"So, you're saying that while our relationship with Count Bill may sour, the imperial family's ties with the Corleone lineage will remain unaffected?"
"Precisely. Even if the relationship worsens, would Count Bill truly dream of rebellion? At most, he might express so discontent."
The Emperor mulled this over, recalling his encounters with Bill Corleone. A paragon of chivalry, Bill strictly adhered to the contract between lord and Emperor. Unless the imperial family actively attacked the Corleones, rebellion was unlikely.
"But Sylas Corleone is a different matter," Maximilian continued. "He has openly displayed ambition, extending his influence to the West, North, and even the church, planting his people strategically."
"That much I've heard."
Indeed, Maximilian's report had detailed as much. Unbeknownst to the Emperor, the report was heavily influenced by Maximilian's own biases, as it ca from an emissary appointed by him.
"We must clip Sylas Corleone's wings now. While it may distance us from Count Leonard, that is a small price to pay."
Suppressing potential rebellion at the cost of so friction with a loyal vassal? It seed like a worthwhile trade.
After a mont's consideration, the Emperor nodded.
"Very well. I'll grant that point. But what of the others? The Elven Grand Duke, King Bjorn, and the head of the Herning family—how do you explain their reactions?"
"Those concerns are unnecessary as well," Maximilian said confidently, unfazed by the Emperor's skeptical glare.
"First, there's sothing Your Majesty misunderstands. While the Drakenfels estate may be a burden for Sylas Corleone, it's practically a boon for the other factions."
"A boon? Explain yourself."
"What would a landless Dragonslayer do? He would naturally fall under the influence of another power. Isn't that exactly what those three factions would want?"
Even the closest allies would prefer a subordinate over an independent lord. Anyone with ambition would. Though they might outwardly express pity for Luke, they would secretly welco the situation.
"Furthermore," Maximilian added, "the three factions will compete to win his loyalty, ensuring they won't unite against the Empire. Dividing potential threats benefits the imperial family greatly."
"…But what if, by so chance, Sylas Corleone manages to take control of Drakenfels?" the Emperor pressed.
"That is impossible," Maximilian declared.
"What makes you so certain? He could leverage his connections for support."
"He may have connections, but he lacks the most critical asset: military support."
In the Empire, long-distance military movents were heavily restricted. Beyond logistics, any army would need to cross dozens of territories, each governed by a lord.
"No lord in their right mind would allow a foreign army to march through their land. Doing so without permission is tantamount to treason. Do you think anyone would risk a war with the imperial family for Sylas Corleone?"
"...."
"So rest assured, Your Majesty. Sylas Corleone will fail to establish control over Drakenfels, and the imperial family will remain unhard."
"Hmm."
Though still slightly skeptical, the Emperor nodded reluctantly. The faint smirk on his face indicated satisfaction with the answer.
Maximilian exhaled in relief but swallowed nervously.
"This is all assuming things go as planned. If, by so chance, Sylas Corleone seizes Drakenfels outright, it would be disastrous."
Bjorn in the North, the elves and the Herning family in the West, and Bill Corleone in the East—all were figures of imnse influence in their regions.
If Sylas were to secure the Drakenfels estate, the heart of the South, his consolidated power could turn into a genuine rebellion.
"But that won't happen."
No matter how skilled a Dragonslayer, even Sylas couldn't single-handedly fend off ten opponents. Without an army, what could he possibly accomplish in Drakenfels?
Maximilian reassured himself that everything would unfold as planned.
The second day of the Emperor's longevity banquet began. Unlike the shock-stricken silence of the first day, the nobles regained their composure and moved about actively.
With so many opportunities abounding at the banquet, they couldn't afford to remain stunned.
"Your Highness, congratulations on your ascension. May I have a mont of your ti…?"
"Grand Duke of the Elves, have you considered expanding the trade routes?"
"Count, as a fellow noble of the West, I would like to discuss the current political climate with you…"
A swarm of nobles converged on Bjorn, Arathion, and Rey, drawn by the imnse power each wielded. To the opportunistic nobles, the allure was obvious:
Bjorn commanded the North's overwhelming military strength.Arathion held full control over trade with the elves.Rey influenced the entire West through her position.
Any one of them alone could destabilize the entire Empire.
"Even if I don't gain anything right now, I need to form connections."
"Who knows? Maybe so crumbs will fall my way later."
Yet, none of the three entertained their advances. It wasn't out of a lack of political acun but rather because they had no need for what the nobles could offer.
"The North is already struggling just to recover. I have no ti for other matters," Bjorn dismissed curtly.
"Trade? Speak to the human representative, the Count. Why approach ?" Arathion replied coldly.
"Take up any concerns with the Count's proxy. It's not my business," Rey added, her tone as sharp as ever.
"...."
Faced with these impenetrable walls, the nobles eventually gave up, realizing none of the three were open to negotiation. Their only remaining option was to turn to the one person who seed to hold sway over all three: Sylas Corleone.
Yet, not a single noble dared to approach him.
"Approach him? That walking enigma with who-knows-what secrets buried beneath?"
"What if I say the wrong thing and get on his bad side?"
"You don't poke at bushes when you can't see what's inside—especially not this one."
What they had initially dismissed as a simple hero's strength now seed far more complex. Like peeling an onion, each layer revealed secrets more daunting than the last.
And they still had no idea what more might lie beneath. The fear of provoking an unknowable disaster held them back.
"How peaceful," Sylas thought as he leisurely sipped his wine, savoring the tranquility. Far from bored, he found the reverence directed at him exhilarating.
"But this won't be the end."
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