Chapter 162: Diplomatic Meeting, Minister of Intelligence

Cassian and his honor guard were immediately flanked by two dozen heavily armed Shell-Kin. The massive Tortoise warriors formed an impenetrable wall around the envoys, nudging them forward with the blunt ends of their star-iron spears.

Cassian walked off the pier and entered the City of Spiral. He expected to find a struggling settlement built from salvaged ruins. Instead, he found an industrial nightmare operating with terrifying, synchronized perfection.

The air smelled of refined alchemy and hot metal. They walked past the towering Ash-Forge Crucible, where Cassian watched a line of human laborers effortlessly hauling carts filled with raw materials.

’Those humans,’ Cassian thought, his eyes widening in disbelief. ’Their musculature is entirely abnormal. They look like heavy shock troops, not common laborers.’

They passed a massive training yard where a hundred Beast-Kin were running lethal close-quarters combat drills. Cassian’s tactical advisors frantically took notes on their slates, whispering harshly to each other as they analyzed the Vanguard’s flawless discipline.

“They move like a single organism,” the lead advisor muttered. “I see no infighting. No territorial disputes. How is a mixed-species army maintaining this level of cohesion?”

Cassian did not answer. He was too busy staring up at the fifty-foot obsidian statue of the Red dominating the city center. The sheer scale of the monument pressed down on him, radiating a suffocating aura of absolute authority.

“Keep moving,” a Shell-Kin grunted, shoving one of the honor guards forward.

They reached the steps of the inner palace. The brutalist architecture shifted into a display of grim, fortified majesty. Black banners bearing the Vanguard’s spiral insignia snapped in the wind. The massive double doors, forged from solid star-iron, slowly ground open.

The envoys were marched down a long, echoing corridor lined with more troops. Finally, they entered the grand throne chamber. The sprawling room was built with heavy stone pillars and illuminated by bioluminescent torches.

Cassian looked toward the far end of the hall. He fully expected to see the terrifying Sovereign he had heard whispers about sitting on the towering obsidian throne.

The throne, however, was completely empty.

Instead, Prophet Elian sat at a long, heavy stone table set up in the center of the chamber. Warlord Gorak stood silently behind the human’s right shoulder, while Iron-Scale leaned casually against a pillar near the wall.

“Sit, Envoy Cassian,” Elian ordered, gesturing to the empty wooden chair opposite him. “The Sovereign is currently overseeing the global grid. He has authorized me to hear your petition on his behalf.”

Cassian felt a sharp flash of anger. The Iron Arbiter had sent his highest-ranking diplomat, and this “Sovereign” wouldn’t even bother to attend the negotiations personally.

He swallowed his pride, smoothed his robes, and sat down at the table, acutely aware of the three apex predators watching his every move.

Cassian settled into the heavy wooden chair while keeping his posture rigidly straight. He glanced briefly at the towering obsidian throne before locking his eyes on the hyper-muscled human across the table.

“I was explicitly instructed to present my Warlord’s terms directly to the ruler of this continent,” Cassian stated, lacing his tone with a carefully measured dose of diplomatic offense. “With all due respect to the Vanguard, my empire expected the Sovereign to attend a summit of this magnitude.”

Elian rested his thick forearms on the stone table. The Prophet’s expression remained completely unreadable.

“The Sovereign does not descend into the physical realm for mere border disputes,” Elian answered smoothly. “He descended exactly once and conquered the entire continent. He entrusted the daily logistics of the mortal plane entirely to his commanders.”

’A ruler who views global diplomacy as beneath his notice,’ Cassian thought while a cold sweat broke out along his spine. ’The sheer arrogance of this faction is staggering.’

However, Cassian quickly cleared his throat and decided to pivot. He needed to wrest the psychological advantage back from these monsters to secure the alliance. He leaned forward to project unwavering confidence.

“Very well,” Cassian continued. “I will speak plainly to his proxies. The Second Continent is currently engaged in a massive territorial war against the invading forces of the Fourth Continent. My master, the Iron Arbiter, is systematically crushing the opposing factions. We hold the absolute advantage.”

Iron-Scale let out a laugh from the shadows of the pillar. “If you hold the absolute advantage, you do not sail across a dangerous ocean to hand out glowing rocks to strangers.”

Cassian forced himself to ignore the Kobold’s taunt while maintaining his focus directly on Elian.

“The Iron Arbiter offers the Seventeenth Continent a highly lucrative opportunity,” Cassian declared boldly. “We are willing to grant your fleets safe naval passage through our sovereign waters and integrate your isolated economy into the rest of the world. In exchange, we require your heavy artillery and a contingent of your shock troops to accelerate our final victory. We are offering you the chance to stand beside the undisputed masters of the world.”

Gorak shifted his massive weight behind Elian, and stared down at the envoy with open amusement. Elian simply steepled his thick fingers together, letting the heavy silence stretch across the grand throne chamber as he processed the blatant lie.

Elian remained silent as light footsteps echoed from the side entrance of the throne chamber. A tall, imposing Lizard-Woman stepped into the bioluminescent light. She belonged to the Grey-Fin tribe, her scales a shimmering, metallic silver that gave her a sleek, almost armored appearance.

The sharp, predatory angles of her reptilian face were framed by the rigid, sweeping fins running along her jaw and down her spine. She wore intricate robes woven from high-tier alchemical silk, carrying a polished star-iron staff to signify her rank.

Cassian stared in absolute shock. His patriarchal empire strictly barred females from upper military and political command. And seeing a female Lizard-Woman casually approach a table surrounded by apex warlords thoroughly disrupted his understanding of their hierarchy.

Gorak and Iron-Scale even respectfully stepped back to give her room.

“I am Elder Syra,” she announced, her voice carrying a sharp, sibilant hiss that commanded immediate attention. “I serve as the Minister of Intelligence for the Sovereign. I handle the Vanguard’s global information network.”

’You have got to be kidding me. Females are born to breed, not to rule. What’s wrong with this continent?’

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