Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me-Chapter 350 - 349: Knight Virtil
Charles’s eyes narrow, and he lets out a slow breath through his nose.
"I will make them listen," he says, his voice firm and cold. "Those three Marshalls will have no room to decline. Not this time."
Zing straightens, understanding the weight of that promise.
"Then I wish you success, my lord," the head butler replies. "Let them know that the kingdom is not their personal playground."
Charles nods once, then signals him toward the door.
"Prepare the carriage."
"Yes, my lord."
Zing leaves silently.
A few minutes later, Charles walks through the moonlit palace halls, servants bowing as he passes. The evening air outside is crisp, carrying the distant hum of Celes City—peaceful, unaware of the storm building far away.
A grand black carriage waits at the gate, simple but elegant. No banners. No escorts.
Just one man.
A single old knight sits on the front bench, posture straight, eyes closed as if resting—but the pressure rolling off him is enough to crush most veteran warriors.
Knight Virtil.
Charles steps into the carriage, and it begins moving as soon as the door shuts. The wheels roll smoothly over the stone road as they leave the estate, heading toward the capital.
Across from him, the old knight opens his eyes—deep, ancient eyes that have seen centuries pass.
Charles inclines his head respectfully.
"Sir Virtil, thank you for accompanying me."
Virtil shakes his head slowly, his voice calm and steady, like a mountain speaking.
"No need to thank me, my lord. My life and loyalty already belong to your family. As the current head, you may command me however you wish."
Charles can’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Sometimes, I forget just how long you’ve served us."
Virtil huffs softly, amused. "Long enough to see ten generations of nobles rise and fall."
Charles studies the man sitting before him.
Eight hundred years old.
A quasi-tier 7 warrior.
One of the strongest beings in the entire kingdom.
Tier 6 warriors can only live up to five hundred years. But as a quasi-tier 7, Virtil’s life stretches far longer—close to a thousand years. If he ever breaks through to tier 7, his lifespan would leap to nearly five thousand.
But neither Charles nor Virtil entertains that dream seriously.
Their region of the continent is remote, isolated from the great powers of the top forces. No manuals. No path. No guidance. To them, tier 7 is a legend, a myth.
Charles leans back, watching Virtil.
"You’re the oldest person I know, Sir Virtil."
"Age is nothing without purpose," Virtil replies, closing his eyes again. "And my purpose is to guard your family."
The carriage continues down the moonlit highway. The magical lamps flicker softly as they pass, illuminating fields, forests, and silhouettes of distant farms.
Charles clasps his hands together, thinking.
"Sir Virtil."
"Yes, my lord?"
"When we arrive at the capital... things may not be peaceful."
Virtil opens one eye.
"When are they ever peaceful?"
Charles exhales, his tone turning serious.
"The Marshalls will fight for their interests. The nobles will obstruct anything that threatens their power. And His Majesty... he is not as decisive as he once was."
Virtil lets out a quiet, rumbling breath.
"My lord, you need to be careful in the capital," he says, voice low but steady. "Those three Marshalls are sly. As their lifespans approach their end, they grow bolder... and more paranoid."
Charles nods slowly.
"I know."
"They will not hesitate to twist the situation," Virtil continues. "If they feel cornered, they may act without regard for the kingdom’s stability."
For a moment, the carriage is quiet except for the rolling of wheels.
Charles looks out.
"It seems we’re taking off," he murmurs.
The ground trembles slightly as the wheels lock into place. The runic patterns along the carriage walls glow faintly blue.
Outside, the Skyrazor Gryphid beast fly.
Then the entire vehicle lifts—
WHOOSH!
The world drops away beneath them as the carriage rises rapidly into the air.
A Skyrazor Gryphid is a rare flying beast bred exclusively for the Duke’s line.
Its wings spread wide, feathers shimmer with faint mana, scattering sparks of light with every beat. The beast releases a majestic cry as it climbs higher, pulling the carriage effortlessly into the clouds.
Virtil glances outside as well.
"The journey will take two days," he says. "The capital is too far for ground travel."
Charles nods.
"Two days... to prepare what I will say. And two days before the Marshalls learn I am coming."
----
The carriage glides through the thick morning clouds.
Then the sky opens— 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖
And the capital reveals itself.
The true heart of the kingdom.
A monumental city of white stone and shimmering blue crystal, sprawling beyond the horizon. Towering bastion walls rise like cliffs, each layer fortified with ancient runes. Floating platforms drift lazily above the skyline. Golden banners snap in the wind, each embroidered with the royal crest.
This is Luminaris City.
The Great Capital of Alnera.
The Radiant Seat.
The city where heroes gather, nobles scheme, and the three Marshalls rule the military like gods.
Even Charles, calm and disciplined, feels a brief tightness in his chest.
Luminaris city always carries an oppressive grandeur.
Virtil opens his eyes.
"Still as loud as ever," he murmurs.
The sound of millions living within the city rises in a deep, constant hum—markets roaring, spell-forges thundering, skyships gliding across mana rails.
Charles watches silently as they descend toward the Royal Meridian Gate.
"Sir Virtil," he says softly. "Do you think the Marshalls already know?"
Virtil lifts a brow.
"My lord, the Marshalls know everything. They have spies in every noble house, every city, every barracks."
The Skyrazor Gryphid releases a sharp cry as it swoops lower, casting a massive shadow over the gate.
Guards and knights below look up in shock, several stiffen immediately at the sight of the Duke’s crest.
"The Duke of Celes...?"
"He arrived without notice!"
"And riding a Skyrazor, who is with him?"
"That pressure, someone strong is on board!"
The carriage lands gently on the platform, wings folding as the gryphid settles.
Charles steps out first.
Then Virtil steps down.
Every guard on the platform unconsciously steps back, cold sweat running down their necks, as the ancient knight’s presence washes over them.
Charles adjusts his coat.
"Let’s go."
Virtil nods once.
"As you command."
----
Not far from Luminaris City.
Three mountains stand like ancient titans around the capital.
Three jagged peaks, each one tall enough that clouds cling to their sides like drifting veils. And on each summit rests a magnificent palace, vast, fortified structures built of marble, blacksteel, and shimmering arcane crystal.
The Three War Peaks.
The homes of the kingdom’s military gods.
The residences of the Three Marshalls.
Even the King must send notice before approaching these mountains.
But today...
All three palaces react at the same moment.
A single message reaches them through enchanted communication stones—
a whisper in the air, sharp as lightning.
"Duke Charles has arrived at the capital. Knight Virtil is with him."
The message spreads simultaneously across the peaks like a shockwave.
---
On the First Peak , Marshal Dargan’s Palace
The air is thick with the scent of perfume and incense.
Dozens of silk curtains sway lazily in a warm breeze. Gold lamps cast dim amber light over a room lavish enough to bankrupt minor nobles.
And in the center of it all—
Marshal Dargan lounges lazily on a sprawling bed, half-reclined against a mound of pillows. His muscular frame glistens with a faint sheen of sweat. Scars run across his torso like old battle lines, though most of them are half-hidden by the dozens of naked women draped around him.
Some rest on his lap.
Some play with his hair.
One feeds him grapes.
Another massages his shoulders.
A life of desire, decadence, and power.
A life he believes he earned.
A jade communication stone floats before him, softly pulsing with blue light.
A messenger’s voice echoes from it:
"Marshal Dargan, the Duke of Celes has entered the capital. Knight Virtil accompanies him."
Dargan’s jaw flexes.
He grunts.
"Virtil?"
His voice is deep, gravelly, and dangerous.
"...That fossil hasn’t stepped foot in the capital in nearly a century."
He straightens, turning toward the balcony overlooking half the city.
"So Charles brought a blade to the feast."
A faint smile cracks his stern face.
"Good. It was getting boring."
