Ok! We are finally starting the Volume 2, so I thought what better scene than two helicopter dads at each other's throat.
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The Imperial Council Chambers stood as a testament to the might of the Healian Empire, its grand pillars carved with depictions of ancient conquests and its floors polished to a mirror-like sheen. Despite the room's vastness, the tension was so thick that it seemed to shrink the space, drawing all eyes to the two men at its heart.
Seated at the head of the council table, Emperor Raphael Valoria was the picture of composed dominance. His raven-black hair cascaded down his back like an ink-stained river, each strand shimmering under the light of the golden chandeliers. Crimson eyes, sharp and unyielding, swept over the gathered courtiers with the precision of a blade.
He seemed more predator than man, and his presence alone demanded submission.
Raphael leaned back in his throne-like chair, his tone casual yet carrying an unmistakable edge.
"It is no secret," he began, his voice low and resonant, "that my daughter and son-in-law are vital to the stability of this Empire. Their presence here in the capital is not just a matter of convenience—it is a necessity."
The courtiers shifted uneasily, exchanging furtive glances. Though many were traditionalists who bristled at Raphael's protective behavior, none dared to voice dissent. His demeanor—so reminiscent of a dragon jealously guarding its treasure—froze any thought of challenge in their throats.
Duke Louis von Shelb, seated to the Emperor's right, exuded his own quiet authority. His sharp blue eyes mirrored Raphael's intensity but with a different hue—less fire, more ice. His well-tailored coat, adorned with the insignia of House Shelb, was immaculate, but his clenched jaw betrayed his inner turmoil.
"My son and daughter-in-law," Louis began, his tone clipped and formal, "belong in the Southwest, where their presence strengthens our holdings and ensures the stability of my house."
Raphael's eyes narrowed, their crimson glow darkening as they locked onto the Duke.
"Do they?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with an unspoken threat. "I was under the impression that their union was meant to strengthen both the Empire and the House of Shelb. Are you suggesting otherwise, Duke?"
The air in the chamber seemed to grow heavier, and the courtiers leaned in, their curiosity piqued. They had seen debates between powerful nobles, but this was different. This was a clash of titans.
Louis held his ground, though his grip on the table's edge tightened.
"You may call it strengthening, Your Majesty, but to others, it appears... as though House Shelb has surrendered its son entirely to the crown. The imperial edict delivered last week referred to Micheal as Mikhail Valoria von Shelb."
Gasps rippled through the room. The courtiers, ever eager for scandal, exchanged quick glances. The subtle shift in Micheal's name had not gone unnoticed.
Raphael's lips curled into the faintest smile, though it carried no warmth. "A name change, Duke, does not erase lineage. It reflects allegiance. And Micheal, I believe, welcomed the designation."
Louis's voice dropped, his tone edged with pain. "Perhaps he did. But it raises questions, Your Majesty. Questions about where his loyalties lie and whether House Shelb is being diminished in the eyes of the realm."
The courtiers' whispers grew louder. Some nodded in agreement with the Duke's concerns, while others exchanged speculative murmurs about the implications of Micheal's allegiance to the Emperor.
Raphael's gaze swept the room, silencing the whispers instantly. "Loyalties, Duke, are earned, not inherited. Micheal has proven his worth to the Empire—a trait I value greatly."
Louis's blue eyes flared with barely contained anger. "And what of his family? What of the Southwest? You demand their presence here, but do you intend to sacrifice the strength of an entire region for your... convenience?"
A sharp intake of breath echoed from the courtiers. The word "convenience" lingered in the air like a slap.
Raphael's crimson eyes darkened, and his voice turned colder than ice. "Convenience? You mistake necessity for indulgence, Duke. Magda and Micheal are the future of this Empire. Their place is by my side."
The room froze, the tension palpable as the two men locked gazes. It was clear to everyone present that this was no mere debate—it was a battle for control over the lives of two key figures in the realm.
The courtiers, ever watchful for shifts in power, murmured among themselves. Some, loyal to the Emperor, nodded approvingly at his assertiveness. Others, aligned with the Duke's traditionalist stance, whispered doubts about Raphael's overreach.
Lady Halvora, always one to stoke the flames of intrigue, leaned toward a nearby noble and whispered, "A dragon and an iceberg. One wonders which will crack first."
The noble beside her chuckled nervously, his gaze flickering between the Emperor and the Duke. "My bet's on the dragon," he murmured.
At the center of it all, Micheal von Shelb stood silently, observing the brewing storm with a mix of fascination and trepidation. His sharp blue eyes darted between his father and father-in-law, noting the subtle shifts in their expressions and the growing unease among the courtiers.
He could see the stakes clearly: Raphael's insistence was born of a newfound protectiveness for Magda, a possessive love that bordered on obsession.
Louis, on the other hand, feared losing not just his son but the delicate balance of power that kept House Shelb strong.
As the tension reached its peak, Micheal took a small, measured step forward. If he didn't act soon, the rift between these two powerful men might deepen beyond repair.
Though he savored the tension between the monarch and his faithful subject, today was not the day to clear his debts, everything had its time.
The tension in the room was palpable as Micheal von Shelb stepped forward, his sharp blue eyes glinting with a mixture of determination and calm.
The simmering conflict between his father and father-in-law had the air of a storm about to break, but Micheal, ever the strategist, saw an opportunity to divert the winds.
"Royal Father," he began, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a salve, soothing yet commanding attention. "Might I offer a solution that addresses both your concerns and those of my father?"
Raphael's crimson gaze, sharp as ever, softened slightly as it settled on Micheal. His flowing black hair, like an ink-stained river, framed his face, a visage unmarked by time.
"Speak, Mikhail," he said, his tone holding both authority and curiosity, but he subtly stresses on Micheal's new name.
Micheal turned slightly, including Louis in his field of view while maintaining his focus on the Emperor. "It's clear that Magda and I are needed in both the capital and the Southwest. Instead of tethering us to one location, why not alternate? We could spend one month in the capital, supporting the crown, and the next in the Southwest, fortifying our home."
Louis's frown deepened, his blue eyes narrowing. "Alternating like a pendulum? It sounds impractical, Micheal. The strain alone—"
Micheal raised a hand, his smile gentle yet confident.
"Father, the strain will be minimized. Royal Father," he said, addressing Raphael directly, "I have recently completed the design for a horseless carriage specifically tailored to Magda's needs. It is crafted to suit her tastes perfectly, ensuring that she won't even realize she's traveling."
Raphael's crimson eyes flashed with intrigue, though his expression remained composed. "You've designed such a thing for Magda?"
Micheal inclined his head. "I have, Royal Father. A carriage equipped with the smoothest suspension, ample space for her books and research, and enchantments to keep the interior climate controlled. The journey will feel more like a peaceful retreat than a chore."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the courtiers. Some exchanged skeptical glances, while others, clearly impressed, leaned forward in their seats. The idea of such innovation—practical yet luxurious—captured the imagination of even the most cynical nobles.
Louis, though still skeptical, couldn't entirely hide the flicker of interest in his eyes. "And how do you propose to fund these frequent travels and the roads necessary to support them?"
Micheal's smile widened, a touch of mischief creeping into his expression. "Father, Royal Father, with all due respect, the Southwest's wealth has long been supported by my ventures. If need be, I could fund the roads myself."
The room erupted into gasps. Courtiers whispered furiously, their eyes darting between Micheal and the Duke. For years, many had dismissed Micheal as a lout, an eccentric footnote in the illustrious Shelb lineage. Now, his quiet declaration of financial independence had shattered that illusion.
Louis's sharp gaze bore into Micheal, though his tone softened, laced with grudging admiration. "You've done well for yourself, it seems."
Raphael, however, seemed unsurprised, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Impressive," he said softly. "But it will not fall solely to you, Micheal. The Empire will share this burden, as will the Southwest. A joint effort to symbolize unity and progress."
Micheal nodded, the faintest trace of relief flickering across his features. "Thank you, Royal Father."
Raphael leaned back, his piercing gaze surveying the room.
"A network of roads designed for horseless carriages," he mused aloud, his tone carrying an air of finality. "It will strengthen trade, hasten communication, and ensure the safety of my little dove. You have my full support, Mikhail."
Louis, after a moment's pause, gave a curt nod. "If this project secures the future of both our family and the Empire, I'll lend my support as well."
The murmurs among the courtiers shifted to admiration and speculation. Micheal's suggestion had not only diffused the tension but also painted him as a man of vision and practicality—a potential kingmaker in their midst.
Lady Halvora, seated near the edge of the room, leaned toward a fellow noble, her voice barely a whisper. "The Merchant Prince, indeed. The lout sold the Emperor what he want and bought his father's trust."
Her companion chuckled nervously, glancing at Micheal with newfound respect. "Depths and influence. He's no fool."
As the council session began to wind down, Micheal stepped back, his posture relaxed but his mind racing. He had not only prevented a rift between two of the most powerful men in the Empire but also set the stage for progress that would benefit all.
More importantly, he had reaffirmed his commitment to Magda, ensuring her comfort and well-being remained at the heart of his plans.
But in the eyes of the court, Micheal had transformed from a mere player to a man of influence—a true kingmaker, though one whose sole ambition was to support his wife and the Empire she was destined to shape.