Chapter 78 78: Realization
Re-clearing the limestone arches of Valeria Hall, Lucia mobilized the final reserves of his concentration to outline a brief sequence of security directives to Aegis, before collapsing fully across the heavy velvet bedding to fall into a deep, un-interrupted comatose sleep.
Across that grueling watches of dawn and twilight, his system had initial executed a near-fatal, full-voltage extraction duel against Radahn, before immediately throwing his entire divine treasury into the breach to seal the active formatting of the Scarlet Rot within Malenia's bone. If Lucia's processors had clutched the explicit data stating that his single-handed intervention had simultaneously shattered an apocalyptic cosmic alignment meticulously engineered by an Outer Deity over thousands of winters, his mind would likely have registered an immense amusement at how completely efficient his output metrics had been that day—a performance that perfectly mirrored the high-velocity speedrunning cycles logged across his past life behind the screen.
Clearing that volume of work, his internal batteries were almost as thoroughly bankrupted as Miquella's own channels. Fortunately, his biological parameters as an Ancient Dragon were twice as robust as those of a certain Golden Saint who was notoriously un-optimized for physical attrition, and with the properties of the Cradle Blessing continuously executing non-stop internal and external repairs across his tissue, a solitary day and night of sleep was sufficient to restore his indicators to full compliance.
The moment his eyelids blinked open, Lucia registered zero residual fatigue; his baseline systems were operating under an unprecedented, fluid smoothness, his internal Vitality and divine grace streaming through his pathways without a single point of structural friction.
It was an undeniable axiom of high-tier combat: forcing a cross of steel against an apex champion like the Starscourge—where an operator is conformed to push his swordsmanship, martial finesse, and liturgical incantations to their absolute physical limits—hand-delivers an immense progression dividend. The micro-second systemic awkwardness he had routinely tracked while linking his Storm Slashes and switching between his twin blades during everyday drills had been unconsciously purged and smoothed over by the survival instincts of the melee. Even standing within a baseline resting state, Lucia could evaluate that his master-level control over his entire capability roster had ascended to a completely separate tier of efficiency.
"Your Highness, has your consciousness cleared its sleep cycle?" Aegis's soft, disciplined baritone suddenly filtered through the heavy oak door from the corridor.
Bypassing the standard configuration of checking his simulation loot parameters inside the gray void of the Memory Battlefield, Lucia threw a dark silk traveling gown over his shoulders and un-latched the lock. "Identify the variable. What has hit our gate?"
Monitoring the immense, vibrant vital energy illuminating his prince's features, Aegis's broad shoulders relaxed a visible fraction. "Reporting to Your Highness... a representative from the High Court has cleared our perimeter. The Lord High Chamberlain of the Eternal Palace, Viscount Shabriri, operating under the explicit executive mandate of His Majesty Radagon, has dropped anchor within our courtyard to deliver his respects. Processing the data that Your Highness was executing a recovery cycle, his office petitioned that I convey a direct message: He humbly inquires if Your Highness might authorize an immediate audience—adding the explicit rider that if your shield is currently non-responsive, his carriage shall retreat and await your schedule later down the watch."
"The Lord High Chamberlain of the Eternal Palace... Shabriri?"
Lucia's silver eyelashes lifted a fraction of an inch, his internal tactical engine instantly executing a hard, defensive alert. It appeared the Elden Lord had finally processed the data of his daughter's preservation while Lucia was sleeping, and this administrative movement was clearly engineered to liquidate the unspoken political contract binding their respective crowns.
Concurrently, the simple phonetic registry of the name Shabriri triggered an immense, cold vigilance across his consciousness. Although he had spent his capital watches systematically studying the genealogy of the ruling aristocracy through the high-tier networks of the Ancient Dragon Temple, his archives had never logged the data entry stating that this specific entity—the individual who would later go down in the blackest histories of the world as the prime vector for the Frenzied Flame Sickness—was currently pulling oxygen as the supreme Chamberlain governing the monarch's domestic bureaucracy.
Unlike the minor, localized role Clavell had occupied as an internal affairs scribe within the western baronies, the Lord High Chamberlain of the Eternal Palace comprised a regular, high-yield pillar of the imperial bureaucracy—functioning as the absolute closest private advisor to the person of the Sovereign. While the title lacked the highest hereditary military rank, the Chamberlain wielded a terrifying volume of executive power due to his direct, un-monitored responsibility for the daily operations and personal environment of the Majesties. Even the most powerful Grand Dukes anchoring the outer court ministries would never dare to display a single point of diplomatic friction toward a minister who possessed the legal authority to drop words into the Emperor's ear during his waking watches.
"Your Highness? Does the registry contain an anomaly?" Aegis asked softly, tracking his master's sudden stillness.
"A nominal variable," Lucia nodded smoothly, his court mask re-conforming to his features. "Inform his office to migrate to the grand drawing room. My person shall complete the morning ablutions and join his table within the watch."
"Nominal."
Twenty minutes later, Lucia breached the threshold of the formal reception chamber to receive Shabriri.
This comprised the absolute first time his eyes had audited the material face of the legend. The man presented the aesthetics of a polished, middle-aged aristocrat tracking somewhere between his third and fourth decades of life, encased within an extraordinarily elegant, dark silk court robe. His features were framed by a sharp, meticulously trimmed mustache, and a faint, permanent, obsequious smile was written across his lips.
Catching the flash of Lucia's silver hair from across the parquet, Shabriri immediately cleared his seat to advance through the room, executing a deep, flawless court bow that brought his torso parallel to the rug as his voice emerged in a smooth, honeyed pitch. "The domestic administration of the Eternal Palace extends its total compliance... Lord High Chamberlain Shabriri hand-delivers his highest greetings to Your Royal Highness, Prince Luciassax!"
Lucia signaled a flat permission with his palm. "Viscount Shabriri, clear your knees; rise."
He reached out his gauntlet to grasp the courtier's hand, personally guiding his silks back toward the cushions of the sofa with a practiced, aristocratic grace. "My system sustained a massive deficit of stamina during yesterday's watches, leaving my office entirely blind to the data that the Viscount intended to clear our gates today. My sleep has run late across the morning clock; the fault for keeping your carriage waiting within my reception hall rests entirely with my house."
Hearing the Prince of Farum Azula assume the moral burden of the delay, an expression of profound, simulated terror instantly mapped Shabriri's features. The exact millisecond his silk breeches touched the cushion, his spine snapped back straight, his torso launching upward to clear the sofa as his hands lifted in frantic humility. "Your Servant comprises nothing more than a lowly domestic minister, tracing my arrival to this hall but a briefwatch past! By what manual of protocol could my un-vouched frame ever deserve such a monument of royal courtesy from Your Highness's crown?"
Having navigated the lethal corridors of the Eternal Palace for decades without the structural backing of an ancestral military lineage, Shabriri's cognitive processors understood with absolute perfection what manner of theatrical mask to deploy before which tier of royalty, and precisely when to strike the iron.
Previously, when Lucia's vanguard had initial cleared the capital gates, his position within the high court had been dangerously un-staged—vaguely cataloged by the ministries as nothing more than a decorated "hostage" designed to keep the peace. Although his title had been legally consecrated by the Two Fingers under the absolute mandate of the Greater Will to occupy a future godhood slot, his authority was under non-stop, passive resistance from the massive bloc of New Faction bureaucrats anchored to Radagon's interest. Across those early watches, it was mathematically consistent that a significant percentage of the court barons had lacked the stomach to take this young Ancient Dragon Demigod seriously.
However, once the sun had dipped below the horizon yesterday evening... the entire math of the continent had suffered a catastrophic restructuring.
The entity standing before his eyes had first systematically broken the un-yielding martial line of Prince Radahn in an open, un-sanctioned trial of arms—and conformed precisely to the hidden desires of the Majesties, his steel had spared the three heirs of Caria, preventing a continental war. Then, across the midnight watch, his scales had joined two other divine Empyreans to successfully weave an absolute, airtight seal over the radioactive curse corrupting Princess Malenia's flesh.
Having closed two monumental historical files within a twenty-four-hour window, his house had not merely secured the permanent, un-fused gratitude of the twin sovereigns; the entire military apparatus of the capital—anchored by the ancient Crucible Knights and led by Commander Ordovis—now evaluated the Dragon Prince as a legendary hero who had single-handedly preserved Leyndell's sovereign martial dignity. At this specific watch, let alone a court viscount like Shabriri whose title lacked an ancestral land-grant and was legally non-hereditary... not even a Grand Duke of the Realm would dare to exhibit the slightest hint of diplomatic contempt toward Lucia's visor.
Following a brief, highly polished exchange of baseline courtly pleasantries, Shabriri recognized that the transition window was clear. He reached into an interior pocket clutched close to his ribs, extracting a palm-sized Erdtree Signet Token cast from solid, high-purity gold, presenting the artifact across his palms with a deep, reverent incline of his head. "This asset class was explicitly entrusted to my office by the direct hand of His Majesty, Radagon. I petition Your Royal Highness to audit the parameters."
Lucia accepted the weight across his gauntlet, his eyes tracing the masterwork craftsmanship of the gold. The token was framed by an intricate, raised border mimicking the wrapping vines of the Erdtree; the front face was deeply engraved with the absolute geometry of the Elden Ring, while the reverse face bore the nested symbols of the Golden Order Holy Seal—the cosmic ring conformed flawlessly inside an inverted triangle matrix. Its sheer administrative currency was loud enough to shake a library based on its material aesthetics and structural symbolism alone.
Before Lucia could articulate an inquiry, Shabriri pushed the data into the space. "Only three iterations of this specific Signet Token have been forged across the kilns since the foundational dawn of the Golden Dynasty. The parallel assets are clutched strictly within the private vaults of His Highness Godwyn and His Highness Miquella. To flaunt this gold across the capital thoroughfares is mathematically equivalent to His Majesty Radagon standing before the line in his own divine person. Your gauntlet possesses the absolute legal authority to freely mobilize any detachment of the Rodel Knights or Tree Sentinels under a three-hundred-man ceiling inside the capital lines—and crucially, the token serves as a Sovereign Warrant of Summary Execution against any aristocrat below the rank of Earl within this dynasty, entirely deleting the requirement to report the liquidation to His Majesty's office after the steel has cleared the leather."
Hearing the parameters governing the mobilization of capital troops, Lucia's tactical engine processed the data with a relaxed indifference. After all, which high noble house within the Upper District didn't command several hundred private house-guards within their barracks? Although the elite Rodel Knights possessed a world-class combat voltage, his personal familiarity with their officers was blank; if a physical crisis hit his perimeter, his voice would instantly call upon the absolute loyalty of his own Storm Knights and the Ancient Dragon Knights.
However... his cognitive processors experienced an absolute shockwave the second his ears parsed the clause granting him the authority to execute any aristocrat below the rank of Earl without a subsequent administrative report!
This structural privilege, naturally, didn't imply that his blade could now execute a non-stop murder spree through the capital plazas, butchering any baron whose face provoked his ire. Rather, the architectural stance adopted by Radagon directly implied that Lucia's line would be completely insulated from any passive aggression or political targeting from the New Faction nobility for a vast season down the timeline.
The dividend far out-scoped the boldest parameters simulated within his original calculations. Although his steel had fulfilled the unspoken terms of their lakeside contract, the King Consort's office shouldn't have dropped this magnitude of leverage onto his desk.
Lucia preserved a flawless, un-blinking courtly composure across his features, while his internal engine turned the variables over in a rapid loop. Ultimately, his logic could only isolate a singular consistent explanation: he had managed to harvest this specific Signet Token primarily because of the absolute, life-saving efficiency his dragonfire had demonstrated while mending Malenia's flesh last night. Yet, that golden bastard had explicitly gone off-grid the exact millisecond his daughter's life-readouts had hit their absolute most critical valley—by what ledger of sanity was he now presenting an executive posture that broadcast such an immense, desperate concern for the girl's well-being?
Catching the sudden, heavy silence dropping over the Prince's visor, Shabriri registered a micro-second of internal unease, his obsequious smile shifting as his voice tentative cleared his throat. "Your Royal Highness?"
"Ah," Lucia snapped back into the room, a warm, apologetic smile smoothing his sharp features. "My engine was simply evaluating the updates regarding His Majesty's recent absence due to his sudden illness. My house inquires after his current metrics—has his divinity stabilized?"
"Your Highness's empathy does the bloodline credit," Shabriri murmured smoothly, his eyes tracking Lucia's pupils with microscopic intensity. "Yesterday watch, His Majesty's consciousness was simply overwhelmed by an immense torrent of emotional voltage upon logging the long-awaited reunion with the Highnesses of Caria and the rest of his house; his boots cleared the city gates in absolute isolation simply to clear the noise from his processors. Regrettably, his divinity lacked the data tracking to anticipate that Princess Malenia's internal regression would choose that exact hour to detonate its fire."
The Chamberlain paused, his voice dropping into a lower, hyper-cautious register as he hand-delivered the core blueprint. "His Majesty explicitly stated that if your shield had lacked the courage to lunge its mass into the breach to deliver that timely alchemical assistance, his own crown would have almost executed a grave, permanent error due to a momentary negligence of his office. Consequently... he commanded that my lips convey his most profound, heartfelt gratitude across your table. If your vanguard logs a specific requirement or asset deficit down the coming timeline... His Majesty's administration will undeniably exert its absolute maximum output to satisfy the ledger."
The vocabulary was translucent in its clarity, and Lucia's meta-knowledge processed the underlying architecture without a single error—the Signet Token and the sudden, sweeping concessions from the New Faction ministries were merely the structural formatting of the payment; Radagon's private debt to his crown remained active, valid, and clutched within his fist. If his voice made an explicit executive demand at a critical juncture down the road, the Elden Lord's office would still be legally and politically conformed to honor the check without hesitation.
From both a moral ledger and a cold logical framework, Radagon's handling of the post-crisis cleanup could be cataloged as absolutely impeccable.
"His Majesty's vocabulary carries too generous a premium. Malenia's life-metrics were on the precipice; by what manual of honor could my shield maintain a passive posture?" Lucia said, his fingers tightening casually around the gold of the token as the final remnants of his strategic anxiety dissolved from his chest. "In any event, my house registers the absolute sincerity of His Majesty's grace. I petition that the Viscount returns to the high palace and hand-delivers my deepest gratitude to the throne for his concern."
Shabriri instantly cleared his cushion, dropping into a secondary, flawless bow as his obsequious smile returned to its peak setting. "Your Servant understands the directive with absolute clarity!"
Verifying that the Dragon Prince lacked any secondary administrative commands for his office, the court viscount executed a disciplined retreat to clear the doors. Lucia rose from his sofa to see him off at the threshold of the grand drawing room, before signaling Aegis with a nod to escort his carriage beyond the outer arcade.
Monitoring Shabriri's retreating, fluid silhouette as the Chamberlain dissolved into the long marble perspective of the gallery, Lucia's gauntlet slowly raised the pure gold Erdtree Signet Token, his thumb gently tracing the raised vines etched across the back as a low, thoughtful whisper escaped his teeth.
"If your soul has truly failed to mature into the loyal hound of the Golden Order at this chronological stage of the world..."
His silver eyes narrowed, staring into the empty space where the viscount had stood.
"...then what specific sector of the abyss have your paws been digging into, Shabriri?"
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