The Runic Artist Chapter 38: Chapter 357 - Making Statements

Read chapter 38 of The Runic Artist by Ellake on NovelPedia.

“Repeat that for me, Emperor Weber?” asked Gloria Hilldowner, Asmuisil’s Minister for Foreign Trade. “The mana font will increase its throughput by roughly fifty percent every month when compared with the current baseline. By the time it reaches its peak in five years time it will be emitting roughly thirty times as much mana as it is now,” answered Nate. Looking around the room he could see the Council of Asmuisil digest his words. Each face showed a different expression. The Minister for Foreign Trade had a look of consideration like she was doing the mental math on how that would affect Asmuisil. The Minister for Foreign Relations was sneering like she didn’t believe him. Then there was the Minister for Justice whose expression was so bland Nate wondered if he was even listening. “And you’re supplying us with just one of these? Why not more?” asked Charles Dullipont, Minister for Defence. “As I have said, Minister Dullipont, my goal is to raise the ambient mana on Galle. As in the entire world. Giving one nation a competitive advantage over another would ruin the distribution of ambient mana.” Beatrice Gannon, Minister for Foreign Relations, snorted at his words. “You can’t honestly expect us to believe you won’t supply your own empire with more than one mana font.” Nate shrugged. “I’ve told you what I am going to do. It’s your own paranoia that refuses to accept my words, despite me plainly demonstrating that if conquering your country was my goal, I could do it on my own.” Beatrice flicked a hand towards Nate while looking at her fellow Ministers. “You see? He threatens our country while casually sitting before us. This is not a man to make deals with. This is a threat to be stamped out.” Nate sighed audibly which drew the attention of Yvonne Hall, Minister for Education. “Emperor Weber, what would you do if the Council voted in favour of detaining you?” asked Minister Hall. Nate raised a single eyebrow at the young Minister as the gaze of all the other Ministers turned towards him at the same time. “Truly?” he asked. “If you would humour me, please,” asked Yvonne politely. “Very well. If the Council, as a majority, voted to detain me, I assume the Champions present would attempt to arrest me?” Yvonne nodded, as did a tired looking Commander Kalista off to the side. “Since they were just following orders, I would simply remove them from the area through a form of teleportation. I would not however let them keep their armour, which looks to be incorporating some of my own design principles which I assume you have copied from work done by the Artist’s Emporium. So, your Champions would keep their lives but Asmuisil would lose their armour…” “Spare us yo…” began Beatrice. “I’m not finished,” stated Nate firmly, ignoring the interruption as Beatrice’s mouth moved but no sound could be heard. The Sound rune on Nate’s robe swirled in greens and blues as he continued. “As for your Minister of Foreign Relations, her I would kill, along with anyone else on your Council foolish enough to vote with her. Then, as a final warning before taking my leave, I would dismantle the People’s Chamber.” A few mouths opened to speak but found like Beatrice they were consigned to silence as Nate’s eyes swept over the gathered Ministers of Asmuisil. “You seem to think that because I have been patient with you, attempting to answer your questions and allay your fears, that I am weak enough that you can threaten me.” Nate started walking forward. The table in front of him dissolved down the middle as he passed through the space it had occupied, each remaining half falling to the floor in utter silence. As he moved his Regalia swirled around him, the pleasant blues, greens, and whites transitioning to black, red, and orange like a flame awakening in the darkness. With every step, more of the room around Nate dissolved as he carefully controlled Destruction with his Runic Reality to dismantle tables and chairs while gouging his footsteps into the marb