Chapitre 105: Second Book
"Your Majesty, another war would be detrimental to our people," pleaded the advisor, his voice tinged with urgency and concern.
Another one kneel in front of the emperor.
"Your Majesty, it is imperative that we establish diplomatic ties with the Kingdom of Frizet," urged the Baron, emphasizing the necessity of fostering relations with the neighboring realm for the betterment of both nations.
Kaizer's lip twitched slightly as he observed the chaotic scene unfolding before him
The emperor's pale complexion betrayed the worsening of his illness, casting a somber shadow over the urgent matter at hand. It was imperative to discuss the issue and exert pressure on the emperor to make wise decisions, especially given the recent cessation of the Nacos war. Another conflict would undoubtedly provoke objections from the citizens of the empire, potentially fracturing their faith in the emperor's leadership and causing rifts within the empire.
Worst scenario could lead to rebellion and that is something they must avoid from happening.
"The Kingdom of Fritz differs greatly from the Biscotti Kingdom. Under their wise ruler, they've achieved prosperity, and their people are renowned warriors," explained the advisor. "Engaging in conflict with them wouldn't be a simple matter of victory, especially considering their established diplomatic ties with neighboring empires."
Sensing the emperor's growing anger, the Baron swiftly interjected, adding, "Of course, Your Majesty, our empire is formidable. However, it would be unwise to unnecessarily antagonize potential allies. Creating more enemies at this juncture could prove detrimental to our interests."
"Enough!"
The emperor slam his hand on the table and glance at the grand duke.
"Enough with the incessant chatter," the emperor commanded, his voice cutting through the tension. "I wish to hear the opinion of the grand duke."
Kaizer raised an eyebrow, his expression tinged with amusement as he observed the emperor's frustration.
The emperor, unable to conceal his irritation, clenched his fist while simultaneously massaging his forehead, a silent gesture of his mounting stress.
"Peace treaty is not impossible."
The advisors and nobles' eyes lit up with anticipation as they turned their gaze towards the grand duke, awaiting his insight and guidance on the pressing matter at hand.
"Provided our empire can offer something of significant value in return."
The room fell into silent.
"I've heard rumors that the crown prince is in search of a bride. Regrettably, our empire lacks a princess of royal blood to offer in marriage. Our only alternative is to propose the exchange of territory. However, relinquishing land of strategic importance to both the empire and our citizens is not a decision to be made lightly. It seems we're left with no option but to prepare for conflict."
The nobles face turn dark when they realize something.
"The crown prince of the Frizet Kingdom studied at our empire's academy, correct?"
"Yes, indeed. I recall he was an exchange student for several months and departed shortly after the borders reopened following the Nacos War."
"Then how---"
The voice of one of the advisors was abruptly silenced as the guard stationed outside the door interrupted, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Your Majesty, the messenger urgently requests an audience. He bears a letter from the Kingdom of Frizet."
The emperor's brow furrowed deeply as he issued his command. "Allow him entry"
The double doors swung open, and the messenger entered, bowing respectfully as he made his way toward the long table. "Your Majesty," he began, addressing the emperor with deference, "I beg your pardon for interrupting your important meeting. However, I have received a letter that the chancellor instructed me to deliver to you without delay."
As the emperor unfolded the letter and began to read, a visible change came over his countenance. His already pale complexion seemed to drain of what little color remained, turning even paler. Anger flickered in his eyes, a storm brewing beneath the surface, yet it was tempered by an undeniable weariness etched into his features. Despite the evident fury and frustration, the weight of responsibility bore down upon him, casting a shadow of exhaustion across his face.
"Your majesty..."
The emperor put down the letter and said, "It's a request of marriage."
In the serene beauty of the palace's forbidden garden, Milan lay sprawled upon the grass, his eyes fluttering open to gaze at the vast expanse of the sky above. For a brief moment, he blinked, as if trying to clear his vision, his confusion evident in the rapid movement of his eyelids. Yet, as realization dawned upon him that he was indeed awake and not trapped in a dream, his gaze shot upwards in horror. There, amidst the tranquil backdrop of blue, a jagged crack marred the once pristine canvas of the sky, sending shivers of dread down Milan's spine.
"What the hell, is happening..."
At the sight of the ominous crack in the sky, a profound sense of restlessness washed over Milan, stirring within him like a tempestuous tide. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach, unsettling and relentless, as if warning of impending catastrophe.
"Sir Milan!"
A servant rushed toward him, his demeanor fraught with urgency. "You've received a letter from the Pope," she announced breathlessly.
The pope...
Milan's brow furrowed deeply; he couldn't shake the unease that came with the mere mention of the Pope.
In a modern setting, Milan would liken the Pope to a persistent stalker, an unwelcome presence that seemed to linger at the edges of his consciousness. He couldn't help but rue the day he had encountered the man. Fortunately, the confines of the Church restricted the Pope's movements, providing Milan with a modicum of relief from the constant paranoia of being watched.
This world is full of madness.
As Milan pondered his circumstances, he couldn't help but wonder why fate had thrust him into this chaotic world, especially when he couldn't recall any heinous deeds from his past life.
"You could have just left it in my room," Milan remarked, eyeing the letter with a hint of frustration.
The maid shook her head resolutely. "We were instructed to ensure that you hold the letter in your hands, Sir. Besides, the second prince also mentioned that he'll take you to visit the church tomorrow, so you need to be prepared."
A look of surprise crossed Milan's face. "His Highness the second prince?" he echoed, the implications dawning on him.
Taking him to church meant...
Milan's complexion paled, his grip tightening around the letter in his hand.
"I-I understand," Milan stammered, his voice betraying a mixture of apprehension and resignation.
"Then please excuse me," the maid replied with a respectful bow of her head before swiftly departing from the garden.
Milan was left in a daze, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty and unease. He hadn't yet had the chance to speak with Eugene, and he longed to inquire about the duration of his status as a war prisoner. Remaining confined within the palace walls left him feeling vulnerable and exposed, far from the safety he craved.
Aware of Eugene's influence within the royal family, Milan yearned for another audience with the man. However, Eugene's infrequent visits to the palace meant that Milan's only source of information about him came from the gossip of the servants.
Milan pondered his predicament, searching for any potential opportunity to meet with Eugene. Despite Eugene's rare visits to the palace, Milan knew that opportunities could arise unexpectedly. Perhaps he could strategically position himself during events or gatherings where Eugene might be present.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"What a damn life!"
Vena Church
"All Eusto representative have finished their prayer."
Chantall clasped the candle, feeling the gentle touch of the priest's hand as he drew the cross of ash upon her forehead. His solemn words echoed in her mind, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
Chantall whispered a few words under her breath before silently walking away.
Outside the church, Chantall looked up at the bright blue skies.
"I haven't had a chance to meet him," she murmured softly, her words carried away by the gentle breeze.
"Meet who?"
Chantall started, turning to face the source of the voice.
Her face paled as she realized it was His Holiness standing before her. Quickly composing herself, she bowed her head in reverence.
"Your Holiness! What brings you outside at this hour?" she asked, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
Eullian glanced at Chantall, who stood before him with her head bowed in deference. Though his lips curved into a smile, a subtle chill seemed to emanate from him, casting an aura of displeasure over the interaction. It was a silent but unmistakable signal, leaving those around him acutely aware of his discontent, even if its cause remained a mystery.
Chantall bit her lip anxiously, her thoughts racing as she kept her head lowered.
The realization hit her like a thunderbolt—Eullian's demeanor mirrored that of the villain described in the second book. With a sinking feeling in her heart, she accepted the grim truth: Eullian was undoubtedly the antagonist in this timeline, not Eugene.
Now, she was certain.
As memories of the events from the second book flooded her mind, Chantall felt a wave of apprehension wash over her. The stakes were higher, the dangers more intense than ever before. She knew she had to tread carefully, for in this timeline, her influence over Eugene made her a prime target for the misfortunes orchestrated by Eullian and the grand duke.
"I heard today is the final day of practice for the Eusto representatives?"
"Yes, indeed. This marks our last day, and we will return to the academy later at noon."
Eullian hummed softly, casting a glance at the sky with a faint smile playing on his lips.
"What are your thoughts on it?" he inquired.
Chantall furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean, Your Holiness?"
"I mean the sky. Doesn't it look beautiful and scary this time?" as if at any moment it will open and all higher existence will descend to punish the mortals.
"I mean the sky," Eullian clarified. "Doesn't it appear both beautiful and ominous? Almost as if at any moment, it might split open, and the higher beings will descend to pass judgment upon mortals."
Chantall's face turned paler as she abruptly raised her head to gaze at the sky.
Upon closer observation, she spotted a crack-like line in the skies, sending shivers down her spine. Her whole body trembled with fear.
She blinked twice, but the ominous sight vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving Chantall bewildered. How could such a dire omen vanish so swiftly? And why was everything in this timeline progressing so unpredictably fast?
Questions swirled in her mind, each one more urgent than the last. What had caused this unsettling turn of events? And whose presence loomed over this timeline, casting it into chaos?
This is bad.
This timeline, might end soon.
She will die.
Everyone will die.
This world will be destroyed.
Eullian's laughter echoed through the air, sending a chill down Chantall's spine.
"You seem quite frightened," he remarked with amusement. "But fear not. Those who worship the Lord will be spared judgment, while those who do not believe will endure endless torture without respite."
His words sent a shiver of dread through Chantall. The implications of his statement weighed heavily on her mind, filling her with a sense of foreboding.
"Is merely gazing at the beautiful sky reason enough for being outside?"
In response, she immediately knelt and offered a heartfelt apology. "I didn't mean to question Your Holiness. Please forgive this ignorant girl. I was only concerned for Your Holiness's well-being—"
"Now, now. There's no need to fret," Eullian interjected, his tone gentle as he extended his hand. "I'm not angry."
As Chantall looked up, she found herself captivated by the intensity in his gaze. "I apologize for startling a lovely lady like yourself," he continued, leaning in closer. "But don't worry. No matter how much I enjoy the sight of others kneeling before me..." His voice lowered to a whisper. "...with someone as influential as you, I fear the heavens might punish me instead."
Chantall's eyes widened in disbelief at his words.
Eullian's words felt like a harsh slap across her face, a painful reminder of her privileged status as a favored child of heaven. They served as a stark warning to those who dared oppose her, implying that anyone who crossed her path would face the wrath of the heavens.
In that moment, Chantall realized the extent of her influence in this world. No one could challenge her without facing divine retribution. It was a sobering realization, one that filled her with a mixture of awe and unease.
Maybe, she could use her influence to save Eugene.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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