Dante sat in his room, staring blankly at the communication crystal where Nicholas had abruptly cut the call. He furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before getting up and walking out of his room.
As he emerged from his chambers, the guard stationed outside his room gave him a small salute. "Is something the matter, Your Majesty?" the guard asked.
Shaking his head, Dante replied, "It's nothing. I need to talk to Beaumont. Do you happen to know where he could be right now?"
The guard thought for a moment before replying, "He should still be at the training ground, sir."
Dante nodded in acknowledgment. "I see. Well, keep up the good work."
"Yes, sir," the guard saluted, watching as Dante walked away from his room.
Not even two minutes later, the grand chancellor of the grand duke's estate, could be seen running towards Dante with sweat running down his face. "Sir, we have an emergency," Stephen said, huffing for breath as he stood in front of Dante.
With a deepening frown on his face, Dante replied, wondering what kind of emergency could happen this late at night, "What now, Stephen?"
After pausing for a second to catch his breath, Stephen blurted out, "Sir, it's the Pope of the Church of the Old Gods. He just arrived at the estate."
"What? Why is that old man here right now?" Dante said, annoyance clearly visible on his face as his frown deepened.
Shaking his head, Stephen replied, "I don't think that's important right now."
Nodding in agreement, Dante rubbed his head in thought for a moment and then replied, "Ughh, get him a room for now. Tell him I will meet him tomorrow."
Stephen opened his mouth to respond to Dante's question, but before he could utter a word, a voice came from right behind him. "No need to do that, I am already here," said Pope Alexander, causing Stephen to jump in surprise.
Dante's eyes glared daggers at the old man, his face contorted into a deep frown. "Pope Alexander, what brings you here?" he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.
After a short pause, the old man spoke. "We need to talk, quite a bit actually," he said with a serious expression.
"Why should I listen to you scummy bastards?" Dante retorted, folding his arms and taking a step forward, his killing intent radiating from him.
"Hold your tongue, Dante. We may be old acquaintances, but I cannot tolerate such insolence," Pope Alexander said, his body exuding his own killing intent, and his eyes showing a sharp glint.
"Try me, you bastard," Dante replied, taking another step towards the pope, unyielding in his resolve as he looked down at the old man. Seeing that the pope had nothing else to say, Dante moved past him and started walking towards the knights' training hall, his annoyance growing.
"Where are you going?" Pope Alexander asked with a frown, turning around to look at the grand duke.
"I have more important matters to discuss than playing politics with you zealots," Dante said, not stopping for a second, but increasing his pace.
"Sire, please hold your tongue for both our sakes. I have no intention of dying by crucifixion," Stephen said, running towards Dante with a paranoid expression on his face.
Not pausing for a second, Dante replied, "Shut it. You would be dead long ago if I wanted you to be. Don't test your luck."
Seeing that Dante had no intention of telling him where he was going, Pope Alexander decided to use his trump card. "Dante, the Pentarchy is planning for a crusade," he said, a tactic that proved to be effective as it caused Dante to stop in his tracks and turn around.
"Follow me," Dante said with a surprised expression as he looked at Pope Alexander.
"What did he just say?" Stephen muttered, his face drained of color as he looked at Dante blankly for answers.
"Nothing. Keep your mouth shut and quietly go back to your room. Not a word of this should get out, understood?" Dante said, looking at Stephen with a menacing expression, to which Stephen readily nodded and scurried off to his room.
Just as Stephen had moved away, Dante turned to Pope Alexander who was standing beside him and said, "Alright, let's go."
Soon, both Dante and Alexander arrived at the training ground where Beaumont could be seen meditating shirtless with his sword in hand. Dante spoke up as Beaumont opened his eyes, "We have a situation."
Seeing the confused expression on Beaumont's face, Dante pointed at Alexander and continued, "This guy is saying that the Pentarchy is planning for a crusade."
Beaumont stayed silent for a moment, deep in thought. Then he asked, "Was this not within His Highness's calculations?"
Nodding briefly, Dante replied, "It was, but I just received a call from John. He wants to scrap the original plan."
"What? Who convinced him about this?" Beaumont frowned.
Dante shrugged, but his own frown deepened as he continued, "I'm not sure, but it was probably something he saw on his way. Whatever it was, it was bad enough to disturb Nicholas."
After an awkward pause, Beaumont asked expectantly, "I see. Has he told you anything about what he thought up in exchange for scrapping the plan?"
"No," Dante shook his head. "He told me that we would discuss more on this tomorrow."
"I see," Beaumont said, his frown deepening.
Alexander, who had been standing there awkwardly listening to the conversation between Dante and Beaumont, spoke up, "What are the two of you talking about?"
Dante turned to Alexander, his eyes narrowing as he spoke, "Something that does not concern you. Now, tell us more about the crusade. When do they plan to launch this?"
"Not sure," Alexander said with a blank expression. "They aren't even sure yet. The initial vote ended in a draw. It will have to be brought up in the council of the bishops before they flesh out the idea further."
Dante blinked his eyes with a stunned expression, looking at Alexander for a moment. "So, you're saying you have nothing?"
"Well, yes," alexander nodded lightly.
"Fucking useless," Dante cursed, a massive frown appearing on his face.
Seeing that the previous topic was going nowhere, Beaumont spoke up with a small sigh, "On that note, Your Eminence, what brings you here?"
"This stuff about you isolating the north...why?" Alexander turned his face to look at Dante.
"Why should I tell you anything about this?" Dante asked, taking a step towards Nicholas.
"Look, I don't care about what the other churches do. Let us preach, and we will be fine," Alexander said, looking up at Dante with a fierce expression.
"Is that a threat?" Dante asked, his killing intent filling the entire room.
Alexander let out his own intent and spoke in a cold tone, "If you want it to be."
.
.
.
In front of a decent-sized mansion, surrounded by a desolate city that resembled the other villages John and his companions had seen in the barony, they could be seen with only one carriage. They had stored all of their belongings in storage rings now that they had exhausted their food reserves from donating to the villages on their way.
As the carriage reached the gates, two guards interrupted their advance, and one of them spoke out, "Halt right there! This is the estate of the Baron of Ulvar. Who are you, and for what purpose are you here?"
From the front of the carriage, Hans spoke up, "His Highness the Third Prince is sitting in this carriage. Any further questions?"
The guard fell silent, and as John poked his head out of the carriage to see why they had halted for so long, he asked, "What is taking so long, Hans?"
"It's nothing, Your Highness. We will be there in but a moment," Hans said, looking back with a smile.
Once John pulled his head back in, Hans turned to the guard and said, "See that? Now open the gate."
"Open the gates," the guard announced.
.
.
.
Within a very well-furnished and extravagant room, a fat, balding man wearing gold and silk from head to toe could be seen bowing in front of John and Nicholas, who were now sitting on one of the two silk couches in the room.
"I, Baron Gervais von Ulvar, greet the Third Son of the Empire and the Spear of the North," the Baron said, stuttering and huffing for air, his body struggling to keep up.
"I have been meaning to meet with you, Sir Gervais," John said as he got up and shook hands with the Baron, whose hands were sweaty enough to make John's hand slip during the handshake.
Letting out a difficult laugh, the Baron replied, huffing for air, "Hahaha, but if I may ask, what brings Your Majesty here to my humble abode?"