Every move on the board has consequences— and Jason's reckoning had finally arrived.
Peleus studied his sister's face, searching for any trace of hesitation or doubt.
There was none. Medea's green eyes remained clear and unwavering, despite everything the Regent's family had put her through—despite being used more thoroughly than anyone else in this sordid affair.
She hadn't allowed emotion to cloud her judgment. Instead, she'd analyzed the situation with clinical precision, calculating Emperor Perdiccas II's likely responses and incorporating the fate of Grand Duke Castulo into her broader strategy.
The scope of her vision was far too wide, her thinking far too sophisticated, for someone merely seventeen years old.
Though he marveled at his sister's brilliant tactical mind, Peleus felt a wave of sadness wash over him alongside his admiration.
'Dear sister, you've grown so much. How much persecution and hardship have you endured alone while I was away at war?'
On those small shoulders rested a desperate determination to secure Valdina's future at any cost. Peleus noticed the weight of it in the tightness around her eyes, the set of her jaw.
'Dea, I wish you could be free from these burdens.'
The weight she carried mirrored his own—the burden of a young man forced to lead Valdina's army into battle, leaving even his beloved sister behind to face dangers he couldn't protect her from.
Yet Peleus understood, with the clarity that came from his own sacrifices, that they could not afford to let reality bend to their wishes or sorrows.
For his sister's sake, and for the future of their land, Valdina could not falter now.
"Do as the Princess commands."
Peleus's voice descended upon the council chamber with absolute authority.
✦*Clak. Clak. Clak.*
The relentless rhythm of hooves striking earth echoed through the mountain passes as Count Kensington drove his mount toward the Katzen Empire. To say he was returning home would be inaccurate—he was being repatriated, bearing King Peleus's letter like a prisoner carrying his own sentence.
"Sir, you should rest. If you continue pushing yourself like this—without sleep, without respite—you'll collapse before we ever reach the palace."
Umberto's concern fell on deaf ears.
"We must arrive at the imperial palace with all possible haste. His Majesty's fury will be... considerable. We need time to formulate our response."
They rode as though fleeing from demons, barely pausing to water their horses, until finally the golden spires of the imperial palace rose before them.
Kensington dismounted on trembling legs and made his way directly to Emperor Perdiccas II's private office.
"Fetch tea for Count Kensington."
Kensington sat, carefully masking his nervousness behind a practiced diplomatic mask. A chamberlain appeared silently to pour steaming liquid into delicate porcelain cups.
Jason was also present—summoned immediately upon his ignominious return from Valdina. Having been expelled from the northern kingdom, the Grand Duke had limped back to Katzen like a wounded animal seeking its den.
Their reflections wavered in the polished surface of a golden statue that dominated the Emperor's office—distorted, elongated figures that seemed to mock their current predicament.
The imperial envoy who had journeyed to Valdina now delivered King Peleus's letter into Perdiccas II's waiting hands.
The Emperor's fingers trembled as he broke the seal. Teacups rattled violently on their saucers.
And then, exactly as Kensington had predicted, Perdiccas II erupted.
"Surrender the strait? Have these Valdinian savages lost their minds entirely?!"
*CRASH!*
The ornate golden statue shattered into glittering fragments as Perdiccas II's staff connected with devastating force.
"And what else did he say? Peleus—that fresh-faced boy wasn't satisfied even after receiving the Anphron gold mine?!"
The Emperor's eyes narrowed dangerously as he addressed his trembling envoy.
The Strait of El Amuz. Despite the ongoing complications with subduing its indigenous population, the strategic importance of that narrow waterway could not be overstated.
For Valdina to demand such a prize felt like an unexpected dagger sliding between his ribs—sharp, precise, agonizing.
The envoy spoke haltingly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"H-His Majesty King Peleus said to inform you that... that the price is determined by what the seller is willing to accept..."
"What? The insolence! Peleus is every bit as cunning and ruthless as his father was. Now that he holds the plains, does he think himself invincible? A wicked man who deserves to burn!"
It was rare for the Emperor to lose his composure so completely.
The Strait of El Amuz was Valdina's greatest geographical vulnerability—a chokepoint that would strangle their maritime ambitions. And now, knowing this, Perdiccas II was being forced to surrender it with his own hands.
Had the King of Valdina anticipated this when making his demand?
'Has he divined why I'm so desperate to preserve House Claudio?'
A chill ran down the Emperor's spine.
He had never even met this young king face-to-face.
Yet somehow, from hundreds of miles away, Peleus had calculated with uncanny precision the maximum concession Perdiccas II could be compelled to make—and demanded exactly that.
The Emperor felt simultaneous astonishment at the young king's insight and fury at his shameless audacity.
If he placed the Strait and the Claudio family on opposite ends of a scale, the Emperor's heart would inevitably tip toward preserving the Claudios. His obsession with Valdina's Philosopher's Stone simply wouldn't allow any other choice.
'The Philosopher's Stone... there's no possibility that arrogant young king would surrender it willingly.'
Which meant the only path to obtaining it lay in eventually toppling Peleus from his throne.
And for that to succeed, Simon Claudio had to survive.
'I must also consider Angelique's reputation.'
The situation needed to be resolved before rumors spread further throughout the Katzen court. He had a duty to protect his daughter's standing and bring her home safely—a responsibility his beloved Empress Dowager had extracted from him with her dying breath.
Perdiccas II released a long, frustrated sigh.
"These reckless Valdinians are playing an exceptionally cunning game. They know perfectly well I have no choice but to acquiesce, and yet they dance on my head like jesters mocking their king!"
Kneeling on the crimson carpet, Count Kensington listened to the Emperor unleash a torrent of curses directed at King Peleus.
Beneath his neatly folded hands, invisible fingers twitched with suppressed tension.
'No, Your Majesty. It wasn't the King of Valdina who orchestrated all of this. It was his sister—the Princess.'
Kensington knew the truth. He had witnessed it firsthand during his time in Valdina's court.
He could identify her handiwork with certainty now.
The brilliant strategy that had maneuvered Perdiccas II into this impossible position—this, too, bore Princess Medea's unmistakable signature.
Yet instead of correcting his master's misapprehension, Kensington remained silent.
It was extraordinary, really.
As a loyal subject of Katzen and the Emperor's most trusted confidant, his duty demanded that he speak the truth. Only then could Perdiccas II properly understand Valdina's true capabilities and prepare adequate countermeasures.
But Kensington said nothing.
The behavior was completely out of character, and even he couldn't fully explain the impulse to protect this particular secret.
Those clear green eyes... why do they haunt me still?
He forcibly dismissed the thought before it could take root.
Meanwhile, the chief chamberlain approached the seething Emperor with careful, measured steps.
"Your Majesty, we have received correspondence from the Holy Kingdom. They wish to 'quietly congratulate and bless' the Fourth Princess on her... recent accomplishments."
"Damn them! As if I needed to be told! Chaos within and interference from without—it never ends!"
The Emperor made no effort to conceal his irritation.
He had immediately recognized the Pope's cunning intention—seizing any available excuse to meddle in Katzen's internal affairs under the guise of spiritual concern.
Perdiccas II bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, then addressed his envoy with barely controlled fury.
"Return to Valdina immediately. Conclude this business and bring Princess Angelique and those Claudio remnants back to the empire. As swiftly as possible!"
The envoy hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.
"Y-Your Majesty... what shall I tell them regarding their demands?"
Perdiccas II's face contorted with suppressed rage—a rare display from the supreme ruler of Katzen, conqueror of continents.
"Tell them we accept their terms."
The words tasted like poison on his tongue.
'Once I possess the Philosopher's Stone...'
Valdina would pay dearly for this humiliation. The demons he would unleash would reduce their lands to ash without Katzen ever needing to draw a sword.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The envoy withdrew with a deep bow, his steps slow and heavy with the weight of the concessions he now carried.
A tense silence settled over the gilded office.
The Emperor turned slowly, his predatory gaze sweeping between Jason—standing rigid on the crimson carpet—and the damning letter from Valdina.
His nephew looked considerably more haggard than when he'd first departed as part of the imperial delegation. The journey home had clearly exacted a terrible toll.
In truth, Jason's return had been nightmarish.
Valdina's elite Agemas warriors had pursued him relentlessly all the way to the border, their eyes radiating murderous intent at every step. Having lost his final shadow guard to Peleus's tactical brilliance, Jason had been left with only his strategists and his Varangian mercenaries.
And even those had been decimated by coordinated attacks from both the Agemas and the legendary warrior Giliphort.
'Hide yourselves again. I'll somehow divert my uncle's attention.'
To conceal the existence of his surviving Varangians, Jason had been forced to send them into hiding, then complete the journey to the palace exposed to countless threats and assassination attempts targeting him personally.
He'd felt naked. Vulnerable. The misery and despair of losing all his carefully cultivated assets was something he never wanted to experience again.
But Jason didn't yet understand the full extent of his predicament.
His suffering had only just begun.
"Jason, what exactly were you thinking?"
Perdiccas II's voice dripped with contempt as he looked down at his nephew.
"Your Majesty, I—"
*THWACK!*
Before Jason could formulate a response, Perdiccas II hurled Valdina's letter at his feet.
"Jason, the compensation Valdina demands exceeds what the imperial treasury can reasonably afford."
Jason's eyes widened as he glimpsed the astronomical figures inscribed on the golden parchment. Then came the thunderbolt.
IMPERIAL DECREE
"I am reclaiming the Grand Duchy of Castulo."
"Uncle!"
Shock froze Jason's features.
"The Valdinian Royal Family is attempting to manipulate you! You must not fall for their shameless scheme—using an absurd compensation demand to fill their war-depleted treasury at our expense!"
"Whether their claim is legitimate or exaggerated is irrelevant. I cannot wage war against Valdina on your behalf. Surely you understand—Princess Angelique's circumstances are involved."
Perdiccas II cut off Jason's protest before it could fully form.
"You created this disaster. You must take responsibility for the consequences. Am I wrong?"
"I will arrange the compensation somehow. I beg you, Uncle—withdraw the order to reclaim my lands. I'm pleading with you as your nephew."
Jason refused to surrender.
Normally, he would have already cowered and retreated under the Emperor's withering gaze. But the Grand Duchy of Castulo represented his final bastion—his last remaining source of power.
It was a magnificent territory, ranked among the five wealthiest in the entire empire.
Even if the Valdinian expedition had ended in disaster, even if he'd exhausted all his carefully prepared advantages, that would have been bearable. Given time, he could rebuild his strength and launch another attempt from Castulo's secure foundation.
But losing the estate itself meant watching his treasure vault disappear entirely.
"Twenty years' worth of territorial taxes? There's no time for such gradual payment. Is there any other method to raise the compensation immediately?"
Silence.
Jason could formulate no answer.
The very fact that Castulo ranked among the empire's wealthiest territories had become a blade turned against him—irony so sharp it drew blood.
Miles away in Valdina's council chambers, Princess Medea couldn't see Jason's face as his world collapsed.
But she had calculated this moment with perfect precision— every variable accounted for, every escape route sealed.
The Grand Duke's fall had been orchestrated before he'd even left for Valdina.
In the golden office of the Katzen Emperor, surrounded by the shattered remains of imperial grandeur, Jason finally understood what it meant to be completely
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