It was close to noon, and the sky had a cloudy and gloomy aspect, which perfectly foreshadowed the shock that all the nobles would feel when they received the messenger crows that day.
Lord Malcon was a minor lord who lived in a fortress in the central region. Subordinate to the greater lord who ruled one of the four great border fiefs, his life was relatively peaceful. Like every minor lord, his representation at the nobles' table was solely due to the presence of his greater lord in the organization.
For this reason, his astonishment was understandable when the golden letter was delivered to his office. Dismissing the servant who had been waiting for a few minutes with the letter in hand, he picked up the golden parchment, checking the Seal. There was no doubt, the letter was from the Nobles' Table.
Why he received the letter was the enigma that bothered him. These matters were handled by the greater lord, who then informed his subordinate lords. What did it all mean? Doubts and fear filled his head. Whatever it was, certainly nothing good would come from this significant change in the natural order of things.
Tired of conjecturing and already quite martyred, Lord Malcon decided to break the Seal. The news was worse than he imagined. The master of space had murdered several soldiers and nobles from all nations, killed the master of fire, and subjugated the master of earth.
It was not unprecedented for a master to try to do what Khaled did, the unprecedented was that he had succeeded. This showed how powerful and dangerous he was. Without a doubt, all the powers of the mortal world would unite to stop the master of space.
While Lord Malcon was shocked by the news and its probable implications, in various parts of the supercontinent, lords received the same letter, and one by one, the members of the nobility became aware of what had happened.
It was certain that nothing would ever be the same, once a master dared to cross the limits and crushed the commoners as if they were ants. Distinction and segregation existed on planet Gan, for the use and delight of the powerful cultivators. The trillions of common people of the human race formed the base of society, with the vast majority being rural people who produced food, clothing, and various products for the nobility, or so most people thought. But the truth is that all the wealth produced by humanity was retained in the hands of the cultivators.
For the rural man, a cultivator was the equivalent of an immortal, powerful enough to decimate entire cities in their wrath. They did not mix because they saw common people as servants at their service at best.
The cultivators stayed in the center of their continents in cities made entirely by cultivators for cultivators.
Most of the cultivation world was concentrated in these megacities, and all the work of administration, maintenance, and security was done by cultivators, who mastered the most varied and powerful techniques. In these cities, even the commoners of the nobility were nothing more than pompous and well-dressed servants.
The fact that the "immortals" ruled was a known but distant reality. As long as the nobility never interfered in the affairs of the cultivation world, they could do whatever they wanted in the mortal world.
However, this clear distance was broken by Khaled's act. What was previously just a distant notion had now become a clear and real nightmare of what a powerful cultivator could do.
All this fear led the Nobles' Table to convene a solemn assembly of all the greater and lesser nobles in the capital of the central continent.
The present restlessness was felt even before entering the lord of the city's mansion. Ignis was a hot city because it was located in the middle of the central desert, but the heat and tension in the environment were not due to the climate.
"To the lords present, I want to give my greetings. This is a memorable date that will be remembered for many centuries. Today we, the most prominent lords of all continents, gather to discuss our future, after the massacre that Master Khaled Kóros orchestrated against nations of all continents," Lord Xander Flamus of the city of Ignis spoke before everyone.
"The problem we have is not light. The main royalties have begun to move. They are using recent events to question the usefulness of the parallel system of the nobility," Lord Ferron's statement further sank everyone's spirits, but some, upon hearing him, hardened.
"If you hadn't tried to manipulate Master Khaled, would we be in this situation?" Lord Darren, general of the Yam nation, roared.
"My plans did not cause anything! Khaled was never manipulated, once on the battlefield, his disposition was always to see everyone as enemies," Lord Ferron vociferated.
"My lords, it is not the time for accusations or bickering! The crisis has not yet passed, and if we start fighting each other now that we are in the middle of the storm, then we might as well sign our sentence before the lurking enemies and wash our necks," Lord Xander's words sent chills down everyone's spines.Once reminded of what awaited them and the sword of the royalties hanging over their necks, there was calm in the altered spirits.
"That's much better, we don't even know how the immortals will proceed yet, starting an internal fight now would be suicide for everyone. We need to carefully observe what the royal courts are plotting and prepare for the attempted power grab that will come. The immortals do not care who is in the government of the commoners, as long as the efficiency of production and the maintenance of their lifestyles are guaranteed, they would allow a change of government. This is the best chance for the monarchies in centuries, they will act against us, the question is when?" Lord Xander asks, causing everyone to focus on the immediate problem of the Nobles' Table.
"This explains why we, the minor lords, had the chance to participate in this assembly. Their fear is of the imminent retaliation from the royalties and the change in the spheres of power. So petty... perhaps it is time for someone better to take over the destiny of humanity." Lord Malcon's thoughts wandered to the lords' disposition to cling like dying men to their fragile positions, not for the benefit of all, but to maintain the status quo of those present.
"Lord Miller, didn't you say that in your region there is a minor lord with a genius strategist? Did he come with you?" one of the lords asked a man sitting next to him, who looked more like a soldier born of giants than a proper human lord.
"Yes, my vassal is undoubtedly the most brilliant in terms of strategy and planning. Lord Malcon, present yourself!" Lord Miller impolitely shouts to the crowd of nobles behind him.
The table in the center was giant and round, beautifully crafted in gold, silver, and precious stones. Only the most powerful lords of each continent had a place at that table. The city where the Nobles' Table was located changed according to nobility elections, and the lord of the city who received the honor of hosting the Table received the "burden" of presiding over the nobility meetings. Each greater lord seated at the table was accompanied by his retinue, who stood behind him. The small crowd of lords debating around the Table and their greater lords stopped at the shout of the unusual lord.
Hearing his name called by Lord Miller made Lord Malcon come out of his reverie. With a sigh, he went towards the voice, which still insisted on shouting his name, disregarding the obvious difficulty of someone crossing the crowd that surrounded the Table.
"Did you call, my lord?" bowing beside Lord Miller, Lord Malcon respectfully asks.
"We need a plan to fix this whole mess, and plans are where you shine the most. So now fix the situation," Lord Miller declared, leaving most of the lords sitting at the table and around it perplexed by the giant lord's unorthodox manners.