The meeting was held in the imperial war room, a vast, high-ceilinged chamber lined with maps and banners. The long obsidian table held a giant replica of the empire's map, complete with different terrains drawn in fresh ink. The seats around the table were crowded with ministers, generals, and nobles—all looking back and forth between the emperor and the map nervously. This was the first conflict they'd had with the other kingdoms in a while, especially during Elliott's reign. They were used to the previous emperor taking the route of brutal efficiency and an eye-for-an-eye mentality. No one had any idea how Elliott would handle it.
At the head of the table sat the emperor, his eyes weary and fixed on the map—particularly, the borders they shared with the Altherian Empire. To his right was Aiden, who, after a private conversation with the emperor following his storming out during evening tea, had been allowed to attend. Though it was obvious from his expression that he had been told he was on thin ice and asked to behave.
The air was thick with tension. The rival empire's ultimatum lay on the table—both metaphorically and literally. The Vale Vallies... or war.
Elliott began. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
"The matter is simple. We will not go to war over Vales. A negotiation treaty will be drafted—"
Immediate murmurs of protest followed his announcement. Most of the generals were furious but didn't dare cut in while the emperor was speaking. One of them, however, seemed past such reservations.
The Grand Admiral, a war-hardened man with a scar down one cheek, leaned forward, an expression of righteous fury on his face.
"Your Majesty, with respect—this is madness! If we yield now, they will continue asking for more and more!"
Aiden crossed his arms, mumbling a low "That's what I'm saying" under his breath—though a small glare from Elliott promptly quieted him.
The Grand Admiral continued, "They'll carve us out, piece by piece. There is no end to the greed of the Altherians."
Elliott's voice was cold but unwavering.
"Then we will negotiate again. And again. Until they tire of it."
"And if they don't tire? If they march on our borders anyway? What then?"
Aiden couldn't control himself. His voice was tense with frustration and worry.
Elliott directed his glare at Aiden again. His normally soft face was twisted in a stoic frown. He didn't say anything, but his expression was frosty—a clear indication that Aiden's input was not welcome.
Aiden was unperturbed. He was too fired up to register the threat. "No, let me say it. Someone has to. Will you bow to them when they tear our flags and burn down our lands? When our people bleed?!"
Elliott's eyes narrowed. His face was cold. "You're forgetting your place, Prince."
The title was a weapon. A reminder of hierarchy. Elliott turned to the room, declaring, "This is not up for debate."
"...Maybe it should be." Aiden spoke, undeterred. He knew he was pushing it. "You're condemning the borderlands to a death sentence just because you don't want a war—because we all know the Altherians aren't just going to stop."
The Grand Admiral, seizing the moment, backed him up. "The prince is right, Your Majesty. We have the numbers, the weapons—we just need to act fast and crush them first—"
Elliott slammed his fist on the table. The sound reverberated throughout the room, silencing everyone. His palm reddened almost immediately, and though it would've normally made him flinch, he was too angry to register the pain. His voice rose.
"Let me make one thing clear. This is not my father's reign. I will not wage war for something as foolish as pride and ego. If I must bow my head to spare a single person's blood, I shall do it gladly. I will not be a ruler whose worth is measured in corpses."
Silence.
Even Aiden froze.
The Grand Admiral scoffed quietly and leaned back. He knew not to push further. Generals exchanged indignant but helpless glances. The Prime Minister exhaled shakily, already drafting the treaty terms in his head.
You're right. An emperor's head should bow. But not you. Never you. You should never bow to anyone—not while I'm alive, Aiden thought. But he didn't say it aloud. He finally spoke, but his tone wasn't confrontational or accusatory like before. It was quiet. Raw. And suddenly, he looked much more like the child who used to sneak into Elliott's bed because he had a nightmare.
"...What when bowing isn't enough?"
Elliott turned, meeting his gaze. He was still furious, but much more than that—he was tired. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it. But I refuse to light the pyre first."
He addressed the room, announcing his final decision. "The treaty will be drafted. We shall extend an invitation to the Altherian representative for a peace treaty negotiation. We will show no hostility—not at the border, not in the palace. I expect everyone to abide by it. Failure to do so will be considered a direct undermining of my authority and decision. Council dismissed."