Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1388: I intend to be that beginning

"Second point," Elara continued, her voice steady. "I cannot join you as a subordinate. However, there is an alternative."

Rhazuun’s eyes lit up. The door wasn’t shut; it was just heavy.

"As you’ve noticed, while magic exists on this continent, there is no centralized authority. No academy, no guild, no standardization," Elara explained. "I intend to be that beginning."

This was an ambition Orion had planted in her mind long ago.

Rhazuun understood immediately. She didn’t want to be a member; she wanted to be a founder.

"Your Highness, how does this benefit the Order of the Dandelion?" Rhazuun asked. He wasn’t a fool. The establishment of a new, independent Magic Association created a competitor, not an asset. His gaze lost some of its earlier warmth, replaced by the calculation of a negotiator. "What if I were willing to operate this organization under the banner of the ’Order of the Dandelion’?"

Elara blinked, her expression innocent, but her words were a predator’s trap. "Mage, the world is changing. The sky is falling. This would be the Order’s chance to shine brighter than any other faction."

Rhazuun saw the flash of brilliance in the offer. He understood the implication, but he needed it spelled out in ink.

"Elaborate, Your Highness."

"In the Stoneheart Horde, we have the Ogre Province," Elara said, using a political precedent he would understand. "They answer to the Horde. They fight for the Horde. But within their own borders, they possess autonomy. They rule their own pits."

She leaned forward. "Do you understand now?"

Rhazuun nodded slowly.

She wanted to establish a franchise. She wanted to build a semi-autonomous branch of the Order within the Titanion Realm. It would carry the brand, but she would hold the leash.

"The Order’s mission is to scatter the seeds of magic across the worlds, is it not?" Elara asked, her tone dripping with mock innocence. "If your manifesto wasn’t a lie, then my proposal aligns perfectly with your doctrine. Unless... you were lying to me?"

She smiled—a sweet, inscrutable smile that Rhazuun found increasingly terrifying. It was the smile of someone who held all the cards.

"Your Highness," Rhazuun said, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. "I do not have the authority to authorize a franchise of that magnitude. I must consult with the High Council."

"Take your time," she said magnanimously.

"Thank you. We will return with an answer as soon as—"

"One month," Elara cut in.

"Excuse me?"

"Magic is the art of bending reality to one’s will. It is powerful, efficient, and instantaneous," Elara said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Do not insult the craft with bureaucratic stalling. One month."

In that moment, Rhazuun saw it—a genuine, burning respect for the arcane arts. She wasn’t just a king’s daughter; she was a true mage.

He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. He nodded solemnly.

"Done."

By evening, Elara had returned to the obsidian citadel. She found Orion on his throne and promptly curled up beside him.

"Little one, you’re getting too big for this," Orion rumbled, though he made no move to push her away. "You’re a young woman now. Propriety dictates some distance. People love to gossip about what they don’t understand."

He rested his large hand on her head, ruffling her hair. Elara purred like a kitten finding the warmest spot on a winter hearth, eyes closed in contentment.

"Father, that’s just noise," she mumbled, nuzzling into his palm. "Small minds, petty malice, and the whispers of old hags who have nothing better to do. Let them talk."

Orion smiled, saying nothing. He simply enjoyed the peace. Since fully inheriting the Titan bloodline, Elara had become increasingly tactile, her affection raw and instinctive.

"Father, I want to..."

"Granted," Orion interrupted gently. "Whatever you need, do it. The Stoneheart Horde has enough muscle. We have enough savages. What we need is the cool logic and wisdom of a mage to balance the scales."

Elara opened her eyes, surprised he hadn’t even let her finish the pitch. It was absolute trust. Absolute spoiling.

"You already know?"

"Mmhmm." Orion nodded, though the gesture was more of a sway. "Your mother got the intelligence report. She was worried about your safety, so she asked me to keep an eye on things."

He patted her head one last time before leaning back. "Tell me your plan. Let’s see where I can smooth the road for you."

He wasn’t offering pocket money. He was offering state resources—manpower, treasury access, land grants, and diplomatic leverage. He was ready to bankroll her Magic Association into existence.

Elara kissed his cheek. "The Association is necessary. But the magical knowledge on this continent is a desert. We need an aqueduct from the outside."

She sighed, her expression turning serious. "The Merfolk Kingdoms have shared some knowledge, but their magic is hydro-centric. It’s too niche. It’s incomplete."

This was the reality of the Utessar Continent. The Human Kingdoms and the Blood Elves hoarded their arcane secrets like dragons hoarded gold. Nothing leaked out.

"To function properly, we need a curriculum from a mature magical faction," Elara admitted, her frustration evident. "My mentor’s faction, the Saint Gran Council, or Rhazuun’s Order of the Dandelion... they are the best options. But neither is a charity."

"They won’t help us without strings attached," she said, her brow furrowing. "Meaning, our Association will have foreign fingers in the pie from day one."

That was the sticking point. Elara wanted to be a Queen in her own domain. The idea of being a puppet, or having to manage external meddling, made her skin crawl.

"Father, how do I handle this?"

Orion scooped her up and set her properly on the arm of the throne. He pointed out the massive archway, toward the sprawling expanse of Stoneheart City—a chaotic, vibrant mosaic of architecture and life.

"Daughter, let me give you a lesson in ruling," Orion said, his voice deep and resonant. "Governing a great power is like cooking a stew. You need balance. You can’t just throw in meat and hope for the best. You can’t just use salt."

"Look at the Horde," he continued. "Giants will always be the bedrock, the meat of the stew. But if that’s all we have, it’s bland. We need the other races. We need their spice, their texture."

"Solidarity isn’t about everyone being the same. It’s about distinct flavors binding together in the same pot. That is how we build a force capable of conquering new battlefields. That is how we claim glory."

"If the Order of the Dandelion wants to be the salt in our stew, let them." Orion grinned, a predator’s confidence in his eyes. "Once they’re in the pot, they dissolve. They become part of our meal."