Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character-Chapter 118: [117] Cold war lite (2)

As the imperial diplomat’s caravan continued its journey, its wooden wheels creaked over the uneven stone road. The escort accompanying them was not large, but it was sufficient to ensure a smooth and uninterrupted trip. The soldiers remained vigilant, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings, even though the journey had been uneventful so far.

Inside one of the main carriages, a rotund man sat with a bored expression, his fingers tapping impatiently against the armrest of his seat.

"Haah... I really don’t understand," he sighed, his deep voice echoing within the enclosed carriage. "What was the Crown Prince thinking when he sent me to such a tiny place?" He leaned back into his seat, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I know he hates me, but isn’t this a bit much? No... could it be that this trip was planned to get rid of me?"

The man sitting across from him merely sighed, already too accustomed to his superior’s sharp sarcasm. Despite his considerable influence in imperial politics, few people liked his blunt personality. He had a habit of mocking even those in positions of greater power—something nearly unheard of for an ordinary diplomat. However, no one could deny his skills in negotiation or his sharp ability to read political situations.

After a brief pause, the subordinate finally spoke, his voice flat yet tinged with reluctance. "Sir, I understand that this journey may feel frustrating, but we are representing the Empire. Besides, this small kingdom is not just a mere dot on the map."

The diplomat scoffed, adjusting his posture as if suddenly interested in his subordinate’s words. "Oh? You’re starting to sound like one of those nobles pretending to care about diplomacy." He lifted his wine goblet, swirling the red liquid before continuing. "So, tell me... what makes this remote place so important? Don’t tell me it’s just about trade agreements or some dull peace treaty."

His subordinate remained composed, unfazed by the sharp remark. "It’s not just about trade—it’s also about the Empire’s political stability," he answered, carefully observing his superior’s expression. "I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about rising tensions between the southern kingdoms and Lutharia."

The diplomat smirked, leaning back more comfortably as if he had just heard something amusing. "Ah, so it’s about that?" he said, his tone slightly mocking. "I have heard whispers that Marquis Arleon is playing a dangerous game. But you know how nobles are... they prefer to stab each other in the back rather than fight on the battlefield."

His subordinate nodded slightly. "That’s true, but this time, it’s different. There are too many conflicting interests, and one wrong move could spark a large-scale war."

For a moment, the diplomat fell silent, rubbing his chin with his plump fingers. His eyes narrowed as if carefully weighing the information he had just received. "If that’s true... then this trip isn’t just about diplomacy. It’s a test to see who truly holds power within the Empire."

His subordinate gave a faint smile, his gaze meaningful. "Exactly, sir. And you... may be one of the most valuable pieces on the board."

The diplomat chuckled softly, but there was no humor in his laughter. "A pawn, huh? If that’s the case, then I’ll have to make sure I’m not an expendable one."

He let out a long sigh, his gaze drifting toward the gently swaying carriage walls. Beneath his seemingly lazy expression, his mind worked tirelessly, analyzing the worsening situation. He was a man who understood imperial politics all too well, someone who knew how the wheels of power turned. But he also knew that people like him could do little in the grand game played by those who sat on the throne.

(More than that, the situation within the palace is deteriorating. Especially with those war-hungry maniacs around... Tsk, just thinking about it ruins my appetite. Damn it. If only the Crown Prince had listened to my advice back then, none of this would be happening.) 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

His fingers drummed against the armrest, frustration creeping into his expression as he considered the blindness of rulers who saw power only as a contest of strength. The Empire had long been a place where diplomacy merely served as a brief pause before the next war. With factions constantly vying for dominance, the palace had lost its stability, and now, they were even willing to extend that instability beyond the Empire’s borders.

His subordinate remained silent, patiently waiting, allowing his superior to remain lost in thought. He knew there was no point in trying to comfort the diplomat—this was not a man who could be placated with empty reassurances. The only thing that could bring him peace of mind was either a successful negotiation or an opportunity to secure his place in the game.

(If only the Empire suffered a blow strong enough to force its leaders to rethink their approach... maybe, just maybe, something would change.)

The diplomat exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing as he gazed out the carriage window. The Empire had stood as the continent’s dominant force for over a century, unmatched in both military and economic strength. However, in recent years, its economic foundations had begun to erode, even though on the surface, everything still seemed intact.

Unfortunately, the national budget continued to be funneled into the military, endlessly feeding the machine that maintained their dominance. Meanwhile, the common people bore the brunt of it all—high taxes, soaring food prices, and increasingly harsh living conditions. The once-glorious Empire, once hailed as the wealthiest nation, was slowly turning into a giant that sacrificed its own citizens to maintain its image of supremacy.

The diplomat had witnessed far more suffering among the lower classes than he could ever openly admit—too many families destroyed by the endless wars the Empire refused to stop. Yet the imperial leaders cared for only one thing: ensuring their strength was recognized, even if it meant tearing their own nation apart.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to suppress the growing frustration in his chest. But he knew all too well—there was no such thing as surrender in politics. If he wanted to change anything, he had to find a way to play the game more cunningly than the rest.

###

That was why Arkan did not want the diplomat to die.

It was not just about preventing a war—it was about protecting someone who still had the potential to bring change within the Empire. This diplomat was no ordinary official; he was known as The Old Fox of the Fjords, a man who had survived the ruthless world of politics far longer than most. Cunning, intelligent, but also one of the few people in the Empire who still possessed a conscience.

In the novel Warrior’s Destiny, he was described as one of the shadow architects who constantly maintained the balance between factions within the Empire. If there was anyone capable of making the nobles reconsider their ambitions, it was him. However, despite his intelligence and influence, his power was limited—he was merely a bureaucrat working behind the scenes, lacking both an army and a noble title to shield him from the deadly court politics.

More than that, he was also someone who had continuously supported Rainer throughout his journey.

For Arkan, this mission was not just about strategy or saving a single diplomat. It was a step toward preserving a key player in the Empire’s political game—someone who could still alter the course of history. If The Old Fox died here, then any hope for change within the Empire would die with him.

Amid the shadows of political maneuvering, Erik’s forces were preparing to face treacherous terrain. They had to traverse perilous swamps, where a single misstep could sink them into the mud without a trace. Yet, they had no choice—this route was the only way to reach their designated coordinates without drawing enemy attention.

Ahead of them stretched a silent canyon, flanked by towering cliffs. This place, in the near future, would bear witness to the beginning of a cold war that would shake the continent. The imperial diplomat’s caravan was slowly approaching the region, unaware that death was waiting for them behind the jagged rocks.

Within the crevices of the cliffs, the forces of the God Evil Sect had already taken their positions. They lay in wait, hidden in silence, anticipating the perfect moment to strike. To them, this was not merely a mission—it was a ritual, a sacrifice that would propel them closer to their ultimate goal.

However, unbeknownst to them, another shadow had already begun to move. Erik and his comrades had taken their positions, waiting for the right moment to ignite the spark of resistance. They did not know if they could win, but one thing was certain—this massacre would not unfold without a fight.

###

At the spot where Erik and his team lay in hiding, an eerie silence enveloped them. He used hand signals to coordinate their movements—each gesture brief yet precise, not a single word spoken. For weeks, they had trained in these codes, communicating without sound, relying only on gestures understood by their fellow teammates. Night after night, they practiced, turning silence into a weapon and precision into their shield.