Chapter 433: Song of Ismir
Puniel finally relaxed.
If he was needed to lead the army, at the very least, the blame wouldn’t all fall on him.
That charge could strip him of his title and position—and given the Senate’s current treatment of nobles, it was likely they’d execute his entire bloodline as well.
Although that brat Gregor often gave him trouble, he was still Puniel’s bloodline. Moreover, while his other children were just beginning to show signs of maturity, Puniel had come to realize that Gregor was, in fact, the most gifted among them.
Gregor wasn’t foolish enough to seek death recklessly, and now, he was already a knight.
Granted, he hadn’t been certified by the Knight Guild, and was merely a Tier Four.
But with the Knight Guild remaining silent, Tier Four was equivalent to a knight for now.
So if Agamemnon was still willing to grant him military authority, it meant Puniel at least wouldn’t lose his entire bloodline over this.
Now relaxed, Puniel quickly slipped into work mode. He said, "I will do my best to eliminate those Dark Creatures, but I’m worried there’s more than one dungeon entrance."
"Our people have explored other areas. Although no other dungeon entrances have been found, we’ve discovered some traces. We suspect certain entities noticed our presence and sealed those locations."
"Our people tried digging, even reaching depths equal to five dungeon layers, but still couldn’t find a conduit."
A dungeon entrance meant endless wealth.
Naturally, some nobles didn’t want to go through the dungeon Puniel controlled.
Passing through that entrance meant paying Puniel a protection fee.
So not only were they searching—Puniel was too.
But all the traces they found had been deliberately concealed, and in the end, they had no results.
These minor findings, of course, weren’t reported to the Senate.
What if these traces were the work of the Church? Their intelligence network far surpassed theirs.
Still, Puniel didn’t believe Agamemnon was unaware of this.
"Regarding surface matters, I’ll have those nobles gather their armies. I’ll also get the Mercenary Taverns to issue contracts so mercenaries can search for conduits and Dark Creature activity above ground. Those mages need to start moving too," said Agamemnon. "At least the most terrifying tide of Dark Creatures is still within the dungeon we control."
It was all Agamemnon could do. Gathering underground intelligence from the surface was difficult enough, especially when each dungeon level was nearly ten meters apart.
Even mages needed to be at least Initiate Tier Three to probe such depths.
This thought gave him a headache.
He still hadn’t decided how to approach the head of the Mage Guild.
This couldn’t be delayed any longer.
"Alright, I’ll try my best to stop those vermin living underground from crawling up," said Puniel.
He then returned to his estate, donned armor he hadn’t worn in a long time, and headed for the northern dungeon.
Agamemnon sat alone in his residence, dazed for a while, then got up and ordered the assembly of the fully organized Second Legion, the partially formed Third Legion, and the newly established Green Dragon Knight Order.
Next, he sent an invitation to Marquis Richard.
On the surface, York City was buzzing due to the matter with the Golden Radiance Estate.
But in secret, warriors were being mobilized to deal with the dungeon.
And in the north, in the newly established capital of the Kingdom of Ismir—Platinum City—naked slaughter was unfolding.
Zeke tossed aside a bloodstained sword, sat casually atop an incomplete corpse, flipped through a blank book, and dipped a feather pen into the blood on the floor to record.
"Third Year of the New Testament, May 27th. Baron Ackman Weiss, under the name of the Fourth Prince Frey Ismir, launched a rebellion. The rebel count was seventy-three. No Northern Warriors participated."
"The rebellion was quelled by dusk the same day. All rebels, including Baron Ackman Weiss, were killed. Fourth Prince Frey was imprisoned, awaiting judgment from King Aen Ismir of the North."
He closed the book.
A long-waiting Iron Guard stepped forward and said, "A noble is waiting in the Pale Palace hall. They demand an explanation."
An explanation for what?
Naturally, for the sudden claim of Ackman’s rebellion, the slaughter of nearly a hundred people, dyeing Pale Castle red, and the imprisonment of a prince.
Did Baron Ackman truly rebel?
Well, Zeke said he did—and he wrote it down. Soon, bards would spread this tale. The North would believe the Baron had indeed rebelled.
But in truth, Baron Ackman had only earned Prince Frey’s trust and dared to speak loudly to Zeke and ask for power.
So Zeke killed him. And slaughtered every sycophant around the prince.
When Prince Frey rebuked him, Zeke imprisoned him too.
Truthfully, if not for his surname—Ismir—Zeke would’ve killed him as well.
Too foolish.
This youngest Prince of Ismir was inferior even to his two living brothers.
At least they hadn’t dared rebuke Zeke after he killed their favorites, thanks to their mothers’ intervention.
But Prince Frey slapped his mother aside and screamed at Zeke, demanding punishment for disrespecting House Ismir.
When Zeke had returned to Pale Castle in Platinum City, the celestial Streams of Light in the sky had already faded. Still, some in the castle wanted to stir trouble.
They hadn’t outright rebelled. Instead, they used the celestial omen to argue the king hadn’t returned for too long, that his fate was uncertain, and that the Kingdom of Ismir needed a king to steady hearts.
So they nominated the most foolish Fourth Prince.
Technically, it was rebellion with a fig leaf.
Zeke suppressed it with cruel measures.
Now, more than questioning the king’s fate, the nobles were more concerned with Zeke’s bloody actions.
The fact that all eight Iron Guards, each commanding a legion of a thousand, followed Zeke’s orders spoke volumes.
Yet Zeke remained uneasy.
There was no word from Aen.
Given the North’s size, messages could arrive in two days in emergencies—at the cost of a Northern Warrior’s life.
They envied the magical message system of Greenwood’s Senate.
But the North was poor, and its past reputation kept them from building their own network.
Today, Zeke received a report from the Orc Province: no sign of Aen on the Giant Dragon Mountain Peak.
It was as if Aen had vanished after climbing it.
Zeke couldn’t imagine what would become of the North if Aen never returned.
And he was powerless.
Even with Tier Five strength, what could he do?
Only fight men.
He couldn’t explain the celestial Streams of Light, couldn’t even comprehend them.
Brute strength alone had no future.
Zeke felt like he was constantly witnessing the truth of that statement.
He glanced at the Iron Guard and said, "Tell them to get lost. Ackman rebelled. Do they want to rebel too?"
"Tell them this matter isn’t over. Stay in their estates for inspection. If any connection to Baron Ackman is found, their entire family will be executed. If they leave Platinum City before the investigation ends, it will be considered rebellion."
The Iron Guard said nothing, merely lowered his head and left.
What could muscle do? Only intimidate nobles like this.
But could the North’s future be entrusted to these nobles?
After reading the backlog of messages from Greenwood, Zeke believed they’d already found the answer.
He looked south, as if seeing the reforms sweeping Greenwood.
“It’s time to leave,” the thought struck him suddenly.
He had done all he could for the North. The rest would take time—to engrave these truths into the minds of all Northerners.
He needed to seek the North’s future.
Besides, the deadline he and Aen had agreed upon had long since passed.
Footsteps echoed.
Zeke looked over. Twelve-year-old Adela was now clad in leather armor, draped in a pelted cloak crowned with an Icefield Wolf’s skull.
"Mr. Zeke, is there anything I can do?" Adela asked directly. She didn’t even question why Zeke had killed. She only asked what she needed to do.
Did she know what those people had done?
Or was she proving her harmlessness, seeking the right to live through submission?
Regardless, Zeke admired her wisdom.
She was a true Northern girl—cunning like the Icefield Wolf atop her head, yet able to bare her fangs at the right time.
Zeke was willing to call her the most beautiful Adela of the North.
If only Aen’s children had half her intellect, he and Aen wouldn’t be so troubled.
But alas, even though Aen claimed Adela as his foster daughter, her full name remained Adela Collins, a sign of the distance between her and the House of Ismir.
At most, she was like a senior maid within the Pale Palace.
In fact, because of her foster status, those bearing the Ismir name deliberately made things hard for her.
Aen and Zeke had seen it all, but didn’t interfere.
This was the North. Girls had to adapt to its rules. Still, her life was far better than those who still froze or starved outside.
And sometimes, being ignored was its own form of protection.
After all, no matter how foolish they were, they still bore the name Ismir.