Dragon King's Harem Chapter 597. Empty Thrones V
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 597. Empty Thrones V
I leaned against the railing beside her and looked over the ruined palace grounds below. “Fine.” My voice dropped. “What happened?”
Seraphel didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked toward the distant mountains. Then quietly said, “The dwarven council has already started moving.”
I closed my eyes, huffed and opened my eyes again. “Tell me they haven’t crowned someone.”
“Not yet.” A pause. “Three houses have already declared candidates.”
I slowly turned my head toward her.
Seraphel met my gaze.
I sighed. “Tomorrow’s problem just became tonight’s problem.”
Seraphel smiled faintly.
I didn't.
Below us, the dwarven capital was still recovering. Emergency fires illuminated the streets, healers moved between temporary shelters, and soldiers patrolled the districts where the poison had struck hardest. The city hadn't even finished counting its dead. And these bastards were already fighting over the throne.
“Any idea why they're moving this fast?” I asked, glancing at Seraphel. “We just settled those dead plants' corpses. What's the rush?”
She slowly turned her head. “By dead plants, I assume you mean the late Nymph Queen and her daughter?”
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
“Seraphel, there are only two of us here. I don't have to pretend to be diplomatic.”
Her lips twitched. “And?”
“And I don't want to call those walking disasters a queen and princess anymore. They poisoned a city, murdered a king, tried to frame me, and nearly turned this palace into a botanical apocalypse. Frankly, calling them dead plants is already generous.”
Seraphel let out a quiet laugh.
I continued before she could interrupt.
“My patience is running out. Actually, no. It ran out somewhere between Durharn ordering his soldiers to kill me and Elowen trying to stab me with a poisonous tree branch.”
“You never had much patience to begin with,” she remarked. “Although I admit your planning was surprisingly thorough.”
I gave her an offended look. “Surprisingly?”
“Would you prefer impressively?”
“Yes.”
“Then your planning was impressively thorough.”
“Thank you.”
She shook her head, clearly amused.
Honestly, this woman. She could make an insult sound like a royal compliment, then look pleased when I accepted it. If she ever decided to become a villain, half the world would probably surrender before realizing she'd declared war.
I folded my arms.
“And that's exactly why I can complain now. I planned everything carefully because I already knew what those three royal idiots were going to do.”
“Three?”
“Durharn, Elowen, and Seranaya.”
Seraphel sighed.
I wasn't finished.
“Besides, don't forget that all three had something to do with my wives' suffering. Sela and Marissa have been carrying those wounds for years. I didn't come here looking for entertainment, Seraphel. I came because those people needed to be stopped.”
Her expression softened. For a moment, the teasing disappeared. “Fair enough.”
I exhaled and looked toward the city again.
The wind carried the faint smell of smoke and wet stone. Somewhere below, a bell rang, probably announcing another shift of healers or guards. It was a peaceful sound under ordinary circumstances.
Tonight, it reminded me that people were still working while their supposed leaders played politics.
“So,” I muttered, “why the sudden urgency?”
Seraphel rested her hands on the railing. “Word has reached the dwarven council that the Nymph Tribe already has a successor.”
“Nia.”
“Yes. Crown Princess Nia appears to have sufficient support to assume the throne. Her succession may be settled much sooner than the dwarves expected.”
I nodded slowly.That matched what Marissa had told me.
Nia was Elowen's strongest surviving daughter, and apparently the most politically capable. Whether she had inherited her mother's rotten ambitions was another question entirely. But at least the nymphs had a candidate.
The dwarves?
Three houses and counting.
“So they're afraid the nymphs will stabilize their government before they do?” I asked.
“Partly.”
I turned toward her.
I didn't like that word.
In politics, partly usually meant the first explanation was merely the appetizer before the actual disaster arrived.
Seraphel watched my expression before continuing. “Several influential dwarven houses believe they must establish a new ruler quickly to prepare a response against the Nymph Kingdom.”
I stared at her. Then slowly closed my eyes. “Please don't tell me they're planning another war.”
Seraphel remained silent for a second. “They've already begun discussing preparations,” she answered.
I opened my eyes. “What preparations?”
“Military mobilization. Border security. Requests for additional supplies. They're also considering sending formal appeals to the allied kingdoms.”
My face twisted. Not because I was surprised. Because I was disappointed. Deeply. Painfully. “Are they serious?”
“Very.”
I stared into the distance, wondering whether the dwarven mountains contained some rare mineral that interfered with common sense.
Their king was dead. Their palace was destroyed. Their soldiers were injured. Their civilians were recovering from poison. Their treasury was probably about to suffer a magnificent financial hemorrhage from repairs, medical treatment, funerals, and emergency supplies.
And their first brilliant idea?
War.
Why rebuild your house when you could set your neighbor's house on fire too?
I rubbed my forehead. “Where are their brains?”
Seraphel's mouth curved. “Perhaps they're still mourning.”
“Mourning doesn't require declaring war.”
“Anger often does.”
“Then they can be angry while repairing their streets.”
She didn't disagree. That was when I noticed something else about her expression. She hadn't finished.
I narrowed my eyes. “There's more.”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. Please continue ruining my night.”
Seraphel turned toward me fully. “The council believes your broadcast crystal may help them secure international support.”
I blinked. “My what?”
“Your broadcast. The evidence you sent to the other kingdoms.”
I stared at her for several seconds. Then I laughed. Not because it was funny. “They want to use my broadcast? To attack the nymphs?”
“That appears to be their intention.”
I slowly dragged a hand down my face. These spectacularly ambitious, politically suicidal little bastards. I had used that broadcast to prove that I wasn't attacking the Dwarven Kingdom out of bloodlust. I wanted the other rulers to see that Durharn ordered his guards to kill me, that Elowen planned the poisoning, and that Seranaya murdered her husband.
It was evidence. A record of crimes. A way to protect my kingdom from accusations that the Dragon King had gone berserk and murdered foreign royalty because he felt like it. It was not a recruitment advertisement for a racial war.