Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 123: Orders

Chapter 123: Orders

The tension inside the grand council chamber was so thick, one could slice it with a dagger.

King Soris sat on his throne, eyes narrowed into a death glare fixed directly at Sir Juno. The room full of nobles and officials remained silent, holding their breath. Everyone knew King Soris wasn’t the type to accept refusal from anyone—least of all a knight as decorated and loyal as Sir Juno.

Until today, Juno had never disobeyed the King’s commands.

And that made everyone even more uneasy.

Even Archmage Mandira, seated just a few steps away, turned her head slowly to study Juno. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a strange flicker in her eyes—doubt? Surprise?

Juno stood firm, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his anger.

"My sword," he muttered, "and I, have nothing to do with this man, this... Shennong."

He turned his glare toward Mandira now.

"Instead of questioning me," Juno said, voice low but sharp, "perhaps we should investigate why Archmage Mandira has kept silent about all of this. Why now? Why only speak when chaos knocks at our doors?"

The council murmured in hushed tones. Some nodded, others frowned.

Because Juno was right.

And so was Mandira.

If both were telling the truth, then this was a deeper mess than anyone had realized. But the final decision didn’t rest with them. All eyes turned to King Soris. What would he decree?

Before he could speak, the chamber doors burst open.

A young knight ran in, panting, with a crumpled paper in his gauntleted hand. "Your Majesty!" he shouted, barely catching his breath. "This was just thrown into the castle’s main hall! It broke through a window—glass everywhere. We thought it was a prank from some child at first, but..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. "I opened it. It’s... you need to read it."

One of the council scribes took the paper and unrolled it. The moment his eyes scanned the words, his face paled.

"It’s from... Shennong," the scribe said.

A loud murmur rolled through the chamber like thunder. Even King Soris leaned forward in his seat, eyes narrowing.

"Read it aloud," the King ordered.

The scribe nodded and cleared his throat.

"To King Soris and the Royal Council of Sturgon,"

"The attack that happened earlier was merely a test run. A taste of the fire you are toying with."

"It does not matter who I am, or where I come from. The only thing that matters... is what I want."

"I seek no land, no gold, no political favor."

"There is only one thing I want—information."

"A person dear to me was gravely wounded. The wound was cursed. And the weapon that inflicted it was not the famed Ebonfang, but another blade—one harboring darkness far greater than what should exist in a mortal weapon."

"I have already spoken to Sir Juno. I warned him. I told him the sword was dangerous. I told him it was alive."

"But he refused to listen."

"As you’ve no doubt guessed, the dungeon that has emerged... is mine. I am its master. I control what comes from it—and what stays locked within."

"As for the matter of the Percival Barony... Lady Cassandra and her daughter, Christina, are currently my guests. Or should I say, hostages. They will be treated well—so long as you comply."

"You have 24 hours to respond."

"If I do not receive a reply, the next wave of monsters I unleash will do more than scratch your castle walls."

"They will burn your cities."

"Choose wisely."

—Shennong

Silence.

No one spoke. Not a breath.

King Soris remained seated, unmoving, as though carved from stone. His knuckles were white from how tightly he gripped the armrests of his throne.

"A hostage situation...?" one of the councilmen whispered. "This is an act of war."

Soris’s eyes never left Juno.

"So," the King said, voice low and deadly calm. "It seems you did speak with him, Juno."

Juno didn’t flinch. "I did. Briefly. He confronted me. Accused my blade of harboring cursed power. I told him nothing—because I believed he was mad."

Mandira raised a brow. "You told no one about this encounter? Not even me?"

"I didn’t think it was important. The man spoke like a zealot."

The King rose from his seat.

"You’ve made a grave miscalculation, Sir Juno."

"I gave you a direct order to uncover the truth behind this dungeon. Instead, I find out from a letter thrown through my window that you already knew more than you claimed."

Juno stepped forward, defiant. "With respect, Your Majesty, I’ve never withheld information with ill intent. And if Mandira had spoken sooner—"

"This is not about Mandira anymore!" the King snapped.

The entire chamber flinched.

King Soris turned and faced Juno fully, eyes burning with fury.

"You have two options."

Juno straightened. "I’m listening."

The King’s voice rang through the hall like the tolling of a bell.

"Within the next 24 hours, you will bring me Shennong. Alive."

"Or," he continued, eyes narrowing, "you will hand over your sword to the royal family, and all information about it. Everything you know, including how it cursed the woman Shennong speaks of."

Gasps echoed across the room.

"But, Your Majesty—" a councilman began.

The King raised a hand. "Silence."

Juno clenched his fists.

"And if I refuse both?" he asked.

It was Archmage Mandira who spoke then. "Yes. What happens if he fails either task?"

Everyone turned to her, then to the King.

King Soris’s expression darkened.

"Then by the power vested in me by the Crown," he said, "I will declare Sir Juno an enemy of the nation."

A beat of stunned silence.

"And I will order his immediate execution."

The words dropped like iron in the room.

No one had expected it—not even the most hard-hearted councilmen. To declare a knight of Juno’s standing a traitor...?

But Soris was deadly serious.

Juno’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"So those are my only paths?"

"Yes," Soris said, coldly. "You have 24 hours. Prove your loyalty. Or die by royal decree."

The meeting ended in chaos.

Councilmen left with pale faces, whispering about the madness of it all. Mandira remained seated, lips tight, eyes distant.

Juno stood alone, sword at his side, as the King swept from the chamber with his guards.

This wasn’t just politics anymore.

This was war.

And the timer had already started ticking.

***

Sturgon had never seen such chaos.

Soldiers sprinted through the streets in tight formations, their armor clanking like storm bells. Magical flares flickered across the skyline as mages coordinated defensive barriers around the capital.

The nation’s heart beat fast and loud, and at its center, the calm of Princess Maria’s mansion stood in eerie contrast.

But inside? It was anything but calm.

"Where is the report from the front?" Maria paced across her polished marble floors, her heels clicking with a rhythm that betrayed her irritation. She clutched a folded letter in one hand, unopened—her instincts told her it would be more of the same: vague updates, veiled reassurances.

The only sound besides her steps was the rustling of silk curtains as warm wind drifted in.

Then, a knock on the balcony door.

It opened on its own with a whisper of mana. A tall woman stepped in, mage robe with subtle enchantments and golden trims. Her presence was like the calm in the eye of a hurricane—formidable, commanding, and quietly divine.

"Mandira," Maria said with relief, though her voice was taut. "You’re back."

Mandira bowed slightly. "For a moment only, Your Highness. The southern front is stabilized for now. I thought to visit."

"You thought to visit?" Maria’s eyes narrowed. "Then tell me, what exactly is going on? I keep receiving scraps. Glimpses. Half-truths. Do you think I’m a child to be kept in the dark? Don’t make me report about this to empire."

Mandira didn’t respond at first.

Instead, she looked out over the city from the balcony. The crimson sunset painted the buildings in molten gold. "Do you remember the garden behind the temple when you were six?"

Maria blinked. "Mandira—what does that have to do with—"

"You were playing with a butterfly," Mandira said softly. "It landed on your finger and you cried because you thought holding it meant you’d crushed it. But it was alive. You’d been so gentle."

Maria sighed, folding her arms. "This isn’t what I asked."

"I remember thinking that day... this girl will grow into someone powerful. But not because of the throne." Mandira turned to face her fully. "Because she would understand people, even if she tried not to."

"Mandira." Maria’s voice was sharp now. "Why are you deflecting? What aren’t you telling me?"

A pause. Then—

"What do you really want, Maria?" Mandira’s voice dropped an octave. "Why are you here like this, pacing alone, with that restless look in your eyes? You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve been hiding something since I returned."

Maria’s breath caught.

"...What are you implying?"

"You met her, didn’t you?" Mandira said, her tone gentle, but her words cutting straight to the core. "I can see it in your eyes."

Maria turned away, walking toward the window. Her reflection in the glass showed a frown.

"Yes," she finally said. "After you left... after your last lesson... she came to me."

Mandira stepped closer, something reverent in her posture now. "Pamela."

Maria nodded slowly.

"The great Overseer of the Mage Sanctuary," Mandira said softly, like invoking a legend. "My master. The one many believe is half a god... perhaps something more."

"She showed me," Maria whispered. "That day, she didn’t just speak. She revealed my fate."

Mandira’s eyes darkened. "Your fate?"

"She said this place... this land... would become the turning point of my life. That I would meet someone here who would change everything."

Mandira’s heart pounded. Could it be him? The visions she herself had seen danced in the back of her mind—visions of light, flame, and a figure standing between chaos and salvation.

"Do you know who it is?" she asked quietly.

Maria shook her head. "No. I don’t know what they look like. Or where they’re from. But I feel it. A connection. It’s like something pulling me closer."

Mandira studied her for a long time, then took a breath as if to speak—

And froze.

Her body tensed. The air behind her... shifted.

A presence. Not killing intent—but curiosity so intense it bordered on violation. It coiled like a serpent behind her neck.

In an instant, Mandira spun around, silver light flaring in her hand.

"Stay down!" she barked at Maria, spreading her other arm to shield the princess.

A barrage of spell circles spiraled to life around them—six layers deep, each inscribed with defensive runes older than the royal bloodline. Walls of translucent force shimmered into being.

The intruder didn’t move, though the wall had formed between them.

A tall man stood there, barely a few feet from where Mandira had been. His clothes rather stragne with his top half being an weird looking fabric with no arms.

His gaze was serene, almost amused. But his presence... it weighed like mountains.

"Shennong," Mandira growled, eyes burning with restraint. "What are you doing here?"