A Nighttime Conversation in the Royal Capital

As dusk settled, it quietly bathed the small Royal Capital nestled in the Northern Frontier mountains.

A cold wind, carrying fine snowflakes, swept across the stone city walls etched with the marks of time, emitting a low, mournful sound. Rather than Royal Capital, this was more like a large, sturdy mountain fortress built against the hillside.

The buildings in the city are simple and unadorned, and the streets are not wide, but they are kept exceptionally clean, revealing the unique resilience and order of the people of the North.

The palace, situated at the highest point in the city, resembles a heavily fortified rock fortress rather than a luxurious palace. In the deepening night, it exudes a cool and reliable aura, quite different from the extravagant and decadent court of Marcus's legends.

King Marcus and his remaining, mostly wounded, trusted knights were under tight guard by Anthony's soldiers and imprisoned in the cold, damp dungeon beneath the castle. The dull thud of the heavy iron doors closing temporarily brought this sudden, dramatic reversal to a halt.

Inside the castle's main hall, the flames in the fireplace leaped and danced, dispelling the biting chill of the Northern Frontier night.

The huge log table was laden with food: a whole ibex roasted to a golden brown and crispy perfection, emitting an enticing aroma; large bowls of rich, steaming broth; hearty coarse wheat bread; local specialty cheeses; and a few rare desserts.

This was not a grand state banquet with clinking glasses and toasts, but more like a casual family feast to comfort those weary from battle. Only King Anthony, a few of his most trusted knights who were still bandaged, and Lowell and his party were present.

After initial communication, Lowell had a general understanding of the situation. He picked up a glass of slightly bitter local ale, took a small sip, and posed a question to Anthony, who was seated at the head of the table:

"Your Majesty Anthony, I am somewhat curious. Normally, in wars between two nations, it is the generals who lead the charge, and it is rare for both monarchs to personally lead the troops. I wonder why this is the case?"

Anthony put down the wooden cup in his hand, and a bitter smile, a mixture of weariness and helplessness, appeared on his face, illuminated by the firelight.

"Mr. Lowell is unaware of what is happening," he said in a steady voice, carrying the weight of a ruler.

"I have no choice but to go to the battlefield. Marcus, for his own selfish gain, has driven the women and children of his territory to serve as human shields, pressing forward relentlessly. My kingdom has nowhere left to retreat. Today's battle, apart from the necessary garrison in the city, is the last force I can muster."

He paused, his eyes clear and resolute. "I am not known for my martial prowess; I am merely an ordinary king who spends most of his time buried in state affairs. But as the last line of defense for our homeland, I must stand at the forefront."

"Does the king die for his country?" Lowell thought to himself.

Anthony's tone turned disdainful. "As for Marcus... he came to the front lines purely to 'show off his military prowess.' He thought victory was assured, wanted to witness our army's annihilation, enjoy the thrill of crushing the enemy, and perhaps even use it to project his power. The result..."

His gaze swept over Lowell and the others, a hint of irony in his eyes. "Unexpectedly, I ran into you all and became your prisoner. Truly, I brought this upon myself."

Oh, so you came here to show off, but you failed.

Lowell nodded slightly, set down his wine glass, and calmly delivered a message that would make most people tremble. "Anthony Majesty Anthony, there is something I must tell you. I, along with Solitär and Linié, are not human, but Demons."

As soon as he finished speaking, the expressions of the knights accompanying him in the hall changed drastically. Their hands instinctively went to the hilts of their swords at their waists, and their eyes swept over Lowell and the others with suspicion and uncertainty.

Anthony was slightly taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure. His gaze swept over Lowell's calm face, then over Frieren, who was munching on her snacks, and over Lupa and Linié, who were sitting quietly. Finally, his gaze landed on Solitär was looking around with a face full of curiosity.

He pondered for a moment, and instead of showing fear or hostility, he slowly nodded, his tone carrying an unusual open-mindedness. "Demons... so what?" He gently shook his head, as if trying to dispel some kind of ingrained prejudice.

"If Demons were to hunt according to their nature, perhaps it would be like that of tigers and wolves—a way of survival, cruel yet traceable. In comparison..."

His gaze sharpened, filled with deep disgust. "Marcus, a 'man' who takes pleasure in manipulating people's hearts and trampling on human ethics, who treats his people like dirt and uses his own flesh and blood as a shield, is, in my opinion, far more repulsive and unforgivable than a beast driven by its instincts!"

He looked at Lowell and the others, his tone sincere. "Moreover, having witnessed your actions today, protecting women and children and rescuing us from danger, I am even more inclined to believe that Demons are not all incomprehensible beings who only know how to kill. Race is not the standard of good and evil; the choice of one's heart is the fundamental factor."

Really? That's exactly what I thought.

Lowell leaned forward slightly, his tone guiding. "Your Majesty's magnanimity is admirable. Now, I have a question, which may be presumptuous, but I wish to hear Your Majesty's true thoughts. Although Marcus has been captured, his nation's foundation remains, and he still commands a considerable army, doesn't he? If they continue to use innocent women and children as shields, advancing step by step, has Your Majesty... even for a moment, considered this? After all, sacrificing a few for the peace of the many..."

This question was extremely pointed, and even the generals beside her held their breath. Solitär's pale green eyes widened instantly, and she leaned forward involuntarily, her face filled with the excited expression of "Tell me! Tell me! I love hearing these!" like a child waiting for candy.

Anthony was silent for a moment, the only sound in the room being the Burning of the fireplace. He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, finally settling on Lowell's face, his eyes clear and firm, without the slightest flicker.

"Wave? Weighing options? Sacrificing the minority for the benefit of the majority?" He slowly shook his head, his voice not loud, but carrying the power of a declaration of truth, "The moment this thought arises, it is the beginning of falling into the abyss. I have never had it. For the benefit of the majority, can the sacrifice of the minority be taken for granted? This kind of thinking that calculates life is itself a desecration of the value of life."

Every life is unique and immeasurable. To sacrifice these children today for the 'majority' and another group tomorrow for the 'greater good'... This path leads only to madness and the complete loss of humanity, making one no different from the likes of Marcus. I, Anthony, will never walk this path. Every life is unique, immeasurable, and beyond calculation.

Upon hearing this, Lowell smiled knowingly and clapped his hands lightly, "Indeed... we're the same kind of people in this regard. We're both stubbornly unwilling to solve problems in a 'cost-effective' way... Indeed, life cannot be measured by scales."

He then changed the subject, his tone becoming more formal. "So, Your Majesty Anthony, if we... I mean, provided we do not violate our fundamental principles, and are able to help you resolve the threat of the Marcus Kingdom in the way you desire—that is, to minimize innocent casualties and completely liberate the oppressed people within its borders—I wonder what kind of reward Your Majesty would be willing to offer? Or rather, what kind of cooperation Your Majesty hopes to achieve?"

Anthony almost without hesitation, "If it is truly so, the Nasser Kingdom is willing to give everything to repay your kindness. As long as the long-term stability and peace of my people and those who may be liberated in the future can be guaranteed, I, Anthony, would gladly relinquish this throne immediately! I, Anthony, have no attachment to this position!"

"Your Majesty!" Several knights tried to dissuade him, but Anthony stopped them by raising his hand, which showed how popular he was.

Lowell waved his hand, his tone light. "Your Majesty is too kind. We have no interest in worldly power, nor do we intend to intervene in specific political affairs. What we need is perhaps only a title, an opportunity, when necessary, to promote certain things in a legitimate capacity... such as an attempt at 'deeper understanding and coexistence between humans and demons.' This is no easy matter, and it requires an enlightened ruler like Your Majesty to grant some convenience and understanding."

Anthony understood, pondered for a moment, then his eyes flashed with a sharp light as he proposed a practical solution. "In that case... we can bestow upon you the title of 'Honorary Nobility' of the Nasser Kingdom, and the title of Chief Court Mage. Of course, these are all honorary titles; you will not be required to handle political affairs, nor will you be bound by conventional laws, but you will enjoy corresponding privileges, honors, and freedom of movement. What do you think?"

"Honorary Nobility?" Lowell stroked his chin, recalling an honorary knight of the Knights of Favonius on the Teyvat. "That sounds like a leisurely and carefree life. So be it, Your Majesty."

"I am extremely grateful." Anthony nodded.

Throughout the conversation, Frieren seemed uninterested in the grand narrative concerning the kingdom's fate and future cooperation. She sat next to Lowell, focused on a plate of perfectly baked, honey-drizzled donuts in front of her, eating them in small bites, her cheeks puffing out, her emerald eyes half-closed in satisfaction. Occasionally, she would lick the crumbs from the corner of her mouth with the tip of her pink tongue, completely oblivious to the surrounding discussion, as if nothing in the world mattered more than the dessert before her.

Meanwhile Lupa was focused on a large plate of sizzling, fragrant roasted meat, eating with hearty abandon. Warriors need a lot of energy to maintain their physique, and like Frieren, she seemed to have none of the usual concerns about body shape that women have—naturally, they don't need to.

Linié quietly nibbled on a bright red apple, her deep blue eyes occasionally darting around as she observed everything in the hall, like a silent recorder.

Solitär glanced at Anthony for a while, then stared longingly toward the dungeon, seemingly still thinking about the "data" she hadn't been able to "collect" from Marcus. Her face was full of eagerness to interrogate him right now, but due to the occasion and Lowell's previous warning, she could only force herself to endure it.

Outside the hall, the Northern Frontier winds still howled, but inside the castle, the fire burned brightly. A collaboration that might have far-reaching consequences was laid its initial foundation during this simple yet warm dinner.