Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 370: War of Annihilation 2

After breakfast, several white-haired old nobles, leaning on carved canes, and a spy chief in black leather armor, followed Vivian through a corridor lined with oil paintings to the conference room to discuss important matters.

At the same time, Caesars walked alone to the rose garden on the west side of the castle, where hundreds of precious roses were planted. The morning dew was still hanging on the petals, and the air was filled with refreshing fragrance.

He pulled a thick, soft mat made from a giant bear hide from his space and carefully spread it across the smooth marble slab in the center of the garden. Sunlight streamed through the vine-wrapped archway, and Caesars lay comfortably on the velvet-filled pillow. Then, his fat dog, weighing over a thousand pounds, rushed over joyfully and rolled onto its back beside him, nearly knocking him off the mat.

"You idiot, you better be careful," Caesars scolded with a smile, reaching out to pat the fat dog's muscles that were as solid as rocks. "You are no longer the little puppy you used to be. With your size, you can crush me into a meat pie with just one flip!"

The fat ball blew hot air from its nose in dissatisfaction, tilted its head and squinted at its master with its large scarlet eyes. As a highly intelligent monster, it knew that Kaisus could easily lift objects weighing thousands of pounds, so its own weight was nothing to be afraid of.

"Dead dog, the Pope is now a dead ghost, you should have a decent name."

Kaisas sat on a soft animal hide mat, his back against the fat dog covered in flesh. He poked the fat dog's greasy belly with his finger and said, "Little golden-eyed black devil snake will be called spring from now on, and you will be called noodles from now on!"

The fat dog, dozing comfortably on the sun-dappled hide, pricked up its ears at the words, its wet eyes narrowed in discontent, and a protesting whimper emanated from the depths of its throat. It rolled over, its fat rear end facing its owner, its tail weakly slapping the ground.

"What? Don't like it?"

Caesars grabbed the dog's ears and watched the golden dust dancing among its fur in the sunlight. "That's called bread, right? You're full of flesh and plump." He suddenly laughed, revealing two pointed fangs. "It's exactly the same as the milk-flavored bread I make!"

The fat dog trembled under the rubbing of its owner, its fluffy fur undulating like waves of wheat in the spring breeze. It whimpered reluctantly, grudgingly accepting this imperfect name. After all, it knew that if it protested again, who knew if its unconventional owner would come up with something even more shameful like "Meatballs" or "Mashed Potatoes."

As the midday sun shone through the stained glass windows of the council chamber, several old nobles in long robes and secret service chiefs in dark cloaks filed out, their boot heels clacking on the stone steps and startling the white doves perched by the fountain.

When the group passed through the rose arch and saw Caesars sprawled on the garden ground, sunlight streaming down his magic robes while a fat dog gnawed on a ham stolen from somewhere beside him, a complex emotion flashed through everyone's eyes. The ever-smiling Chancellor of the Exchequer unconsciously touched his tight embroidered collar, suddenly feeling the weight of power and officialdom as suffocating.

Amidst the powerful aristocracy, rife with conspiracy and calculation, perhaps only a powerless border noble like Caesars could truly enjoy this unburdened ray of spring sunshine. Far from the maelstrom of power, this place would be a paradise if the Saint Laurent Empire were to fall.

Duke Solomon walked slowly along the stone path, startling a few birds that were looking for food. He looked at Caesars, who was leaning against the fat dog, holding a crystal glass and admiring the amber color dyed by the morning sun.

"Caesars," the Duke said, stroking the serpentine pattern on his gilded cane. "Lady Vivian personally inspected two hundred specially crafted alchemical bombs this morning." He paused, looking at the wine glass in the other's hand, which had suddenly frozen. "The war will begin in two days."

Under the flower stand, Caesars gently swirled his wine glass, and the startled wine droplets traced scarlet trails along the glass wall. "This lord still can't change his fiery meteor temperament." Caesars smiled wryly, pouring the remaining wine on the rose bushes, startling a few blue-winged beetles the size of a fingernail. "Even if we allow time for the horses to rest, the carriage will take at least a day and a half to reach Bonebreaker Castle..."

He suddenly stood up, shaking the petals from his clothes. The adamantine dagger at his waist gleamed in the sunlight. "Looks like I'll only be able to sleep in Bonebreaker Castle for half the night. But you know what—" He suddenly revealed a sharp, hawk-like gaze, "I don't need to prepare. I can set out at any time."

"Bread, get up quickly, let's go to Bonebreaker Castle!"

Caesars gently kicked the fat dog curled up on the animal-skin rug with his leather boot. Sunlight cast mottled shadows on the dark red fur. The dog's ears twitched slightly, and it buried its wet black nose deeper into its front paws, snoring loudly.

"You idiot, let's ride in the Duke's gilded carriage, eat his prized candied cherry pie, and drink his prized wine!" Caesars crouched down, enunciating each word slowly and loudly. Before he finished speaking, the fat dog, pretending to sleep, pricked up its ears, its scarlet eyes rolled in its wrinkles, and it rolled over with a grunt, its stubby, powerful tail wagging.

Caesars smiled as he neatly rolled up the animal-skin mat. Duke Solomon coughed, "It just stole ten barrels of wine from me, and now it wants to drink in my carriage? No way!"

"Did you hear that?" Caesars suddenly grabbed the fat dog by its droopy little triangular ears. The dog immediately tilted its head, its wet nose wrinkled into a grievance, but its tail honestly swept up a cloud of dust behind it. "Stupid dog, have you forgotten our agreement?" Caesars lowered his voice, twisting his fingers gently on the dog's ears. "If you have good things, you should give me half. Don't even think about having all the food here with Master Caesars!"

The fat dog's mouth stretched almost to its ears, revealing jagged, snow-white fangs. It shuffled to the side, pawed at the storage ring with its front paws, and five oak barrels tumbled out. Duke Solomon's eyes widened, his silver beard trembling slightly. He looked at the smug Caesars, then at the fat dog feigning innocence while wagging its tail. Suddenly, he realized that both man and dog were scoundrels.

Several luxurious carriages inlaid with gold and silver slowly rolled out of the castle gates, their heavy wheels leaving shallow ruts on the cobblestones. The massive guards, already lined up outside the city, sprang into action, the clatter of armor and the thud of horses' hooves blending into one cacophony. This elite force quickly split into two wings, closely guarding the carriages in the center.

Caesars leaned against the carriage window, his gaze gazing into the distance through the fluttering curtains. The scene of Bonebreaker Castle over a decade ago was still vivid in his mind—in order to gain soul energy, he challenged the fortress across from the Bone Land, ultimately destroying most of it. It was there, in that wasteland shrouded in the aura of death, that he met old Roman, now a necromancer, over twenty years later.

At this thought, a sneer curled across Kaisas's lips. Necromancers, a profession so mysterious and powerful to the world, he saw them as nothing more than a pathetic bunch seeking death. They believed they held the secret to eternal life, but in reality, they had simply chosen a more painful and slow death. Those spellcasters, constantly surrounded by skeletons, must endure long slumbers to digest the soul energy they absorbed. Each slumber came at a heavy price—memories slipped away like sand in an hourglass. Repeated slumber, repeated oblivion, until finally, they could no longer remember who they were, reduced to empty souls wandering the world.

The carriage sped along the border road, its wheels clattering dully over gravel. The drivers took turns steering, their horses' manes drenched in sweat, gleaming silver in the moonlight. During the only brief pause along the way, the servants deftly unsaddled the weary steeds and fed them oats smeared with honey and clear mountain spring water.

When the first rays of morning sun pierced through the clouds, the convoy could already see the towering arrow tower of Bonebreaker Fort - this border fortress was entrenched in the mountain pass like a behemoth, and the torches on the city walls were burned all night long.

On the plains outside Bonebreaker Fort, military tents stretched like a sudden mushroom. The flags of the Second and Seventh Legions fluttered in the morning breeze, blending seamlessly with the crimson banners of the fortress headquarters. Smoke rose from thousands of hearths, and the clinking of metal armor echoed incessantly. A rough estimate suggested the forces gathered here could fill half a large city.

As Vivian's carriage passed through the three demonsteel gates, the council elders, who had been waiting for a long time, immediately surrounded them. They wore heavy velvet robes embroidered with family crests, their silver ribbons gleaming in the morning light, and like a swarm of worker bees finding honey, they led the Valkyrie to the domed meeting hall.

At the same time, Caesars's boots stepped over the spiral stone steps and ascended to the strategic observation room on the top floor of the fortress. The magic telescope there was specially calibrated to clearly see the cracks on the wall of the Bone Castle twenty miles away.

Those mages obsessed with necromancy have sealed themselves in slumbering sarcophagi so many times that their soul fire has begun to react symbiotically with the magic patterns within the sarcophagus. A separation of more than six hours will cause the soul fire to tremble, and this cruel reality turns the necromancer into a prisoner.

Through the magic mirror, the Bone Castle was as silent as a cemetery. The magic steel gates remained motionless, as if welded shut. Only the occasional flash of light from the battlements betrayed the presence of those watching—the lenses of at least a dozen observation posts reflected the morning sun like a row of malicious eyes.

In the spacious meeting hall of Bonebreaker Keep, flickering lights cast Vivian's silhouette against the mottled stone walls. She wore a finely crafted suit of dark red leather armor, each plate gleaming with a chilling gleam. Her scarlet cape fluttered across her shoulders, casting a blood-red shadow on the ground. The Ironblood commander leaned on his sheathed longsword in one hand, the jet-black scabbard striking the Bonebreaker Keep symbol in the center of the map with a heart-pounding, crisp sound.

"Listen carefully!" Her icy voice echoed beneath the dome. "Caesars will drop enough alchemical bombs from the air to blast a path through the entire Bone Castle." The scabbard drew an arc along the map. "The Second and Seventh Legions must maintain their formation after the explosion and wait at least fifteen minutes—those bombs are laced with a deadly poison. I'll kill every bastard who escapes the blast in the poisonous mist!" She suddenly turned, her cloak waving in a wave of blood. "Remember, the Roland Empire's battle flag doesn't need prisoners to sully it, and we don't have the money to support a bunch of useless people!"

"Lady Vivian!"

Duke Joyce pushed aside the general in front of him, his long, gold-embroidered robe radiating a golden glow. The old noble, renowned for his kindness, paled. "There are hundreds of thousands of lives in the Bone Castle! Do we really want to..." His voice faded under the other man's fierce gaze.

"Foolish!" Vivian suddenly leaped up, slamming her longsword, scabbard included, onto the oak table, causing a corner of the map to curl up. Leaning over and glaring at the old noble, her leather armor creaked dangerously. "Have you calculated how much food and fodder you'll need to feed sixty to seventy thousand captives? How many elite troops will you need to guard them?" She straightened up, her sword pointed precisely at another spot on the map. "Before sunset tonight, our flag will be raised on the walls of Holy Thunder City. That will provide tens of thousands more mouths to feed—" A sneer echoed through the hall. "You want our own soldiers to fight on an empty stomach?"

The old duke's silver beard trembled: "Then... Holy Thunder City also..."

"Kill!" Vivian cut the question short, her scabbard plowing deep grooves into the map. "Everyone who has taken a weapon, from the city lord to the groom, leave no one alive!" She suddenly bared her sharp teeth. "As for those noble Saint Laurent nobles and charlatans..." Her scarlet cloak swirled into a perfect semicircle. "Their blood will water our battle flag!"

The prestige of the "Blood Rose" received its most brutal confirmation at this moment. Inside the council chamber, the once-high-ranking aristocrats' faces were ashen, their trembling fingers tightly gripping their scepters, yet they could no longer utter a single sound. Vivian's cold gaze swept across these pampered faces, a cruel arc curling at the corner of her mouth. The new order of the Saint Laurent Empire had no need for these corrupt parasites; the common people were the true foundation of this empire.

"Execute them all!"

These four simple words spelled the end of the entire aristocracy. This wasn't because the Empire's granaries couldn't afford to feed these captives, but rather because Vivian knew better than anyone that these entrenched old forces were like lurking venomous snakes, poised to attack the new regime at any moment. The church's charlatans, even more so, used their hypocritical teachings to deceive the people and must be eradicated.

The heavy atmosphere was broken by the sudden opening of the hallway. Caesars entered the hall, carrying a chilling aura of magic. Dark golden runes on his black robes appeared and disappeared with his steps. He nodded slightly to Vivian, the staff of death in his hand emitting a faint magical glow.

"The Second and Seventh Legions will march out immediately." Vivian's voice was like a sharp blade being unsheathed. "Stand by three miles away from the Bone Castle, waiting for Caesar's alchemical bomb to blow up the Bone Castle." Her fingertips tapped lightly on the armrests of the chair, and each tap sounded like the approaching footsteps of death.

The legion commanders responded in unison, their armored boots clanging in unison. As orders spread rapidly through the magical communication stones, the massive, magic-steel gates of Bonebreaker Castle slowly opened with a sharp hinge click, revealing the bloody dawn outside. Amidst the dust raised by the iron cavalry, the scent of death spread.