You can clear the game with just one life by relying on a useless person!

Chapter 46 Western Capital, Otis

Otis, the capital of the Western Kingdom.

This capital city is one of the largest and oldest cities on the entire continent. Since its construction after the end of the Ancient Dragon War, it has weathered countless years of storms, yet the magnificent capital city has never lost its splendor.

The residents of this city believe that no matter what happens, His Majesty the King and the gods will protect them.

Therefore, even though news of the war on the eastern front had already reached the capital, the people here still lived a peaceful and prosperous life.

Of course, not everyone is as at ease as ordinary people, able to act as if nothing happened.

Today, within that glorious royal city, a noble council is being held in the famous Circular Council Hall.

The council chamber was a circular, tiered hall with three levels of seating. The lowest level contained only the king's throne; the middle level had fixed seats for twelve major noble families, each with a stone chair and the back of the chair engraved with their family crest; and the upper level had benches for lesser nobles who were eligible to attend.

At this moment, on the circular platform in the center of the hall, a speaker representing the nobility was delivering a lengthy speech.

The speaker, a representative of a marquis, had occupied the podium for a full two hours and showed no sign of ending. His remarks, however, were unrelated to the day's main topic—the approaching army of the dark races.

Some of the high-ranking nobles and their representatives on the second floor were already showing impatience, but most remained calm and showed no emotion whatsoever—and obviously, they hadn't heard what the speaker had said.

The nobles all knew the purpose of the speaker's eloquent speech from the high platform. The marquisate he represented had been focusing on developing trade routes across the kingdom in recent years, and the "mass mobilization" war preparation plan proposed at the beginning of the meeting by the royal think tank, the Silver Ring Council composed of elite minor nobles and court nobles, would greatly affect the marquisate's business.

Therefore, the marquis's core demand was only one: to oppose the large-scale mobilization order and to limit the war mobilization to the northern end of the Obsidian Line, which is the direction in which the dark race's army is gathering.

To this end, he spared no effort in using all sorts of methods.

In fact, similar meetings have been held daily in recent days, and this is the third time such a scene has occurred.

At this moment, the nobles, not to mention the great nobles who were still able to maintain their composure, were quite restless, and many of the lesser nobles on the third floor kept glancing towards the lower level of the conference hall.

On the only throne in the lowest ring, King Edwin Edland III sat motionless, quietly listening to the speaker's utterly meaningless ramblings.

His face was somber, revealing neither joy nor anger, and he showed no intention of speaking.

This king, who is exactly fifty years old this year, has always been a monarch who is good at "silence". He does not like to talk loudly in the court and in the council chamber, but is used to listening for a long time during the meeting, and making decisions with the fewest words at the critical moment.

However, as he grew older, he spoke less and less in parliament, to the point that rumors circulated among the lower nobility that the old king could no longer support the country as he had in his youth.

Some people who consider themselves to have a keen sense of smell have already begun to set their sights on the prince and princess who are currently studying at the Royal Academy.

In short, this meeting, which should have been solemn, serious, and extremely important, came to an end amidst the almost uninterrupted output of the Marquis's representative. When noon arrived and the bells rang, His Majesty Edwin simply waved his hand, instructing the executor to announce the end of the meeting, and everyone dispersed.

Watching the king leave silently under the protection of the guards, the lesser nobles, though outwardly silent, exchanged glances even more frequently in private…

For many, the threat of the dark races and the dark turmoil are too distant terms, existing only in history books. What they see is only the risks that changes in national policy will bring to themselves.

These people believed that since the Dark Race had launched two full-scale attacks in history and been repelled both times, the outcome this time would inevitably be no different.

Their only concern was how much loss the Western Kingdom and they themselves would suffer, and how to mitigate that loss.

Of course, among the nobles who left, there were some who were worried, but they were few and far between.

Half an hour later, Marcus Wood returned to his mansion in the royal capital's aristocratic district.

The middle-aged businessman and honorary knight, who was somewhat out of shape, stepped down from the carriage with the help of his butler and returned to his study, which was decorated "luxuriously yet understatedly".

He settled into the comfortable high-backed chair and let out a very obvious, heavy sigh: "...What a nuisance!"

The butler, without batting an eye, said, "Master, you are too concerned about the country and its people."

Marcus shook his head and sighed, "But there's nothing I can do! Those old nobles are nothing but parasites on the kingdom! How can a country be run well with these worms around? His Majesty the King is too lenient! Alas!"

"With the dark races' army pressing in, they're still preoccupied with those petty gains. They're utterly hopeless... hopeless!"

The butler waited until he finished his exclamation before speaking, "Since it's related to the dark races, sir, would you like to summon young master Roland and inquire about the situation at the front?"

Marcus paused slightly, glanced at the mahogany paperweight on the desk, and then seemed to remember something: "Oh right, that kid Roland went to that border town before, and I think he brought back a bunch of workers!"

"Alright then, call him over. I need to ask him carefully what exactly happened!"

The butler bowed slightly, accepted the order, and left.

Meanwhile, in a room in a corner of this mansion, Roland was reading a letter on brown paper with a look of surprise on his face.

This letter was delivered this morning by a private student admitted to Royal Academy.

When Roland received the letter, he had a premonition, and when he opened it, his guess was confirmed.

"—I knew you wouldn't die so easily!"

He was initially happy, but after reading the contents of the letter, his brows furrowed unconsciously.

"Such a thing actually happened... Juventus City? How did he know? And what about this last part..."

He read the letter several more times, then sighed, "You think too highly of me. Father has far more than just me as a child and heir..."

But just then, there was a knock on his door.

"Who is it?"

Roland was startled, but then he heard the butler's calm voice: "Young Master Roland, the master requests your presence to inquire about the Dark Race."

Roland was taken aback by the words and subconsciously glanced at the letter in his hand. Only when the butler asked a second time did he hurriedly reply, "Yes! I'll go right away!"

The butler received a reply and then left.

Roland stared at the letter for a while, then gritted his teeth, changed his clothes, and went out.

……

People were busy with their own affairs; commoners had their jobs, and nobles had their obligations. In the vast western capital of Otis, all of these were merely one aspect of the tapestry of human life.

At this very moment, atop Mount Ovel, which stands in a corner of the royal capital, within the Kingdom's highest institution of learning, the Royal Academy of Ovelna, two girls dressed in magic academy uniforms are walking hurriedly.

They crossed the central avenue of the academy and arrived at the Knights Academy area.

With a clear goal in mind, the two headed straight for the large training ground. Unsurprisingly, in a corner of the ground, they found a blonde girl wearing heavy armor, sweating profusely as she practiced swordsmanship.

The blonde girl looked older than the two people they had found. She had a natural air of heroism between her brows, and there was a lingering sadness in her eyes.

After practicing another set of sword stances, she put down her longsword, looked at the two people who had called her, and asked, "What's wrong?"

Two girls from the magic academy immediately surrounded her, vying to speak: "Senior, please listen to us..."

At first, the blonde girl didn't react much, but after hearing what they said, she froze on the spot.

"Is...that such a thing possible?"