Chapter 308: On Negotiations
So these are the two elven healers His Majesty the Emperor summoned?
Pei Dinan felt a flicker of curiosity but kept his expression neutral as he subtly observed the two elves before him.
They were silver elves, nearly identical in appearance, with the race’s signature golden long hair and pointed ears. Tall and strikingly beautiful, their features were almost flawless. They wore white court gowns—what one might call noble ladies’ attire—and bore insignias on their chests adorned with leaf and branch motifs. This suggested they were not just healers but also extraordinary practitioners affiliated with the druidic order…
What impressed Pei Dinan most wasn’t just their beauty or bearing, but the uncanny synchronicity between them—more intimate and seamless than even twins. They spoke in unison, bowed almost in perfect step, giving the duke the strange impression of watching one person and her shadow.
“I have never met you before,” Duke Pei Dinan Wendell said coolly and reservedly.
He had no real need to engage the two healers in much conversation, especially since they were royal-employed elven adepts. Yet even if he asked more, no one would question it.
“You haven’t met us because we are not court physicians,” the two elves said in perfect unison. Then the slightly taller one added, “We were simply summoned by His Majesty the Emperor.”
“I see.” Pei Dinan nodded slightly, then turned away, no longer paying attention to the elves as he proceeded toward Rosetta Augustus’s audience chamber.
An imperial summons for healers was rare, but it was the Emperor’s private affair. As the First Duke, he had no reason to pry too deeply.
The great and capable Emperor sat in the large chair at the head of the chamber, awaiting his First Duke.
Middle-aged now, the Emperor’s gaze was sharp and eagle-like. Though his demeanor was somber and his frame thin, those piercing eyes still made him as formidable as a powerful wolf. He sat in a chair with a broad backrest, light spilling from behind it, casting him in shadow. But as Pei Dinan entered, the man who preferred to shroud himself in darkness rose to his feet.
“Duke Pei Dinan, I’m truly glad you braved this foggy weather to visit me.”
Pei Dinan paused, momentarily stunned, staring at Rosetta Augustus in disbelief.
The Emperor’s figure was still slender, his aura still tinged with gloom, but beneath his short, gray curls, his eyes shone with clarity and wisdom. He stood straight, and though his smile was somewhat muted by his usual somberness, there was no mistaking that His Majesty’s spirit was in an unprecedentedly good state.
Pei Dinan couldn’t recall how long it had been since he last saw Rosetta Augustus smile, or witnessed such lucid eyes, or heard him call his name with such ease and warmth—the madness that had haunted the Augustus family for over two centuries seemed to have lifted, at least for now.
Rosetta Augustus appeared unaware of Pei Dinan’s brief shock. Smiling, he moved to a nearby chair and gestured for the duke to sit comfortably opposite him, then asked, “Coming out in this thick fog—do you have important news for me?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Pei Dinan took a breath and sat down. “I have received intelligence from the border…”
He relayed the information carefully, watching the Emperor’s expression for any sign of reaction.
Unlike the backward and chaotic Ansu, the Typhon Empire had long since undergone multiple successful reforms, centralizing power and restructuring the nobility. Though local nobles still held titles, their power was greatly curtailed and controlled. The entire noble system answered to the royal family—a monumental transformation achieved largely through the efforts of the Emperor before him.
This centralization had dramatically improved administrative efficiency. Pei Dinan admired this younger monarch and willingly became a staunch supporter and aide of the new regime. Yet he was also keenly aware of the dark shadow looming over it all: the Emperor’s mental state—or rather, the psychological burden every Augustus family member bore.
Royal authority could bring prosperity but also magnify the consequences of any misstep by the Emperor. As the Empire’s First Duke, Pei Dinan’s mission was to serve as a safeguard for the Augustus line, a responsibility he never forgot, especially after the reforms.
Rosetta Augustus listened calmly to the report, nodding slightly. “So, like Ansu, Typhon has also been attacked by those creatures.”
“Your Majesty, these are no ordinary monsters,” Pei Dinan emphasized, recalling Master Delin’s grave warning. “They may be the blasphemous aberrations that wander out from the ruins of Gondor, as historians call them. If that’s true, the assault on Winterwolf Fortress is only the beginning—worse could come at any time.”
“We must reconsider the war situation with Ansu,” Rosetta said quietly.
“We face a common threat, so…” Pei Dinan began almost reflexively, then caught himself mid-sentence. He stared at the Emperor in shock. “Your Majesty, do you mean…”
“We face a common threat. All humans, even all races, stand united before it, don’t they?” Rosetta gave a faint, somber smile. “Every human kingdom shares a long border with the ruins of Gondor. Those monsters won’t pause to consider whether they’re attacking Typhon or Ansu.”
“So we…” Pei Dinan ventured cautiously, “should postpone the plans for next year?”
“Not just postpone. We need to prepare more thoroughly, don’t we?” Rosetta met Pei Dinan’s gaze. “Perhaps it’s time to reopen dialogue with Ansu… if their king still has sound judgment.”
Pei Dinan said nothing, instead studying the Typhon ruler a moment longer. The Emperor responded calmly, “Duke Pei Dinan, I know this surprises you.
“My mind has been under great strain lately, but don’t worry—I remain fully aware of what I’m doing.
“The Augustus curse may yet fall upon me, but not now.
“Perhaps I should find time to send my condolences to the Count of Winterwolf…”
“Your recovery is the best news of all. I will share it with Count Parin,” Pei Dinan said, hesitating briefly. “Is it because of those two elves?”
“They share a personal friendship with the Augustus family,” Rosetta replied casually.
At the same time, two reports lay on the desk of Francis II, King of Ansu.
The aged king read the documents carefully, as if trying to imprint every word into his memory. Finally, he sighed softly and tossed the two magically preserved parchments into the nearby brazier.
In the dead of winter, the cold wind swept frost and snow from the northern mountains through the ancient palace walls and bell towers. Faint chimes drifted on the breeze, barely audible beyond the grand crystal windows.
Francis II knew those were the bells of the Holy Sunil Cathedral—in this season of rampant heresy, the cathedral’s bells rang at least twice as often as usual. Listening to the distant tolling, the king’s heart grew somewhat calmer.
Prince Edmond, Ansu’s heir, stood beside the king’s desk, watching the parchments turn to ash. He could still make out words like Winterwolf Fortress, attack, aberrations, and Lord Cecil’s warning.
“Edmond, do you understand what this intelligence means?” Francis II’s voice pulled the prince from his thoughts. The old king warmed his hands over the fire, trying to revive the chill in his aged veins, then asked casually.
The young prince frowned. “It means the threats and challenges we face are growing?”
“No. It means we’ve finally received some good news,” the king said, lifting his head. His cloudy eyes reflected the firelight. “Ansu is not yet ready for war—but fortunately, the war will be delayed.”
Edmond thought for a moment, then shook his head slightly. “I don’t believe that paranoid Emperor of Typhon will be swayed.”
“Edmond, you can’t look at things in isolation,” the king shook his head, sharing his judgment. “Rosetta Augustus may not waver, but his noble council receives border intelligence too, as does his First Duke and advisory circle… He may have centralized royal power, but he still must compromise with the noble factions.”
Edmond lowered his gaze, hiding all expression. “He must compromise with the nobles…”
Francis II looked at his favored heir but said no more.
The young prince was sharp but didn’t yet grasp the importance of “compromise” in maintaining the realm, nor the strength and necessity of the traditional noble system. But that was all part of a king’s growth. If he didn’t understand now, he would in time.
“Compromise” and “negotiation.” Once a bastard son, backed by northern dukes, had risen to become Ansu’s king, gradually taking control of the nation and loosening the chains around his neck. The true power of a king lay in compromise and negotiation.
Noble politics was nothing more than open compromises, secret talks, and fundamental exchanges of interest.
The old king knew: negotiations with Typhon were not far off.
In the study of Lord Cecil’s domain, a detailed report was delivered to Gawain.
Amber, curious, leaned in to look. She saw the seals of several technical departments—the Mechanical Workshop, the Rune Institute, the Military Engineering Division—but what caught her eye most was a strange contraption drawn on one page.
It featured long parallel tracks, a metal base, and what looked like a “projectile” device designed to fit on the tracks—a completely new invention she had never seen before.
The half-elf scratched her head. “Gawain, what is this?”
“A tool to measure the truth,” Gawain said with a smile, “and one of the most effective bargaining chips you can have.”
(Suddenly realized I haven’t even mentioned the animation news here—everyone, The Record of Unusual Creatures is getting an anime adaptation! Fully funded by Bilibili. For all the details, check out my Weibo or the official public account~~)
(End of chapter)