Chapter 4: The Salt of the Earth and the Salt of my Soul
The Römerberg Council Hall in Frankfurt smelled of old parchment, expensive beeswax, and the collective sweat of three hundred angry men in silk robes. Julian sat on the hard wooden bench of the "Lords of the Interior" section, feeling remarkably like a student who had accidentally wandered into a high-level doctoral defense while still learning his ABCs.
Beside him, Lady Mathilde von Andechs was the picture of serene predatory grace. She leaned over, her silk sleeve brushing against Julian's arm, and adjusted his collar with a touch that lingered just a second too long for "auntly" affection.
"Stop fidgeting, Julian," she whispered, her voice like honey poured over a razor blade. "In this hall, looking bored is a sign of power. Looking confused is a death sentence."
"I'm not confused," Julian lied, staring at the Emperor Frederick II, who looked like he wanted to execute the entire room just so he could go home and read his books in peace. "I'm just wondering why that Duke over there is shouting about the price of salt as if it's the Holy Grail."
"Because for him, it is," Mathilde countered, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a sugar-dusted pastry shaped like a bunny. Without warning, she shoved it into Julian's mouth. "Eat. You look pale. If you faint, the Wittelsbachs will claim our barony is vacant before you hit the floor".
[System Notification: Tutorial Mode Active.]
[Sarcastic Commentary: Look at you, being hand-fed like a prize poodle. Truly, the dignity of a 'Mob Character' knows no floor.]
'Shut up,' Julian thought, chewing the pastry. 'Explain the Favorability system properly before I choke on this sugar.'
[System Update: Fine. Since this is a 'Dating Sim' at its core, Affection is quantified. Please note the thresholds:]
* [0–30: Awareness. They know you exist. You are a pet, a tool, or a nuisance.**]
* [30–60: Attachment. They like having you around. You are an asset worth protecting.**]
* [60–80: Emotional Dependency. They need you. The 'Protective' flags are now 'Possessive' flags.**]
* [80–100: Love/Obsession. Congratulations. You are now a prisoner of their heart. Expect yandere behavior, cages, or political marriages. Good luck.**]
[System Advice: If you want to stay alive, keep most targets at 55. High enough to die for you, low enough not to lock you in a basement.]
Julian swallowed hard. "Is that what's happening with Mathilde?"
[System: Current Affection: 30. You have graduated from 'Nephew' to 'Interest.' Don't get cocky; she still thinks you're a decorative flower.]
The hall suddenly erupted in cheers. Julian looked up to see the "Protagonist," Albrecht von Habsburg, standing at the central lectern. Albrecht looked like he had been sculpted by the gods specifically to annoy Julian. His armor was spotless, his hair was perfect, and his voice carried the effortless weight of a man who never had to worry about tax collectors.
"I shall lead the vanguard!" Albrecht declared, his hand resting heroically on the hilt of his sword. "The Sky Pirates of Bohemia have preyed upon the weak for too long. For the glory of the Empire and the honor of the Habsburgs, I petition for immediate mobilization!".
As he finished, he threw a confident wink toward the gallery where the Emperor's daughter sat.
Julian glanced toward the shadows and saw her: Emilia von Schwarzberg. The "Villainess" was gripping the railing so hard her knuckles were white. Her face, usually a mask of "Ice Queen" indifference, twitched with a pain that made Julian's heart skip a beat—not out of love, but out of pure, relatable salt.
POV Shift: Emilia von Schwarzberg
Emilia watched her fiancé, the Prince, bask in the light. She didn't care about his harem. She didn't care if he bedded every barmaid from Aachen to Naples. What burned her was the way he looked past her. To him, she was an object—a Ducal daughter required for a contract, as stationary and lifeless as a chair. He didn't even grant her the dignity of his hatred.
POV Shift: Julian
"System," Julian muttered. "Is it just me, or does everyone here feel like they're playing a different game than the Hero?"
[System: Correct. Albrecht is playing a Shonen Action RPG. You and the 'Villainess' are playing a Survival Horror Political Sim.]
"By the way," Julian added, looking at the Emperor's elegant, almost bored posture. "The Emperor... he's a bit too well-dressed. Is it just me, or do people think I'm—"
[System: Yes. The general consensus among the court mages is that your 'delicate' features and the way you let your aunt carry you implies a certain... lack of traditional masculinity. Many believe you are gay. Or at least very, very submissive.]
"Disrespect me again and I'll find a way to delete your cache," Julian hissed mentally.
[System: You'd be toast without me. I am currently assessing the next big event. Prepare yourself.]
The Emperor raised a hand, and the shouting stopped instantly. "I am tired," Frederick II announced, his voice echoing through the stone arches. "The Diet is adjourned for one hour. When we return, we shall vote on the three petitions."
The herald stepped forward to announce the stakes:
* The Italian Relocation: A proposal to move several minor Houses to the recently "reclaimed" (and Spanish-threatened) territories in Southern Italy.
* Imperial Mobilization: A small-scale draft to counteract Spanish influence in Sicily.
* The Sky Pirate Crusade: Albrecht's petition to launch an immediate war against the bandits of the Bohemian skies.
Mathilde stood up, smoothing her skirts. "The first one is a trap, Julian. They want to send 'broken houses' like ours to Italy to act as speed bumps for the Spanish army. We must ensure we are invisible during that vote."
"Invisible?" Julian looked at the Hero, who was being surrounded by admirers, and the Villainess, who was walking out alone. "Aunt, in a world where the Hero is making moves like that, 'invisible' is just another word for 'expendable.'"
Mathilde paused, looking at him with a newfound sharpness in her grey-blue eyes. "Then what do you suggest, my little bird?".
Julian didn't answer. He was looking at the System prompt that had just appeared.
[Urgent Quest: The Salt of the Earth.]
[Objective: Intercept the Villainess, Emilia von Schwarzberg, before she triggers her 'Exile' flag.]
[Reward: 500 Gold and a chance not to be sent to Italy to die.]
"I suggest," Julian said, standing up and dusting the pastry crumbs off his coat, "that I go find us a
n ally who actually knows how to use a knife."