The Saintess’s desperate struggle?
That was merely a façade.
The old foxes tried to guess Aililan’s intentions.
In the end, they came to one conclusion: [That Proposal, someone is definitely going to sign it.]
So, who will be the one to sign?
It’s really hard to guess.
Ibisos and the others all wore grim expressions; everyone knew there was no escaping today.
Obien’s face was even colder. In a low voice, he said, “Saintess, what exactly do you want?”
Aililan retorted, “I simply answer as you answer, think as you think—isn’t that what you all want? Lord Obien, what are you in such a hurry for?”
Obien protested, “I will not continue to discuss such meaningless things with you.”
Led by Obien, the group rose and started walking out of the Parliament hall.
“Impudence.”
Aililan called out softly.
The knights at the entrance to the Parliament immediately drew their swords.
“Saintess, what are you after? Aren’t you afraid this will chill everyone’s hearts?”
Aililan sneered, asking, “Whose heart, yours?”
Aililan beckoned. The Head Maid came forward carrying a box—it was the Evidence Taniya had collected. She grabbed a handful and tossed them like snowflakes at the group.
Ibisos picked one up and looked at it. Instantly, his face went pale as he said, “No, impossible, how could you possibly know?”
Aililan smiled and said, “Oh? Then, Lord Ibisos, the Orc maid in your manor—was that fake?”
Ibisos choked, “I…”
Aililan waved her hand, signaling the knights to lower their swords, and said, “Gentlemen, perhaps you should reconsider. We have all the time we need.”
Aililan clearly had Evidence, so why didn’t she punish them outright?
Because simply killing a few is pointless. When you dig up potatoes, you don’t just get one—there’s a whole string beneath! If you just let them rot in the ground, buried in the body of Atester City, would they continue lurking in secret?
The Parliament sank into silence again.
Obien and the others stepped aside, whispering among themselves, “We can’t let this go on.”
“Then what do you suggest? The Saintess is clearly trying to destroy us.”
“We still have one last chance, but we have to leave here first.”
“What chance? Tell us!”
“Ibisos, listen to me. Whether we can turn things around this time all depends on you.”
“On me?”
“That’s right. In a moment, you sign the Proposal first. As soon as we’re out, get in touch with the Orcs and have them send some troops to wander near the border.”
Some people’s eyes lit up, praising, “As long as we create the appearance of Orc troops at our gates, no matter how great the Saintess’s plans are, she’ll have to put them aside.”
“Even if we step back, we can use this as leverage.”
“At the very least, it will prove we were right, haha.”
“You make it sound easy. I’m the one who has to sign.” Ibisos hesitated.
“What are you worried about? As for any infamy, once the Saintess returns to the Holy Land, she can easily clear your name. You don’t really think the Saintess will stay in a border city like Atester forever, do you?” Obien said.
Ibisos pondered again and again, feeling that Obien’s words made sense.
Besides, continuing this deadlock wasn’t a solution—sooner or later, Aililan would force him to sign the Proposal.
Thinking this through, Ibisos hesitated no longer. Gritting his teeth, he became the first to sign the Proposal and said, “Saintess, may I leave now?”
Aililan smiled, “Of course.”
She then addressed everyone, “Also, whoever signs may leave.”
The others knew very well that whoever signed was an idiot.
Aililan summoned the Head Maid.
“You.”
“Go and announce to the Exile outside, that our Lord Ibisos has been the first to sign the Proposal!”
Everyone: ?
The Saintess wasn’t just killing; she was destroying their reputation, too!
Hearing Aililan’s words, Ibisos quickened his steps to leave.
As soon as he left the Parliament, the Head Maid went outside and made the announcement.
At once, there was an uproar. Countless citizens chased after the departing carriage, shouting curses: traitor.
Ibisos knew.
No matter what he did, his name was ruined.
“Aililan, you forced me to this.”
Once back, Ibisos immediately sent someone secretly to the Orcs.
The Jackal Tribe, closest to Atester City, were famed for their speed and ferocity. Their population was seventy thousand, making them a mid-to-lower-ranked group on the Beastman Plains.
Ibisos’s envoy brought a letter, and the Jackal Tribe Chief, Huckba, was overjoyed, saying, “Supplying seventy thousand of us with food for three whole months, and all we need to do is send soldiers to the border to scare their Saintess?”
A Jackal Tribe Warrior asked in a deep voice, “Chief, should we agree?”
Huckba interrupted, “Why not? With this food, our urgent problem is solved.”
“But wouldn’t this violate the Agreement we signed with the humans?”
“What are you afraid of? Our tribe is already on the verge of exploding, and that Agreement is as cheap as toilet paper by now. Or are you afraid of that just-of-age Saintess?”
“I am a Jackal Tribe Warrior—how could I fear a human Saintess?”
“Well said! Jackal Tribe Warriors, as soon as our troops reach their gates, that Saintess will wet her pants in terror, hahaha.”
The Jackal Orcs’ camp was suddenly filled with laughter.
Some talked about wanting to see the Saintess wet herself, others joked about making her herd sheep for them, or even bear half-beast children.
But whatever was said, a real Orc army was now speeding toward the border of Atester City.
The scouts lurking on the Beastman Plains relayed the news at once.
The Legion Commander of the Fourth Feather Legion, Malcolm, received the report and immediately had a headache.
He hadn’t been involved in the internal conflict, but now he had to visit the Parliament in person. After Ibisos signed first, the Parliament had been deadlocked for another two days.
Until Malcolm barged in.
Shattering the strange stalemate.
He raised the scout’s report high and said, “Everyone quiet! I have something important to announce: an Orc army is headed for our border.”
As soon as he finished,
The entire Parliament fell silent.
Malcolm bent at the waist, earnestly saying, “I ask the Saintess, and the governors of Atester City, to set aside our disputes for now and unite against the Orc army.”
Aililan frowned deeply.
Mobilizing an Orc army, tribal integration, a southward invasion—these were all traceable events. Wars don’t just get decided one day and launched the next. Even at the fastest, it takes months, sometimes more than a year of mobilization and preparation. How could it happen so suddenly?
Aililan furrowed her brow, “Commander Malcolm, you are right. Defending against foreign threats is our top priority right now.”
She had just softened her stance, when the finance officer, Obien, suddenly raised his voice, “Commander Malcolm, do you know why those Orcs are coming?”
Malcolm replied, “According to their banners, they say it’s for the Orcs living mixed in our city, and to get justice for their Jackal Tribe.”
Obien, suddenly emboldened, looked straight at the Saintess and said, “Saintess Aililan, you see? I told you long ago, do not antagonize the Orcs. If you had heeded our advice, would any of this have happened?”
Aililan: ?
Looking at Obien’s triumphant expression, many of the doubts that had been gnawing at Aililan’s mind just now suddenly found their answers.
Old Man Deng, you’ve already chosen the path to death.
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