"Ahem, perhaps we've made our point…"
"Recognition from the Platinum Council and the restoration of the royal title! Do you think we'll achieve this without rebellion?"
The nobles paused, startled by Sylas's pointed words. This wasn't a trivial matter they could brush aside.
'He's right. Even if we dismiss the Platinum Council, restoring the royal title is far too significant to overlook.'
'If we forgive this Inspector, the Empire might grant us recognition grudgingly, almost as if they're doing us a favor…' thought Marquis Serge, weighing his options. 'But if we stir up trouble, they'll have to offer concessions to calm us down. And that's entirely different.'
When one side makes a demand from a place of desperation, it's a gift that can be revoked at any ti. But if the Empire were to yield sothing voluntarily to pacify a "rebellion," it would be much harder to take back. Serge's calculations solidified his course, and he was quick to act.
"Sir Sylas is right! This cannot be simply overlooked!" the Marquis cried out, rallying his faction.
"Gather the troops! We will rebel!" echoed the lords, their cries spreading like wildfire.
Rozier, who had just begun to feel relief, was instantly drenched in cold sweat. 'Damn it.'
These nobles couldn't care less if the Crown Prince lost his head. If he couldn't stop this, it would an the annihilation of the Prince's faction.
'I have to do sothing!'
Rozier took a deep breath and lowered his head, slamming it against the floor.
Thud.
"My lords of the North, please hear !" he cried.
"...!?"
The nobles flinched at the impact. The sound of his head hitting the floor was not one of restraint, and soon a trickle of blood began to stain the ground.
"This foolish servant has erred gravely by failing to convey His Majesty's true intentions, inciting this terrible misunderstanding. But how can this be the Empire's fault? I alone should bear your anger, so please, let go of any resentnt toward the Imperial House!"
Thud, thud, thud.
With every word, Rozier struck his head against the floor, blood flowing freely and staining the ground beneath him. So wondered if he might actually die from the display.
"If you forgive this once, I vow to convey your true intentions to His Majesty this ti! It is not wrong for you to desire a king, nor was the Platinum Council ant to trouble the Empire! I swear, I will make your sincerity known!"
Thud, thud, thud!
Rozier's final plea ended with an especially loud impact, as his blood continued to spread across the floor. Silence descended upon the room as even the Marquis seed at a loss for words. At last, it was Sylas who broke the silence.
"You say you'll convey our intentions?" he asked quietly.
"Y-yes," Rozier stamred, his voice barely steady.
"Hmm."
Sylas squatted down in front of Rozier, who didn't dare move. A smile appeared on Sylas's lips.
"Then, write it here."
"Excuse ?"
"Draft the report to the Emperor here and now."
Rozier nearly looked up in shock. Did they an to review the report he would submit?
'No, surely not… that would be absurd…'
"If I don't like it, I'll have you rewrite it."
"..."
Humiliation burned across Rozier's face as he forced himself to keep his head down.
To His Majesty: the lords of the North harbor no treasonous intentions. The current situation is complex due to Ragnar's interference, which forced the Platinum Council's formation for the sake of unity. There exists the risk of the barbarians taking control, thus prompting the lords to unify and defend the North, bringing them under His Majesty's rule…
"Hmm, not bad," one lord comnted.
"Could use more polish, though. A touch of embellishnt, perhaps," suggested another.
"This amount is ideal—too much, and it's excessive."
"You're right, but a little flourish wouldn't hurt," soone else argued.
Rozier's face reddened with sha as he watched the lords evaluate and critique his report.
'Is there any other inspector in the world treated this way?'
He knew he was in a disadvantageous position, but this? They were already holding his weaknesses against him, yet they wouldn't trust him to write the report unsupervised?
'These bastards…!'
"Not looking pleased, are you?" Sylas asked.
"N-no, not at all."
Rozier stifled his resentnt. Sylas was relentless, and any hint of rebellion might provoke him further.
"Good. Do it well. You'll need more than your life to protect your family's honor."
"..."
Rozier lowered his head again, realizing exactly where he had gone wrong. And this youth—his mind was as sharp as a blade.
'This boy is dangerous.'
If Sylas could hold him in his grasp at such a young age, what would he beco later? Rozier resolved to inform the Crown Prince as soon as he returned.
Sensing Rozier's determination, Sylas smiled and said, "Hey, refine the language a bit. The other lords feel it's still too plain."
"What specific part would you like adjusted?"
"That's for you to decide."
"..."
"If you can't manage that, then it's war."
Ultimately, the report was completed in full view of all the mbers of the Platinum Council. With his forehead wrapped in a bandage, Rozier exhaled heavily and addressed Sylas.
"Are you satisfied now?"
Even as he sealed the letter with red wax, Rozier had been under vigilant watch. Sylas gave a satisfied nod.
"Good. Now hand it over."
"Excuse ?" Rozier blinked, taken aback.
"We need to send it to the Imperial Palace. Hand it over."
"But I could simply send it myself," Rozier insisted, gesturing to the sealed letter. Why were they taking even the delivery out of his hands?
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"Would the Imperial Palace trust it if it doesn't go through your retainer?" Sylas raised an eyebrow.
"True... that makes sense," Rozier conceded, forcing himself to speak with conviction. "But believe , in this situation, what could I possibly—"
"A Northern knight will accompany it, along with your aide. Problem solved, right?"
"..."
Rozier trembled with barely suppressed fury. The thought of intercepting the letter and crafting a separate report for the Crown Prince had indeed crossed his mind. But with Sylas's insistence, even that opportunity was gone.
'Damn it.'
Rozier swallowed his curses. Now, the Crown Prince would remain oblivious until the "king's election" was finalized. And once he reported the entire truth back to the palace, he could only imagine the outco.
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