The Necromancer's Servant

"Pfft." A lady-in-waiting standing beside Queen Catherine couldn't help but let out a laugh.

The diminutive envoy, dressed in lavish attire, tumbled down the ten or so steps like a log. With his short arms, short legs, a short body, and disproportionately large head, he hit the floor with a dull thud, sprawled out in an awkward heap.

A few ministers chuckled as well but quickly stifled their laughter, remembering this was the Queen's audience chamber. Ever since this oddly dressed dwarf had entered the hall, the once solemn and somewhat oppressive atmosphere had taken on an amusingly farcical tone.

"Are you alright?" Lutherer, the head of the merchants' guild who had been walking ahead of Lord Borugan, quickly rushed down the stairs to help him up. However, given their stark height difference, it looked more like an adult helping up a child. The already comical scene became even more absurd, drawing a rare smile even from the stoic Holy Knight, who usually maintained a face of icy composure.

Lutherer's face turned beet red. What he had envisioned as a grand, ambitious visit to the royal palace had turned into a laughingstock. Many of the nobles and ministers who were well aware of his aspirations now chuckled with a knowing, almost teasing satisfaction.

The guild leader had always been somewhat self-conscious about his status. While Alrasia was economically prosperous and politically progressive, allowing him to lead the nation's merchants as head of the guild, the pursuit of wealth itself no longer held much meaning for him. Despite amassing vast fortunes and often wielding enough financial power to bribe officials and influence policies, he remained, at the end of the day, a commoner. This meeting with Her Majesty the Queen was undoubtedly a rare and golden opportunity. Although the matter at hand was far from pleasant, if he could handle it with grace, demonstrate exceptional insight and skill, and resolve the issue effectively, there was a real chance he might gain the Queen's favor. Perhaps he might even be granted a noble title, elevating him beyond his commoner origins. But who could have foreseen such a disastrous first impression?

With the guild leader's help, the envoy finally got to his feet, but with a large bruise on his forehead and a steady stream of blood pouring from his bulbous nose. He hurriedly tore off a piece of his already tattered cloak and stuffed it into his nostrils. The muffled laughter in the hall grew louder. One minister turned and quietly whispered to a colleague, "Honestly, he'd make a better court jester than an envoy."

Sweating profusely, Lutherer quickly knelt and said in a loud voice, "Your Majesty, please allow me to escort the envoy to tidy up before he presents himself again—"

"There's no need; he's fine as he is. Surely the envoy doesn't mind, do you?" The Queen smiled faintly, her thin red lips curving upward ever so slightly. Beneath her long lashes, her eyes held a subtle glimmer of amusement—mysterious and enigmatic, like a mirage shimmering in a desert, leaving one dazed and captivated.

"Oh... oh... yes... yes..." Lutherer stammered, nodding frantically as he dared not meet the Queen's gaze for long. He suddenly remembered that he ought to ask the envoy for his opinion and hurriedly lowered his head, whispering, "Lord Envoy... would you like to—"

"No need. I'm fine like this," replied Lord Borugan, rubbing his large face and smoothing out his disheveled hair before continuing toward the steps leading to the audience chamber. This time, Lutherer followed cautiously behind him. Thankfully, the envoy didn't fall again. Having learned his lesson, Lord Borugan carefully lifted his trailing cloak as he ascended the stairs, resembling a peasant woman lifting her skirt to cross a puddle. The awkward gesture elicited another round of barely suppressed laughter from those present.

Watching the unruly, messy head bobbing in front of him, Luther felt as though his own head was about to burst from frustration, as if it had grown larger than that oversized one ahead. That bird's-nest-like hair was far more stubborn than he had imagined—coarse, bristling, and tangled in all directions, so much so that even a wig couldn't stay on. The stylists had even suspected it might be some peculiar wig made from animal bristles. After pouring two whole bottles of specially made hair oil onto that head, they had managed to smooth it into a somewhat tolerable hairstyle. Yet, after one tumble, it had reverted to its original chaos, looking even worse than before. Adding to that the crumpled, gaudy outfit from his fall, the envoy's appearance was as ridiculous and pitiful as could be.

This was the palace of Alrasia, the grandest, most magnificent royal residence on the Western Continent. Seated atop it all was the most powerful, capable, and arguably the most beautiful woman on the continent—the heir to the greatest royal lineage. Hearing the suppressed laughter around him and catching glimpses of faces twitching in failed attempts to stifle their amusement, Luther no longer dared to look at the Queen. His mind had gone blank, and he felt an urge to groan aloud. If not for the fact that this disgraceful dwarf had been sent by Theodorus, who was both a past benefactor and possibly a future financial lifeline of Alrasia's merchant guild—on top of the five hundred gold coins recently received and the promise of a thousand more after this—Luther swore he would've found a blade to cut this fool down the moment they left the palace gates.

Ascending the dozen red-carpeted steps ahead of them, they finally reached the council hall of Alrasia's royal palace. Marble ceilings and walls, alongside dozens of towering marble columns, adorned every corner of the space. Each surface was intricately carved, creating a structure that was both luxurious and solemn. The expansive hall, with ceilings soaring over ten meters high, radiated grandeur, embodying centuries of royal magnificence. Sunlight reflected off the snow-white marble, filling the room with a natural brilliance akin to daylight. Along the walls, portraits of every monarch in the royal lineage hung in perfect symmetry, each one so lifelike that the commanding presence of these rulers seemed to merge seamlessly into the hall's atmosphere.

And yet, all the kings and queens depicted in those hundreds of portraits combined could not compare in aura or majesty to the person sitting on the throne in the center. Merely by sitting there, she gathered all the hall's grandeur and light onto herself.

Perhaps there were women more beautiful than her, with finer skin, better figures, or even more alluring, noble, or pure temperaments. Yet no woman could surpass her in charm.

Because she was the Queen of Alrasia.

Her every movement—whether a wave of her hand, a slight smile, or even the simplest breath—embodied not just the beauty of a woman, but also the commanding dignity of a ruler, the calm confidence of a wise leader, and the serene composure of someone who had mastered the ways of the world. These qualities blended seamlessly within her and radiated through her vibrant presence. If other beautiful women could be described as exquisite gemstones or finely crafted jade statues, anyone who looked at her would never feel they were merely admiring a beautiful object, or even just a woman. What they saw and felt was something far more captivating—something that reached beyond physical allure to stir the soul.

Not even the Creator could have fashioned such a woman, for her charm was not merely a product of birth but the culmination of worldly refinement and wisdom distilled into one being.

Standing beside her was Alrasia's red-robed High Priest, Aescher. As the head of the largest religious diocese on the Western Continent, he bore an expression of unyielding solemnity. In contrast to the Queen's magnetic charm, Aescher's aura was one of saintly, awe-inspiring gravitas. Of everyone in the hall, he alone had not cracked the slightest smile at the envoy's earlier buffoonery.

Though High Priest Aescher occasionally dabbled in state affairs, receiving foreign envoys was usually beyond his purview. However, this meeting with the envoy from Orford was of extraordinary significance. After all, while Alrasia harbored political suspicions toward that orc city-state, the Church's enmity toward it was even greater.

Standing behind the High Priest was a striking female knight. Towering above the average man in height, her tightly-fitted knight's armor highlighted her tall, athletic figure. Beneath her radiant golden hair was a cold, stern expression, and the faint trace of a killing aura between her brows lent her originally handsome and graceful features an androgynous quality. This was the youngest of the nine Temple Knights of the Church, a warrior renowned across the continent, recently arrived from Celeste.

The ministers were lined up neatly on either side of the grand hall. This audience with the envoy from Orford was of significant importance. Although, given the Church's stance, war between the two nations seemed inevitable, there were still those who advocated for peace. Some hoped that the envoy might deliver a persuasive, even miraculous argument to sway Queen Catherine and High Priest Aescher, rekindling trade relations between the two nations. After all, Orford's economic ties to Alrasia were highly beneficial, and no one liked to sever a flow of glittering gold coins.

While some waited with hostility and vigilance, others harbored cautious hope. All were tense as they awaited this envoy from the orc stronghold. Yet, no one had anticipated that the envoy would be such a ridiculous dwarf, leaving the wary amused and the hopeful thoroughly disappointed.

Lord Borugan and Guild Master Luther stepped forward and paid their respects. As soon as Luther bowed to Queen Catherine, intending to speak, High Priest Aescher unexpectedly interrupted. His low, resonant voice echoed across the hall, steady and grand, imbued with an unassailable authority like the solemn tones of a ceremonial hymn.

"Your Majesty, this man is but a commoner. How can he be permitted to enter the council chamber to discuss matters of state? Furthermore, it is said that when Orford was first established, these merchants provided considerable support to them."

Luther's face immediately turned pale, and inwardly he cursed.

From its inception, Orford had been secretly funded by the merchants of Alrasia, who had long hoped for a commercial hub in the wild highlands, encouraged by Theodorus' promise of protection and lucrative trade opportunities. This had been a closely guarded secret, and yet High Priest Aescher had somehow learned of it.

However, Queen Catherine merely smiled faintly and said, "That was all in the past. Besides, they did so only to earn greater profits—it is, after all, a merchant's nature and nothing to fault. Moreover, Guild Master Luther has led Alrasia's merchants for years, playing a vital role in supporting our economy and ensuring the flow of goods. I have long wanted to meet him, which is why I specifically called him here today. His knowledge of Orford will also be most helpful to us."

"Your Majesty is wise," Luther replied, his gratitude overflowing. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he was on the verge of openly weeping with relief.

"Well then, let's discuss the recent heinous crimes allegedly committed by the orcs of Orford," Her Majesty the Queen said, her gaze, clear as water and sharp as a blade, settling on Lord Borugan. "If Orford sent you, I assume you have something to say, don't you?"

"Ugh..." The dwarf envoy paused for a moment, then suddenly kneeled and shouted, "Your Majesty, it's all a false accusation!"

Everyone froze in astonishment. This was far from the expected conduct of a diplomat sent for negotiations. Not only was it devoid of eloquence, but it also didn't even qualify as clumsy diplomacy—it was more like a child throwing a tantrum.

"The orcs of Orford are kind and honorable people; we would never commit such reckless crimes! This is all a setup, a conspiracy!" Lord Borugan exclaimed, his large face contorted with grief and indignation.

The brief flicker of surprise in Queen Catherine's eyes was quickly replaced by her calm and composed demeanor. She responded with a faint smile, "But the evidence is overwhelming. Almost every incident has eyewitnesses who testified to witnessing the orcs' atrocities. How can this be considered unjust?"

"We don't know! It's just an injustice!" Borugan's response was almost comically unreasonable, as if he were a wrongfully accused criminal. What made it worse was his grating voice—barely more bearable than a pig's squeal. It echoed through the magnificent and majestic palace, utterly out of place and almost sacrilegious.

The expressions of the ministers grew uneasy. This behavior was hardly fitting for someone engaging in diplomatic negotiations. Behind the High Priest, the female knight frowned deeply. Having spent years in Celeste, surrounded by devout and upright people and accustomed to solemn prayers and hymns, she found this crude display jarring.

"Please, Your Majesty, grant us some time, and we will prove our sincerity," the dwarf continued, still pleading pitifully. This time, however, he proposed a strikingly persuasive offer. "Though the previous incidents were orchestrated to frame us, Orford is still willing to compensate Alrasia with 1,000 gold coins as a gesture of goodwill to demonstrate that we harbor no ill intent. Moreover, if Alrasia agrees to restore trade relations with Orford, we will permanently exempt all Alrasian merchants from all taxes, as well as provide them with food and lodging at no cost while they are in Orford."

A wave of murmurs and commotion rippled through the ministers. Setting aside the dwarf's unpleasant voice and absurd delivery, the offer was undeniably compelling. While 1,000 gold coins might not mean much to the treasury of a wealthy nation like Alrasia, it was still a substantial amount—no one could call it insignificant. More importantly, it signaled genuine sincerity on Orford's part; no one casually tosses away such a fortune without reason.

The offer to exempt all Alrasian merchants from taxes was even more significant. It would effectively transform Orford into a colossal trade hub for Alrasia in the wild highlands. From a long-term perspective, the benefits stemming from such an arrangement would far exceed any immediate financial compensation.

Queen Catherine's delicate eyebrows arched slightly as if she were deep in thought. A faint, enigmatic smile graced her lips, but she refrained from making a direct decision. Instead, she turned her gaze to the ministers and asked, "What do you think?"

"This proposal is certainly worth careful consideration…" None of the ministers dared to outright reject such advantageous terms. Although they all knew that, given the Church's stance, peace was unlikely, the allure of such a favorable deal made war far less desirable. Several ministers began to suggest, "Perhaps we could conduct a more thorough investigation into the alleged misconduct of the orcs…"