November 1, 2026

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 600. A Worse Court Than Mine II

One noble slammed his fist against the table. "The Nymph Queen murdered our king! If we allow this insult to pass without punishment, the Dwarven Kingdom will lose its sovereignty!"

Several others voiced their agreement.

Another official stood. "And the nymphs attempted to poison our citizens! What guarantee do we have that they won't attempt the same thing again?"

That argument received even louder support.

And annoyingly? I understood it.

The second noble wasn't entirely wrong. The attack had happened. Civilians had suffered. Elowen had exploited diplomatic trust to bring poison into the kingdom. The dwarves had every right to demand security guarantees. But that was exactly why I wanted a peace agreement. A proper one. With neutral oversight. Compensation. Investigations. Clear consequences if either kingdom violated the terms.

I wasn't asking them to forgive Elowen. The woman was dead. Forgiveness wasn't going to improve her condition. I was asking them not to turn her crimes into an excuse for murdering people who had nothing to do with them.

Apparently, that distinction was too complicated for some of the gentlemen currently shouting across the table. And before any agreement could be signed, both kingdoms needed recognized rulers.

The nymphs had Nia.

The dwarves had three candidates and a collective addiction to arguing.

The discussion continued. Voices rose. Documents slapped against tables. Several nobles interrupted one another. Someone began explaining an ancient succession precedent involving a royal bloodline that had apparently ended two hundred years ago. Another dwarf objected because the precedent had supposedly been misinterpreted. Then a third demanded they consult the original stone records.

At some point, I stopped understanding what they were discussing. Not because the subject was complicated. Because I had mentally left the room.

In my imagination, I stood up, transformed into my dragon form, and spat fire across the entire council table. Not enough to destroy the palace. Just enough to make everyone shut the fuck up.

Sadly, reality continued without my permission. The nobles kept shouting. And I kept smiling. Like a king.

"You look remarkably calm, Dragon King." Seraphel's voice reached me from the neighboring seat. She hadn't even turned her head. Her eyes remained fixed on the arguing nobles, and her expression was as composed as ever.

I glanced at her. "No. I'm pretending."

"I see."

"What do you think? I've had a headache since breakfast."

"Your wives' preparations didn't help?"

I stared at her.

How did she know? Then I noticed the slight amusement in her eyes. She was enjoying this. Phoenixes were supposed to be creatures of fire and rebirth. Apparently they also fed on dragon suffering.

"Not enough," I muttered. "I'm beginning to suspect the only effective treatment involves leaving this room."

Seraphel covered a smile with her fingers. "Unfortunately, we still have responsibilities."

"Don't remind me."

We fell silent for a moment, watching another argument erupt over the military candidate's qualifications. Eventually, Seraphel leaned slightly toward me.

"I believe the first candidate has the strongest chance of securing popular support."

I nodded. "Agreed. But the senior officials oppose him."

"Some opposition can be negotiated."

"Some. But if the treasury and military administration refuse to cooperate, his first year will be miserable."

She considered that. "Then perhaps the second candidate, provided he agrees to administrative reforms."

"His competence is attractive," I admitted. "But competence doesn't automatically inspire loyalty. Especially when half the people think his house looks down on them."

"The third candidate could serve as a compromise."

"Possibly. Except neither major faction seems particularly enthusiastic about him."

Seraphel exhaled.

We looked at each other. Then back at the council. Dead end.

Two monarchs with centuries of combined political experience, defeated by a room full of dwarves who couldn't agree on the ownership of a chair.

I leaned back. The obvious solution would be to force a vote. But a simple majority might leave the losing factions resentful, particularly when their officials controlled essential government institutions.

A unanimous agreement? I'd have better luck convincing a dragon to donate its treasure.

Then an idea surfaced. An old one. From the days when Igixar's kingdoms settled succession disputes through methods that were considerably less civilized. And occasionally more effective.

I rubbed my chin. Dangerous. But perhaps worth considering. "Seraphel."

"Yes?"

"What if we stop trying to make them agree through speeches?"

She finally turned toward me. "What are you suggesting?"

I looked toward the three candidates.

Strength. Leadership. Judgment.

Those were qualities a ruler needed.

And perhaps there was a way to test them in front of everyone rather than relying entirely on their supporters' increasingly theatrical promises.

I slowly smiled. "We might use a duel."

Seraphel's eyes narrowed. "A duel?"

I nodded. "The old Igixar way."

She studied me for several seconds. Then her expression changed. Recognition. Followed by concern. And finally, the faintest hint of amusement.

"Argod," she murmured, "you do realize those traditions were abandoned for a reason?"

"Yes."

"And you want to bring one back?"

"Not necessarily the part where everyone dies."

"How reassuring."

I smiled wider. "Think about it. We establish the rules, prohibit lethal attacks, and make sure the candidates are tested on more than raw strength. A ruler should know how to fight, but also when to stop."

Seraphel glanced toward the arguing nobles. For the first time that morning, she seemed genuinely interested.

I leaned closer and lowered my voice. "Besides, wouldn't you rather watch three dwarves demonstrate their qualifications than listen to another six hours of speeches?"

Her lips curved. "That is a dangerously persuasive argument."

"Thank you."

"But strength alone cannot determine a good king."

"I know. That's why we'd need more than one test."

She looked at me. I looked at her. And somewhere between us, an extremely questionable plan began taking shape.

Meanwhile, the dwarven nobles continued shouting, completely unaware that their two royal guests were quietly considering replacing their precious debate with an ancient succession trial.

I smiled pleasantly. Because if these dwarves insisted on behaving like warriors instead of politicians? Perhaps it was time to make them prove they deserved the crown.