“That I cannot say with certainty,” muttered Ruth.
"The Duke we know would never tarnish Croyso's name by taking revenge.
Especially in a way that would be seen as dishonorable.
He may be a terrible despot, but he is not so foolish as to risk his authority by openly defying the Council's decision."
Ruth paused and walked to the corner of the ward, where there was a cauldron boiling over the brazier.
“But a man on the verge of death becomes indifferent to the future,” he continued, stirring the contents of the cauldron with a ladle.
"The family's prestige, even his own status, may mean nothing to him now.
Who knows if he is thinking rationally, his mind full of revenge."
Maxi bit her lip as she pondered Ruth's words.
His father was known for fiercely protecting his reputation and authority.
Publicly, he always played the role of devoted father, while tormenting her in private.
And when he arranged a grand wedding for her, in reality, he was sending her fiancé to the Dragon Campaign in her place.
But the man Ruth described now seemed reckless and focused on belittling her husband.
He seemed to care nothing about the public criticism or the damage to his reputation.
Maxi was sure that this was not the behavior his cunning and calculating father would have had before.
Is he so blinded by his hatred for Riftan?
Indignation rose within her as she imagined her father lying on his deathbed.
The man had dedicated his entire life to maintaining his power and territory, and now, here he was, wasting possibly his last moments on petty revenge.
What a vain and meaningless existence.
In his mind, his father had always been a frightening, authoritarian figure.
Now, he seemed reduced to a pathetic old man.
A man consumed by hate, who had never given or received love.
A sudden desire took over Maxi.
She wanted to see the Duke of Croyso in all his fragility, to look into his eyes and say that only a sad and lonely death awaited him.
He could have chosen a different life.
Instead of buying a wife, he could have married for love.
And if he had become a father who valued his children, he would have been surrounded by family instead of dying alone.
He could have shown respect and gratitude to the young and talented knight who was in his service.
To him, Riftan was nothing more than a disposable pawn.
The powerful knight could have become a loyal ally instead of an enemy that haunted his nights.
Now all he had was a crumbling empire and two daughters who despised him.
Was he happy with the path he had taken?
These were the thoughts swirling in Maxi's mind when Ruth's voice brought her back to the present.
"No need to worry so much, my lady.
Sir Riftan has already contacted the eastern merchants' guild in case the duke withholds supplies.
And as a last resort, we can always finance the army ourselves."
Ruth seemed to think his silence was caused by worry.
Instead of correcting him, she shook her head, a frown on her forehead.
"Anatol is under no obligation to fund this.
The Council is responsible for providing the army with supplies, and they have delegated that task to the Duke of Croyso.
Therefore, the supplies must come from him no matter what."
“Do you have any plans in mind?” Ruth asked, peering into the contents of a ladle to gauge its readiness.
When he turned to await her response, she hesitantly replied, “What if… I wrote to the vassals of the duchy?”
“It would certainly be better than not writing at all,” Ruth said bluntly.
He placed the cauldron on the floor and began refilling bottles of tonic.
"But letters alone will not be enough.
Despite his failing health, your father is still the lord of this land, while you are merely a potential heir.
His lordship would need something more persuasive to compel these stubborn eastern nobles to defy him."
Maxi looked thoughtfully at the steaming cauldron.
“I must speak to Sir Derek.”
“And what would you say to him?” Ruth asked, looking both worried and curious.
"I'll try to win him over first.
His army is large, which means he's influential.
If I can get him to act as my go-between… it will give me more influence over the nobles in the east."Ruth looked skeptical, but relented with a shrug.
“Worth a try.”
“Thank you for your trust,” replied Maxi.
Turning around, she left the infirmary.
His mind was racing as he headed to the square lined with rows of military tents.
Should he brandish the White Dragons' formidable reputation to compel obedience?
It would be effective, perhaps, but it could also breed resentment.
Ideally, she wanted the vassals to join the coalition willingly.
But how to convince a group of arrogant and conservative nobles?
After much consideration, Maxi sought out Anatol's knights.
She wanted to consult Riftan first, but he was deeply involved in a strategic meeting in the common tents.
Peeking into the tent, she saw him deliberating with Richard Breston, Kuahel Leon, and the commander of the Royal Knights of Wedon.
She pulled away when she realized Sir Derek wasn't among them.
Most likely, he was in the duchy's camp.
As he deliberated his next move, his eyes fell upon Hebaron, who was sharpening his sword by a fire.
“Sir Hebaron,” she said, approaching him.
“May I ask for your help for a moment?”
The knight looked up in surprise.
“What can I do for you, my lady?”
“I need to speak to Sir Derek… and I need an escort.”
A momentary confusion passed across Hebaron's face before turning into a slight frown.
"Sir Derek, one of the Duke's men?
What exactly do you intend to discuss with him?"
“I want to talk to him about the supplies,” Maxi replied, infusing her voice with more confidence than she felt.
Before Hebaron could voice any objections, she quickly added, "If you're too busy, you can send someone else.
But I need to go now."
Hebaron stood up quickly, sheathing his sword.
“Allow me to accompany you.”
His smile was that of a mischievous boy who had found something interesting.
“What perfect timing,” he said.
"I was getting bored.
Shall we?"
Wasting no time, Maxi led the way towards the duchy's tents.
As Croyso's banner approached, his palms began to feel clammy.
Could she skillfully negotiate with her father's vassal?
I have nothing to lose.
Stopping before the opulent crimson stalls, she tried to steel her nerves.
“Inform Sir Derek that Lady Maximilian Calypse wishes to speak with him,” he ordered the sleepy squire guarding the entrance.
The young man was startled by her deliberately pompous tone, straightening the spear he was holding.
He ran into the tent, and moments later, an invitation to enter was heard from inside.
With her head held high, Maxi entered.
"Sir Derek," she said, assuming the posture of a haughty noblewoman, "I apologize for the unannounced visit.
I hope I have not disturbed your rest."
"Not at all, my lady.
It is always an honor to receive such an illustrious guest," replied the knight politely.
He offered her a seat padded with fox fur.
"Please."
“Thank you,” said Maxi exquisitely.
She gracefully sat down on the chair.
Over her shoulder, she saw Hebaron stifling a laugh.
He seemed to find his performance highly entertaining.
She gave a light cough.
A momentary regret flashed through his mind“maybe bringing it wasn't the wisest decision.
“I won’t take up too much of your time,” assured Maxi.
Sir Derek twirled his meticulously groomed mustache.
"What a shame."
He was being polite, but she could tell he didn't consider her particularly important.
After studying her in silence, as if trying to discern her intentions, the knight took a goblet from the table.
“So, may I ask the reason for your visit?”
Maxi felt her confidence diminish at his relaxed manner, but continued.
“I came to ask the duchy’s vassals to actively support the coalition army.”
Although she knew the situation required diplomacy, she was not accustomed to the formalities of aristocratic conversation.
She decided to be as frank as possible.
"The Council of the Seven Kingdoms formed this army and sent us here, and the House of Croyso is obliged to provide us with supplies.
So far, we have received rather lackluster hospitality, and I am not willing to tolerate it any longer."Maxi felt her confidence grow as the words came out as eloquently as she had imagined.
She felt more and more like a refined noblewoman as she spoke.
Lifting her chin, she pronounced each word.
"Given the lukewarm reception we have received, I have reason to doubt that the supplies will arrive in time.
Therefore, I ask, Sir Derek“send a message to the nobles of the east to dispatch prompt and adequate supplies to Midna."