Lewd King's Bucket List

To have so much fun yesterday, only to now be forced into some farce called the 'Royal Council.' A monthly occurrence where the high-ranking nobles, chancellors, and king all gathered in one room to discuss the state of Catatran.

Ixion, despite his lazy nature and inclination toward seclusion, always attended these councils. Such was the duty of a king, even a mad one.

'At least sometimes they're entertaining!'

But most of the time, they were boring, filled with talk of trading, internal strife, and other trivial matters.

These meetings used to be few and far between, but ever since the situation with the Scourge worsened, they've become monthly.

'Ah, but at least I get to piss off the nobles directly…'

Ixion hadn't gotten to do that recently. He'd been pissing them off, yes, but never directly to their faces.

Ixion was the first to enter the Council Chamber, taking a seat at the head of the table. He leaned back in the ornate, dazzling chair, then threw his legs onto the table.

Underneath the table, the jester crawled around after sneaking in.

The chamberlains, Sebastian and Laplace, stood at the entrance, beneath Catatran's engraved motto, letting in the four chancellors. After them, the nobles followed.

Count Marcus was the first to enter. Despite his defeat the day prior, he seemed in quite a cheerful mood. Perhaps that was because, other than Reina drawing blood, he had provided the best display of talent.

'I hate seeing that grin on his face!'

Ixion clicked his tongue.

'Maybe I should go steal his horse…'

It was quite a fearsome steed.

The next to enter was Marquise Morris, the lowest-ranking member of the council, one of two marquises, yet his brilliant tactical mind had earned him a seat at the table.

Ixion growled at the man with flowing blonde hair and a mole under his eye as he sat down.

"You fought brilliantly, Marcus."

The Count, unaware of Ixion's direct hatred for him, bowed, then took his seat on the far side of the table.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

The next to enter was another participant of the duel, Duke Lorkel.

Lorkel sported a fresh scar on his lip. Maybe that wouldn't have happened if he had his usual sword and armor, but because of the restrictions, he faced Ixion with his spare set. And because he was wearing a spare set, the helmet wasn't fitted perfectly, causing the lower visor to cut deeply into his lip.

The duke, one of the few who usually gave Ixion a genuine, friendly smile, now sneered as he took his seat at the opposite end of the table.

'I guess you're still mad about what I said about Claire…'

As he should be.

Ixion averted his gaze as he watched a few more nobles file in: Duke Marlowe, Count Nayu, Marquise Abd al-Rahman, and finally, Count Rabadon.

'Ah, all twelve of us are here!'

Or thirteen if you included the jester hiding under the table.

The moment Count Rabadon sat down, a rare elder, an older man in his late sixties, Ixion took his feet off the table and began the meeting.

"I'd like to thank the two of you who took part in my training, and the rest of you for sending knights along in your stead. I got some great practice in. My blade has shed some of its rust."

Duke Marlowe, staring flatly at Ixion's cut, which was almost healed, responded evenly.

"I'm glad you got your training in."

'Ah, still no reverence? Marlowe, Marlowe, how bold you are.'

"Duke, how goes the building of my statue?"

The sly man with clean-cut brown hair stroked his goatee.

"We've been able to section off your desired area, but it will take time to find the marble. Unless you wish to lift the embargo on Hilaria. I've heard their marble mines are swelling."

'Mm-mm. Don't try to play me, dear Marlowe. I know you have the marble already.'

Ixion was dead set on keeping all sanctions in place. Nothing would get him to lift them, not with that plague on the horizon.

'That dumbass nameless man.'

Ixion shook the stray thoughts out of his head as he looked over at Count Rabadon.

"Old man, how goes the Tower of Advancement? Any new discoveries?"

"Sadly, none in the way of resisting the Scourge, but we have developed a new method that tricks Aether into freezing itself. With this, we will preserve food much longer while saving water. The device we crafted is only a prototype, but we should be able to mass-produce it in due time."

"Ah, what good news!"

Duke Marlowe placed his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers.

"Yes, that is indeed incredible news."

As for what the tower was, it was a building housing the finest minds of Catatran, dedicated to researching Scourge countermeasures, as well as developing technology to improve quality of life.

'And it seems they've made quite the discovery!'

Not that it mattered.

But Ixion's guess on how such a thing was possible was simple.

'Trapping frozen Aether particles in a confined, insulated area and having them freeze the other particles.'

Or something like that.

That seemed to be the only way such a phenomenon was possible.

The next to speak was a man with dark hair, a thick black beard, and a light-brown skin tone. It was a man Ixion knew very well, having been one of his soldiers who fought alongside him on nearly every battlefield. If Morris made it into the council due to his tactical mindset, Marquise Abd al-Rahman made it in due to his strength.

A strength even greater than Count Marcus', Duke Lorkel's, and even Count Tristan's.

And, unlike most nowadays, he lived outside of the castle in Fortress Lunara.

"Your Majesty, beast activity has reached an all-time peak in the South. I'd like to request a relief squadron."

Since Catatran's army wasn't being used for anything except patrol sectors, Ixion really had no reason to refuse. But…

'It's time to cause some mischief.'

"You aim to undermine Catatran's defenses during this period of unrest." Ixion laughed, "How nonsensical!"