The Empire's ruler presented an unsurprising demand, drawing a bottom line for the transaction.
The importance of the Demon King was self-evident; it was what made the demon race a cohesive group, enabling them to establish organized, yet loose, social collective offense and defense.
Moreover, the Demon King itself possessed formidable combat power capable of altering the tide of battle.
Among the Seven Sages of Destruction, the strongest, Goldmask, and the most troublesome, the Sorcerer of Miracles, had died at Frieren's hands. The remaining ones could only barely be held in check.
Furthermore, there were heroes from various regions and numerous mages providing support, but the Demon King was different. Once the Demon King acted, the allied army would surely suffer heavy losses.
George continued, raising the stakes: "Not just the Demon King, but Schlucht, the All-Knowing, must also die. These two are the core of the demon race, and you also have a deep-seated hatred for them."
Frieren nodded.
She and Milliarde exchanged glances, both showing undisguised hatred on their faces. They would definitely kill them, it was just a matter of time.
Of course, hatred was one thing, but it didn't mean they wouldn't use it as a bargaining chip.
Serie, bored, rested her chin on her hand, witnessing the scene with a slight weariness, not forgetting to eat some pastries to pass the time. But no one would think she wasn't paying attention; her eyes never left the King.
She was prepared for negotiations to break down.
The Founder of Magic, with a thousand years of accumulated prestige, held the line, leaving the decision to the two younger elves: how did they envision the future of the elven race?
"Both the Demon King and Schlucht are very strong. If my goal is to kill them, I might die."
Milliarde, beside her, almost burst out laughing at Frieren's words. What a performance! Lying without batting an eye, Frieren didn't care if it spread that she was afraid of demons. But it didn't matter.
Firstly, Frieren the Slayer being afraid of demons was a joke.
Secondly, personal reputation was insignificant in the face of greater interests. At least her childhood friend possessed this awareness.
King George smiled.
"I don't understand magic much, nor have I seen the Demon King. But Lady Frieren is before me now, and a person's presence doesn't lie. I'll listen."
"Fortune favors the bold, what fortune do you seek?"
He too was prepared to contend with the old figures from the Age of Gods.
Frieren subtly straightened up, in fact yielding her position to Milliarde. Without even needing eye contact, both understood that this round was for the latter to handle.
"My bank will fully support the Empire during the war, helping you raise supplies and military funds. If tax deductions occur, we will strictly establish proof. In return, we hope to gain the opportunity to issue more bank bonds..."
As she spoke, she presented a detailed proposal.
The elves weren't afraid to state their negotiation demands, because the other party's needs were more urgent, and besides, they had all the time in the world for back-and-forth.
George read through it seriously.
A moment later, he scoffed: "You are undermining the Empire's currency issuance function. You might as well just ask for minting rights; that would be even simpler."
"That would be even better."
The thick-skinned Milliarde pretended not to understand the sarcasm.
"As far as I know, Your Majesty authorizes local minting officials to mint currency. After all, it can't all be kept in the capital and then transported everywhere, can it? I won't even mention their embezzlement, lack of oversight, or their transparency being inferior to the elves."
"The question is, do they have the experience to still support the Empire's currency operations in the upcoming great war? Only our bank has this experience, and my merchant guild will also cooperate with credit loans."
"In short, the elves require a 99-year minting rights concession, and we will fully support the Empire."
Upon hearing this, King George fell into deep thought.
To be honest, there were many plan details he couldn't understand, unable to grasp Milliarde's intentions. He estimated the other two were the same.
Such trust?
He felt a bit envious that they had absolutely trustworthy companions to whom they could delegate decisions.
"I cannot allow it, because a century from now, you will de facto control currency issuance... No, during this period, you will use the Empire's economic influence to make smaller nations embrace your currency. Essentially, you are undergoing financial expansion."
"Even if my portrait is engraved on it, ultimately, the newly joined small nations will recognize elven credit."
King George shook his head, refusing with a firm expression.
He glared at everyone, as if he would order the Imperial Guards at the slightest disagreement.
Before the childhood friends could react, Serie beside them burst into laughter, as if witnessing a monumental joke.
"Your Majesty, a century from now you will long be dead, but one thing is certain: the expeditionary army led by you will have retaken the north, killed the Demon King, and left a name in history."
"And you will have only paid a trivial hundred years, and a small amount of power."
"If you're going to haggle over even this, then we have nothing more to discuss."
Serie made to leave, simultaneously giving the two juniors a glance, and they too understood, preparing to depart.
Milliarde added, twisting the knife: "We can talk to the next king, and the king after that. Anyone will do, but the seat of eternal renown belongs to only one emperor."
"Wait a moment."
King George couldn't help but call out, then gritted his teeth in regret.
He was losing his composure. He could have continued to bargain, but the thought of the opposing party's concept of time left him numb.
He couldn't afford to wait.
The allied army he had painstakingly assembled lacked only the support of powerful mages like those from the Age of Gods, and a large amount of liquid capital to sustain military expenses; neither could be absent.
If the conquest wasn't completed during his reign, would he be doing all this for his successors? Not even for his own son.
The three naturally sat down with keen interest, their attitudes softened and meandering, each getting what they wanted. After all, the Empire was only selling a bit of short-term interest, wasn't it?
Frieren didn't forget to raise the stakes:
"If our negotiations proceed smoothly today, I am willing to disclose more magical discoveries. If you encounter difficulties in your research, you can write to me."
"The Vice President is generous! From now on, you are the Imperial..."
Barke, who had remained silent beside them, twitched his mouth. It seemed His Majesty had long intended to bestow a title upon Frieren, and could even use it as a political achievement to win her over, a feather in his cap.
Seeing the threat and the gift from the other side, George still conceded and nodded: "I agree."
"However, there are still details to be amended."
"Of course," Milliarde smiled. "All the remaining details can be discussed further."
"In the future, will you elves perhaps control the issuance of the continent's common currency?"
"Impossible."
"But you didn't deny your ambition. This is the position you elves have chosen to occupy. For an individual or a group to find a clear and evolving position in the world is great wisdom. You are very clever."
"My successor, I fear, will not be able to contend with you."
George sighed, rubbing his forehead, as if he had aged several years, his vigor diminished.
What he had relinquished was more than just minting rights; in reality, it signified the elves extending their reach into the court to touch power, greatly increasing their influence.
Under Frieren's leadership, they had realized what they should strive for and what they should control. This was the most terrifying aspect.
But as they said, those were matters for the distant future. His body was deteriorating day by day; he only wished to see the fruits of victory sooner.
He submitted.
He succumbed to time and bowed before the elves' power.
Banquet Hall.
Flamme held a cake, a satisfied expression on her face. It was too delicious; the trip was worth it.
She felt none of the strange tension that afflicted other guests. Some were even anxiously muttering, worried that they hadn't been invited to the chambers for talks, as if...
The red-haired girl understood the reason, but was too lazy to ponder.
Her chosen path was combat and research; she only needed to continue along it. Power struggles would only corrupt a young mage, and besides, it was far from her place to make decisions.
So Flamme ate with peace of mind.
A moment later, Lehman stepped forward: "Someone else received."
"They're done talking. If I'm not mistaken, they are pressuring the Empire's ultimate strategy. Get ready, we're leaving soon."
"Why?"
"If you've been observing, you'll notice that ever since the meeting, it happened."
"There's even a rule for this!"
Some other figures considered crucial, however, only critical talks. I guess there's a result inside.
Hearing this, Flamme nodded, somewhat understanding, then sped up her eating.
She only needed to know she wouldn't get to eat these again, and perhaps they might be useful for cooking for her master in the future. Indeed, this...
In contrast, Lehman and the others were more focused on the prevailing winds of the social scene. The Association, likewise caught in the vortex, could not afford to ignore it.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, the grand doors connecting the banquet hall to the chambers were fully pushed open.
The attendant loudly announced: "Before His Majesty the King."
Everyone watched intently. It seemed this mobilization meeting...
The first to emerge was, of course, the Empire's ruler, George. He exuded an air of sternness.
Behind him were Frieren, Serie, and Milliarde, followed by the envoys and representatives from various nations. They stood like a wall behind the King, appearing awe-inspiring.
"Thank you all for traveling so far to visit."
"We are gathered here today for a common, the King has reached a comprehensive cooperation with the Association. Everyone will unitedly..."
Before he finished speaking, Milliarde raised her hand and clapped enthusiastically.
She also nudged Serie and Frieren's shoulders left and right, response, signifying the elven faction's support for George's...
Since they had gained the substance, they would certainly grant him face.
The atmosphere in the hall visibly relaxed. After all, having two divine was extraordinary.
That was good.
In fact, many people had come specifically to witness the negotiations between the Empire and the Association. Or rather, to witness the demands of the elven race.
The impact of the political transaction would take effect later, but what was important now was to boost morale. Regardless, everyone belonged to the faction opposing the demon race.
"Furthermore, I also wish to thank all the envoys..."
Flamme completely tuned out the rest of the platitudes, letting them go in one ear and out the other, as only cream cake found its way into her bottomless stomach.
She knew that seeing her master's relaxed expression meant things were progressing well. At this moment, all the banners had assembled under the Empire's call.
A surge of heroic spirit rose within her.
She considered herself a witness to a historic moment for humanity. Nations that had once fought individually against the demon race were now beginning to unite, concentrating their strength and resolutely determined to sweep clean the north.
Even the frost of the frozen lands could not make anyone flinch.
Everyone vaguely had a premonition: under the effect of the agreement, the seeds of a magical era would sprout, and human technology would experience great development.
But no—they lacked a sense of security. How could a civilization without guaranteed safety move forward? The stumbling block could not be ignored.
The more they valued the future benefits of the magical era, the more they had to clear away the obstacle of the demon race.
Their interests aligned.
Both will and material resources were prepared, and the tide of the era pushed everyone to make their choice.
Flamme herself had once been in mortal danger under the threat of the demon race, so she naturally felt invigorated. It was finally happening. Let them truly experience humanity's counterattack and knock on the door of the next era.
"...In short, the initial phase will focus on corps-level operations, striving to establish footholds in the north, which will take several months."
"In the later stage, we anticipate a mage war, and the Association must be prepared."
"That concludes the overview. Details will be discussed at the tactical meeting..."
Setting aside the official rhetoric, King George's announcement still held some weight, making Flamme realize there should be a buffer period of several months, estimated to be until summer.
The general offensive would begin in spring, aiming to establish forward outposts, with summer being the opportunity to push deeper into the north.
They could still conserve their strength.
As she pondered, the King drank with everyone, and the formal speeches concluded.
Immediately, the three weary elves were freed and reunited with the Association's personnel. They also had something to tell their own organization: the coordinated operation discussed with the King, which would primarily involve dispatching mages in the early stages.
Serie had no special instructions for her disciples, who frequently rotated on battlefields, simply telling them to give a detailed account back at headquarters.
However, she herself had to first make a trip to Elf Town.
"Flamme, go back to Northern Fortress and pack up. It's time for you to gain experience on the front lines, but you must be careful."
Frieren said earnestly: "For the plan to decisively battle the demon race, I will instead enter a period of slumber. You will have to represent me, and that might put pressure on you."
"It's alright. I've been waiting for this day for a long time, Master. Leave it to me."
"Very good."
"I know it's not easy to be the sole direct disciple of a Mage of the Age of Gods. Everyone is also waiting for me to achieve better results. I will kill one of the Seven Sages of Destruction to show them."
The red-haired girl's tone was very serious. She felt all her power was reaching its peak, yet she hadn't broken through her limitations. Only the battlefield could give her the answer; higher-level combat would allow her to reach the pinnacle.
Flamme would not refuse this trial; she would even welcome it.
Serie beside her nodded in genuine approval, not forgetting to taunt her own disciples: "None of you possess the ability to guarantee the death of even one demon sage."
"Master, what do you mean by slumber? Is it not enough to kill the Demon King?"
"It's that I need more assured measures—I intend to seriously kill it."
"Huh?"
Only two people in the world could grasp the weight of that statement; the other, Milliarde, was busy promoting her winery and couldn't pay attention.
"Against that kind of foe, there's no need to consider the thrill of battle. Taking it out in one strike is the safest bet."
"Can Master's body withstand a higher liberation?"
"Therefore, during this slumber, I intend to acquire new high-level rules, sufficient to support me in unleashing new maximum power without my body collapsing."
____
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