The Guardian gods Chapter 836

A dense, oppressive silence descended upon the hall, so profound it felt palpable, until Ragnar eventually offered a slow, measured nod.

"Your point, Valerius, holds merit," Ragnar stated, his tone transitioning from menacing to diplomatic. "Truly, there is no compelling reason to initiate hostilities with the people of Björn."

"Allow me to be candid with you," Ragnar continued, his voice resonating against the cold stone walls of the hall. "Aside from the imperative to retrieve our plundered artifact, my aim is for justice. I demand retribution for the demise of my father and for the innumerable lives extinguished in the conflict, encompassing the children of all present here today."

He allowed the gravity of his declaration to permeate the council before leaning forward, his gaze hardening. "But most critically, this matter impacts the future trajectory of our kingdom and our standing throughout the northern continent. I have recently stumbled upon some profoundly unsettling intelligence."

The pronouncement of "disturbing news" sent a current of apprehension through the council. Even the three Paragons, who had remained withdrawn in their own quietude, shifted in their seats, their attention now unequivocally captured.

"I have been privy to this information for some time, initially dismissing it as a peripheral concern," Ragnar confessed, his expression etched with grimness. "However, as time has elapsed, it has festered into a crisis demanding immediate attention."

With a deliberate gesture. The atmosphere above the central table began to waver, coalescing into a vivid, dynamic projection. The image first depicted a map of Björn, which then dissolved to reveal two distinct figures.

The first was a woman of formidable grace, her posture arched, adorned with immense, draconic wings, and her forehead graced by two sharp, jagged horns. Adjacent to her stood a man, his skin mirroring the deep, scorched crimson hue of Björn's inhabitants, yet his features were contorted into an expression of merciless arrogance, his head crowned with blood-red horns that pulsed with a malevolent inner luminescence.

A hush fell over the chamber, the only audible sound being the faint hum of the air responding to the projection. Every soul within the room seemed to hold their breath as the council members, including the three Paragons, leaned forward, their former indifference replaced by a tangible, chilling dread.

Ragnar pointed emphatically toward the two shimmering figures. "You all recognize them. The woman is Princess Lunara of the Werewolf Godlings, the sister of their current chieftain. The man beside her is Prince Leiko, the direct heir to the Björn throne."

He paused, allowing the implications of his announcement to settle, before proceeding, his voice slicing through the tension like a honed blade. "Decades ago, when the Beast Kings began to vanish, this continent was plunged into a period of brief turmoil. At that juncture, the Godlings extended an offer of aid to us, requesting our assistance in tracking and charting the movements of the Beast Kings within our vicinity."

Ragnar's finger indicated the projection. "It was only at a later stage that I unearthed the veracity of the situation; these two individuals were at the epicenter of that event. Nevertheless," he added, his tone adjusting to underscore the present urgency, "that is not where our critical focus ought to be."

"Our focus," Ragnar elaborated, his voice deepening, "lies in the nature of their association. That prior incident served as the catalyst for their initial encounter, and in the intervening years, a profound bond of friendship has flourished between them."

He rose and moved deliberately before the council, his gaze sweeping across their faces. "My scouts have corroborated their frequent sightings together, engaged in hunts amidst the unforgiving climes of the Icy expanse, far beyond the patrols of their respective diplomatic guards. I am confident that every individual in this chamber comprehends the ramifications."

Ragnar observed with evident satisfaction as the council members began to stir, the room's cultivated composure dissolving into palpable disquiet. He pressed his advantage, driving his point home with unwavering resolve.

"It signifies that our adversaries in Björn are actively pursuing a formal pact with the Godlings. You must internalize the sheer magnitude of this development; the Godlings possess the untainted lineage of our Goddess flowing through their veins. They are her direct kin, whereas we, despite our unwavering devotion, are merely her declared children, bound solely by the divine favor she deemed fit to bestow upon us."

He paused, allowing the weight of that crucial distinction to settle upon them.

"Should the Godlings lend their formidable might to the iron legions of Björn, we will not be confronting a mere territorial conflict. We will stand against a confluence of divine heritage and unparalleled martial prowess, a force our kingdom has never been compelled to confront. We are contemplating the potential silencing of our people's voice across the northern continent."

Ragnar’s eyes snapped back to Valerius, his gaze icy. "Valerius," Ragnar stated, his voice a sharp command, "do you still believe that coexistence with the people of Björn is a viable path, even as we stand on the brink of absolute silence? Are you so devoted to the ideal of peace that you would have us wait in ignorance while the bond between the Godlings and the Björn solidifies into an alliance destined to crush us?"

He offered no time for a response, his attention pivoting instead to the three Paragons, who were now fully alert.

"I am not seeking a debate on ethics," Ragnar declared, his voice swelling with a powerful, frightening authority. "I am demanding a decision for our very survival. If we fail to act now to shatter this union, we are choosing our own demise."

Valerius, the primary proponent of the peace initiative, appeared stunned, as if physically struck. He looked towards the Paragons for direction, but their faces remained impassive, their expressions hardened by the stark reality Ragnar had presented.

Ragnar moved away from the central platform, leaving the projection to shimmer in the dimness, casting elongated, grotesque shadows across the gathered council members. "The truth has been laid bare. The question now is, will we confront this impending storm as a unified kingdom, or will we be buried beneath the rubble of our own indecision?"

One of the Paragons, his brow deeply furrowed, shattered the silence. "Why are we only receiving this information now? Why was this not presented to the council the instant it was discovered?"

Ragnar’s brow twitched, his expression darkening. "As I mentioned, I made an error in judgment. I initially perceived their meetings as mere chance encounters between two royal figures. I considered it a passing curiosity, not the seed of a strategic alliance. Only when that curiosity blossomed into genuine camaraderie did the true peril become apparent."

A weary sigh escaped Ragnar, though his eyes remained piercing as he scanned the chamber. "When I recognized the situation was escalating toward a crisis, I implemented my own contingency. I dispatched my third son, who has a keen interest in the hunt, to expand his patrols into the Icy expanse, hoping he might encounter them and ascertain the full extent of their intentions."

The impact was immediate. A wave of profound shock washed over the council. The lords' faces transitioned from skepticism to a chilling, dawning realization. Even the three Paragons, who had maintained an air of confident superiority, straightened in their seats.

In that very instant, the power balance within the hall irrevocably shifted. They had considered themselves equals, political adversaries engaged in the same game, but Ragnar’s revelation had shattered that illusion. He was a sovereign who had been orchestrating a far grander strategy while they debated the merits of peace.

The chasm between them was no longer merely a matter of rank or title; it was one of vision. Ragnar foresaw a war, and he had been fighting it in solitude long before any of them were even aware of its existence.

Ragnar observed the subtle shift in the room, his expression inscrutable. He gave a slight, almost dismissive shake of his head. "My son made contact, yes, but it was too late. By the time he reached the Icy expanse, a foundation had already been established between Prince Leiko and Princess Lunara. I commanded him to maintain close observation, to gather intelligence, and to avoid any action that could jeopardize his position or expose his true objective."

He strode before the council, his voice steady. "A delicate connection now exists among the three of them. My son reports that his existing relationship with Prince Leiko is far from amicable; they harbor a deep mutual animosity. Nevertheless, through this friction, crucial intelligence is being acquired. While the information concerning the Godlings and the Björn remains largely surface-level, it provides an insight we previously lacked."

The transformation within the hall was palpable, seeming to thrum with a newfound appreciation for Ragnar’s profound foresight.

"My King."

The address was no longer a mere formality of the court; it signified a complete reversal of their prior stance. The respect infused in their voices was raw, underscored by the weight of Ragnar’s revelation settling upon them. They finally apprehended the true scope of the strategic landscape. While each possessed significant personal influence, Ragnar operated on an entirely different plane. By strategically positioning his own son at the focal point of the threat, he had decisively claimed the commanding advantage. He alone possessed a direct link to the Godlings, a strategic proximity that fundamentally elevated his standing above all others present.