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Chapter 692 Conceited Elitist

Fire blazed for a minute straight, as Gerald Stinson consumed a large part of his mana in a furious vengeance for getting physically assaulted.

As the flame pillars burned everything in their path, including the floors, ceilings, and furniture, Gerald smiled manically, imagining what he had done to the arrogant king receiving his attack.

When he finally let go of the spell, huffing lightly, Gerald snickered for a moment.

"That\'ll teach you, you backwater foreigner."

Smoke filled the room, now that a large part of the wooden objects in it had been charred or outright incinerated.

And from the smoke, he heard a loud sigh.

"Are you aware of how much the wood chanters charge for regrowing all of what you burnt? This will cost the kingdom at least five thousand gold pieces, aside from the mana crystals they will use to speed up the process. Do you plan on paying for this?"

Astaroth\'s voice was laced with undertones of annoyance as he walked through the smoke, completely unharmed.

At his side, Luna was jumping joyfully.

"Was that a nice barrier, Papa? Are you proud of me?"

Astaroth patted her on the head, as he kept walking to the stunned diplomat.

"What kind of diplomat comes to an ally kingdom and causes an incident the only night they stay? Is this how they train you in Themiscus? Or maybe it was just you? Has all the years of being treated like you were someone gone to your head?"

Gerald prepared to cast another spell, but suddenly felt the mana inside him drain away, making him weak-kneed and feeble.

"You\'ve done enough. No more spells from you," Astaroth said, as he held in his hand a small ball of concentrated mana.

Gerald could feel it was his, as it contained his essence.

"How did you — You would need to have a much higher mana control than me? How would a backwater mage have learned these concepts?!" he asked in panic.

"How conceited are you, thinking mages from other countries cannot rival you? I hope the authorities in place in Themiscus are more reasonable than you. Or dealing with this matter will be highly annoying…"

Taking the last step that separated him from the diplomat, Astaroth struck him, sending him to the ground, unconscious and foaming at the mouth.

Aberon appeared behind him, hands raised, ready to defend the palace. But when he saw the man on the ground, and Astaroth bending over to pick him up, he scoffed.

He then saw the two mana knights on the ground, dead, and he figured out what had happened.

"This is not good, young man. Themiscus is famous for treating countries that insult them harshly. And killing two of their knights, as well as capturing one of their officials? I\'d say that qualifies as an insult."

Astaroth clicked his tongue in response.

"He broke our laws. Diplomat or not, justice must be served. For now, he is going to prison, and I will deal with the matriarchs of Themiscus tomorrow. I doubt they will know tonight happened, unless somehow they keep track of their every official from afar."

\'You wouldn\'t believe how far they go to keep their people in line…\' Aberon thought, his face darkening.

"Why are you here, Aberon? I thought you spent most of your days with Aravelle lately?"

Aberon looked at Astaroth and grimaced.

"Although sir Aravelle indeed takes up a lot of my free time, I am still free to do what I wish. I came when I felt a surge in mana inside the palace. I thought we were under attack. Reflexes from spending ten years under siege, I guess."

Astaroth understood his reaction. He couldn\'t fathom how spending ten years in similar conditions would change his mind.

"Well, since you are here. Can you take him to the prison cells on the third floor? And make sure Commander Alena doesn\'t get access to him yet. I fear what she would do to him."

Aberon frowned.

"Do I look like a servant to you, boy? Why are you ordering me around?"

Astaroth sighed once more.

"Aberon. I know you are older and wiser, and possibly stronger than me. But this is my palace, in my kingdom. And you said you stay here and serve me as an adviser. If you aren\'t going to advise me, then at least serve me and do me this favour. I have to go warn Phoenix of what happened and the coming repercussions."

Aberon grumbled for a moment before grabbing the scruff of the man\'s nightgown and disappearing from the room.

"Thank you, grumpy," Astaroth whispered into the air. He knew that even though Aberon had already left, he could hear him.

Looking at the surrounding disaster, Astaroth felt like the events of the last minutes had blown out of proportion so much. Things like these shouldn\'t happen, should they?

But it was too late to regret his actions or take them back. It was time to deal with what came next.

Walking out of the room, Astaroth went up to the third floor to cancel his order of locking down the palace. There was no use anymore, now that he dealt with the diplomat.

He had ordered this only in case the two bodyguards and the diplomat were tougher to deal with than he had expected. But he had clearly overestimated them.

Declan was not online anymore, and he had to go directly to Rodney\'s office to discuss with him. Since he commanded the Royal Guards, the palace fell under his direct purview.

Only when Declan was online did Rodney focus on other matters. The two middle-aged men had a relationship of trust and understanding that confused Astaroth.

\'Are all older men so quick to trust each other? Or is it just those two?\'

What he didn\'t know was that the first week that Declan had become the war councilman, he and Rodney had butted heads more often than two goats claiming a mountain.

This was how they had eventually established boundaries and a modicum of respect for each other.

Reaching Rodney\'s office, Astaroth could see the door was open, and light was shining from within.

Astaroth knocked on the door frame, as he peeked inside the office.

"Come in, Your Highness. I was expecting you."