Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1545 A Trade of Secrets

"This is Gotaition, and I am Yalennu," the female demigod stated, her voice possessing a natural grace that could soothe any tense situation. "May we inquire what we should call the three of you esteemed lords?"

"Just call me Grand Marshal!" Leonidas announced with unwavering confidence.

Orion and Kraken both shot him a questioning look, incredulous.

What kind of title is that, Bro? Orion mused internally, feeling a pang of secondhand embarrassment at Leonidas's brazenness.

Kraken, on the other hand, was captivated. The boss is truly remarkable. Are the legends of the Three Grand Marshals of Atlantis already spreading? "Then I shall be the Second Marshal!" Orion declared, choosing to humor the situation.

"And I am the Third Marshal!" Kraken eagerly added, joining the charade.

An immediate and heavy silence descended upon the group, palpable and awkward. Gotaition and Yalennu's expressions shifted, growing somber. To them, these responses felt like a deliberate mockery, an insult veiled in jest.

Recognizing the shift in mood, Leonidas, the originator of the playful deception, stepped forward to mend the atmosphere. "Please accept our apologies for any unintended disrespect. That is simply the name by which we are known throughout the world: the Three Grand Marshals of Atlantis."

"Atlantis… Three Grand Marshals?" Gotaition and Yalennu exchanged a dubious glance. Although suspicion lingered, they wisely chose not to probe further.

"Three Marshals," Yalennu said, redirecting the discussion toward matters of mutual benefit. "We wish to propose a trade."

"What sort of trade do you have in mind?" Orion inquired, speaking on behalf of his companions. "We are willing to listen."

"We possess critical intelligence concerning Lord Kuray," she revealed in a low tone. "In exchange, we request the Black Lion family's exclusive rights to operate commercial shipping routes across the Alicantus Sea. Furthermore, we will grant you a twenty percent share of the annual profits derived from these routes."

Gold was of little consequence to them. Even Kraken barely registered the mention of the twenty percent cut. The only detail that truly captured their attention was the name: Kuray.

Orion and Leonidas remained impassive, their gazes sharpening as they awaited Kraken's reaction. A fleeting, murderous intent flashed in Kraken's eyes before he quickly concealed it.

Kuray is one of the Sea Folk demigods, Kraken communicated telepathically to his brothers, his mental voice unnervingly calm. Rumor has it he is a deep-sea black serpent, a hybrid of dragon and leviathan. The waters encompassing my domain fall under his broader authority. Typically, the Sea Folk and human demigods are mortal enemies. It is highly unusual for Kuray to be in league with the Divine Sigil family.

Upon hearing this, the underlying implications became clear.

So, this is indeed a trap, Leonidas transmitted, his mental tone hardening with malice. Those familiar with him recognized that tone: he was ready for bloodshed. This Kuray fellow is the one plotting in the shadows, orchestrating a hit on Squiddy?

It is highly probable. Alternatively, these two might simply be attempting to misdirect our anger towards a convenient scapegoat, Orion analyzed with a cool detachment. Of the three, he possessed the greatest control over his emotions. Regardless, our primary objective for coming here was to draw out and intimidate this Kuray. His elimination would be an undeniable advantage for Kraken.

Despite the measured tranquility of Orion's telepathic communication, his words echoed with the force of a devastating blow.

Having confirmed the unspoken agreement of his brothers, Orion refocused his attention on the female demigod.

"Lady Yalennu," Orion addressed her with measured politeness. "My brothers and I are indeed very interested in this intelligence you possess."

And thus, a potentially devastating conflict between land and sea was narrowly averted due to the diplomatic acumen of Gotaition and Yalennu. Both parties achieved their respective objectives. As the turbulent waters subsided, the "Three Marshals" were formally welcomed into Lionheart City as distinguished guests.

Each side harbored hidden agendas and smiled deceptively, concealing their true intentions. Yet, this artifice was transparent to all, and no one seemed to mind. The only genuine casualties were the common folk whose homes were destroyed and the sea creatures lost in the conflict.

…

The Titanion Realm. Stoneheart City.

Within the eastern sector of the inner city stood a manor of exceptional grandeur. This was the ancestral estate of Giant Elder Drakthul. The property had remained on this very site even before the city's renaming, with the structure undergoing continuous renovations and expansions over time.

While the Stoneheart Clan traditionally favored robust nomadic tents, and the Ironbone Clan opted for subterranean dwellings, the Starveil Giants of the southern regions were accustomed to the opulence of palaces constructed from meticulously laid stone and expertly fired bricks.

Presently, Drakthul occupied his expansive backyard, serving refreshments to an arriving guest. This visitor was Pellam the Courier, who had hastened his journey after the jarring discovery of a sunless sky upon waking.

"Take it easy there, sip it slowly!" Drakthul's voice boomed with amusement as he observed Pellam draining his cup. "We are old comrades, and this is no battlefield. No one is going to snatch your ale."

Drakthul and Pellam were bonded by their service in war. They had shed blood together during the campaigns in the outer realms and stood shoulder-to-shoulder when they accompanied Marina to bring the overseas archipelagos under control.

Pellam placed his hefty earthenware jug on a surface and surveyed the garden, his admiration evident. The atmosphere was alive with meandering, softly glowing Aether-sprites. These mystical beings not only bathed the courtyard in a dreamlike, ambient luminescence but also steadily enhanced the elemental potency of the surrounding air.

"Brother Drak, your residence is considerably more radiant than mine," Pellam remarked quietly.

"Heh heh heh... Indeed it is. All thanks to these little treasures." Drakthul extended a colossal finger, and a corpulent Aether-sprite alighted upon it, tenderly nuzzling its luminous form against his skin. "Lady Lilith bestowed these upon us!"

Drakthul felt an immense swell of pride regarding this particular privilege. Throughout the entirety of the Stoneheart Horde, merely a select few noble lineages were granted permission to nurture Aether-sprites. He had merited this distinction not solely due to his exceptional military achievements but also because of his lineage as a Giant, sharing Orion's blood. Lilith had distributed the sprites under the pretense of cultivating a superior cultivation environment for the younger generation of the Giant clans.

"If you desire them, you ought to find a few wives and sire a sizable brood," Drakthul advised, addressing Pellam with the unvarnished sincerity of a fellow soldier. "With a sufficient number of younglings frolicking about, one or two are bound to exhibit some aptitude and capture Lady Lilith's attention—or even the attention of the Giant King himself."

Within the Stoneheart Horde, the status of being a Giant certainly conferred certain inherent advantages. However, it was far from a guaranteed path to assured success. The Horde operated as a rigorous meritocracy. Influential families could be found among the Succubi, the Buffalofolk, the Gnolls, the Obsidian Golems, the Pandaren, and the Storm-Ursines, possessing significantly greater wealth and sway than the average Giant clan. The Horde actively provided substantial support and rewards to any faction that demonstrated its inherent value.

"Given my profession? Settle down and start a family? I wouldn't dare," Pellam responded, a flicker of uncharacteristic vulnerability surfacing.

This was the harsh reality of his chosen path. A courier lived with their life perpetually hanging by a thread. A single instance of misfortune during an inter-realm delivery could spell their demise. Maintaining complete detachment was the sole factor enabling Pellam to undertake the perilous risks his occupation demanded. Should he have a wife and children awaiting his return, he feared his resolve would falter irrevocably.