“Do you mean to start a war with Hanover?”

Angelo burst through the door with a shout. Rare anger colored his voice.

“What is it?”

Reclining on a long couch, scanning through papers, Jupiter asked in a low tone.

“They say your spies have been stirring up Edelin!”

“So the rumor has already spread as far as Mainz?” 

Jupiter gave a short laugh, crossing his legs. He looked utterly unconcerned.

“What are you digging into?”

“Nothing you need to know.”

“Jupiter!”

Angelo’s face flushed red with fury. But as Jupiter studied him, his expression grew steadily colder.

“Angelo, if I tell you, then you must choose.”

“…”

“If you side with me, you’ll be a traitor to the kingdom. If you remain loyal to the kingdom, then you’ll die by my hand.”

Jupiter’s gaze cut into him like a blade.

“Whatever you choose, Angelo, you will die.”

Then he turned back to his documents.

“So sever your interest here. Whatever it may be.”

He tore the paper cleanly in two. With a precise, practiced motion, he tipped the candle and set it alight. His face, illuminated by the flames, remained unnervingly placid, as though nothing at all were happening.

The heavy parchment burned, the Schwarz imperial crest etched upon it curling in the fire. The black eagle crowned with laurels flickered in the glow, then disintegrated to ash.

If only I could seize him by the throat.

Angelo muttered, collapsing heavily into a chair. It was certain Jupiter was planning something against the Kingdom of Hanover—and it would be nothing good.

He knew well how his cousin had made the imperial palace his own two years earlier. Now, Jupiter was plotting something similar once again.

As Angelo watched those cold golden eyes glimmer in the candlelight, a chill crept over him. A shiver of dread coiled upward like the smoke rising from the candlestick.

***

Thinking back, his cousin had always been this way.

During the childhood they had shared, Angelo had often been unsettled by Jupiter’s relentless, almost obsessive drive. At times, it seemed that burning passion could twist into a merciless snare, tightening around another’s throat.

A man who pursued every goal with flawless poise, achieving cruel victories with unshaken composure. A man who, having claimed everything, feigned to be sated—yet never ceased to desire. His hunger seemed endless, and once sated, he left no trace of attachment behind.

And yet, once, he had been a kind boy.

When Angelo’s aunt, Duke Meyer’s sister, was still the Empress of Greitz—when Jupiter’s mother still lived—that had been long ago.

Angelo remembered visiting the Greitz imperial palace as a child, following his father. The young prince, meeting him for the first time, had been openly delighted. With no hint of wariness, looking like a porcelain doll, he had tugged Angelo along eagerly to show him something precious: a small banquet hall in a side palace, where a piano stood.

“This is a secret, but I actually want to be a pianist.”

Seated before the piano, Jupiter had spoken with childlike innocence. His small hands began to play a simple melody, slowly, carefully.

“Do you know the name of the piece I’m playing?”

Winking at Angelo, who stood sulking at being forced to listen, Jupiter went on. The melody grew more complex.

“Ah! Mother, I’ll Tell You.”

“What?”

“That’s the title—‘Ah! Mother, I’ll Tell You.’”

“What kind of title is that?” 

Angelo asked in bewilderment.

Jupiter’s face lit with excitement as he explained, his playing quickening, more intricate by the moment.

“It was originally a folk song from Gallia. This piece is twelve variations on that melody.”

“Twelve on the same tune?” 

“So what’s it about?”

“It’s about a little girl who loves candy so much she throws a tantrum, saying she doesn’t want to grow up.”

Jupiter’s left hand moved lightly and swiftly, as though dancing.

“I’m the same, really, Angelo.”

“What do you mean? You like candy too?”

Jupiter shook his head, his fingers suddenly shifting to minor keys, the tempo slowing.

“I love the piano so much, I don’t want to grow up.”

“…”

Angelo was struck speechless. A shadow flitted across the young prince’s face, gone in an instant. Jupiter quickly masked it, flashing a mischievous grin.

“Ah, but don’t tell Mother.”

Both boys broke into matching smiles. And with that, the piece ended.

He had become a madman the day his mother died. From the moment he witnessed her death, Jupiter never touched the piano again.

***

The Greitz Empire ruled vast lands in the northern continent. But aside from the frozen North Sea—whose waters iced over each winter—it shared only land borders.

Thus, securing an ice-free port was one of the Empire’s greatest ambitions. Each winter, when the sea froze shut, Greitz suffered shortages of vital goods. That was why Jupiter sought Edelin, a province of the Kingdom of Hanover.

“Report.”

Jupiter gave a short order. His aide immediately began.

“Edelin Castle faces the sea on three sides. The currents are strong, so docking from the water will not be easy. From the landward approach, there are three layers of walls and two moats.”

“They’ve built it well.”

“Yes, Your Highness. If we assume heavy resistance, even taking down a single wall would take at least a month.”

“And if we surround and wait?”

“They could hold out for a month or two inside. We could keep supplies flowing from the border and bide our time until their stores run out. The problem is…”

“The problem?”

“If Hanover dispatches an army to Edelin, the scale of the war will grow, and so will the risks.”

Jupiter’s brows furrowed faintly. Absently tracing the rim of his teacup, he organized his thoughts swiftly.

“Edelin is essential to our Empire. With it secured, fewer people will die each winter.”

His aide nodded in firm agreement. If the prince’s plan succeeded, Greitz’s rise was inevitable. And judging by all that Jupiter had achieved so far, he would likely reach his goal with far greater ease than expected.

“You are right, but if this becomes a full war with Hanover, measures must be prepared in advance.”

Until now, war had been delayed through Hanover’s tribute payments and royal marriages, bound by non-aggression treaties. Jupiter stared into his teacup.

If possible, he would eliminate every variable in advance and strike swiftly, lightly, from the flank.

“Edelin will be no more than a storm in a teacup. I will make sure of it.”

Satisfied, he finally set the cup down. The clink rang cheerfully.

“If necessary, I will take it.”

“…”

“Whatever it is, if necessary.”

Jupiter straightened his shoulders and sat tall. He would not choose uncertain or wasteful assaults. In that brief moment, he had reached a simple, rational conclusion.

“Spread rumors in Edelin, move troops to the border and have them ready. I will speak with the King of Hanover myself.”

The prince’s instructions were sharp and clean. His aide bowed deeply.

***

In the royal chapel of Lien, capital of Hanover, a broad-shouldered man in his early fifties entered with attendants in tow. He was King Barth II of Hanover.

When he stepped into a private chamber, a young man waiting inside rose to greet him. Barth II inclined his head with just enough courtesy before sitting opposite him at the table.

The king stroked his red beard as he spoke first. 

“Congratulations on preserving your throne. Soon enough, I will meet you as emperor.”

Though his words, cloaked in a gentle smile, praised the Greitzian prince, his eyes flickered slightly. He was tense; the thought of this meeting had weighed heavily upon him.

Since receiving the prince’s secret letter, Barth had not slept for days. This was the first time he had ever met an imperial royal in such an unofficial, private manner.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” 

Jupiter replied calmly.

“If you require Hanover’s help with anything, only say the word. I will aid you as far as I am able.”

The conversation flowed with polished politeness, laughter and courtesy masking the edges beneath.

“Anything at all?”

Jupiter’s counter-question was edged with arrogance. Barth II faltered for a moment. They said he had trampled every thorn in his path at a young age to rise to this place—and indeed, the boy had spirit.

The king smoothly steered the subject away.

“Your mother was of House Meyer, was she not? I arranged that marriage.”

“Was that so.”

“She was said to be a bright child. I thought she would adapt well, but when I heard of her passing, I was grieved.”

“Then I must thank Your Majesty for sending my mother to Greitz, even belatedly.”

Jupiter’s tone was mocking.

When his young mother had been forced into marriage with the Emperor of Greitz, no one had benefited more than the King of Hanover. To Jupiter, this man had fattened himself on her despair. Hearing such shameless lies now made his throat tighten with disgust.

“My mother longed for Hanover all her life. I grew up watching it.”

“Is that so? Then your reign, too, will bring peace to our kingdom. After all, half your blood is Hanoverian.”

The king’s answer was slippery, coaxing.

Jupiter’s face hardened. He looked straight into the king’s eyes as he spoke.

“Then allow me to comfort my mother’s heart on her behalf.”