Winter's weight pressed down on the Armanov Estate like a silent oath. The sky was heavy with snow, the wind carried the cold through every window hinge, and even the torches in the courtyard struggled against the darkness. Yet the true storm was inside Mikhail's mind. The Loyalty System had been behaving erratically for weeks—loyalty scores rising and falling without pattern, as if unseen hands were tampering with the balance of power.
Some nobles dropped ten points overnight; others increased without any direct action from him. These irregularities were no coincidence. Someone was moving in the shadows, stitching together a silent, dangerous alliance.
Mikhail sat alone in his study, surrounded by maps, reports, and sketched plans for his future nation. Trade routes, mineral lines, militia positions—each one, a thread in the web he hoped to weave within five years. But a web was only as strong as its core, and the core was beginning to crack.
Three quick knocks sounded."Enter," Mikhail said, not lifting his gaze.
Viktor stepped inside, breath fogging in the cold air. His usual rigid composure was replaced by a sharp tension."Sir, I brought the reports… but what I must tell you is more urgent."
Mikhail opened the folder. Page after page confirmed his worst fears."An alliance is forming," Viktor continued. "The Volkov family is at the center. Karsinovs and several smaller houses follow them. They've been silent—but active."
Without being prompted, Viktor added:"Loyalty scores?""Aleksandr Volkov, thirty-six percent. Effectively a traitor. The others are hovering between forty and fifty-five."
These numbers were a cold blade beneath Mikhail's ribs."Someone is supporting them," he muttered. "They're too organized to be moving alone."
"There are whispers," Viktor said softly. "A hidden patron, perhaps another noble house. No names yet. But their movements… especially in regions where your influence is growing… it's too deliberate to be coincidence."
Mikhail walked to the frost-covered window."The enemy within is more dangerous than the enemy beyond. But this game didn't begin with them."He paused."It began with me."
The next morning, he summoned his loyal nobles for a secret council. The grand hall's stone walls carried the flickering glow of the hearth, and the Armanov crest loomed behind Mikhail like a silent guardian.
He spoke with steady resolve:"Our land stands on the edge of collapse. Only a unified, disciplined authority can stop what is coming. Our futures are tied together. But rot must be cut away before we can build something new."
A long silence settled.One noble stepped forward:"Your Highness… will you name the threat?"
Mikhail's voice was firm:"The Volkovs and those gathering around them. They are no longer rivals. They are a danger."
Gasps filled the hall, but the Loyalty System glowed with certainty—most of these nobles had loyalty above seventy percent. They were with him.
After the council, Mikhail descended into the workshop. In this place, the future had a pulse: primitive telegraph prototypes, an improved heating boiler, a manually powered water pump. None of them impressive by future standards, but in this era, they were seeds of a revolution.
As he examined the prototypes, the Loyalty System flared violently."Volkov House—secret nighttime gathering. Alliance expanding. High treason probability."
Mikhail closed his eyes for a moment, letting the inevitability settle."So… you've chosen your path. Then I will choose mine."
The night outside was dark and heavy, but Mikhail no longer feared it. The coming conflict was inevitable—yet for the first time, he felt that the threads of fate were slowly, finally, starting to wrap themselves around his own hands.