“What’s our next move?” Grad inquired, rising from his chair.
“Sir Grad, please take your seat.” Arthur responded calmly.
“Arthur, this isn’t just about your Continent now. My continent is at risk too. We’ve seen the destructive capabilities of those creatures. The path they traverse turns to ruins. They are relentless, and their victims turn into one of them upon being bitten.
It’s like a rampant disease, spreading without control. And those massive zombie Chimeras, they’re nearly invincible and are slaughtering our soldiers like chickens.
Our previous struggle was already a challenge. We lost over 70% of our troops. But now, facing a horde almost double in size, how can we hope to fight them off?” Grad’s voice resonated with the room, his words sinking in heavily.
Silence enveloped the room as everyone acknowledged the undeniable truth Grad had just spoken. .
“Sir Grad, you’ve presented the situation vividly. Now, I ask you, if this dire reality is well-established, do you have any strategic propositions to save our continents?” Arthur spoke with an unwavering seriousness.
Grad hesitated momentarily, then admitted, “Well…” His gaze shifted to Arthur, revealing his lack of concrete solutions.
“Oh, you’re out of ideas? Spare me the repetition of the problems we are fully aware of. Sit down, unless you have something substantial to contribute, waisting my damn time.” Arthur interjected, his frustration manifesting as he struck the table before him with his fist.
Grad returned Arthur’s gaze, and with a sigh, he lowered himself back into his chair.
“And now, what’s our course of action, Your Majesty?” The Great Mother inquired.
“I’m pondering that as we speak. Anyone with any valuable suggestions, regardless of how unconventional they may seem, is welcome to contribute. I care not for the perceived absurdity of the idea; just speak your thoughts,” Arthur requested, massaging his temples with his fingers as he shut his eyes momentarily.
“I do have a suggestion, Your Majesty,” a man piped up, raising his hand. He wore glasses and had curly hair.
The room’s attention immediately shifted to him, anticipation written across everyone’s faces.
“Wait, who’s he? And why’s he here again?” Marinda, the Witch House leader, questioned.
“I am the Battle Statistics Assistant of the Dragon House of Flames, madam,” the man answered with a quivering tone.
“What’s your noble rank?” Marinda inquired.
“I hold a one-star noble rank, ma’am,” he replied.
“Ah, splendid. Now we’re permitting these nuisances into our confidential meetings. Just marvelous,” Marinda commented sarcastically.
“Mrs. Marinda, kindly leave the room,” Arthur stated, his eyes closed and a touch of his temples, indicating his weariness.
“Your Majesty?” Marinda looked at Arthur, perplexed.
“Did you not hear your King’s command, young lady ?” Derein interjected, her gaze locking onto Marinda with an intimidating glare.
“But… I represent the Witch House, I am Marinda the leader of my house.” Marinda protested.
“Then act in accordance with your position, Woman. I’m well aware of your house’s principles, but allow me to enlighten you on something. In this very room, approximately 80% of us are male, and in the face of mass destruction, we do not discriminate between each other based on noble rankings.
So, either leave this room or sit silently without any further interruption,” Grok intervened sternly, his tone warning Marinda.
“Yes,” Marinda acquiesced in a subdued voice, sinking back into her seat.
“Proceed,” Arthur addressed the glasses-wearing man, granting him permission to speak.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he approached the front, bowing before Arthur.
“Sir, given the dire situation we face, I have three potential solutions to propose,” he began.
“Go on,” Arthur prompted.
“Certainly. The first proposal involves evacuating our people from the kingdom as quickly as possible. We could enlist the aid of the Elven Kingdom, If we were to tell them about this problem there is a big chance that they can help us.” he suggested.
“Show your agreement by raising your hands. Lower them if you disagree,” Arthur announced.
Only two hands out of the twenty raised in favor.
“Clearly, this plan has minimal support. Let’s move on swiftly,” Arthur directed.
“The second idea revolves around arming every individual in the kingdom with swords and encouraging them to protect both themselves and others, without distinction,” he continued.
The room’s occupants stared at him with visible anger as he proposed this idea.
“Have you lost your mind, lad?” Grok exclaimed.
“We can’t expect everyone to wield weapons. There are children and women who’ve never held a weapon before,” the Great Mother argued.
“Is this kid insane?”
“Why did we become knights if we’re to let our wives and children fight?”
A cacophony of disapproval spread through the room.
“Silence, all of you! Young man, do you have reasons to support your proposal, or are you mocking knighthood?” Arthur queried, his expression unwavering.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Sir Grok, do you believe we can defeat the zombie horde?” he directed his question at Grok.
“What kind of question is that? We can’t possibly defeat them. If we even had the faintest hope of winning, we’d be on the battlefield instead of here, listening to your nonsense,” Grok responded.
“Exactly. So, what do you foresee after our forces are defeated by the zombies? Will they retreat or press on into our cities, destroying everything?” he inquired further.
“That’s absurd. Of course, they’ll march on our cities, leaving destruction in their wake,” Grok stated matter-of-factly.
“Indeed, which is why I proposed arming the populace. They can at least make a stand and prolong their survival,” he clarified.
“Oh, I see your point now,” Grok acknowledged with comprehension.
“Indicate your agreement by raising your hands. Keep them down if you disagree,” Arthur instructed, lifting his own hand.
Derein followed suit, raising her hand. Twelve out of the twenty members favored this approach.
“What’s the third suggestion?” Arthur asked.
“Your Majesty, the third proposal involves calling back the individual who commands the ogre army for help. With his help, we stand a 30% chance of victory,” he concluded, and the remaining eight members raised their hands in agreement.