Chapter 2: The Dignity of a Disposable Extra
The carriage rattled over the uneven cobblestones of the road to Frankfurt, but the turbulence inside Julian's head was far worse. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring at the passing oak forests of the Rhineland with the hollow eyes of a man who had seen the end of the world and realized he wasn't even invited to it.
[System Notification: User status 'Depressed' detected.]
[Sarcastic Commentary: Oh, are we sulking again? How predictable.]
"Shut up," Julian muttered under his breath. "Where are my buffs? Every protagonist gets a 'Heavenly Demon Physique' or a 'SSS-Rank Mana Heart.' Where's my cheat?"
[Error: Request Denied.]
[System Message: Please adjust your expectations, User. You are not 'The Hero.' You are not Albrecht von Habsburg. You are Julian von Andechs-Merania.]
[Fact Check: In the original 'Sovereign's Gambit' script, your character's primary contribution is dying in a border skirmish to provide the Hero with a three-sentence motivation speech. You are, by definition, a 'Mob.' Behave like one.]
Julian felt a vein throb in his temple. "A mob? I'm the head of a House! I have 150 militiamen!"
[Correction: You have 150 starving peasants with sharpened sticks. Please do not overvalue your assets.]
The system's blue screen flickered with what looked suspiciously like a mocking emoji. Julian turned away in disgust, deciding that if he couldn't have power, he would at least have fresh air.
As the carriage slowed for a brief rest at a wayside shrine, Julian stepped out, his legs cramped. He needed to think. He needed a plan to survive the Imperial Diet without being executed for his family's debts. He was so lost in thought, plotting how to turn his 150-man militia into something useful, that he didn't notice the treacherous patch of moss-covered stone right beneath the carriage step.
"Whoops—!"
His foot slipped. The world tilted. In slow motion, Julian saw the muddy ground rushing up to greet his face. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact that would surely shatter what little remained of his noble pride.
But the impact never came.
Instead of cold mud, he felt something firm yet incredibly soft. A pair of slender, powerful arms caught him mid-air, hooking under his knees and around his back.
Julian opened one eye. Then the other.
He was being held. Horizontal. Against a very impressive, leather-clad chest. He looked up and saw the sharp, elegant jawline of Lady Mathilde. She wasn't even breathing hard. She was looking down at him with an expression that sat somewhere between genuine concern and suppressed amusement.
It was a perfect, textbook-accurate Reverse Princess Carry.
"Careful, Julian," Mathilde said, her voice a low, melodic hum that vibrated against his ribs. "The Diet hasn't even begun. It would be a shame to lose the last male of Merania to a slippery rock."
Julian's face went from pale to a shade of crimson that would have made a cardinal jealous. "A-Aunt Mathilde... please put me down."
[System Notification: Flag Triggered!]
[Affection Spike: Lady Mathilde von Andechs +5%. (Total: 20/100)]
[Achievement Unlocked: 'The Fragile Nephew.']
"You're quite light," she remarked, finally setting him on his feet but keeping a lingering hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Are you eating enough? I shall have to speak to the cook."
Julian scrambled back, dusting off his doublet with frantic, shaky hands. "My dignity... it's gone. I felt it leave my body."
[System Voice (Leaked Thought-Stream): "Oh, he's actually quite cute when he's embarrassed. Like a flustered kitten."]
Julian froze. "Did the system just... let me hear her thoughts?"
[System Message: A temporary leak due to high physical proximity. Also, your dignity didn't 'leave'; you never had any to begin with. Please refer to your 'Mob' status.]
The Aunt's Perspective: A Change in the Wind
Mathilde watched Julian retreat into the carriage, his ears still glowing red. She leaned against the carriage door, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
Something was different.
She had known Julian since he was a babe, and for seventeen years, he had been... hollow. A boy who said the right words, moved like a puppet, and seemed to have no fire in his soul. He was a 'good' boy, but a boring one—the kind of noble who would quietly fade away while the world burned.
But ever since that fainting incident in the manor, the 'soulless' Julian was gone. This new version had a strange, sharp light in his eyes. He talked to himself, he argued with the air, and he looked at the world with a terrifyingly pragmatic gaze.
Everything is for the House, he had told her.
He was still a bit of a disaster, clumsy and prone to blushing, but he felt alive.
"Cute," she whispered to herself, a small, dangerous smirk playing on her lips. "Maybe the Merania blood hasn't dried up after all."
The Carriage Ride: Maternal Care or Death Flag?
Back inside the cramped confines of the carriage, the atmosphere had shifted. Mathilde didn't return to her cold, political silence. Instead, she reached into a wicker basket and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in linen.
"Eat," she commanded, handing him a piece of honey-glazed venison and a slice of white bread—luxury items they could barely afford.
"I'm not hungry," Julian lied, his stomach immediately betraying him with a loud growl.
"Your father instructed me to ensure you reached Frankfurt in one piece, not as a skeleton," she said, her tone softening into something almost maternal. "You have a long week ahead. The High Electors are wolves, Julian. They smell weakness."
Julian ate, the sweetness of the honey a sharp contrast to the bitterness of his situation. As the afternoon wore on and the rhythmic swaying of the carriage took its toll, his eyelids grew heavy. The stress of the 'System' and the impending political doom finally caught up to him.
His head nodded, then slumped.
Mathilde watched him fall asleep. Gently, with a grace that masked her lethality, she shifted. She guided his head down until it rested firmly on her lap. She brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, her gaze lingering on his youthful features.
Seventeen, she thought. At seventeen, I was already killing men in the shadows for this family. You have it much harder, little nephew. You have to kill them with words.
The Arrival: The Stage of the "Real" Protagonist
"Wake up, Mob. We've arrived."
The System's voice was like a bucket of ice water. Julian bolted upright, realizing with a jolt of horror that he had been using a Tier-2 Political Powerhouse as a pillow.
"Sleep well?" Mathilde asked, already adjusting her veil and checking the dagger hidden in her corset.
"I... apologize. I didn't mean to—"
"Save it. We're here."
Julian stepped out of the carriage and nearly went blind.
The Römerberg in Frankfurt was a sea of gold, silk, and polished steel. Standard-bearers from the thirty Great Houses held banners aloft—the Wittelsbach lion, the Luxembourg eagle, the Habsburg hawk.
And then, he saw him.
In the center of the square, a group of unruly mercenaries had been harassing a flower girl. But before Julian could even think about the 'correct' way to intervene, a man in gleaming silver plate armor descended like a god from a mountain.
"Halt, villains!" the man cried. His voice was like a choir of angels mixed with a brass trumpet.
With a single, effortless flick of his sword (which was glowing, because of course it was), the mercenaries were disarmed. The man didn't kill them; he gave them a lecture on 'Chivalry and the Imperial Spirit' that was so moving the mercenaries actually started crying and apologizing.
"Are you alright, fair maiden?" the hero asked, lifting the girl up.
"Oh, Sir Albrecht von Habsburg!" the girl swooned. "You're so brave!"
Immediately, a nearby High Duke stepped forward. "A magnificent display! Sir Albrecht, my daughter has been looking for a husband of such virtue. Shall we discuss a dowry?"
Julian watched this from the shadow of his shabby carriage, his jaw hanging open.
"Look at that," Julian hissed at the system. "He just stood there and got offered a political marriage to a High Duke's daughter! I would have killed for that! I would have done a backflip for that! Why does he get the 'Damsel in Distress' encounter while I get 'The Slippery Rock'?"
[System Notification: Character Identified: Albrecht von Habsburg (The Protagonist).]
[Note: His Luck stat is A+. Yours is... let's see... a 'C' with a handwritten 'minus' next to it.]
Julian's gaze shifted. Standing at the edge of the hero's fan club was a girl with hair as white as a winter moon and eyes like blood-stained rubies. Emilia von Schwarzberg. She was clutching her hands so tightly her knuckles were white, watching Albrecht accept the Duke's praise with a look of shattering heartbreak.
The original fiancée. The girl who was about to be cast aside for a better political match.
"The birth of a Villainess," Julian whispered. He felt a pang of genuine pity. He knew what it was like to be discarded by the script.
"Julian! Stop staring at the commoners," Mathilde snapped. She stepped up behind him and, with a casual flick of her wrist, draped a heavy, fur-lined cloak over his shoulders. "The wind is picking up. You're far too fragile to be catching a cold before the vote. If you sneeze during the Emperor's speech, your father will never let me hear the end of it."
Julian looked down at the expensive fur. It smelled of Mathilde's perfume—sandalwood and iron.
"What's her favorability now?" Julian whispered. "Am I a man in her eyes yet? A warrior? A lord?"
[System Status Report: Lady Mathilde von Andechs.]
[Current Perception: 'Cute Nephew' (Level 2).]
[Current Sub-Category: 'Needs a Scarf and a Nap.']
[Dignity Meter: 0.0001% (Rounding down to zero).]
"I hate this game," Julian groaned, pulling the fur coat tighter as he followed his aunt into the yawning maw of the Senate. "I hate it so much."