Chapter 375: Coronation (Part One)
"Breaking news! The coronation ceremony will begin in thirty-seven days!"
"His Majesty is about to be crowned Emperor!"
"The Prime Minister has issued a statement declaring that the Ember Kingdom has fulfilled all conditions necessary to ascend to an empire!"
"Marshal Dolo unconditionally supports His Majesty Cassius!"
Such voices spread throughout Anzeta, from cities long controlled by the Ember Kingdom to newly conquered territories.
Meanwhile, across the vast expanse of the Feanso Continent, even people mired in conflict and war heard the news—that in the distant northern Anzeta Wasteland, a nation ruled by a Red Dragon had destroyed the millennia-old Northern United Kingdom and established a new kingdom.
That Red Dragon's name was Cassius, known as the King of Embers, the Hellish calamity, and the Dragon Prince. Legend claimed he was the direct offspring of Tiamat, born with legendary strength.
While this news was surprising, it didn't immediately draw widespread attention.
After all, the Anzeta Wasteland was a remote and isolated place, blocked by the towering Anstica Mountain Range, with little to no interaction with other parts of the Feanso Continent.
Most people only vaguely knew that beyond the mountains, in that frigid wasteland, some countries seemed to exist.
And that was all—nothing relevant to them.
However, new rumors soon spread: the ancient Silver Dragon who had thwarted several world-class catastrophes, known as "Silverwing" Oszedro, had traveled to the Anzeta Wasteland to battle the "King of Embers."
It was said that in this "Duel of the Dragons," these two mighty dragons fought for days, from dawn to dusk, until the entire Ocagral Wasteland turned to scorched earth.
The battle ended with the Silver Dragon plummeting from the sky.
Oszedro was said to have fled in disgrace, gravely injured, retreating to his lair to recover—a process that might take nearly a century.
The Melward Clan's Silver Dragons remained silent, blocking all visitors and refusing to disclose any information. This reaction from the Silver Dragons further substantiated the claim—Oszedro had indeed been defeated!
Only then did people across the continent feel the shock.
After all, this was Oszedro, the famed "Silverwing," revered as Bahamut's chosen and the guardian of the world's balance!
As a result, various factions began closely monitoring the mysterious "Red Dragon Kingdom" in the north, considering it a potential ally or enemy.
The three major kingdoms—Kassander, Thrace, and Seleucia—embroiled in a fierce struggle over the Holy Fadlan Empire's legacy, paid particularly close attention.
A Red Dragon capable of defeating Oszedro could support any side, potentially shifting the tide of war.
Among these kingdoms, the Thrace Kingdom was especially hostile toward the "King of Embers"—a stance shaped by geography and history.
Occupying the northern portion of the Holy Fadlan Empire's territory, they regarded the Anzeta Wasteland as a secure rear flank.
But with the Northern Kingdom completely fallen, an uncontrolled Ember Kingdom invading southward would leave Thrace vulnerable, facing threats from both sides.
Yet while preparing for a northern invasion, the Thrace Kingdom also had to stabilize relations with the Ember Kingdom, as they weren't ready for deployment and faced significant risks.
Amidst the chaos of these factions responding to the news, another rumor emerged from the north and quickly spread across the continent.
——The King of Embers was about to be crowned.
This Red Dragon would officially become the Emperor of Anzeta, the supreme ruler of the land.
An "Empire" refers to a state that governs vast territories with immense power. Clearly, the Anzeta Wasteland was insufficient for his ambitions; the Red Dragon's aspirations were laid bare.
The coronation ceremony became a focal point for the entire continent.
As invitations from the Ember Kingdom were sent out like snowflakes, envoys from various nations and factions hurried to the north—traveling by teleportation, flying through the skies, or riding in carriages.
The usually desolate Anzeta Corridor bustled with activity, even seeing instances of hostile envoys clashing.
For the first time, the remote Anzeta Wasteland became one of the main focuses of the entire Feanso Continent—all because of the emergence of that Red Dragon.
The cities of Anzeta were no longer sufficient for the Ember Kingdom's needs; they required a larger venue to host a ceremony that would captivate the world.
Why not hold it at the Iron Dragonwing Palace?
Too many secrets lay hidden there.
The coronation ceremony would be held on the Doyle Plains—located at the center of the Anzeta Wasteland, where multiple rivers converged, earning it the title "Blessing of the Snow Goddess."
Several major cities were situated on the plains, encompassing nearly all the core regions of the former Bosque Duchy.
Construction crews worked tirelessly, building structures needed for the coronation ceremony. Frost Giant slaves, their towering forms bent under the weight of massive logs, trudged forward under the whip of their overseers.
Mages, druids, and other spellcasters used Stone Wall Spells, Wood Shaping Spells, and various other magic to assist the construction.
Within a month, a massive altar took shape on the plains.
Roads in the area were meticulously built, and parts of a railway were even being laid.
In truth, this was also preparation for a new city—Langpu believed that Northwind Fortress, Stravborg, and other cities were insufficient as future capitals for Anzeta.
The Ember Kingdom—or rather, the future Empire—needed a flatter, larger city capable of accommodating more industries and populations, serving as the absolute political, economic, and cultural center of the Anzeta Wasteland.
This nascent city marked the beginning of everything.
It would continue to expand, encompassing surrounding cities to grow into a massive industrial hub.
The altar for the coronation ceremony and the city under construction were named "Isthalia," meaning "Land of Eternal Rule" or "Immortal City" in Draconic.
On the Doyle Plains, the Kingdom's vassals remained busy. Towering Frost Giant slaves, their necks bound with collars, trudged under the weight of heavy logs, driven by the lashes of overseers.
Langpu stood atop a hillside, staff in hand, gazing at the soon-to-be-completed altar in the distance.
"Your Majesty."
"Your grand blueprint is gradually becoming reality."
The ogre's lips trembled as he muttered, tears of excitement filling his eyes.
"Whoosh—"
The piercing northern wind howled, drowning out the ogre's labored breaths and the distant cries of the Frost Giant slaves.