Delegation
Jean-Michel's words looped ceaselessly within the corridors of Fabian's mind. The revelation of Yohana's inhabitation of a deceased person's body thrice over left a trail of unanswered questions in its wake.
If this was the case, why had Yohana kept it hidden from him? And the greater enigma—could it truly be possible to traverse such an extraordinary path within a mere eight years?
Another of Jean-Michel's declarations bore an even heavier weight—that the curse had been a deliberate infliction upon Yohana. A malevolent intention had snaked into the very fabric of Yohana's existence, forcing her to lose her own identity and assume a dead person's.
Who could harbor such darkness within their heart and do such an atrocity? As Fabian grappled with the enormity of this revelation, a dilemma unfurled its wings before him.
Should he disclose this newfound knowledge to Yohana, or should he shoulder the burden alone?
The question lingered, a thorny tangle of emotions and uncertainties. A choice, fraught with implications, awaited his decision.
With a mind still wrestling with these complexities, Fabian set his course for the royal palace—a meeting with the king, an audience that held its own weight of significance.
While Fabian had agreed with Princess Elke's proposed journey to Griefswaldia, he still needed the king's permission. An appointment with the Emperor of Greifswaldia already secured may help with the permission grant.
Stepping into the grandeur of the royal palace, Fabian was promptly ushered into the presence of the king, who seemed to exude an air of anticipation.
It was evident that King Georg held expectations, likely assuming that Fabian bore news regarding the marriage proposal. As Fabian entered the hushed ambiance of the king's study, he took a moment to steady his nerves.
"Your Majesty," Fabian addressed with a respectful bow, his tone composed despite the underlying tension.
The king's response was marked by a raspy cough, his hand gesturing for Fabian to take a seat opposite him.
"I trust your arrival carries a positive response," King Georg mused, his expression etched with a mixture of curiosity and hope.
Regrettably, Fabian's words carried a different purpose.
"Your Majesty, I must diverge from your expectation. The matter I wish to discuss pertains to the unsettling unrest in Valoisia. During a recent journey to the kingdom on matters of faith, I personally witnessed the dire state of affairs," Fabian revealed, his voice steady.
He pressed on, recounting his observations. "Within the tumultuous environment, it was the sanctity of the church that provided solace. The revolutionaries, it seemed, held a certain reverence for holy grounds, sparing the churches from their upheaval. Despite the political fervor, the church remained resolutely neutral, offering aid to all regardless of their allegiances."
"A dire situation indeed," King Georg began, his words punctuated by an awkward pause brought on by a sudden urge to cough.
"Do you foresee this turmoil encroaching upon our borders in the near future?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on Fabian, awaiting insight into the potential repercussions.
"Indeed, Your Majesty, the looming possibility is undeniable," Fabian responded with a measured tone, his gaze fixed earnestly on the king.
"In these uncertain times, it would be imprudent to rely solely on chance. Instead, I propose that we take proactive measures to shield our kingdom from potential repercussions."
The king's brow furrowed in contemplation, his coughs punctuating the air with a sense of gravity. After a moment of deep introspection, he reclined into the plush embrace of the sofa, his head finding a resting place as he mulled over Fabian's words.
"The encroaching revolution has now crossed into the borders of Essrath," Fabian continued, his voice brimming with strategic foresight.
"This presents us with an opportunity, Your Majesty, one we should seize upon. If we can harness the momentum of this turmoil to broker a favorable agreement, we stand to gain not only stability but also access to their invaluable military technology."
The geopolitical landscape was complex, and the size discrepancy between Reichwein and Greifswaldia was evident.
Yet, Fabian knew that Greifswaldia held a technological advantage, courtesy of their alliance with the technologically advanced
The prospect of acquiring such advanced military prowess was tantalizing, offering a chance to reclaim what had been lost due to King Alois' unfortunate agreements with Kievskaya, agreements that had led to significant military defeats and a loss of Reichwein's once formidable strength.
King Georg's expression shifted, a spark of interest kindling within his gaze as he considered Fabian's words.
"Your Majesty, the urgency of this matter cannot be overstated. It demands our immediate attention, for its implications are far-reaching," Fabian spoke with an unwavering conviction. He leaned forward slightly, a gesture that emphasized the gravity of his proposal.
"In light of this, I have taken the initiative to arrange a meeting with Emperor Ferdinand himself," Fabian continued, his tone infused with determination.
"I humbly request the honor of an official visit, where we can engage in discussions regarding matters of defense. I firmly believe that through this endeavor, I can secure outcomes that will not only benefit your reign but also elevate the stature of our kingdom."
Fabian's words resonated as they seemed to find a direct path to the king's heart. The monarch, who had been grappling with the intricacies of the situation, appeared to be swayed by the fervor in Fabian's voice.
A momentous decision was reached, and it materialized in the form of an official order delegating Fabian to spearhead the defense discussions with Greifswaldia.
King Georg must have been aware of the unrest among the nobility, a tableau of fear and resistance with their privilege threatened by the winds of change.
"Very well," the king's voice cut through the tension, carrying with it a note of resolution. The king paused; a soft cough punctuated the moment.
"You shall embark on a journey to Greifswaldia with the mission of acquiring their military technology. However, I urge you to not only secure this technological advantage but also to negotiate for additional benefits that can fortify our kingdom's standing."
With the sought-after permission finally secured, Fabian gracefully excused himself from the study, a sense of triumph buoying his steps.
However, instead of heading directly home, a lingering delight prompted him to meander through the palace gardens. He allowed the verdant beauty to envelop him, basking in its tranquil embrace while awaiting a fortuitous encounter with Yohana.
Searching for her presence, Fabian revisited the familiar spots where their paths had often crossed. Yet, Yohana remained elusive, leaving behind only the faint whisper of their shared memories.
The notion of inquiring about her whereabouts from a passing servant flitted across his mind, but he swiftly dismissed the idea. The last thing he desired was unwarranted speculations about the nature of their relationship.
Fate seemed to play a different hand as Fabian found himself face to face with the one person he had been attempting to evade: Princess Eleanor.
Maintaining his composure, he executed a respectful bow, offering a polite greeting before instinctively angling his body to make a hasty retreat.
But Princess Eleanor, possessing an undeniable presence, halted him in his tracks with a single, unexpected sentence.
"Your Grace, would you care to join me for a leisurely stroll?"