The doors of the Conference Hall slowly closed, emitting a heavy echo that blocked out all external noise.
Sista wore a meticulously tailored jet-black dress, adorned with subtle dark patterns. Her posture was composed, a crimson hairband decorating her head, holding her high ponytail firmly at the back of her head, swaying with each step she took.
Compared to the last royal threshold meeting, this space felt much emptier. The lighting remained dim, and only a few people sat around the long table King Steyat, Moria, and a—
“Nori?”
Sista looked somewhat surprised at the golden-haired little girl, who wore a bored expression, carefully examining an apple in her hand.
“What are you doing here?” she couldn’t help but ask aloud.
However, Nori paid no attention to Sista. She completely ignored her as if she were invisible, instead tossing the apple up into the air and catching it steadily, then giggling softly.
This child never engaged with her. It had been this way for a long time, and Sista was already used to it.
Nori had never explained why she ignored her, but Sista was almost certain it had something to do with Moria.
Silence fell over the long table for a moment.
“Ah, it’s this child’s birthday today. No matter what, she insisted on sticking to me, so I brought her along,” Moria broke the slightly awkward atmosphere, helping to explain Nori’s presence. “It’s alright, it won’t affect our discussion…”
“Promise~ Big sister, you promised to play with me in the garden later!”
Before Moria could finish her sentence, the little girl stubbornly tugged her hand. Moria could only helplessly pat Nori’s head and smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget.”
“Nori, be quiet. Don’t always break the rules like this!” King Steyat cleared his throat and began scolding his youngest daughter.
Seeing everyone’s eyes on her, Nori pouted her little face in grievance but finally calmed down.
Sista casually picked a seat and looked up at the oppressive, dim ceiling, then shifted her gaze to Moria.
“So, you called me here for some matter?”
Moria wore her usual faintly smiling but unsmiling expression. Today, she was dressed more casually in a red ruffled long skirt suitable for everyday outings.
She tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and met Sista’s gaze.
“It wasn’t supposed to be anything important. I could have handled it alone. But the Earl insisted I report it to the King. The King insists on asking you about everything, so I brought my clever, troublesome younger sister along as well.”
When she said this, Sista felt Moria’s resentment practically spark between her clenched teeth, ready to spill over.
“Alright, I understand.”
Sista didn’t intend to accept the challenge.
Moria then took out a rough piece of paper, spread it out on the table, and pushed it toward Sista and the King.
“This,” Moria said, holding up a sheet with a striking scarlet headline, “was discovered by Earl Sinuur in a small civilian workshop within his domain.”
“It’s a small human group that organized secretly. I don’t know when they began using a private press to print these anti-Blood Clan pamphlets.”
Sista’s brows slightly furrowed as she took the paper. It was only a little larger than her palm, made of very thin, rough linen paper of poor quality.
In the past, nobles used expensive, smooth parchment, while linen and straw paper were mostly used by humans in the lower levels.
Over the past ten years, the Kingdom of Ansels’ papermaking and printing technology have improved, allowing a small number of private presses to appear among civilians.
“… Facing the Blood Clan, we need to reflect on a question: Why have we been the oppressed side for so long? Why do we have no dignity before them?
“… This was once a human kingdom, human land! The Divine Abyss Goddess is evil, a demon disguised as a goddess! We must no longer be deceived. It is time to unite and resist!”
As Sista read these words, her heart grew heavier and heavier, the oppression almost suffocating.
The former Kingdom of Ansels was established because the old kingdom was heavily corrupt, its bureaucracy bloated and chaotic.
The first-generation Blood Clan took advantage of the lower-level humans’ discontent and the ambitions of other nobles to achieve an unexpected victory.
During the several hundred years of Blood Clan rule, the royal family enacted a series of policies to improve people’s livelihoods and used many means to maintain the unequal relationship between humans and the Blood Clan, barely sustaining the vast Kingdom of Ansels until now.
Unfortunately, Moria had a knack for winning hearts but was war-mad and imposed heavy taxes.
In recent years, under the Queen’s faction’s attempt to control the government, voices of discontent have only grown, yet she remains completely unaware.
Sista had long anticipated this day would come.
She quietly folded the rough pamphlet and handed it back to Moria.
“How ridiculous. It seems a current of rebellion is surging among humans,” Lilia’s red lips curled in a cold sneer. “They actually want to fight the Blood Clan? Pure fantasy.”
“What… did you do about this?” Steyat’s face was expressionless, holding the pamphlet with serious focus.
“The Earl eliminated the people in that workshop. I think that settled the matter,” Moria waved her hand dismissively.
“Most people in Ansels can’t read. Newspapers and books only circulate among the small cultured human minority. It probably didn’t cause much impact. Killing a few offenders is enough.”
“Is that really acceptable?”
Sista asked quietly.
“I don’t care. It’s the Earl—Sinuur Mongke—who insisted I hand this to the King, so I brought it,” Moria revealed a hint of disdain as she looked at the papers.
“Well, now that the information has been passed, and since neither of you has objections, I suppose we can adjourn.”
Sista hesitated briefly, then turned to look at Steyat. He still wore that unreadable poker face, his eyebrows not even twitching.
What was he thinking?
Regarding this, Sista could be sure: her old father was probably thinking of nothing at all, his mind as empty as water that makes a sound when shaken. He was covertly signaling her with his peripheral vision to respond.
“Sigh…” Sista felt speechless. “Since Moria thinks it’s fine, then so be it.”
There was no need for further words. The petition in front of the King was merely symbolic. Sista knew very well that if the King hadn’t insisted, she wouldn’t have had the right to sit here at all.
Moria had already made her decision, and there was no point in arguing.