In the Duke's study, twilight draped the room like a solemn veil over shelves packed with grimoires and maps. Laurence Douglas stood by the window, watching the duchy's banner flutter beneath the gray sky.
The door opened softly.
"Father."
"Come in, Caleb."
The young man took a few steps before stopping in front of the desk.
"I heard the knights are leaving for the forest. Is that true?"
Laurence nodded.
"The kingdom has organized an expedition. We must discover what happened to the beasts and find any trace of the Demon Cult."
Caleb took a deep breath.
"I want to go with them."
Laurence slowly shook his head.
"Not yet."
"But Lusian is going."
Those words made the Duke slowly turn his gaze toward his son.
"Why is he allowed to go while I'm not? Is it because he possesses an Epsilon affinity? The knights have been talking... They say he could one day become the heir to the duchy."
Laurence walked over until he stood directly before him.
He rested a hand on Caleb's shoulder.
"Listen to me carefully."
His voice was firm.
"As long as I remain the Duke, no one decides who inherits this house except me."
Caleb slowly raised his head.
"And my decision has not changed."
A brief silence followed.
"You will be my successor."
The young man's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
"Thank you, Father."
"Don't pay attention to rumors. Lusian is a Douglas and deserves the same respect as any member of this family, but that doesn't change my decision."
Caleb bowed his head.
"I understand."
He left the study with a calmer heart.
That peace, however, lasted only a moment.
In the hallway, he spotted a maid carrying an elegant wooden box adorned with the Armett family crest.
"Who is that for?"
"For Young Master Lusian, my lord," the maid replied with a respectful curtsy. "It's a gift sent by Lady Isabella Armett."
Caleb's heart skipped a beat.
"May I see it?"
The maid hesitated.
"My lord... Duchess Sophia has forbidden anyone from touching Young Master Lusian's belongings."
Caleb said nothing.
He simply followed the servant to Lusian's room.
He found Lusian reclining on a sofa, reading a thick tome on magic.
"What is it, Brother?" Lusian asked without looking up from the book.
"I heard Isabella sent you a gift."
"So it seems."
Lusian casually gestured toward the desk.
"You can read the letter if you'd like. I haven't even opened it."
Caleb picked up the envelope.
He carefully unfolded the letter.
Dear Lord Lusian Douglas The Mondring,
I wish you a swift recovery from your injuries. I am sending this small gift in the hope that it will help you further refine your skill with the flute. Should you ever wish to receive my advice regarding the use of this instrument, I would be delighted to offer it.
With respect,
Isabella Armett
Lusian smiled faintly.
"It's a rather formal letter. She seems like a very well-mannered young lady."
"Yes..."
Caleb's voice barely escaped his throat.
"She is."
"You have nothing to worry about," Lusian continued as he closed the book. "I'm not interested in her."
Caleb tried to smile.
But an unfamiliar emptiness settled in his chest.
He had spent years trying to get closer to Isabella.
And she...
Had never sent him even a single letter.
He turned to leave.
As he opened the door, he found Sophia standing outside.
The Grand Duchess regarded him with the same coldness she never reserved for Lusian.
"What are you doing here?"
"I only came to ask a question."
"I told you long ago not to enter this room without my permission."
Sophia's voice was calm.
That was precisely what made it so intimidating.
"My apologies, Duchess. It won't happen again."
"You may leave."
Caleb lowered his head and walked past her without another word.
He had learned since childhood that arguing with Sophia was pointless.
As he walked down the hallway, he clenched his fists.
To his father, he was the heir to the duchy.
But to Sophia...
He had never been anything more than the son of the woman Laurence had chosen before her.
The living proof of a love that had never belonged to her.
Sophia waited until Caleb disappeared at the end of the corridor.
Only then did she enter the room.
Her eyes rested briefly on Isabella's letter.
Then she looked at Lusian.
Silently.
Without realizing it, that simple letter had just set in motion a chain of events that would change the fate of the Douglas family forever.
Several days later, the capital stirred beneath the sound of imperial trumpets.
The carriages of the Ferrussi Empire passed through the city gates, escorted by riders clad in black armor beneath crimson banners. Among them stood out a magnificent carriage decorated with silver reliefs and twin-headed eagles—the emblem of the Imperial Family.
From within descended the Empire's Ninth Prince, Leopold Ferrussi Fabrini.
He was an elegant man with dark blue hair like tempered steel and emerald-green eyes that observed everything around him with a mixture of curiosity and superiority.
Walking at his right was General Marcus Valentine of the Twelfth Legion, known across countless battlefields as the Jackal. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes analyzed every detail of the city, its walls, and the soldiers guarding its gates.
The kingdom's nobles watched the procession with restrained respect.
Some bowed politely.
Others barely concealed their distrust.
Waiting atop the palace staircase stood Alessia Ferrussi, King Philip's concubine and the prince's elder sister.
"It's wonderful to see you again, Leopold."
The prince took her hand and gently kissed her fingers.
"Sister. I'm pleased to see you're still in good health."
His gaze swept across the city before he continued.
"I must admit, I'm surprised you've managed to grow accustomed to such a... small kingdom."
Alessia smiled naturally.
"People eventually adapt to anything."
"How are things in the Empire?" she asked.
"As always. Although I've been sent here on a rather uninspiring mission."
Alessia already knew the answer.
"The engagement?"
Leopold chuckled softly.
"Exactly. They expect me to become engaged to the princess of a border kingdom."
Alessia stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"Brother, I need to ask you a favor."
"Go on."
"Don't expect this court to function like the Imperial Court. Things are different here. Don't create unnecessary conflict. We need to maintain good relations."
Leopold raised an eyebrow.
"Are you suggesting I should watch my tongue?"
"I'm asking for patience."
The prince smiled faintly.
"I'll make the effort."
A few minutes later, they entered the throne room.
There were no musicians.
No flowers.
No lavish ceremony designed to impress foreign guests.
Only the vast hall of white marble and King Philip Erkham waiting upon his throne.
The monarch remained seated for several moments before rising.
"Welcome to the Kingdom of Erkham, Prince Leopold."
The young imperial noble inclined his head.
"It is an honor to visit your kingdom, Your Majesty."
His eyes wandered across the chamber.
"Though I must admit, the receptions here are rather... modest."
A slight smile touched his lips.
"Perhaps one day we could send a few masters of court etiquette from the Empire."
The remark lingered in the air.
Philip met his gaze without changing expression.
"That won't be necessary."
His voice remained calm.
"The Empire has its customs.
We have ours.
If you find them inadequate, no one is forcing you to remain here."
Silence settled over the hall.
Leopold realized the king had no intention of yielding, not even in casual conversation.
He concealed his irritation behind a diplomatic smile.
"That won't be necessary, Your Majesty. I'll remain for a few days. I'll take the opportunity to meet my fiancée."
Philip rested both hands upon the arms of his throne.
"I must correct you."
"Princess Elizabeth has never been promised to anyone."
Leopold frowned slightly.
"I was informed that the Emperor formally presented the proposal."
"He did."
"Then..."
"And I never accepted it."
Silence once again filled the hall.
The prince's smile disappeared.
"Is that your final decision?"
His tone remained courteous.
But the weight of the threat beneath it was unmistakable.
"Have you considered the consequences of rejecting a request from the Ferrussi Empire?"
Philip did not answer immediately.
He studied the man before him for a few moments.
As though weighing his character.
Then he spoke.
"A king who rules through fear ceases to be a king."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"If the Empire seeks our friendship, it will be welcomed as an ally.
If it seeks to impose its will upon us..."
Philip paused briefly.
"...it will find a kingdom prepared to defend its sovereignty."
No one spoke.
The atmosphere grew so heavy that even the knights held their breath.
Then the sound of imperial trumpets echoed throughout the chamber.
The herald struck the floor with his staff.
"Her Grace, Grand Duchess Sophia Douglas The Mondring!"
The massive ebony doors slowly swung open.
Before the Duchess herself appeared, a deep roar shook the palace windows.
Larryet entered first.
His enormous body nearly filled the width of the corridor. His silver mane shimmered beneath the chandeliers, while his golden eyes calmly swept across the hall with the confidence of a predator that knew no prey existed capable of challenging it.
Silence fell instantly.
Many of the kingdom's nobles were already accustomed to seeing him.
The imperial visitors were not.
Prince Leopold instinctively halted mid-step. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword as he watched the beast approach with perfect composure.
Only then did Sophia appear.
She wore the dark blue uniform of House Douglas.
She walked with quiet confidence, unhurried, as though the enormous lion were nothing more than a natural extension of herself.
Larryet strode half a step ahead of her.
He did not roar.
He did not bare his fangs.
He simply walked.
And somehow, that was far more intimidating.
Marcus Valentine never took his eyes off the beast.
His mind immediately began analyzing it.
Height.
Musculature.
Mana distribution.
Breathing.
Center of gravity.
Every observation erased another possible path to victory.
This was no ordinary magical lion.
It was a beast that had spent years being raised for war.
A living weapon.
Marcus reached his conclusion quickly.
He could defeat it...
But he would die in the process.
And this was merely one of the Grand Duchess's three contracted beasts.
At that moment, he understood why even the Empire avoided provoking House Douglas.
Sophia stopped before the throne and inclined her head slightly.
"Your Majesty."
King Philip responded just as naturally.
"Duchess. How are the preparations progressing?"
"All units are ready. The noble contingents will begin exploring the forest at dawn."
"Excellent. General Joshua Erkham will command the royal forces. Cooperate with him throughout the operation."
"I will."
Nothing more needed to be said.
She did not ask about the imperial delegation.
She did not even glance in their direction.
She simply turned and walked away.
Larryet did the same.
As the lion passed Prince Leopold, he slowly turned his head.
Their eyes met for only a brief instant.
A chill ran down Leopold's spine.
It was the gaze of a predator judging something far too insignificant to pose any threat.
Larryet continued onward.
Sophia left the throne room without showing the slightest interest in the Empire's presence.
When the doors finally closed behind her, Leopold exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.
He straightened himself.
"Your Majesty... do you truly consider it appropriate to allow such a creature to roam freely through the palace? It poses a threat to every visitor."
Philip regarded him for several moments before answering.
"I'm surprised."
Leopold frowned.
"Pardon?"
"I expected more from the Empire."
Silence once again claimed the hall.
"If a beast that never even showed the slightest intention of attacking is enough to unsettle an imperial prince..."
He paused briefly.
"...perhaps we've overestimated your reputation."
Those words struck harder than any insult.
Leopold clenched his jaw but remained silent.
Marcus, however, understood something entirely different.
It wasn't that the king trusted Sophia blindly.
It was that he knew exactly what she was capable of.
And after witnessing Larryet with his own eyes, Marcus reached a deeply unsettling conclusion.
If a single woman could force an imperial prince to retreat without uttering a single threatening word...
Then this kingdom was far from the insignificant nation they had been led to believe it was.