The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix’s Novels Also Desires Happiness

102. Round Table Conference

“I want to see Father.”

In front of the exquisitely carved redwood doors, wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side, Celicia stared coldly at the two unmoving knights before her and repeated:

“I want to see Father.”

The tall knight, clad in heavy armor, exuded no trace of life, resembling a statue. Only a gaze devoid of emotion seeped through the gaps in his visor.

Celicia waited quietly.

—

Occasionally, court maids hurriedly passed by her, bowing briefly before moving on.

The patrolling guards had clearly increased their shifts; as one line of soldiers turned a corner, another was already following closely behind. In the intricate corridors of the palace, there seemed to be no corner left untouched.

The atmosphere throughout the palace had grown tense and solemn, as if a war were imminent, with everyone on edge.

Yet the enemies of Leopold recently should be far away, the demon clan at the borders, after all.

“Giddy up, ha ha, horsey, giddy up…”

From outside the window, a ruckus could be heard.

Celesia lowered her gaze. In the palace garden, a handsome man in his twenties was riding on the back of a servant, brandishing a dull blade like a knight, charging toward the flowing fountain.

Many maids and guards nervously surrounded him, fearing he might trip or fall, yet the man’s scruffy face bore a childlike, innocent smile.

—That was his eldest brother, Prince Albert Leopold, a fool born with intellectual disabilities.

In the entire palace, he alone remained joyfully out of place.

“The Emperor commands, enter.”

The knight quickly responded, and the axes and halberds crossed at the entrance, the doors swinging open automatically.

Inside the lavish room stood a middle-aged man with an imposing demeanor, hands clasped behind his back, gazing out from the high balcony at the sunlit city of Berland.

Odrich III, the true ruler of this nation.

“Father.”

Celesia stepped into the room, respectfully curtsying while lifting her skirt. The vast chamber was devoid of even a single maid, appearing empty and cold, with only the soundless closing of the door behind her.

Odrich III did not respond, still lost in his gaze.

The palace was situated at the center of Berland, elevated enough to overlook nearly half the city.

Divided by the shimmering Glein River, the outer circle of low, interwoven buildings appeared shrouded in shadow—that was the lower district.

On the side closer to the palace, however, stood orderly arranged buildings filled with artistic flair, resembling a meticulously trimmed flowerbed, seemingly forever bathed in sunlight.

That was the upper district.

Odrich III enjoyed gazing at the city from here, for many sights could only be appreciated when seen with one’s own eyes, revealing their breathtaking beauty.

For instance, from this vantage point, the city resembled a grand tree standing under the sun, along with its shadow.

The more lush the branches and leaves, the larger the shadow cast.

But for a tree, an overabundance of foliage might not necessarily be a good thing.

“It’s getting a bit chilly,” Odrich III suddenly remarked, as if he had seen something anew.

“Autumn has arrived.”

Celesia paused for a moment: “Father, remember to wear more layers.”

“I thought you wouldn’t care about such matters here.”

“The fire is already at our feet; how could I not care?”

Celesia let out a self-deprecating laugh and got straight to the point:

“So, Father, who exactly is our enemy?”

“Enemy? Ha, the word ‘enemy’ is not quite right; what we face this time is not human.”

King Aldrich III turned his head, gazing at his daughter, whom he had not seen for a long time. In her ice-blue eyes, he saw a depth of indifference and coldness even more profound than Celesia’s.

Yet beneath that indifference, a hint of relief surfaced.

“Since you’re here, let’s attend today’s council together. In the blink of an eye, you’ve grown up; it’s time you see the world.”

“Council…”

Celesia mulled over the word, her cold gaze darkening slightly as her eyes swept once more across the vast, opulent room:

“Father, isn’t Brother Andrew here?”

Andrew Leopold, her second brother, was the one most qualified to stand by their father’s side during the council.

“He’s gone to the countryside to escape the heat.”

“Escape the heat…”

But it’s autumn now…

“That boy said his heat phobia flared up again; he might not return until winter. But then again, he’s always had this issue since he was little. As his father, I can’t be too harsh on him, can I? After all, he’s my only son now.”

King Aldrich III turned and walked back into the room from the balcony, pouring himself a glass of red wine. The ruby on his finger sparkled with a color as crystalline as the wine itself.

Celesia’s expression grew more puzzled.

“Would you like some? The vintage from Hill Winery.”

“Thank you, Father, but I don’t drink.”

“Ah, I almost forgot; you can’t touch alcohol.”

As if recalling something amusing, a rare softness appeared at the corners of Aldrich’s stern face.

He took a small sip, then set the glass down, turning to don a grand robe made of white mink fur and the finest silk, adorned with luxurious gold threads and gemstones. He fumbled with the intricate fastenings and the complex decorations that usually required several maids to manage in a short time.

“Damn it, I’ve said before to have those tailors make it simpler. Those tailors are harder to convince than nobles; I’ll have their heads one of these days.”

“…Father, would you like me to help?”

“I’m not so old that I can’t manage this myself.”

It took a full twenty minutes for King Aldrich III to put on his robe. He walked toward the door, casually picking up the scepter, a symbol of supreme nobility, that he had left leaning against the wall… along with the sword beside it.

He hung the sword at his waist, concealed beneath the wide robe like a cloak.

“Let’s go; time is running short.”

The great door opened silently once more, and a knight knelt respectfully outside.

A maid bowed, holding a basin of hot water and towels in both hands.

“Your Majesty, please cleanse your hands.”

Aldrich III nodded slightly; he had a mild obsession with cleanliness, necessitating frequent handwashing.

He extended his hands, placing them into the copper basin.

But just as his hands were about to touch the hot water within, he suddenly halted his movement.

Through the reflection in the basin’s water, one could see his indifferent gaze momentarily shift, almost imperceptibly.

With a hint of mockery.

His little finger twitched.

Celesia’s silvery hair was suddenly stirred, as a gentle breeze swept through the wide corridor.

The wind carried a bone-chilling coldness.

Pop.

A sound like a bubble bursting suddenly echoed, so clear.

Blood splattered.

A small figure, hidden in the shadow of the knight, moved to Aldrich III’s front in a moment that Celesia had not even noticed, drawing a short sword and…

Plunging it into the maid’s body.

At that moment, the panic and fear on the maid’s face had just begun to surface; her hands trembled, dropping the dagger concealed within the towel.

An assassin?

Celesia finally reacted, the coldness in her hand… but it was too late.

The forbidden spell that enveloped the palace sealed off all magical flow; here, no magic or divine favor could be invoked.

Thus, no matter how skilled the assassin, within this palace, they could only resort to the simple and crude method of stabbing with a dagger.

—But this was undoubtedly foolish.

The short sword accurately pierced the maid’s vital point, yet she did not die immediately; she staggered to her feet, the panic and fear on her face fading away, replaced by an indescribable fervor and savagery.

“Long live the moon!”

She lunged once more at Aldrich III, barehanded.

“Long live the moon!”

Boom!

A thunderous roar reverberated, almost piercing the eardrums.

It was the sound of a massive axe, brutally tearing through the air.

The axe, weighing over a thousand pounds, felt like a child’s toy in the hands of the royal guard, sweeping through the air in a perfect arc, precisely striking the maid’s flying body.

The maid’s body was instantly severed in two, her repulsive innards and blood splattering everywhere.

The small figure’s hand flickered with a faint light, a transparent shield rapidly expanding, blocking all the splattered filth from reaching Aldrich III and Celesia.

The patrolling guards quickly surrounded the area, extinguishing any possibility of further danger.

But the stench of blood and flesh could not be suppressed, spreading uncontrollably.

Aldrich III remained expressionless, coldly watching the maid who was left with only half a body, still writhing on the ground, crawling towards him as if she wanted to drag him into hell with her.

“I recognize you, one of the maids who changes my clothes every day.”

“Cough… cough… the moon… is about to… descend…”

The maid fixed Aldrich III with a venomous gaze, her life force clearly fading, yet a maddening smile lingered at the corners of her mouth:

“The divine kingdom… will cleanse everything… and I… will live forever… under the moon’s radiance… cough… forever.”

“It seems we can no longer communicate.”

Aldrich III’s fingers twitched slightly.

The howling wind rose once more, and an axe fell, reducing the maid’s half-body to mere flesh and mud.

The guards surged forward, clearing the remains, wiping away the blood, cleaning the floor, their movements so practiced it was as if they had rehearsed many times.

In less than a minute, a brand new red carpet was laid back over the wide corridor, everything looking pristine and new.

The knights once again stood like statues behind Aldrich III, their small figures bowing to him before silently fading away like ink dropped in water, merging into the shadows.

As if nothing had ever happened.

Only the faint smell of blood still lingered.

“Followers of the moon?”

Celesia remained cold, but her tone inadvertently carried a hint of disbelief that she herself did not notice.

“The palace has actually been infiltrated by heretical believers?”

“Blind faith is the hardest thing to extinguish in this world, isn’t it? That’s why I despise those charlatans.”

Aldrich III washed his hands in the copper basin brought by the new maid, who trembled as if the basin weighed a thousand pounds, struggling to keep the water from splashing out.

“But, why…”

Everything that had happened in the morning replayed endlessly in Celesia’s mind, some strange aspects now explained.

Yet new questions gradually arose in her thoughts.

“You’re wondering, since those heretical believers had the ability to place people around me, why didn’t they wait until the critical moment to let them act, instead of blindly sending them to assassinate me like this?”

“Yes.” Celesia nodded gently.

In fact, upon closer reflection, one could realize that in a place like the palace, the only ones likely to be brainwashed and infiltrated by heretical believers were probably the lowly maids or guards.

However, if used wisely, these people could certainly play an unexpected role at a critical moment.

No matter how one thought about it, it was better than blindly rushing in with a dagger to stab.

“That’s certainly because… time is running out.”

A sardonic smile crept across Aldrich III’s lips as his gaze drifted over the distant horizon, his eyes unfocused as if looking for something far away.

“Like a beast at the end of its road, in order to grasp a sliver of life, one must raise every hair on their body, mustn’t they?”

……

……

The Throne Hall.

The crystal ceiling cast a soft light, illuminating this grand palace.

Massive bronze pillars, carved with heroic epics and the history of the former kings, supported a dome that seemed to descend from the heavens. In this solemn and majestic space, anyone would inevitably feel their own insignificance.

Especially in this royal hall, which could accommodate nearly a thousand people, yet was now only occupied by two.

Celesia’s cold gaze swept across the empty hall, a hint of confusion flickering in her eyes.

Wasn’t there supposed to be a council? Where is everyone?

“Grab my shoulder.”

King Audric III, drowsily resting his chin on his hand while seated on the throne, spoke lazily.

Celesia complied, extending a delicate hand to rest on Audric III’s shoulder.

At that moment, she heard the sound of Audric III tapping the armrest of the throne. The sound was crisp, like the striking of jade.

But in an instant, that sound grew grand, as if a hundred organs from the Belrand Royal Concert Hall were being played simultaneously. In the layers of sound waves, it merged into a mournful resonance, as if the world were on the brink of destruction.

Amidst this apocalyptic sound, Celesia’s consciousness suddenly blurred, as if an invisible hand had grasped her soul, dragging her into an endless abyss.

“What is this…”

Fortunately, that despairing sensation of falling quickly dissipated. When Celesia regained her senses, she found herself still standing beside Audric III’s throne.

It was as if she had merely experienced a trivial nightmare.

But when she looked up, everything before her had already changed.

The grayish-white, decaying bronze pillars were now carved with grotesque demons, the shattered ceiling flickered ominously like ghostly shadows, and above that dome, a thick gray mist swirled, resembling an inverted sea.

This place seemed to still be the Throne Hall, yet it was not the solemn and magnificent palace that Celesia remembered. Here, it was eerie and terrifying, a chilling breath penetrating to the bone, the complete opposite of the true Throne Hall.

As her gaze lowered, the hall was no longer empty. A massive round table appeared before Audric III’s throne, surrounded by a circle of stone chairs. Shadows cloaked in mist sat upon the stone seats, and the tall backs of the chairs were engraved with strange characters, ancient and solemn, far less luxurious than the throne itself.

However, to be seated alongside Audric III was a testament to the noble status of those who had long been waiting here.

They could not possibly be the worthless nobles of the realm.

Countless questions swirled in her mind, yet Celesia found herself as if under a silence spell, unable to utter a sound in this place.

“Am I only to be a spectator?”

With that thought, Celesia calmed her heart and silently observed.

……

……

“Your Majesty.”

When Aldrich III appeared, the figures on the stone chairs rose in unison, placing their hands over their hearts in salute.

But the formality ended there; it seemed to express more respect for Aldrich III as a person rather than for his title.

“Is everyone here?”

Aldrich III’s lazy gaze swept around the round table, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest of the throne.

“Since we’re all gathered, let’s drop the masks. This isn’t some clandestine meeting of heretics; we’re all acquaintances here, no need to hide our faces.”

“Eh? Isn’t it?”

A voice of surprise came from the end of the round table.

“I thought we were summoned here by some great deity, about to embark on a grand endeavor.”

At the end of the table, the mist around the last stone chair dissipated, revealing… what seemed to be a pink bear, squirming uncomfortably as if the chair were too hard.

The pink bear extended a furry hand from its mouth, holding a cigar, expertly flicking off the ash before scratching its rear and lamenting:

“What a pity, I had even thought of my title—let’s call it… the Fool. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? A hint of sophistication, wouldn’t you say?”

“I think you’re more suited to the title of Jester.”

From the stone chair to Aldrich III’s right, a voice of mild sarcasm emerged.

“Who!”

The pink bear slammed the table, furious.

But when it saw the elderly figure gradually revealing itself from the chair, its anger abruptly ceased, and the pink bear’s face visibly began to pale.

It turned white.

“C-canterbury Archbishop, you… what brings you here?” The pink bear rubbed its furry hands, forcing out a sycophantic smile.

“Ha ha, at His Majesty’s request, I had to make an appearance.”

The kind-looking old man in a simple white robe chuckled, but his gaze on the pink bear turned icy:

“Mr. Pink Bear, I’ve received reports that you have embezzled the Holy Sword of my Life Church, and have desecrated the Holy Maiden, spreading certain irreverent literature. I wonder…”

“Absolutely not! No way!”

The pink bear slammed the table in outrage. “Who spread this slander? I, Pink Bear, am upright and loyal in faith, a devout follower of the Life Goddess. How could I possibly do such a thing?

Impossible, absolutely impossible!

If I truly committed such a heinous act as embezzling the Holy Sword or hiding photographs of the Holy Maiden, I would…”

“Enough!”

Aldrich III rubbed his twitching brow, his tone laced with a rare, barely contained fury:

“Who let this fool in?”

“Apologies, Your Majesty.”

Beside him, Professor Plank, looking awkward, stood up and said helplessly:

“Pink Bear said he is now the acting principal of St. Maria and is qualified to participate, so he forced his way in.”

“Drag him out for me.”

Aldrich III paused, “Throw him down below.”

“What… below?”

Upon hearing this, Pink Bear’s face turned pale with terror, but before he could say anything, Professor Plang had already kicked the embarrassing creature over and was dragging his bear legs out.

“Wait, no, you can’t treat me like this!”

Pink Bear’s claws left clear marks on the ground as he struggled hysterically:

“I can’t go down below, I can’t go down below…

I have a grudge against that moon; I killed quite a few of its followers before, and it will make things difficult for me!

Even if I have to go down, it can’t be now…

Let me go, I have bled for Leopold, I have sweated for St. Maria, you can’t do this to me, I want to see Aldrich, let me see Aldrich…

Aldrich, I’m your dear uncle; it was I who raised you from the ground up, I even have pictures of you when you were naked… ah!”

With a terrified scream from the bear, the world suddenly fell silent.

Professor Plang also flickered and returned to his position.

The meeting continued.

Aldrich III’s gaze swept to the right, where mostly elderly figures were seated.

He couldn’t help but sigh:

“Many of you are so old that I don’t recognize you; let’s start with self-introductions.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

The first to speak was naturally the kind-faced elder closest to him. Although the old man wore a simple clerical robe, every gesture still revealed the authority of someone who had long been in a high position.

“Church of Life, Belrand Cathedral, Archbishop Canterbury Engel.”

Archbishop Canterbury nodded kindly to everyone, and each person whose peaceful gaze met his would rise to greet him.

As one of the five holy seats of the Church of Life, Archbishop Canterbury, as the general representative of the Church of Life in the Leopold Empire, had both the qualifications and status to earn everyone’s respect.

“Tower of Origins, Dodge Slor.”

The second figure, dressed in a wizard’s robe, stood up next and introduced himself very simply.

But no one would underestimate him because, not to mention the Tower of Origins being the continent’s largest wizarding organization, just the name Dodge represented an insurmountable peak in the field of summoning magic.

Like Archbishop Canterbury, after nodding to everyone, Dodge’s gaze fell on Professor Plang.

“I have heard that Mentor Meladomir has awakened.”

He removed his wide-brimmed pointed wizard hat and respectfully asked:

“May I have the opportunity to pay my respects?”

“Sorry, Mr. Dodge.”

Professor Plang responded with a wry smile as he took off his hat:

“Before coming here, Mentor Meladomir specifically instructed me that she would not meet with any outsiders for the time being.”

“That’s truly unfortunate.”

Dodge nodded in disappointment, saying nothing more as he sat back down on the stone chair.

……

“Stone Cauldron Society, Adrien Sandel.”

……

“Adventurers’ Association, Belrand District President, Adolf Lovis.”

……

“Triune United Commercial Alliance…”

One by one, figures rose, calmly uttering names that could stir up waves in the outside world.

Even with Celicia’s temperament, it was difficult for her to remain composed at this moment.

For these names represented not just their own formidable power, but also the top forces on this continent.

The Origin Tower, with the most registered and even affiliated mages…

The Stone Cauldron Society, which nearly monopolized alchemical knowledge…

The Adventurers’ Association, with branches spread across the continent…

The multinational United Commercial Alliance…

Even excluding the Life Church, which was an entity of a different scale, these forces were colossal enough to influence the fate of small nations.

Since the right side was occupied by these big names, then the left side…

The people on the left needed no introduction; Celicia recognized most of them, and it was precisely for this reason that her heart felt even more unsettled.

“Since these guests have introduced themselves, you hosts should do the same, so it doesn’t seem so distant.”

King Aldrich III glanced to the left and spoke softly.

“Of course.”

As it was a round table, they turned halfway around, and the first to rise from the left side was Professor Plang, seated at the end.

“St. Maria Academy, Professor of Magic, Plang Ronin.”

“Principal of St. Maria Academy, currently in charge of the Empire’s Special Disaster Response Department, Heatherfield.”

“Principal of the Imperial Royal Military Academy…”

“Agent of the Imperial Intelligence Department…”

“Agent of the Imperial Military Department…”

“Imperial Royal Knight Order Commander…”

“Imperial…”

“Silence Agency… the first Swordbearer.”

The last to speak was an extremely old man, drowsy and covered in age spots, who didn’t even rise as he spoke, appearing to have one foot already in the grave.

Yet when he spoke, everyone couldn’t help but cast serious glances at him, as if they wanted to engrave that face, which had only appeared in legends before, into their minds.

A century ago, unable to endure the frequent interference of the Church of Life under the pretext of combating the evil gods, the Empire secretly established a department named the “Silence Agency” to handle the evil gods.

The elderly man known as the Swordbearer was the creator of the Silence Agency.

In the old man’s hands, the Silence Agency was like a sharp sword, gradually replacing the Judgment Sanctuary of the Church of Life within the Leopoldian nation, using silent, cold, and efficient methods to crush the evil believers and even the conspiracies of the evil gods one by one.

Thus, the Silence Agency nearly became the greatest violent organization in Berland, treating all beings tainted by evil gods—whether commoners or nobles, women or children—with the same indifferent and cold judgment.

It is even said that this group of ruthless thugs, when dealing with evil believers, would not spare even their dogs from a slap, would smash eggs until they were scrambled, and would dig up earthworms only to split them in half, truly merciless!

“You’re still alive.”

Gazing at this “old friend” he had confronted for nearly a century, the Archbishop of Canterbury sighed regretfully:

“I thought you had long since died.”

“Ha, the scourge lasts for a thousand years, that’s what people like me are, right?”

“But your subordinates don’t seem to be so resilient.”

The Archbishop of Canterbury said with glee:

“I heard that a branch of the Silence Agency was breached by evil believers, and there was even a figure suspected to be quite important… I think the name was Anna Carberlin, who was kidnapped by the evil believers?

Tsk tsk, that’s a fatal mistake. If that Anna Carberlin is related to the evil god’s conspiracy, do you know how great the loss this mistake will cause?

So Your Majesty, why don’t you order the Church to redeploy personnel from the Judgment Sanctuary back to Berland? Give us a day, and we guarantee to bring Anna Carberlin back, though we can’t ensure she’ll be whole.”

“…”

King Aldrich III did not respond; he remained leaning on the throne, one hand propping up his cheek, lazily lifting his eyes to quietly observe the old man, seemingly waiting for an explanation.

“Anna Carberlin may indeed be related to the evil god’s conspiracy.” The old man opened his murky eyes, glanced at the Archbishop of Canterbury, his tone flat yet carrying an inexplicable chill.

“She was indeed taken away by those evil believers at a great cost.”

“Hmm?”

The Archbishop of Canterbury, who had only intended to provoke his “old friend,” was momentarily taken aback, wondering if the Silence Agency had truly decayed for him to admit it so quickly.

“But—”

The old man suddenly changed his tone, no longer looking at the Archbishop of Canterbury but instead addressing King Aldrich III coldly:

“Anna Carberlin has never been out of the control of the Silence Agency, Your Majesty, never.”