Chapter 675 Aftermath
Chapter 675 Aftermath
The next morning started very nearly the same way as the previous day had, with the sound of war horns, running feet and someone knocking urgently on his door.
“Sorry, it’s no pants Tuesday, you’ll have to come back later.” Wolfe called to the visitor, stopping Risa in her tracks mere centimetres from the door handle.
“I don’t mind if you don’t have pants on, Patriarch, but the King insists that you are needed at the wall.” The voice of a Palace maid replied.
Wolfe shifted in the bed to place Rail in Nimue’s arms and slid to the foot before activating his traditional Patriarch Robes instead of wearing the Castle’s provided outfit. Then he checked that the rifle was loaded with the safety on, and slung it over his shoulder before heading to the door.
The maid led him back to the same parapet where he had launched the assault yesterday, then bowed and excused herself once the King and his companions were in sight.
“Your Majesty, have they returned for battle so soon?” Wolfe called as he walked out of the stairwell.
“Not quite. This is their diplomatic envoy, and they have sent a runner ahead, asking specifically for the presence of the Magi Saint. It appears that they didn’t miss your presence, but they misjudged your power level.” The King replied.
“Well, that’s easy enough to sort out. Are we going down to meet them, or are they coming to us?”
The King smiled. “We will meet at the end of the drawbridge, as is customary. The maids will be out setting up chairs and tables, while their servants set the barrier. The meeting will be in the open air, and it won’t be soundproof, so do be careful what you say.
“Just stand there like you’re still on the castle wall. It looks more elegant than flailing around. I know that most of you can likely fly, but I’ve noticed that the intimidation factor of floating in with magic is much higher.” Wolfe whispered as he began to move them toward the drawbridge.
The guards did their best to hide their amusement. Naturally, as bodyguards, they were from a flying species. It just made sense to get bodyguards who were more mobile than most, so even among the Wrath Demons, most of them could fly. Among the Arcane Demons, where feathers were part of the common aesthetic, it was just assumed that everyone with wings should be able to fly.
The four of them landed gracefully on the deck of the bridge, and the King led the procession to the meeting grounds, with Wolfe a half step behind, so they weren’t quite shoulder to shoulder, but close enough to being even that it was obvious that he was not a subordinate or vassal.
The four diplomats from the other side approached at the same time, measuring their pace against the Kings so that everyone would arrive at their seats together.
It was all very political and ritualistic, but Wolfe was happy to play along for now, especially after he realized that they were getting close enough to realize that he had just broken through to Rank Six and was not actually a Saint.
Wolfe took his seat with a polite nod to the opposing dignitaries, and leaned his rifle against the table the same way that they did their swords. Interestingly, the sceptre guy who had cast the barrier was not part of the group, he had retreated to the main patrol group to wait for the outcome of the meeting. The ones they got were a man in ornate golden armour, and a cleric guy with a big pointy hat.
It was a marvellous hat, shaped like a cathedral dome with a wall around it that split at the front to showcase a massive ruby gem.
There were layers of Arrays inscribed into the gemstone, almost all of them for power gathering and sharing, with only a few that related to defence. That seemed like an odd choice to Wolfe, but it was likely to assist him in his role as a figurehead for the army, who would help them gather the mana they needed to fight.
“Ancient King and Magi Patriarch, I am Cardinal Poe, and this is the General Storm of the Fallen Armies. We have come to discuss the matter of possible violations of the war conventions.” Hat man began the meeting with a grim look on his face.