“The Prince Regent? Cleos has a younger brother?”

Hendrick scowled as he asked the question.

“From what I know, he left the palace without trace after his mother died when he was a child. Apparently, he has only returned recently.”

“Spare me such vague nonsense. Find out exactly who this Prince Regent is, and what he has done.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will confirm it.”

The aide bowed low, swallowing hard before speaking again.

“Then… how shall we answer Teian’s letter?”

“Is there any need to answer?”

“Your Majesty?”

At Hendrick’s mutter, the aide lifted his head in confusion, only to recoil at the murderous gleam etched on his sovereign’s face.

“Send the army at once! Reduce Dakitenn to rubble. K*ll them all! Crush them, burn them until they realize whose hand they have dared to provoke.”

Hendrick’s twisted smile spread wider.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

Late summer, in the year 687 of the Roengrin calendar.

The Empire of Tropez launched a sudden *ssault on the Kingdom of Teian, striking without warning and without so much as a declaration of war.

Under the cover of night, imperial troops descended upon Dakitenn, a border town, but failed in their attempt to seize it. This was thanks to the careful foresight and meticulous preparations of its lord, Count Arenbur

The Empire withdrew with seven casualties and twenty-three wounded. Many, blinded by darkness and unfamiliar with the terrain, either fell into waterways or jumped from the walls in their hasty retreat.

By contrast, Dakitenn suffered no casualties.

Although he claimed this decisive victory, Count Arenbur chose restraint and would not retaliate against Cheringen. Instead, he made it clear that Teian sought peace.

However, Emperor Hendrick of Tropez would not be swayed. He reinforced Cheringen with more troops, further fuelling the threat of conflict. In turn, King Cleos of Teian sent his younger brother, the Prince Regent Laska, to Dakitenn.

The scholars of Tropez sounded the alarm, insisting that Teian’s rise could not be overlooked. They argued that the Empire should address the unrest in Darel rather than focus on foreign enemies. However, their advice was ignored.

It was, in every sense, an age of chaos.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

[My dearest Selaia,
I have arrived safely in Dakitenn with the soldiers.
Even now, the image of your face at our parting remains vivid before me. You said you did not weep, yet Lady Rote whispered otherwise.
I have told you many times, but let me say it once more: this battle is not your fault.
It is a task Teian must confront, and a conflict of Tropez’s own making.
I have come to Dakitenn only to assess the situation and will not remain long.
Before the leaves begin to fall, I shall return.
When I do, greet me with a smile.
Yours, Laska.]

As the final period marked the hopeful close of Yours, Laska, his hand froze above the page. After rolling those words around in his mind, he put down his pen.

He carefully folded the letter in two, placed it in an envelope and sealed it with wax. Then he stepped out of the tent, letter in hand.

“Have this sent along with the dispatches to the capital.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The knight bowed, took the letter, and left.

Laska pressed his brow with his fingers and turned towards his destination: the largest command tent in the garrison, before Dakitenn. Count Regan was standing before it.

The count’s face lit up the moment he saw Laska.

“Your Highness, the Prince Regent.”

“Count Regan. What is the situation?”

“Not very favorable. Count Arenbur is away for a short time, and what’s more, Baron Harper, the eldest son of the Marquis of Harper, has been rather aggressive.”

Count Regan shook his head wearily. But Laska only smiled lightly and shrugged.

“A baron’s bluster is still endearing. Imagine if the Marquis himself had come.”

“If that been the case, we would already be at war.”

Count Regan shuddered, declaring it a dreadful thought. Laska turned toward the entrance of the command tent, and the count followed close behind.

“…That is why we must strike first!”

The clamor inside was loud enough to be heard even from outside. Guessing at the owner of the voice, Laska curved one corner of his mouth upward as he drew aside the tent flap.

“How many times have we sat idly on the defense? If we had pursued the retreating cowards and crushed them, this would have ended long ago!”

Baron Harper, his ginger hair bristling, shouted until the veins stood in his neck. A few young knights nodded in agreement, but the moment they noticed Laska, they scrambled to their feet.

“…Your Highness, the Prince Regent.”

Baron Harper too lowered his voice when his gaze met Laska’s. Yet he did not bother to hide the discontent simmering on his face.

“Was it not His Majesty’s command that both allied and enemy casualties be kept to a minimum? Do you take issue with the king’s orders?”

As always, a faint smile lingered on his lips. However, none of the men present thought it was an authentic expression of pleasure.

“Your Highness, if I may speak plainly.”

Baron Harper stepped forward, his face solemn. Count Regan moved as if to block him, but Laska raised his hand to allow it.

Encouraged, the Baron continued.

“War is waged to be won. To k*ll the enemy is to preserve our own. How can we let them live, only to endanger our soldiers’ lives?”

Several of those who had been silent exchanged glances of agreement. Some even dared to cast Laska insolent looks.

‘They must think I would risk soldiers’ lives to appease the whims of an imperial woman.’

Rumors had begun to circulate, turning his relationship with Selaia into the subject of crude gossip. Laska was well aware of the contempt simmering beneath their stares.

‘And to think this is what made me loathe the idea of returning.’

He slowly opened his eyes, then closed them again.

“War is not a matter of passion, but of pragmatism and survival. Of course, protecting our own people must come first, Baron.”

The baron’s expression softened slightly, but Laska shattered his expectations by smiling radiantly.

“However, the order to minimize enemy losses remains in force.”

“Why, Your Highness?”

This time, it was not the baron who spoke, but a younger knight with a still boyishly fresh face.

“The enemy is a threat. Should the threat not be eliminated entirely for the matter to be settled?”

“That would be the case if this were a battle to the death, where only one side could survive.”

Laska replied, fixing his gaze on the young knight who had dared to question him.

“Sir Kitten.”

“Yes, Your Highness the Prince Regent!”

The knight snapped to attention, surprised that Laska knew his name.

“We can win against Tropez in battle, right?”

“Of course we can!”

Hearing the confident reply, Laska smiled, then spoke again.

“Then—can we destroy Tropez?”

“…Pardon?”

“Can all of us here wipe out Saint-Tropez and eliminate every future threat?”

He cast a quiet look across the assembled men. No one answered without hesitation.

“Tropez’s territory is almost twice the size of Teian’s, yet their populations are similar. We have the advantage right now because they cannot deploy all their forces along the border with us. However, fighting the Empire across its entire territory would be another matter entirely.”

Even if the Teians could defeat the Tropezians in battle, annihilating them would be impossible — or at least an extremely costly endeavor.

“If we annihilate their troops in Cheringen today, tomorrow their brothers will come, and later their sons. Do you want to keep fighting that endless war?”

“No…”

Small voices murmured the answer. Baron Harper, discomfited by the shift in mood, looked around.

“We fight so that we may coexist with them. It is that purpose we must make clear.”

Count Regan looked at Laska. His blue eyes were steady, unshaken—an authority none dared to oppose.

“Then remember this well: long-term peace is possible only when you treat your enemy as human.”

“Yes.”

Calmer, more certain responses filled the tent. Baron Harper had no rebuttal ready.

“Very well—dismissed. We will resume further discussion when Count Arenbur returns.”

At Laska’s command, the men began to file out of the command tent. Once only Laska and Count Regan remained, the Count let out a deep sigh.

“If only you had come to Teian sooner and displayed this level of leadership and eloquence, perhaps the country would be in far better shape than it is now.”