Observing Miaomiao's commanding presence, a white-haired female mage muttered to herself, "See? I told you. Every beast Michael keeps around is utterly obsessed with gold. Now my own beasts are picking up the habit, and it's driving me mad. I'll be broke before retirement at this rate."
Michael's eyes narrowed as he studied the complaining mage. The numerous pouches on her belt likely contained hand-crafted treats for beasts, a clear sign she was a mage specializing in beast magic. The thought of those from her school contributing to his estate's workforce brought a warm sense of pride. I really ought to check in on the estate. So much is underway, and I can't keep leaving it all to others.
As Michael briefly mused over estate matters, the first appraisal began. The warrior from the steppes, Karon, who had won the draw to go first, boomed in his deep voice, "I want this item appraised! But first, the seal must be broken. Sphinx, examine it!"
Miaomiao frowned and raised a paw to stop him. "[I am here to appraise, not to entertain challenges. Lower your voice, human.]"
Chastened, Karon took a step back. He presented a space ring from the emperor's chambers. The eyes of everyone in the hall fixed on him.
"That sneaky bastard!"
"No wonder he's practically naked but carrying such a small bundle. He must've cherry-picked the best items."
Despite the outcry, Karon stood his ground. "What? Do you have something to say? I took the risk!"
His bold declaration silenced the grumbles. After all, the ring was as much a gamble as it was a treasure. It could contain extraordinary riches—or nothing at all. Space rings themselves were rare, but not so rare that everyone present didn't already possess some form of spatial item.
Miaomiao examined the ring, first verifying the state of its seal. The primary seal had already been released upon the emperor's death, leaving only a secondary seal. With deliberate precision, she broke the remaining seal and bound the ring to herself to inspect its contents.
Holding the ring delicately in her paw, she began her assessment. Space ring creation methods had long been lost to history, making this ring's age and rarity significant. After evaluating its craftsmanship, capacity, and aesthetic value, she started to extract its contents.
The first item to emerge was a scroll made of leather. All eyes in the banquet hall locked onto the ancient scroll.
As Miaomiao was about to unfurl the scroll, an attendant announced the arrival of Crown Prince Oswald. Having just entrusted the emperor's remains to the royal chamber, Oswald had paid his respects alongside Chancellor Mufasa before making his way to the banquet hall.
The sight that greeted him—warriors and guests occupying the grand hall as if it were their domain—made Oswald's face darken momentarily. However, he quickly composed himself, suppressing his anger. Losing his temper here would accomplish nothing and might even put him in danger of suffering the same fate as his father. He forced a strained smile, though his frustration simmered beneath the surface.
Chancellor Mufasa, observing the prince's internal struggle, bowed his head solemnly. He still wasn't certain if he had made the right choice in supporting Oswald. "The road ahead is long and treacherous," he thought grimly. Between the restoration of the ruined palace, silencing the servants who had witnessed these events, managing the protests from the five great clans, and organizing the coronation, the sacrifices to come were unimaginable.
And what of the terrified citizens outside the palace gates? How would they ever be reassured? Mufasa's gaze shifted to the prince, whose submissive demeanor when dealing with these invaders left the chancellor baffled and disheartened.
"If you've accepted their help, why bow so low?" he wondered, trying to steady his nerves by focusing on the ongoing appraisal. Yet the sight of the warriors engrossed in treasures only deepened his sorrow. "This is all the emperor's and Pamir's karma," he lamented silently.
Neither Mufasa's nor Oswald's turmoil drew any attention. The warriors' focus remained on the scroll Miaomiao held in her paws.
"Please proceed with the appraisal, Lady Neferteri," one of them urged eagerly.
With an air of arrogance, Miaomiao glanced around before finally unfurling the scroll and beginning to read. Her expression grew darker as she continued.
"[Hmm… This is a method for extending one's life by sacrificing others. But the contents… they are deeply wicked, to say the least.]"
Oswald and Mufasa both paled, immediately grasping what she meant. They clenched their eyes shut, their minds racing with the consequences should this information spread. It wouldn't merely tarnish the nation's reputation—it would plunge the Pamir royal family into a scandal so vile that recovery would be impossible.
Unaware of the gravity of the revelation, the warriors grew impatient.
"What does it say? Speak plainly!" one demanded.
"Yes, we've endured all manner of horrors in our lives. How bad can it be?" another added confidently.
Miaomiao sighed, her gaze sweeping over the room. For someone with her unnaturally long lifespan, the desperate human obsession with extending life was a concept she could never fully understand.
"[If you insist, I will explain,]" she began. "[This method requires one to kill their own blood relatives every few years, flaying their skin and stripping their bones for ritual offerings. The entire process must be carried out personally—no one else may intervene.]"
Her calm delivery only magnified the horror of her words. A heavy silence descended upon the banquet hall as the warriors processed what they had just heard. Faces turned pale, and the sound of uneasy swallowing filled the air. Some bit their lips, others shook their heads in disbelief, and more than a few glanced nervously at their surroundings, expressions twisted with shock and disgust.
One warrior wiped the sweat from his brow and stammered, "…Blood relatives?"
The concept was so abhorrent that the mere thought sent waves of nausea through the room. From various corners, sounds of retching began to rise. Finally, someone hesitantly raised their hand to ask, "Wh-what exactly do you mean by blood relatives?"
Miaomiao let out another sigh before answering. "[The closer the relative, the stronger the effect. And the more talented the relative, the better. From what I've heard… the emperor's sons have died every few years under various circumstances, haven't they?]"