John and Dante were in the middle of discussing a few things before John's departure when a knock on the door distracted them, and Hans popped his head in. "Your Majesty, Sir Nicholas has arrived. It's just that…" he trailed off, hesitating.
Dante raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, what's wrong?"
"It's best if you go take a look yourself," Hans said, shaking his head.
John was curious, his eyebrows furrowing. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"I'm not sure, but you should bring all your luggage with you. Since Nicholas is already here, it's best not to delay your departure any longer," Dante said, shrugging as he left the room with Hans.
"Uhuh, I'll go get my bag and meet you outside the castle then," John said, rushing out of the room to gather his belongings.
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John arrived at the front of the castle with a large bag on his shoulders. As he stepped out, he noticed a towering pile of dead griffins, so tall that it towered over the crowd that had gathered around it. "Huh, what's that?" John said in a hushed tone, and upon hearing his voice, the crowd made way, recognizing who he was.
As the path cleared and John walked to the front of the pile, Nicholas called out to the young prince with a wide smile on his face. "John, you're here! Let's get going. I even brought some food to eat on the way there."
"Huh?" John's ears perked in confusion.
"He says the reason he was late was that a pack of griffins attacked him on his way, so he killed them and brought them as food," Dante explained with an annoyed frown on his face.
After a brief pause, John spoke with his eyebrows raised. "How do you expect us to take all of that?"
"Ah, don't worry about it. These two are also coming with us," Nicholas said, pointing to Hans and another knight who was standing beside him.
Shaking his head at the situation, Dante spoke. "Get going, there is no time for you to waste. By the time you reach there, winter will be here."
"Right, let's get going," John said, shaking his head, and got into the carriage.
"Well then, Uncle, let's meet again in three months," John said after he rolled down the window.
With a slight nod, Dante spoke. "Take care of yourself, and while I'm sure Nicholas will train you to the bone, don't be lazy, alright?"
"Yes, sir," John responded with a smile.
"We should get going now. You will have plenty of time to talk once you are done with whatever you need to do up so far north," Nicholas said as he hopped into the carriage.
"Let's go," Hans said as he gestured to the knight to start moving the food carriage behind him, as Hans pulled the stirrups to the carriage that carried both Nicholas and John and began to move.
"Hut, hut!" the knight called out, urging the horses to start moving.
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A week ago, when the emperor made the announcement, shockwaves reverberated not only across the empire but throughout the entire continent, as the empire's politics heavily influenced everyone else. In the middle of a wooden room filled with lush greenery, sat the elven empress, her brow furrowed as a messenger from the emperor stood before her.
"What do you mean the third prince won't be competing for the throne anymore?" the elvish empress asked with a frown on her face.
"I'm afraid so, Your Majesty," the messenger replied, casting a wary glance at the empress.
The empress leaned forward, her piercing eyes fixed on the messenger. "I wish to have a talk with the emperor regarding the future of our realms in this case. When can I speak to him?"
After a moment of consideration, the messenger responded, "His Majesty will be in the middle of a court session, so it is unlikely that the two of you will be able to talk today."
Nodding lightly, the elvish empress spoke with a determined expression, "I see. Well, please convey to him that I am eager to speak with him on this matter once he has the time to do so."
"I understand," the messenger stammered before quickly exiting the room, leaving the empress alone with her thoughts. She picked up the letter again, reading through it in an attempt to understand the emperor's decision.
Meanwhile, deep within the borders of the Maritona Confederation, a man dressed in a royal blue suit, adorned with a pin resembling a trident on his lapel, sat in a lavishly decorated office, reading the same letter with a wide smile on his face.
"It seems as if the empire will soon have a civil war," he said to himself, his eyes glinting with anticipation.
Just as he finished reading the letter, a young man with the same black hair and brown skin as the man in the blue suit entered the room.
"My Princeps, someone from the Round Table is waiting for you," the young man said.
"Right, I mustn't keep them waiting. Son, you go entertain them. I will be with you in just a moment," the leader of the Maritona Confederation said, as he opened a secret drawer with stacks of papers and carefully placed the letter he had just read inside it.
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"What do you say we do now?" said a portly noble, his eyes fixed on Count Cassius, who wore an enraged expression.
"What else? We will attack the Grand Duke. He has just been in a brutal battle against the northern barbarians, and it will take him years to replenish his army," said a well-built noble with jet-black hair and a commanding presence.
"No, Servius. Attacking right now, however, is not an option. Even if his army is significantly weakened, our forces wouldn't stand a chance in their current state. We need to prepare for six months before we can launch a proper attack against the Grand Duke," replied Count Cassius, his voice filled with authority as he addressed the other nobles gathered around him.
He scanned the room, his piercing gaze locking with each noble in turn, as they nodded in agreement.
"Six months it is, then," said another noble, his voice resolute. "We must ensure our troops are well-trained and well-equipped for the assault."
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Trouble brewed both inside and outside the empire following the emperor's earlier announcements. Even the pentarchy, was embroiled in a heated debate about the isolation of the North.
within a massive white hall adorned with gilded marble, the five popes sat around a round table of the same material, each occupying a throne that represented the branch of their faith. Pope Constantine, seated on a yellow throne, spoke first with a commanding voice.
"My brothers of the faith, the emperor is questioning our authority. How can you be so passive in such a situation?" he said.
"It's not that we're passive, it's just that you're too aggressive," replied Pope Clement, the head of the Church of the Sea Gods, shaking his head from his blue throne.
"He's right, you know. We're already earning enough, and there's no need to get so rowdy over one single duchy, especially when it's not even that wealthy," added Pope Zephyrinus, the Pope of the Church of the Earth Gods.
Theodotus - the head of the church of the sky gods - an elderly man seated on a white throne, slammed the table with his hand and spoke loudly, "No, I agree with Pope Constantine. This is not a matter of gold, but a matter of questioning our authority. For this, I request an inquisition."
"How could you say such a thing? Do you dare to think that we will allow you to make the people suffer even more simply because of your greed?" Pope Zephyrinus shouted, with Pope Clement readily agreeing.
"You hypocritical bastards! You speak as if you haven't filled your pockets to the brim with extorted money," Theodotus retorted, glaring at his counterparts.
Constantine raised his right hand to stop the argument. "No, an inquisition is not an option here. We must call for a crusade, and I am sure the nobles themselves would be open to such an idea."
"I am absolutely against this," Zephyrinus said vehemently, shaking his head.
"You're both crazy," Clement said, sliding back into his chair in shock at the idea.
"I am in full support of the crusade. Such heresy cannot be tolerated," Theodotus declared, nodding in agreement with Constantine.
"So that's two in favor of launching a fourth crusade and two against. Brother, the decision falls on you," Constantine said, turning to the last person at the table who had yet to speak, Pope Alexander, the Pope of the Church of the Old Gods, who sat on a blackish-red throne.
After a moment of silence, Pope Alexander spoke, "As usual, we will choose to remain neutral. However, I will go to the north to discuss things with the grand duke. You people can do whatever you wish, but the Church of the Old Gods has no interest in such filthy actions."
With a bitter smile and a slight nod, Constantine turned away from Alexander and spoke, "Fine, we shall decide this with a meeting of the cardinals, as usual then."
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Back to the current moment, the duke sat with Sir Beaumont, discussing John's ideas. To which Sir Beaumont was not very welcoming, "Your Majesty, I don't think the vassals within the duchy will readily agree to such drastic changes as you expect them to," Sir Beaumont said with a furrowed brow. "We are in a vulnerable position, and angering them right now could result in the central nobles declaring war on us within the year, with support from the pentarchy, no less. And if even your own vassals launch an uprising, we will be in no position to defend ourselves."
Duke Dante nodded, his expression contemplative. "Hmmm, your concerns are well placed," he said, tapping his fingers on the table. "But this plan must happen. However, we need to figure out an alternate way to implement it. What John suggested works well for the skeleton, but we will have to come up with the rest of the details ourselves."
Sir Beaumont let out a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead with a sense of foreboding. "Ugghhh, this will be a long few months," he said, anticipating the headaches that lay ahead.