In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Though his tone was casual, his gaze was icy and piercing. Miaomiao nodded slightly, understanding his logic.

[So, you're deliberately trying to fracture them? Humans truly are devious.]

She shook her head and stuck out her tongue, licking her paw with a playful air. Her innocent and adorable demeanor made it hard to imagine she was actually a Sphinx. Anyone unaware of her true identity would be tempted to pet her.

Michael, amused by her antics, shrugged.

"What can I say? I just love the Pamir Empire. The more of them, the merrier, don't you think?"

Miaomiao scoffed, rolling her eyes.

[Hmph. You're as scheming as ever. Still, that's what makes it fun.]

Queen Dowager Guinevere was outraged upon hearing that the Pamir Empire's forces had rounded up the serfs near the borderlands.

"What? They took all the peasants from the borderlands? Are they planning to eat them?"

Chancellor Guinness shook his head.

"That seems unlikely, Your Grace. Though we don't know their exact intentions… This does mean our most fertile lands will have no one left to farm them for the next season."

His voice was heavy with despair as he gazed out the window, imagining the now-empty borderlands. The scorched-earth tactics, followed by the removal of the serfs, had left the entire region desolate. A famine across the Pasha Kingdom seemed almost inevitable.

"Well, the freemen can handle the farming, can't they? What matters is that the empire has withdrawn," Guinevere replied dismissively, fussing with the elaborate sleeves of her gown.

Her apathetic expression betrayed no understanding of the situation's gravity. Chancellor Guinness sighed deeply, knowing she wouldn't comprehend no matter how much he explained.

Outside the audience chamber, the murmurs of discontented nobles filled the halls. Those who had fled their lands were now congregated near the palace, venting their fears and frustrations.

"This is absurd. Why on earth would the imperial soldiers take our serfs?" one noble muttered anxiously.

"Who knows? Perhaps it's a sign of their desperation," another scoffed.

The nobles continued their heated discussion, voices rising as they tried to make sense of the Pamir Empire's actions.

"They couldn't seize food due to the scorched-earth tactics, so perhaps they're venting their frustrations on the serfs," one noble suggested.

"Venting frustration? If they wanted to do that, they could have just killed them on the spot. Why go through the trouble of loading them onto ships?" another countered.

"Who knows what those barbarians are thinking? Civilized minds like ours can hardly fathom their logic," quipped a third noble.

A different noble chimed in, his voice carrying a dark undertone.

"Perhaps they plan to eat them. Think about it. They arrived by land but are leaving by sea. Maybe it's to keep their... provisions fresh."

The room fell silent at the macabre suggestion. After a moment, one noble shuddered and brought up an old rumor.

"There were stories that they roasted and ate prisoners of war."

Another noble nodded grimly, adjusting his collar.

"It's not just a rumor. Serfs who went to war as substitutes for freemen were all captured and eaten because their ransoms weren't paid. They became food instead."

"What savagery!" one exclaimed. "Thank goodness we escaped in time."

"Yes, we might have ended up as their next meal," another muttered, visibly pale.

A nearby noble scoffed at the hysteria.

"How absurd. Even with their numbers, how could they possibly eat all those serfs? Use your heads."

"Who says it's just for the soldiers? Once back in Pamir, they'll probably share with their tribes," someone retorted.

This comment divided the room—some nodded in agreement, while others frowned skeptically. One noble, wearing a somber expression, shook his head.

"Perhaps we should've brought the serfs with us after all," he mused aloud.

After a brief pause, another noble sighed.

"The situation was far too dire at the time. Let's just consider it a necessary sacrifice. Serfs can always be replaced."

The comment, though intended to sound practical, carried a note of unease. The nobles exchanged uncertain glances, silently calculating how they might replace their lost labor force. But no clear solution came to mind, and the atmosphere grew heavier.

Finally, one noble, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. His voice was calm but carried an edge of sharpness.

"Isn't all this the result of the royal summons?"

The room turned toward him, and he let the tension build before continuing with confidence.

"If the royal family is responsible for this mess, shouldn't they compensate us?"

Several nobles nodded in agreement, their discontent finding a new focus.

"Exactly! It was the royal family who ordered our serfs to the border in the first place."

"Yes, and their incompetence in handling the situation led to this disaster. They must take responsibility."

The murmurs of agreement grew louder, their complaints transforming into concrete demands.

"At the very least, monetary compensation is necessary. We've lost our serfs, and future harvests will be severely impacted."

"Absolutely. This will devastate our estates. The royal family must address this."

Eventually, the nobles began drafting a plan to formally petition the royal family for reparations. Though disagreements arose, their shared grievance unified them around a single goal: holding the royal family accountable.

Meanwhile, another group of nobles, having fled from the border regions, sneered at the deliberations.

"How do they expect to find new serfs when the empire has taken them all? Fools," one muttered.

"Worse still, what if the royal family turns to us for support?" another whispered anxiously.

"Let's switch allegiances to Grand Duke Maximilian. There are rumors he's gathering forces."

"Then it's true he's planning to declare independence?"

"Look around. The Queen Dowager and her brother are running the kingdom into the ground. I'm putting everything on the Grand Duke."

"That seems like the only sensible choice."

"Honestly, what's to become of this kingdom?"

Unaware of the storm brewing outside, Queen Dowager Guinevere was making her usual complaints.

"With the empire gone, it's time to return to the palace. This place is so cramped and poorly decorated," she declared, gesturing disdainfully at her surroundings.