When the letter from the Crassus estate reached the royal palace in Lania, it caused an uproar.
"This is outrageous!" shouted one noble, half-rising from his seat, his face red with fury. His own son was serving alongside Count Michael, making the matter feel deeply personal.
"Indeed! A ceasefire agreent is on the horizon, yet they engage in such provocations? Are they mocking Lania?" another noble chid in angrily.
Another noble, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table, nodded in agreent, his tone calm but tinged with unmistakable irritation.
"We must identify the tribe involved in this incident and behead their chieftain imdiately," he declared, his voice cutting through the room.
Another noble leaned back in his chair and spoke firmly, his stance reflective of his usual warmongering views.
"Agreed. Such decisive action will ensure this doesn't happen again."
"Now, now, that's too extre. Such asures could reignite a war," an elderly noble with gray hair raised his hands in an attempt to pacify the discussion.
"Do you even understand the gravity of what just happened? This isn't just any estate!" A younger noble, who had recently begun attending major councils, leaned forward, raising his voice.
"This is the estate of Count Michael, the kingdom's greatest hero and unparalleled marksman! The Elonia faction is already coveting him, and now, with this disaster, we must take severe action to show them we an business."
Among the younger nobles of Lania, Michael was practically idolized, his achievents inspiring envy and admiration alike.
"Even so, this is excessive," countered another noble seated nearby, shaking his head. "The kingdom does not exist to serve the personal interests of a single individual."
Despite his objections, the younger nobles continued pressing their point, their argunts tinged with a hint of personal ambition.
"Rumors abound that Count Michael will soon ascend to the rank of Duke," one said with a sly smile, "and in tis like these, bold asures are warranted—"
Before he could finish, another noble raised his hand to interrupt.
"That would be problematic," he said curtly.
The atmosphere in the chamber grew increasingly heated until a loud thud reverberated through the room. The Duke of Capone, who had been silently observing the commotion, had struck the floor with his cane. His deeply lined face was stern, his deanor commanding imdiate respect.
"Quiet, all of you," the duke ordered.
As his sharp gaze swept across the room, the nobles, who had been monts away from trading verbal blows, fell silent.
"How unbecoming of esteed council mbers to act so rashly," the duke said, stroking his beard with deliberate calm. His voice carried the weight of authority as he continued.
"This incident cannot be ignored. Whether it was a rogue act by a single tribe or a coordinated operation is irrelevant. What matters is that they violated the non-aggression pact."
The room fell completely silent as all eyes turned to the duke. His words carried an undeniable weight.
"They massacred innocent civilians, not soldiers. This was not during warti, nor did they seize territory. This was an atrocity, plain and simple. Would you not agree?"
The nobles nodded solemnly in agreent.
"Therefore, we cannot release the chieftains involved so easily. A clear ssage must be sent, one that makes it unmistakably clear such actions will not be tolerated."
The duke's voice grew firr as he reached his conclusion.
"And what if they retaliate? Count Michael's estate may have its monsters and soldiers to defend it, but other territories lack such resources," a timid-looking noble asked, his hands trembling slightly.
"There's no need to worry about that," the duke replied, shaking his head resolutely. "If they strike again, we simply make it known that their chieftains will lose their heads. They've acted this way because they believe we treat prisoners leniently. Let us disabuse them of that notion."
The room gradually filled with murmurs of agreent. Even those who had previously advocated for a harsher response appeared satisfied, nodding in approval.
"Precisely," another noble said, adjusting his glasses. "Weren't we planning to release them for a reasonable ransom anyway? This will show them they cannot act recklessly."
The Duke of Capone nodded in agreent.
"Exactly. I will present this matter to His Majesty."
The duke tapped his cane lightly against the floor, signaling the conclusion of the most pressing issue. The council had unfolded almost entirely according to a script prearranged with Charles V.
"When is Count Michael returning?" a noble asked cautiously, taking advantage of the more relaxed atmosphere. His tone betrayed a mix of anticipation and anxiety; his son was among those returning with Michael.
"He is expected to return soon, escorting the imperial crown prince and the five tribal chieftains to the capital," the duke answered graciously.
The room buzzed with excitent at the news. The prospect of Michael's return dominated the nobles' conversations, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"A grand festival must be held in his honor!" one noble exclaid, reclining in his chair. His voice brimd with excitent.
"Indeed! It's been so long since we've celebrated such a great victory," agreed another, his face alight with pride.
Having endured daily hardships due to their proximity to the Pamir Empire, the kingdom could hardly believe its fortune in producing a hero like Michael.
"Ahem," the Duke of Capone cleared his throat, drawing the nobles' attention once more. A faint smile played on his lips as he began to speak.
"There will be a very important announcent made during the victory celebration."
At his words, the room was filled with a palpable tension. The nobles exchanged knowing glances, their whispers buzzing with speculation.
"An important announcent... Could it be the princess's betrothal has been finalized?" one noble murmured to another.
The duke offered only a faint smile, neither confirming nor denying the rumor. The room's atmosphere grew even more charged as excitent about both the victory and the potential marriage filled the air.
Seizing the mont, the duke addressed the assembly.
"Now, let us discuss how best to celebrate our hero."
Laughter and near-reverential praises for Michael filled the chamber.
anwhile, on his journey back to the capital, Michael was escorting the five tribal chieftains and the imperial crown prince. Stopping briefly at the fortress of Orlando, he once again felt an inexplicable surge of strength.
"Why do I keep feeling stronger?" he wondered.
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