Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 352 : The Ball (1)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Palmaryan had long suspected as much.
The motive behind Marquis Palatio's construction of Divine Land.
He was likely aiming to claim the throne.
...
“Yes.”
“War?”
Yet despite that.
He never anticipated such a bold declaration of warlike intentions from the marquis.
To him, revealing it so directly seemed like a grave mistake—far below the standards of a true ruler.
“Haa...”
Letting out a sigh, Palmaryan pondered the situation with composure.
Was Marquis Palatio genuinely plotting to ignite a war?
Despite turning it over in his mind repeatedly, doubt kept creeping in.
Undoubtedly, superior strategies existed for someone of the marquis's stature.
However, remembering his son's account.
From every angle, it came across as a outright summons to conflict.
“So then... what exactly did you encounter there?”
In response to Palmaryan's inquiry, Tolenis composed himself and recounted every event in Divine Land, sparing no particulars.
Starting from the initial exchange upon encountering Marquis Palatio.
To the Divine Land knight's rundown of the territory's “deficiencies.”
And culminating in the marquis's dismissal of all sponsorship proposals.
“That covers it all.”
“Is that everything?”
“Indeed, sire.”
Palmaryan released yet another sigh.
Regardless of how he examined it.
No matter the viewpoint or motive he considered.
The marquis's purpose stood out plainly.
In essence.
“If war is what you wish to avoid, then resolve this without bloodshed. Compensate us—but not with the sum you proposed, far greater...”
He weighed the implications gravely.
Marquis Palatio possessed immense strength.
His remarkable exploits had elevated his standing immensely across the Allied Kingdoms.
Nevertheless.
Such overt demands for tribute would hardly benefit the marquis.
For even with his might, should the Allied Kingdoms unite their resolve and launch a collective assault—
Should they proceed...
“Hmm.”
“...Could he still be defeated?”
Palmaryan reflected on the marquis's past accomplishments.
Then he contemplated the loyal followers at his side.
Indeed, victory wouldn't come easily.
Deepening his contemplation, the man who had remained quiet throughout finally interjected.
“Your Majesty, might I offer a word?”
“Go ahead.”
It was Duke Padrima, who had been delivering a distinct report.
“I suggest convening with the rest to deliberate on this collectively.”
“That comes across as advocating joint war preparations alongside the other realms. Am I right?”
“Precisely.”
“Do you doubt the significance of Marquis Palatio’s deeds?”
The duke denied it with a shake of his head.
“Far from it. Truly, within the Allied Kingdoms, none would presume to belittle him.”
“Then what prompts such advice?”
“The prospects ahead, Your Majesty.”
“The future?”
Echoing Palmaryan's soft utterance, Duke Padrima pressed on.
“Marquis Palatio shall ascend to kingship. Yet do you believe that will sate him?”
“You imply—”
“I hold that Marquis Palatio will hunger for even greater conquests.”
“...”
Palmaryan lapsed into brief silence.
Certainly, this remained mere conjecture.
No soul could predict the marquis's forthcoming decisions with certainty.
Still, the duke's assertion held plausible weight.
Even if Palmaryan couldn't fully discern the marquis's nature.
The fellow wielded ample might to pursue ambitions of that scale.
Thus, as Palmaryan stroked his chin repeatedly, immersed in reflection—
“Your Majesty—”
“Yes?”
“Reports indicate Ashtalon has voiced its commitment to fund Divine Land.”
“What?”
A knight burst in bearing the pressing news.
“Is this accurate?”
“Affirmative—confirmed by our scout.”
“Hmm...”
Palmaryan knitted his brows.
Admittedly, the Kingdom of Ashtalon had suffered heavy losses, weakening its influence among the Allied Kingdoms. Excluding them from any conflict wouldn't pose a severe problem.
Yet the core issue lay here.
Ashtalon's very declaration of sponsorship for Divine Land.
Once this became widely known.
Irrespective of Palmaryan's position, fellow states might rally in solidarity.
And should that unfold.
The prospect of war would vanish entirely.
“If I waver now and endorse it after the rest—”
Earning the marquis's ire would prove all too straightforward.
And that was decidedly unfavorable.
Marquis Palatio wasn't yet a sovereign; he commanded only Divine Land.
But his exploits alone instilled caution against antagonizing him.
Consequently.
“No alternative.”
Palmaryan grasped it distinctly.
Just one path had ever existed.
He emitted a profound groan.
***
Merely moments before, Duke Padrima had urgently advocated his stance to Palmaryan.
But during the coach journey to his domain now, he tsked in annoyance.
Owing to Palmaryan's ruling.
“Yet another complication.”
Duke Padrima—
Rather, the infiltrator from the Eastern Empire Kasranoia, who had slipped into the Allied Kingdoms two decades prior—
Exhaled deeply.
“Why does it all tangle up so...”
Frustration pounded in his skull.
Upon first slaying the duke and assuming his guise.
He'd assumed smooth sailing ahead.
The Allied Kingdoms proved far laxer than the Empire, after all.
Naturally, the Empire divided into four rival groups too...
This realm, fractured among five kingdoms and minor duchies, served as prime soil for his aim of inciting “internal strife within the Allied Kingdoms.”
Moreover, vast areas lay beyond the Allied Kingdoms' firm grip.
It formed a fertile breeding ground for the factions he could manipulate and expand.
Hence, until recently, he was confident his scheme would unfold without hitch.
The emergence of Outer Gods even prompted his silent cheers.
Until Marquis Palatio stepped forth.
The marquis dismantled one kingdomly peril after another, in a way that bordered on the uncanny.
Beyond that.
Since he commenced his serious endeavors.
The covert syndicates he had cultivated were eradicated successively, ripped apart.
“...”
Recalling those events, he couldn't suppress a sigh.
To this day, his gut twisted at the memory of how his meticulously built networks vanished—daily, one or two at a time.
Granted, Marquis Palatio hadn't personally demolished those syndicates.
However, the bizarre chain reaction sparked by the marquis's emergence had spiraled beyond restraint.
And it was dooming his strategies to collapse.
Even the daughter he'd groomed ages ago to sway Marquis Palatio had come to naught.
Likewise, his bid to incite Palmaryan at the opportune instant had fallen flat.
“Time's running short... I must spark a war before it expires—”
He grumbled restlessly while sketching fresh tactics.
“This... presents quite intriguing intel.”
“Shall we extract further details?”
“Indeed, let's do so.”
He remained oblivious to any eavesdroppers.
Duke Padrima, who had presumptuously sought to bend Marquis Palatio to his will.
In retribution, albeit mild, the elf and lizardman dispatched by Magrina fixed their gleaming stares upon him.
***
Alon reached the Magic Tower roughly a week afterward.
“Wow, it's enormous.”
Seolrang gaped at the immense edifice looming afar.
“Hey—shift! You're blocking my view!”
Ryanga nudged Seolrang away, as Historia quietly directed her eyes toward the structure.
Observing them in stillness, Alon abruptly remembered the prior week's occurrences.
Rine and Magrina departed immediately after the alliances formed.
Rine, manifesting via an artifact, naturally had to recede in time.
And Magrina, leading the elves, couldn't linger excessively.
Yutia had also taken her leave temporarily.
“She mentioned some affairs, didn't she?”
Wearing an expression of deep reluctance, Yutia vowed a reunion in Terea prior to heading to Rosario.
Thus, Alon journeyed to the tower solely with Ryanga, Historia, and Seolrang.
Yet despite the reduced group, the carriage brimmed with clamor.
Seolrang and Ryanga traded mischief nonstop en route.
...Each escapade demolishing a modest hill or obliterating a segment of the path.
All the same, it kept Alon from tedium during the trip.
“Huh?”
The scene unfolding prompted an odd query.
With no conference in session—and the site meant to be serene—
Mages thronged the premises.
As though the tower's entire populace had spilled outdoors.
“What in the world are they?”
“Vagrants...?”
Seolrang and Historia whispered while eyeing the throng.
From their vantage, such an assumption made sense.
Even Alon noted the mages' exhausted appearances.
Upon nearer look, tiny shelters dotted the area sporadically.
As if geared for an extended encampment.
Involuntarily, Alon dismissed the notion with a headshake.
Their garb unmistakably marked them as sorcerers.
Which only amplified his bewilderment.
Whatever could compel mages to camp around the tower?
It defied logic.
And precisely then—
“Gasp!”
“A... a carriage!”
“Wh-who's that!”
Alon caught the mages' exclamations.
“M-Marquis Palatio!”
“Ah!”
“It's Marquis Palatio's carriage!”
“R-really?”
“Yes! That's the marquis's transport!”
The mages' shouts echoed.
Suddenly, those weary forms, previously fixed on the dirt, all swiveled toward Alon.
And then—
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud—
They charged toward him in frenzy.
“Uh—”
“Wh-what's happening?”
“Boss, want me to scatter them?”
Briefly, Alon wavered.
Hundreds of mages hurtling at him with frantic gazes created immense strain.
Thus, as Alon pondered his action—
And Seolrang, gravely poised, prepared to raise her foot—
“L-Lord Marquis! Select me, I beg you!”
“?”
A mage pleaded fervently.
“N-no, choose me! I'm skilled! Excellent at fundamental computations!”
“Out of the way!!! I'm a professor—actually, I am a professor! Pick me! I implore you!!”
“Choose me! Please choose me!!”
“Huh??”
As if this instant had been anticipated, they surged to the carriage.
Yelling in panic, akin to proclaiming, “I'm proficient at programming!”
Alon's mind reeled in astonishment.