon replied immediately, "Because this concerns the succession of the throne and the stability of the Federation, it is a top-secret matter. The news has been strictly contained within the innermost circle of the Royal Court. Only those prince and high ministers who truly hold power, along with a very few core court mages, are privy to the details! As for me—"
Gordon's voice took on a hint of smugness.
"—I only learned of it when Eileen, deeply worried, confided in me privately about her Father King's illness."
If that was the case, only two possibilities remained.
The first: The Duchies of Abel and Haltai declaring war just as the King of Lothurn fell critically ill was a pure coincidence.
The second possibility was far darker: Within the inner circle of the Lothurn Royal Court, there existed—besides Gordon—another, or perhaps multiple, deeply hidden moles. This person's status would absolutely be high, someone at the top level who could access the core secret of the King's critical condition the moment it happened.
Garos's habitual way of thinking made him almost instantly dismiss the first, naive option. He refused to believe it was a mere coincidence.
He accepted the second, conspiracy-laden possibility as fact.
"Gordon," Garos said, "The current situation in Lothurn, and even the entire Federation, is volatile. The various factions are like taut bowstrings, and the atmosphere grows more tense and dangerous by the day."
He emphasized, "Incompetence, gluttony, laziness... The camouflage you've so meticulously cultivated in the Lothurn Royal Court is excellent, highly effective."
"You must maintain it. Do not slacken in the slightest."
"Only then can the true conspirators and ambitious schemers completely ignore your existence, dismissing you as a harmless, even laughable pet. Only then, at the most critical moment... can you play an unexpected role."
Garos is the only one who truly understands me!
All those wretched performances were merely a disguise I, Gordon, had woven with care! It was my protective coloration, enduring humiliation and paralyzing my enemies in this dragon's den of a royal court! Every sacrifice I've made... was a stepping stone toward the grand future of the dragon race!
Iron Dragon Gordon felt the red-iron dragon's words strike the very depths of his soul, precisely articulating his innermost thoughts and ambitions!
"Remember!"
Garos's voice rang out again, calm and steady.
"Do not be impatient. Do not be misled by the immediate chaos and act rashly. We possess long lives measured in centuries and millennia. We have plenty of time to wait."
(End of the Chapter)
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