Strength in Unity: Uncle and Nephew

Location: Magda's Chambers, Valenhart Castle

The next morning, as sunlight streamed through the tall castle windows, Magda sat in the private sitting room, her thoughts still tangled from the previous night.

Calista entered with her usual lively energy, carrying a tray of tea and pastries.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Calista chirped, setting the tray down. Her emerald eyes sparkled with gossip. "You'll never believe what I just heard."

Magda arched a brow, her tone dry. "What is it this time, Calista?"

Calista leaned in conspiratorially. "The girl from the camp—you know, the one who caused all that trouble? She's married! To a gardener from the Duchy of Altona, no less."

Magda blinked, her surprise evident. "Married? That's… impossible. It hasn't even been a day."

Calista shrugged, pouring tea into a delicate porcelain cup. "Apparently, love works quickly in desperate times. Or maybe," she added with a sly smile, "she's just trying to secure her future after realizing her plan failed."

Magda frowned, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly.

"How convenient," she murmured. Her mind wandered, wondering how the girl had managed to find a husband so quickly.

The speed of the arrangement left her suspicious, but she pushed the thought aside.

As Calista prattled on about the castle's latest rumors, Magda sipped her tea, her thoughts drifting back to Micheal.

Despite her irritation with him, a small part of her couldn't help but feel relieved that, the situation had resolved itself quietly. But still, the question lingered: how had everything fallen into place so perfectly for the girl?

Location: Valenhart Estate, Fredrick's Study

The study exuded an air of opulence and quiet authority. Heavy bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes of history and strategy. A carved oak desk dominated the center of the room, its surface immaculate save for a single glowing com-tab.

The warm light of a roaring fireplace cast flickering shadows across the richly adorned space, while Fredrick von Altona reclined in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

The com-tab chimed, breaking the silence. Fredrick tapped it, and the image of Emperor Raphael Valoria filled the screen. The Emperor's sharp features were as imposing as ever, his crimson eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

"Fredrick," Raphael began, his tone clipped, "I trust you're aware of the incident involving a servant and a certain member of the Shelb family?"

Fredrick leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "Ah, yes, Uncle. How could I miss it? A rather unfortunate misunderstanding, from what I hear." His tone was light, teasing, almost mischievous.

Raphael's brow furrowed. "Unfortunate misunderstandings have a way of spiraling into scandals. I hope you're ensuring that your estate isn't a breeding ground for such… incidents."

Fredrick couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him.

"Oh, rest assured, Uncle. The reputation of Valenhart remains intact. I pride myself on maintaining order here." He paused just long enough to let the implication hang in the air.

Raphael's lips pressed into a thin line. "Good. Because any complications might require imperial intervention."

"Imperial intervention?" Fredrick repeated, feigning surprise.

"Surely, there's no need for that. Everything has been resolved with the utmost discretion. Of course, if you'd like to send an envoy to confirm, I can recommend an excellent tavern in the village for lodging."

Raphael's eyes narrowed further, the thin thread of his patience visibly fraying. "Fredrick, you're being deliberately obtuse."

"Am I?" Fredrick asked innocently, tilting his head. "I thought I was being cooperative."

"You know what I'm asking," Raphael said, his tone edging on exasperation.

Fredrick tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, let me think. Are you perhaps asking about the unusual weather we've been having? Or maybe the wine shipment delay? Both are pressing issues, I assure you."

"Magda, Fredrick. I'm asking about Magda," Raphael said, his tone laced with uncharacteristic impatience, a crack forming in his composed exterior.

Fredrick leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening into something infuriatingly smug. "Oh, Magda. I haven't seen her recently, but I do miss my little cousin."

Raphael's gaze darkened, his crimson eyes piercing through the com-tab with the weight of barely restrained fury. "Ensure no further… incidents occur," he said, each word clipped and deliberate.

Fredrick tilted his head, feigning innocence as his smirk deepened. "Naturally, Uncle. Your wisdom always guides me."

Raphael's eyes narrowed further, his silence pressing down like a storm about to break. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of finality. "One of my imperial reinforcements is already stationed in Valenhart."

Fredrick's smirk faltered, the amusement flickering in his gray eyes dimming slightly. "One person? Surely you're joking, Uncle."

"Only one is needed, Misha is enough," Raphael replied, his tone sharp as the edge of a blade. The call ended abruptly, the screen fading to black.

Fredrick sat still for a moment, his earlier bravado replaced by quiet contemplation. Then a low laugh escaped him, rich and amused. "Oh, Uncle," he murmured, leaning forward in his chair. "You truly think I'm still the boy who fell for your games? Fetching Aunt Celeste's slippers, indeed."

The laughter faded, his smirk returning but now edged with calculation. "A one-man army…" he mused, tapping his fingers on the polished desk. His mind first turned to Lysander, the enigmatic mage stationed at the northern tower. Could it be him?

He frowned, recalling Micheal's uncharacteristic feats—catching Magda mid-fall, helping villagers with snowplows. That strength was unusual for someone born with a congenital heart condition. But Fredrick shook his head, dismissing the idea. "If Micheal were truly that strong, his family would've had him serve in the military long ago."

Leaning back, Fredrick's smirk grew sharper. "Whoever you've sent, Uncle, they'd better not stir chaos. Valenhart has only just escaped the taint of being known as the Emperor's hounds."

He stretched leisurely, his gray eyes reflecting the firelight as he murmured, "But do keep trying. It keeps things interesting."

With a satisfied smile, Fredrick returned to his desk, triumphant in his small victory over the Emperor. For now, the game was his to enjoy.