After being stared at by her disciple's resentful eyes for a long time, Merry smiled awkwardly and consciously changed the subject.
"Okay, you don't have to worry so much. My king has arranged everything long ago. You just need to perform the work within your scope. People have their own talents, and so do aliens. It is the king's role to place talents in the right positions, and it is our duty to demonstrate those talents."
Merry smiled with her usual fake smile.
To her, it was just an ordinary expression.
The same could be said for those who knew her well.
But for this group of magicians, Merry's smile was tantamount to recognition—of themselves and of others. It was a pass to reach the higher peaks of the magical world.
"Yes! For the great dynasty, for my king, and for you—I will do my best!"
Following the lead magician's impassioned declaration, all the magicians in the building knelt in unison to show their loyalty and respect.
They were all Romans.
This was an indisputable and unquestionable fact.
Whether in soul or body, they had been born and raised on Roman soil. Their families were rooted in Rome, and their worldviews shaped by Roman culture. And yet, this group of Roman magicians now yearned for and revered the British Dynasty more deeply than the Rome that had nurtured them. They shouted the slogan of Britain with far greater piety than they had ever praised the Roman Emperor.
Why?
Why had they so easily renounced their Roman citizenship and completely abandoned their homeland?
Was it Arthur's charisma? Or was it foresight into the fall and destruction of the Roman Empire?
No. Neither.
The reason was simple: because they were magicians.
In a sense, magicians are scholars. The inheritance of wisdom from generation to generation, the histories of all magical families—these are the foundations of their research and exploration.
The ultimate secret of magic is the true goal of every magician.
That secret—the truth, the end of all things. For the sake of reaching that ultimate destination, a magus would abandon everything. To ordinary people, it might seem abnormal, but is it really?
At the very least, those who are branded as mad understand this better than anyone.
It's a very simple truth. Compared to the end of all things, to that ultimate truth, what are life, emotions, family, blood ties, or homeland? Insignificant.
And they were certain—absolutely certain—that this was not some illusory dream. It was a goal that had already been proven to exist.
So no, this was not a wasted effort.
Thus, it was very easy to manipulate this group of people.
As long as Merry, the pinnacle of magic, appeared before them, they had a pioneer to follow.
As long as Manaka, the Princess of the Origin, entered their field of vision, they had a reason to go mad.
What they saw was the apex of magecraft—something that surpassed all else. If they were to immerse themselves in it and lose themselves, they would accept it joyfully, like martyrs. If they were lucky enough to understand its mysteries, it would be their highest honor.
This time, Merry appeared before them with her greatest masterpiece—a humanoid red dragon.
In that moment alone, the miracle of breaking the boundary between fantasy species and humanity was enough to make these magicians pledge themselves to the British Dynasty, even if it meant destroying Rome.
And so, these Romans—who once believed in their noble and pure bloodline—upon witnessing the miracle, transformed from the Roman Magicians Group into the British Magicians Group in Rome.
And they had good reason to.
They had discovered a world more mysterious and magnificent than Rome itself.
Just across the sea lay the land Tyrant Lucius sought to conquer.
"Please rest assured. From this moment on, none of Tyrant Lucius's orders will be relayed to Rome. The governors of each region will pay for their crimes. Tyrant Lucius will die upon holy soil, and Rome will finally kneel at the feet of our king."
"Oh my, everyone's quite motivated. Then, let's follow our king's plan and work together to topple the weakest pillar of Rome."
First, cut off intelligence.
Whether in war or any other field, information is paramount.
The side that controls—or even creates—information can completely dictate the course of events.
Lucius, far away on the battlefield, had only two ways to communicate with Rome. One was traditional manpower, but the distance between Britain and Rome made such ferrying slow, hazardous, and unreliable due to the constant risk of shipwreck.
So, usually, the second method was employed:
—Communication crystal balls.
Yes, they were crystal balls manufactured in Britain that had been phased out and later flowed into Rome as mere commodities. But even as outdated goods, they were still incredibly valuable to Rome. Only three existed throughout the entire empire.
One was held by a senator in the advance party. Another was with Sword Emperor Lucius. And the final one, kept in Rome, was maintained by the Roman Magicians Corps.
As to whether this final communication crystal ball would be tampered with—it was already a foregone conclusion.
Of course, this was done to let Lucius die peacefully on the battlefield… and to pacify the Roman governors.
The collapse of Rome—or any empire—must begin with the people at the bottom.
Only by blinding the vision of the ruling class, encouraging tyranny, stirring public resentment, and destabilizing the law can an empire be brought down.
And so, on the fourth day of the Roman Emperor's personal expedition to Britain, a carnival began in Rome.
"You bastard! That's a Red Dragon Coin in your hand, isn't it?"
"What?"
Startled by his friend's sudden outburst, a Roman citizen blinked in confusion, then nodded hesitantly. He couldn't understand what was wrong today. Wasn't it normal to use Red Dragon Coins? Everyone was using them. The beautiful, convenient currency had become fashionable in Rome.
Even his friend had used it just yesterday.
So why did he now wear such a ferocious expression?
"I… say, what's gotten into you today?"
What's wrong?
He soon got the answer.
Without any further explanation, the furious Roman snatched the banknote from his hand and tore it to pieces.
"Hey! You bastard—!"
This was, without question, an act of property damage and a violation of the law.
Yet, the perpetrator didn't apologize. On the contrary, he declared with righteous indignation:
"The Red Dragon Coin is British! We Romans have our own currency! His Majesty Lucius is now waging war against those British traitors, and you—his subject—are not only disloyal to Rome, but proudly using British money? Are you even a Roman?"
His face showed genuine fury, a proud loyalty to his Roman identity, and a deep-seated contempt for the Red Dragon Coin.
Roman citizens were using the currency of a small border kingdom—and taking pride in it.
How shameful.
And when viewed from that perspective… perhaps it did make some sense.
If handled calmly—if they had taken the dispute to a military official—it might have been resolved peacefully.
But never count on humans to remain rational.
-End Chapter-
Visit the Patreon!!
Read 30 chapters ahead, more on the way!
[email protected]/TrashProspector