The Vastness of Magical Destiny

Shami Taegor watched the items spread out before him on the desk with an air of irritation. Documents that once sparked his interest now seemed glaringly obtrusive; he shook his head as if to dislodge a headache. How could such trouble arise now from what used to be smooth sailing, he wondered?

He knew he mustn’t be rash. Wolfe and the rest were still mocking him. Even Mouni and Bill were observing with detached amusement. The only real support he had came from Christina alone. As for Dashler, you couldn’t expect any backing from him; he always managed to maintain a disgustingly neutral stance.

He needed to thoroughly ponder what might have caused the state of affairs. Jazair had been steady for over a year and was supposedly advancing steadily on the track set by himself and Christina. Under his firm control, the Beamon had even started adapting to the Mortals’ civil customs. He believed that Beamon could utilize the Mortals’ civilization for their benefit, and over the past year, it seemed to prove true. So why had this problem suddenly emerged?

Shami Taegor knew that he had to persevere now, or else his authority would be greatly damaged—a sign often heralding the end of a king’s era. Yet he believed he could overcome this difficulty; it wasn’t an insurmountable issue, he reassured himself silently.

Shami carefully reviewed his recent policies and strategies. There were no significant changes, and from the feedback, there was no evidence of Mortals harboring hostility towards these policies. He and Christine had been cautious in their implementation, even to the point of compromising their own tribe’s interests. If, despite all this, they couldn’t win the Mortals’ support, he was at a loss for words.

The problem was that the initial progress had been smooth, so why the sudden turbulence now? There had to be something amiss, Shami vaguely suspected, but without sufficient information from Dashler, he couldn’t make a definitive assertion.

A series of light footsteps approached from outside; Shami didn’t need to guess who it was. These days, the only visitor, aside from Christina, was none other than the poor Wolfe, who was probably seething with jealousy. Why torment himself? Women needed care and warmth, or there would eventually be problems; Wolfe seemed not to grasp that notion. Shami smiled self-mockingly. When had he become as sentimental as those of the Rabbit Tribe or Deer Tribe?

Shami had to admit he harbored some thoughts about Christina, but he knew she held no such feelings for him. The years of relationship with Carter couldn’t be severed simply because he bore the title of king. But he relished the atmosphere of close daily discussions, just like the Mortals, savoring tea and coffee, collaboratively exploring policies, and finding solutions to issues. Despite the pressure, it was genuinely pleasing.