“What do you mean?”
The Magic Mirror lifted her head, a flicker of surprise flashing in her eyes.
“My Lady… do you not know?”
Tia’s brow furrowed slightly.
“Know what?”
After studying Tia for a long time, the Magic Mirror confirmed that she was not lying, then smiled knowingly and explained:
“The Empress Wand was the staff of the First Witch. Therefore, it possesses a very unique self-awareness. To earn its recognition means that witch is the most outstanding among all current witches.”
As she spoke, her tone filled with reverence.
“Such a witch naturally has the right to become the Empress of the Witch Council.”
“Empress?”
Tia fell silent.
She looked down at the wand in her hand, feeling the faint chill from its shaft and the surging magic power, a strange sensation in her heart.
It was as if everything was meant to be.
To confirm, she raised her head and looked at the Magic Mirror.
“Are you saying that whoever earns its recognition becomes the Empress of the Witch Council?”
The Magic Mirror nodded.
She remained kneeling, her posture exceptionally respectful and devout.
“Yes, Your Majesty the Empress. From now on, the Witch Council will follow all of your arrangements.”
Gripping the wand tightly, Tia stared at the kneeling Magic Mirror for a long time, as if weighing something.
Finally, she gave a faint nod.
“Good.”
Upon receiving her affirmative answer, the Magic Mirror’s body trembled, unable to conceal her excitement.
But just as she tried to stand, she heard Tia ask seriously:
“How many Councilors are there in the Witch Council?”
“To answer Your Majesty, there are currently ten.”
“How many are near the Third Fortress?”
“About four. Three more can arrive here within three days.”
Without needing to ask, the Magic Mirror knew that the newly crowned Empress was about to issue her first order.
Far from displeasing her, this filled her with energy.
The long-loose Witch Council finally had a backbone again!
This time, they would overturn the world’s view of witches!
“Everything will follow all of my arrangements?”
“Naturally, Your Majesty.”
“Then I have something for you to do right now.”
As she finished speaking, a cold gleam flashed in Tia’s eyes.
—
The main hall of the Third Fortress was brightly lit.
This military fortress, once belonging to the Imperial Army, had now become one of Snake Eye’s strongholds.
On the walls of the main hall hung not only the Imperial Battle Flag but also the Snake Eye emblem.
The air was thick with the scent of wine, roasted meat, and an indistinct, strange potion smell.
But such odors were already familiar to Snake Eye members, after all, they were a group of experiment fanatics dedicated to researching how to elevate humans into higher beings.
Kallem stood in the center of the main hall, surrounded by a crowd.
The candlelight fell on his face, casting shadows over that always-gentle smile.
He held a silver wine cup, the red wine swaying slightly.
“Lord Kallem!”
A short, stout Snake Eye member stepped forward, his face full of flattery.
“This plan’s success is all thanks to you!”
He raised his cup and drained it.
Several nearby echoed:
“That’s right!”
“If you hadn’t made those noble commanders believe we’d help them, even Lord Bulok couldn’t have dealt them such a blow!”
“Those self-righteous nobles probably died wondering how they walked into a trap!”
Everyone burst into laughter.
A younger Snake Eye member squeezed forward, looking at Kallem with adoration.
“With such talent, Lord Kallem, Snake Eye’s second-in-command is bound to be yours in the future!”
No sooner had he spoken than a chorus of agreement arose.
“Absolutely!”
“Lord Kallem has a limitless future!”
“When you rise, don’t forget us brothers!”
Kallem listened, his smile still gentle but tinged with just the right amount of modesty.
He shook his head lightly.
“No, no. The success of this plan is still Lord Bulok’s credit.”
He paused, raising his cup to the crowd.
“I only added a little decoration.”
Everyone exchanged glances, then resumed their flattery.
Off to the side, a tall, thin man who had remained silent finally stepped forward.
His figure was as slender as a bamboo pole, but his eyes were unusually bright, flickering with an elusive light.
“Lord Kallem is truly modest, but…”
He did not continue, yet the implication drew everyone’s attention, even Kallem’s, who narrowed his eyes.
Seeing this, the man stepped forward again, lowering his voice with a smirk:
“However, after such a blow, the Rebel Army might be crippled, but they could also recover and rise again.”
He withdrew his gaze and looked back at Kallem.
“In my opinion, My Lord, you should press the advantage and extinguish their hope completely!”
Kallem’s eyes flickered slightly.
“Press the advantage?”
He had initially thought this man was here to provoke him, but instead, he offered advice—and it was a strategy that caught his interest.
He had considered pressing the advantage himself, but at that time, he wasn’t qualified in Lord Bulok’s eyes.
Even if he proposed it, it would likely be rejected.
But now things were different. He was the star of Snake Eye!
Aside from Lord Bulok, almost no one dared to offend him!
The tall, thin man nodded, leaned in, and whispered:
“Yes, My Lord. Think about it—after losing so many noble commanders, the Rebel Army is in utter chaos. That old Duke Fanerna is said to be badly injured; whether he survives is uncertain.”
He paused.
“If we pursue them now, they will fall into greater disorder! Then you will be the first meritorious official in crushing the Rebel Army!”
“This achievement is even greater than the current one! Lord Bulok might even promote you to Snake Eye’s second-in-command!”
Several people nearby nodded, greed flickering in their eyes.
Hearing this, Kallem’s cheeks flushed, and his breathing quickened.
He tightened his grip on the cup, pondered for a long time, then turned to the man and asked, “Why are you telling me this?”
The tall, thin man was taken aback for a moment, then gave a sly chuckle.
“I only hope that when Lord Kallem rises, you won’t forget us.”
The surrounding crowd immediately chimed in:
“That’s right!”
“Lord Kallem, we truly have your best interests at heart!”
“Just don’t forget us later!”
Kallem laughed heartily, a meaningful edge creeping into his tone.
“Good. I’ll remember your goodwill.”
Everyone exchanged smiles and raised their cups.
“A toast to Lord Kallem!”
“Cheers!”
The crisp clink of cups echoed through the brightly lit main hall.
Yet no one noticed the corner of the tall, thin man’s mouth slowly curving into an eerie smile.
The victory banquet was held in the fortress’s council chamber.
It was even more spacious and luxurious than the main hall.
A long table covered in snow-white cloth was set with exquisite silverware and all kinds of delicacies.
Dozens of crystal chandeliers bathed the entire hall in daylight-like brightness.
Bulok sat at the head of the table, a giant silver cup before him, the red wine nearly overflowing.
His face was full of smug satisfaction, lacking any general’s valor and instead bearing the greedy air of a noble.
Kallem walked up to him, cup in hand.
“Commander…”
He had barely started when Bulok interrupted.
“Hmph!”
Bulok frowned, displeasure flashing in his eyes.
“How many times have I told you? In public, call me Grand General!”
“Yes, yes, Grand General.”
Kallem immediately lowered his head, his posture even more deferential.
Then he raised his cup and said carefully:
“Grand General, this cup is in your honor. The success of this plan is entirely due to your brilliant command.”
Bulok looked at him, the displeasure slowly fading, replaced by satisfaction.
He picked up his cup and took a small sip.
“Mm.”
Kallem also drained his cup, then stepped forward and lowered his voice:
“But, Grand General, now that the Rebel Army has suffered this defeat and is in chaos, with Duke Fanerna’s wounds unhealed, this is the perfect time to send troops to wipe them out.”
Bulok narrowed his eyes.
Kallem continued, his tone persuasive:
“If we seize this opportunity, we might finish them off in one stroke! Then His Majesty the King will surely reward you personally!”
For some reason, Bulok gave a contemptuous snort, but he did not reject Kallem’s plan.
Instead, he took a gulp of wine and nodded.
“Mm, not a bad idea. I’m entrusting this mission to you!”
Kallem’s eyes lit up, but he maintained respectful modesty, adding just a touch of well-timed hesitation.
“Grand General, the Rebel Army may be a bunch of rabble now, but they are still numerous. The Imperial troops I can borrow are somewhat insufficient…”
He didn’t finish, but the meaning was clear.
Bulok didn’t overthink it.
He simply took a token from his chest and tossed it to Kallem.
Kallem quickly caught it.
It was a pitch-black token engraved with intricate Imperial insignia and trimmed with fine gold wire.
It felt heavy in hand, like the weight of authority.
“Take this token. Use as many troops as you need. I hope that in two or three days, the front line brings news that lifts my spirits.”
Kallem clenched the token and bowed his head excitedly.
“Yes!”