My father, the Duke of Verdune, was an incapable man. Overproud, haughty, stupid, and stubborn. He treated everyone like dirt, walking through life as if he were untouchable. He ruled not with strength, but with arrogance.
I was his daughter. That alone made life difficult. Trying to gain the trust of Verdune's people was impossible when my father had already poisoned their hearts with resentment and fear.
I met a village boy when I was twelve. Diligent, smart, and kind—too kind for this world. He was innocent back then, untouched by the filth of nobility. But I knew better. I saw him writings on a wall, he wanted to learn. Even at twelve, I understood how politics worked. My father's rule was unsustainable. His greed and stupidity would drive Verdune to ruin.
So, I made my choice. I took the village boy under my wing to be my fiancé and future husband. Taught him everything I knew. History, economics, politics, warfare. He learned quickly. Faster than I expected. My plan was simple: remove my father, install a new order, and govern Verdune side by side with him.
My father never suspected a thing. Not because I was careful—but because he never paid attention to me. I wasn't a son. I wasn't an heir. I was an inconvenience.
He even tried to assault me when I turned eighteen.
I managed to escape and hid for days. When I finally resurfaced, he didn't even remember what he had done. That's the kind of man he was. Cruel and careless.
I knew then that I had to act. Fast. If I didn't stop him, Verdune would burn. Civil war would tear the province apart—just like the rest of the Distia Empire.
But before I could make my move… he died.
Crucified.
And Verdune fell into the hands of a ten-year-old.
A ten-year-old who carried the aura of a battle god.
My life was spared, and now I am being summoned to dine with him.
Amidst all this, I sense an opportunity. A single question formed in my mind:
Why would he summon the daughter of the man he executed?
He wasn't after my body—he could have any woman he wanted. He wasn't after my status—Verdune already belonged to him. He didn't need me to legitimize his rule. No, this was about something else. Something deeper.
He needs someone to help him run Verdune.
That realization left me breathless. How much does he know? He must have investigated Verdune thoroughly before springing the trap. He hadn't just crushed my father's army—he had dissected Verdune's power structure from the inside out. He knew where the cracks were. He knew who would resist. He knew who would obey.
And yet… he left me alive.
I stood before the mirror, brushing a hand down the smooth fabric of my dress. Dark blue velvet with silver threading—my best attire. Not too extravagant, not too modest. The dress of a noblewoman with something to offer, but nothing to prove.
I glanced at my reflection. My face was calm, composed. My hair pinned back in a neat updo. A mask of control, carefully crafted. Inside, my heart beat faster than I wanted to admit.
This wasn't just a dinner invitation. This was an opportunity—a negotiation.
Verdune's future would be decided tonight.
And mine along with it.
I stepped away from the mirror, my heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. I drew in a breath, steadying myself.
Then I walked toward the dining hall with my head held high.
I will not falter.
I entered the hall filled with the smell of meat and wine. A feast. Why won't it be, he conquered a city all in a day's work. He was skeptical of me and tested me. I did my best to pass his test and earn his trust. I have no intention of going against him, I feel like I will be killed right away even if I think about betraying him. After all nobles are dying here and there like someone is killing them off.
I sat down, the first course was ready to be served and now the game begins.
The silver goblet was cold against my fingers as I lifted it. The taste of spiced wine lingered on my tongue—smooth, with just a hint of bitterness beneath the sweetness. It matched the atmosphere perfectly.
Rhydher sat across from me, his small frame oddly regal beneath the glow of the chandeliers. His crimson cape hung loosely over his shoulders, a reminder that he didn't need to wear a crown to command a room.
His gaze was steady, unnerving in its sharpness. He wasn't smiling. But there was something dangerous beneath that calm exterior.
My mind sharpened. The game had begun.
I placed the goblet down carefully and met his gaze.
"Congratulations, Your Highness," I said smoothly. "Taking Verdune in a single day was… impressive."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"It wasn't luck," he said. His tone was even, controlled.
"Of course not." I smiled faintly. "But impressive nonetheless."
He studied me for a moment, and I had the distinct feeling that he was peeling back my words—examining them for weakness or hidden meaning.
"And you," Rhydher said after a pause, "you look happy and satisfied with the outcome of things including your father's death."
I lowered my gaze slightly, allowing a faint smile to play across my lips.
"My father ruled Verdune with a heavy hand," I said carefully. "He thought power meant controlling others through fear and dominance."
"And you disagree?"
My eyes lifted to his.
"I believe true power lies in influence. In control through loyalty rather than submission."
He hummed, swirling the wine in his goblet.
"A fine theory. But the people of Verdune feared your father. Why would they trust you?"
I leaned forward slightly.
"Because I understand them," I replied smoothly. "And because you will give them a reason to trust me."
His gaze sharpened.
"Go on."
I folded my hands in my lap, letting my tone remain steady but not too eager.
"Verdune's people are broken. Their fields are barren, trade routes fractured, and the remaining nobles are already forming factions to fill the power vacuum left by my father's death. If left unchecked, Verdune will descend into chaos. Fear alone will not hold it together."
"And you expect me to place Verdune under your authority?" Rhydher's tone remained neutral, but the weight behind his words was undeniable.
I held his gaze.
"You need someone who understands Verdune's internal structure. The nobles, the guilds, the trade routes. I know how to balance them—how to wield them. You conquered Verdune with steel, but you will need a softer touch to keep it in line."
His gaze remained cold, calculating.
"And you believe you can provide that?"
I hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"If you give me the authority to govern Verdune as a province of Drakseid," I said slowly, "I can ensure its transition into your kingdom will be seamless. The nobles will fall in line. The trade routes will reopen. The people will settle."
He didn't respond immediately. His gaze flicked toward the candlelight dancing along the surface of his goblet. His silence was heavier than any response he could have given.
"And what," he said at last, "do you want in return?"
I smiled faintly.
"Protection."
His gaze darkened.
"From?"
"From the other provinces." My tone sharpened. "Verdune's lands are fertile. Its people are skilled. The other provinces will seek to take advantage of its weakness. I want assurances that Drakseid will defend Verdune as its own territory."
His gaze sharpened dangerously.
"I don't protect weakness."
My smile widened slightly.
"Then I will ensure Verdune does not remain weak."
Rhydher studied me for a long moment. His fingers brushed along the stem of his goblet.
"And you expect me to trust you?"
"No." I leaned forward slightly. "But you can control me."
That seemed to catch his interest. His eyes glinted beneath the candlelight.
"How?"
"Verdune's survival would be tied to Drakseid's prosperity," I explained smoothly. "Our grain, timber, and iron will flow to Helgrad. Your military reforms require resources. Verdune's production will fuel Drakseid's army. My success would be tied directly to yours."
"You would tie your fate to mine?"
"I already have," I said. "I'm sitting here, aren't I?"
His lips curled faintly—not quite a smile.
"Bold."
"I was raised to survive," I replied. "And survival requires adaptation."
He leaned back in his chair. His gaze lingered on me, calculating.
"And if I refuse?"
I smiled.
"Then Verdune will rot. The nobles will fracture into factions. The fields will remain empty. The people will grow restless. Eventually, you'll need to intervene directly—and that will cost you time, money, and soldiers."
"Or I could install someone else."
"You could," I admitted. "But they won't know Verdune the way I do. They won't understand the nobles or the guilds. And they won't have the people's trust."
His eyes narrowed.
"You assume they trust you?"
"They will," I said. "Once I give them food, security, and order."
A long silence settled between us. The candlelight flickered, casting soft shadows along the dark velvet walls.
"You seem confident," Rhydher said finally.
"I am."
He swirled the wine in his goblet one last time before setting it down with a soft clink.
"I'll consider it."
I allowed my expression to relax slightly, but not too much.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Rhydher's gaze remained steady.
"You'll be expected to attend court sessions in Helgrad," he said. "And you'll report to me directly."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. Then he stood.
"Verdune will be integrated into Drakseid within the month," he said coldly. "Ensure it happens smoothly."
I rose, dipping into a shallow bow.
"As you command, Your Highness."
I turned to leave, but his voice cut through the quiet.
"Lynda."
I stopped.
"Yes?"
His gaze sharpened.
"You understand what happens if you betray me."
"I do."
"Good."
I smiled faintly over my shoulder.
"Then you have nothing to worry about."
I walked out of the hall with measured steps, keeping my pace calm and composed until the doors closed behind me.
My heart was pounding.
The game was still in play.
But now…
I had a seat at the table.
The following day, we worked to maintain order. I officially announced that Verdune was now under the banner of the Drakseid Kingdom. I also declared that the dukedom would pass into my hands—and that of my fiancé.
There was no resistance. No protest. Not even a whisper of dissent.
Of course not. Not when a ten-year-old was watching them with the gaze of a lion poised to strike.
After the announcement, we returned to work, facing piles of documents and endless reports. The nobles who remained alive were quick to submit. The merchants followed soon after. Order was falling into place faster than I expected—perhaps faster than it should have.
Then a messenger arrived, bearing a sealed letter from the Empire of Sapphire.
"The Empire is sending an emissary," the messenger said, bowing low. "They wish to speak with the Crown Prince of Drakseid."
Rhydher took the letter with a calm expression. He broke the seal and scanned the contents with sharp eyes. His expression didn't change—until it did.
A thin smile curled across his lips.
His eyes sharpened, darkened. His aura shifted, a quiet hum of danger settling over the room. And then—he laughed. Low, quiet, and chilling.
"Now this," he said, his voice edged with something cold and dangerous, "ought to be interesting."
I didn't speak.
Because the look in his eyes told me that whatever was coming—he was already prepared for it.
And I wasn't sure if that should reassure me… or terrify me.