The second prince

"What are you talking about?" A man reclining on a luxurious sofa-chair lifted his hand, signaling for the two girls at his side to stop feeding him grapes.

"I fear you have heard me correctly, Your Grace," Lord Landoff Coway spoke, bowing slightly. His voice carried a careful balance of formality and sympathy. "My deepest condolences on your father's passing. He was a strong and pious ruler. The empire shall never see another like him."

Mavius, still draped in his silk robe, exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. "Yes, unfortunate indeed. May the gods grant him rest," he replied lazily. Then, as he rose from his seat and strolled toward his host, he added with a wry smile, "But are you quite sure about that last part?"

For two years, Mavius had been a welcomed guest in the lord's household. He had come to relish the lavish lifestyle of the eastern provinces—sumptuous banquets, rich wines, and at times, the indulgence of beautiful women and men . Now, however, the very same duke who had shared these pleasures with him had delivered the news of his father's death… and of his younger brother's ascension to the throne.

The prince let the words settle in his mind. Gratios Koutozokenes, the late emperor, had been a man of iron will—harsh, disciplined, and utterly devoted to war. A soldier through and through. His son , however, was the opposite.

 He was not a fool—on the contrary, he possessed a sharp intellect—but he was also undeniably lazy. A slacker, preferring the pleasures of the flesh over the burdens of rule. While their father had fostered Mavius in the unforgiving cold of the north, his younger sibling had been raised among olive groves and sprawling grain fields, lulled into complacency by the comforts of the south.

Mavius waited for something—grief, sorrow, regret. But no such feelings came. The emperor had been many things, but a loving father? Certainly not. He had no doubt that his brothers felt the same.

"What the hell is that red bitch thinking?" Mavius muttered under his breath, referring, of course, to his stepmother—the Empress. He couldn't decide which was more shocking: his younger brother's usurpation or the reinstatement of the Council of the 200.

She surely has a knack for screwing things up. The moment she shows weakness, she'll be devoured. She should have stopped at opening her legs for Father,if she had offered the same to me I would have gladly taken her in , he thought bitterly as he draped a towel over his naked body.

Lord Landoff caught the smirk on Mavius's face, but said nothing. The prince chuckled inwardly. Nothing you haven't seen before, dear Lord. Nonetheless, he covered himself.

"Your Grace," Landoff began, twirling his black mustache thoughtfully, "may I ask what you wish to do now?"

Mavius considered the question, his mind already turning like the gears of a well-oiled machine. "First, I need to gather information," he replied smoothly. "Find out who in the south supported my brother's claim, and who opposed it. Then, we'll see where our alliances lie."

Landoff gave a short nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course, Your Grace. I shall begin immediately."

Mavius took a moment to pour himself a cup of wine, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a slow sip. "Do we have any information on my brother's whereabouts?" he asked, his tone casual but laced with a sharper curiosity.

"He must be in the capital," Landoff answered promptly. "Sitting upon your rightful throne, my prince." 

Mavius couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. Seems people are quick to forget I have an older sibling. Not that I would complain.

"I'm not referring to the brat," he clarified, setting his cup down. "He is hardly a threat. He's probably sucking on the red bitch's teat as we speak." His eyes darkened slightly as he continued, "I'm asking about my older brother. Is he still up north, freezing his balls off and frolicking in the snow? Last I checked, he found himself rather comfortable there." Mavius smirked. "Maybe the daughter of his host is keeping his bed warm."

The lord's expression shifted slightly, betraying a flicker of concern. "From our latest reports, it appears he remains in the north. However, his movements are unclear, and there are whispers that he may be mustering an army to march south."

"Rumors or information?" Mavius asked, his tone edged with skepticism.

"Rumors," Landoff admitted.

Mavius scoffed, leaning back with a smirk. "Well, that was a given. My brother? With an army? Made of what—snowmen and goats?" His voice dripped with derision. "Last I checked, the north was as barren as it has been for the past century. Unless they've managed to recruit some savage tribe along the way, I highly doubt they have the numbers to pose a real threat."

"Your Grace, I fear that while their numbers may be few, the northern tribes make up for it in savagery," Landoff cautioned. "The harsh climate and frequent incursions have shaped them into beasts. And worse still… some lords may find his claim preferable to yours."

Mavius's amusement faded slightly "If my brother decides to venture south, I'll meet him in battle myself," he declared. "Last I checked, the east is the most populous and prosperous region in the empire. Or should I be concerned about their loyalty?"

"Never, Your Grace," Landoff assured him, his voice firm. "With your command, we shall raise a formidable army to accompany you through the south. Indeed, a military campaign—Your Grace, that is what the empire needs to see the throne goes to the rightful ruler."

Mavius considered this, rolling the idea over in his mind like a gambler weighing his odds.

"The southern lands are said to be defended by the very hand of the gods," Landoff continued, his tone heavy. "I fear the usurper has likely fortified all the mountain passes. It will not be easy."

Mavius nodded, already piecing together the puzzle. "But that also means those beyond the mountains will be eager to rally to my cause. Why would the brat risk his neck defending their lands when he can wait comfortably for my arrival?" He leaned back, fingers tapping idly against his chair. "Bypassing the mountains won't be easy, but there are other ways to secure victory without needlessly bleeding our soldiers." His lips curled into a knowing smirk. "I hardly believe all the lords within the Fingers are loyal to the bone. Starve them a little, throw them a bone, and promise them meat… and they'll run to me like starving dogs."

"Of course, Your Grace," Landoff agreed. "But we must also consider the time needed to muster our forces."

Mavius's gaze sharpened. "How much time?"

"If it were up to me, no more than a few weeks," Landoff replied cautiously. "However, I cannot speak for the other nobles. Some may find war… unpalatable."

Mavius frowned, running a hand through his long black hair. "Then you have a solution to expedite the process?"

"Indeed, Your Grace." Landoff bowed slightly. "The most effective way to rally your followers is to remind them that eastern blood flows alongside yours."

Mavius arched an eyebrow, immediately recognizing the implication. Ah… he wishes to betroth his daughter to me. His gaze met the duke's, reading the intent behind the careful suggestion. He is a powerful magnate and currently my strongest supporter. Only a fool would play the prude and refuse him—especially now.

"Well," Mavius said at last, a wry smile playing at his lips. "My father always said the best marriages are made young. And perhaps it's high time I find myself a lawful wife. I have many bastards… but no sons."