Many things were discussed that night.
Plans unraveled slowly, then reformed just as carefully, only to be dismantled again when someone found a flaw no one else had noticed.
Contingencies stacked atop contingencies, layered like poorly balanced towers, each one spoken aloud to see whether it collapsed under its own weight.
Sometimes they did.
Other times, they survived only because no one had the energy left to argue.
Time slipped past unnoticed. Wine was refilled more than once.
When night finally settled in, the conversation still had not ended, and none of us seemed willing to be the first to acknowledge exhaustion.
"I must admit," Rosen said eventually, breaking a long stretch of silence, "this all sounds dangerously optimistic. Your growth, I mean."
He took a slow sip of wine, savoring it in a way that suggested he was buying time, then exhaled.
"Setting that aside, are you certain this is the path you want? The risks aren't theoretical."
Malachi's concern was written plainly across his face, his usual bluntness dulled into something closer to worry.
Jacqueline, by contrast, continued eating her cake with a calm that felt almost deliberate, as though she refused to let the conversation unsettle her appetite.
"They're not wrong," I said. "The method is strange. Unnatural."
I did not bother softening it or dressing it up in careful phrasing. "I intend to become one with my blood."
Silence followed, thick and unmoving.
"And your blood is cursed," Malachi said at last, his voice lower than usual.
"Yes," I replied sharply, the word coming faster than I intended.
I was ill. I was evil. I was disgusting.
There was no kinder phrasing for it, no elegant euphemism to hide behind.
My blood was rotten at its core, warped by something ancient and unforgiving.
Yet I had already gone too far to retreat. Not after awakening to the fifth wall.
That realization had not come gently. It had not asked permission. It had torn itself into my mind and dared me to pretend it had not happened.
As it always did, the discussion shifted toward consequences.
"Assume this works," Rosen said, leaning forward, elbows resting on the table. "Assume you grow as you intend. What happens next?"
"What always happens," I replied. "People notice."
"That's the problem," Jacqueline said calmly, finally setting her fork aside.
"Anstalionah doesn't tolerate unknown variables. If you destabilize the balance too quickly, they won't wait to understand it."
"And Fertical can't absorb that attention," Rosen added. "Not now. Without Horia, we're already exposed."
"Which means pressure," Malachi said. "From the coast, if not the borders."
I nodded, resisting the urge to stretch back in my chair and let them argue it out without me.
"Dangu won't announce anything," I said.
"They'll call it trade. By the time intentions become clear, it'll already be too late to object."
"And if doctrine enters the conversation," Jacqueline continued, her tone even.
"Veritas will justify intervention as a necessity," Rosen said. "They always do."
"And Falsus will benefit quietly," Jacqueline added. "As they always have."
None of them needed to explain further. The pattern was old, and it was ugly.
"The south will likely just watch," I said.
"Uthopia won't interfere unless the outcome is certain. Neutrality makes cowards of them, but effective ones."
Rosen shook his head. "All of this assumes the world stays within familiar limits."
"It won't," I said. "Not anymore."
The Silent Court had already seen to that.
Great minds were emerging faster than the old structures could restrain them.
Scholars abandoned tradition not out of rebellion, but out of necessity.
Practitioners tore through established paths, not because they wanted to, but because those paths no longer led anywhere useful.
New methods were forced into existence, not because they were safe, but because the old ones no longer sufficed.
Some broke under the strain.
Enough didn't.
"The problem," Malachi said quietly, "is that no one agrees on what growth should cost anymore."
"And no one wants to be the first to slow down," Jacqueline added.
That left me with an uncomfortable truth I had been carefully avoiding.
I was still weak.
Reaching the fifth wall so quickly was impressive, perhaps even unprecedented, but it had nearly left me unconscious.
In truth, most of my effort afterward had gone into appearing stable rather than actually being so.
I had spent an embarrassing amount of time simply convincing my body not to collapse.
That rise had not come from mastery or preparation.
It had come from realization, sudden and violent. As the voice had said, enlightenment.
I could not rely on that again. Certainly not when it mattered.
Which made the path forward painfully clear.
If I wished to grow stronger, I needed to stop rejecting myself.
I needed to stop pretending that what I was could be postponed or ignored. Cradella had blessed my bloodline.
How bad could it really be?
At last, I gave my answer. "It is the only path that may lead to my fulfillment."
[The blood Cradella blessed. How powerful, and how vile, must it be for Nicholas to crave it?]
Breaking into the fifth wall had shown me truths I could no longer ignore.
Truths I would soon be forced to confront, whether I wished to or not.
After my rise, the discussion drifted toward the balance of power and the unfairness embedded within the world itself.
Anstalionah was unquestionably the strongest kingdom.
With Horia gone, Fertical was left standing on fragile ground, supported by little more than Rosen and Madikai.
The others were no less troublesome.
Kingdoms like Veritas were irritating in a different way, entrenched behind layers of internal advantage that made them difficult to confront directly.
Even Anstalionah itself was compromised. Its nobility could rightly be called corrupt.
Not all of them, of course. Sansir was a noble. So was Malachi. But exceptions did not redeem a system.
I would need more than a few honorable names if I intended to move the world at all.
"On a side note," Rosen said, "there is something else. You seem to possess an unusual amount of insight. Why?"
I shrugged, letting my shoulders rise and fall lazily. It was easier than explaining.
"Does it matter? If you insist, then yes, I have seen my future. But it doesn't matter. Not really."
Rosen's expression remained neutral. "Would Griffin be aware of that?"
I let out a quiet chuckle. "He and I have already met. While he never said it outright, he knows I intend to kill him."
Malachi looked genuinely surprised, then asked the only question that mattered. "Then why didn't he kill you?"
I lifted my cup and tilted it slightly. "Isn't it obvious? He knows I'll fail. Or at least, he believes it with absolute certainty."
I took a sip of wine, then licked my lips absentmindedly, savoring the taste longer than necessary.
"Besides, it's not as though he could act freely with Mirabel nearby."
As long as I remained within reasonable proximity, she would come for me if she could. That much was certain.
Jacqueline finally spoke. "Then I suppose it's time we begin preparing for a fight."
I set my cup down and sighed, dragging a hand across my face.
"Yes. However, I'll be leaving my place within my kingdom."
They looked at me in confusion.
This time, it wasn't something I had anticipated, and I let the moment linger longer than necessary before elaborating.
Still, I intended to take things more seriously from here on. Or at least, serious enough to matter.
[This King of Sloth was so very adamant about denying his name. How useless.]
I had not been lazy, not truly.
But I preferred efficiency to effort, ease to struggle, and results without unnecessary suffering.
If that was sloth, then so be it.
"Just trust me," I said. "Prepare yourselves. Great things are going to happen, along with the plans I've already shown you."
They were intrigued, but wise enough not to press further. None of them were fools.
None except me.
I crossed my legs and allowed myself to relax once more, leaning back in my chair as though the weight of the world could be postponed a little longer.
"I am a royal, a nobleman, and a fool," I said lightly. "But I am also myself. Is that not enough?"
They gave no answer, so I continued.
"No matter what you hear in the coming days, remember this. It doesn't change my goal."
I looked back at them. "Now then. Get out of my sight."
For a moment, they were stunned. Then we all laughed.
That laughter was necessary. It was what we needed in that moment.
In the end, it was what everyone needed.