NOVPUB"My accursed kin," Conrad said through gritted teeth.
Ervin stiffened. Conrad's tone left no doubt as to whom he referred.
"You… you plan to propose an alliance with the other usurpers?"
"Do you see any other options? I can't fight this alone."
"But will they agree?"
Conrad smirked grimly.
"They won't have a choice."
At times, Conrad had sent armies to directlynfront his rivals, while at others, he had employed schemes and subterfuge to eliminate them. These were longstanding enemies, and even with ammon foe like Sylas, they wouldn't offer assistance so easily.
"Still, I have to try," Conrad muttered. "When they see what's happened to me, they might rnsider."
Conrad, once a rival ofmparable strength to hismpetitors, had been branded a traitor by Sylas and had already lost a critical city to his forces. The otherntenders would surely feel a similar sense of impending doom.
"They're cunning, but not foolish. At least for now, they should understand the necessity of joining forces."
Conrad quickly drafted letters to his rivals and sent messengers riding tirelessly through the night. It wasn't long before a single response returned, bearing the seals of all hismpetitors.
The letter began positively, affirming the urgency of the situation. 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓅𝓊𝓫.𝒸ℴ𝓶
"We received your letter and agree with your assessment. This self-proclaimedunt is causing far too much trouble. Until he is removed, we will stand united."
But the letter's tone shifted sharply in its final lines:
"Still, isn't seven too many? Six should be sufficient to deal with him. Thank you for the warning. We'll handle things among ourselves from here."
Conrad's hands trembled as he read the last words.
"Younniving bastards…!"
As he had predicted, his rivals saw the situation clearly and agreed to work together, but they had also decided to take the opportunity to eliminate him in the process.
Furious, Conrad tore the letter into pieces, his roar echoing through his study.
While Conrad vented his rage, Sylas was hosting a victory banquet in the recentlynquered city of Berlione.
"To the health of His Majesty the Emperor and to ourntinued victories!"
"To victory!"
Sylas's toast was met with raised glasses, and the gathered nobles drank obediently. However, their expressions were far from jubilant.
"Everyone seems rather downcast," Sylas observed with a grin. "Are you not pleased with our victory?"
"Ofurse we are!" one noble stammered, sweat beading on his forehead.
"We're simplyncerned for Your Excellency's safety. Surely, you won'tntinue to personally lead the charge against enemy gates?"
Sylas laughed heartily at the obsequious response.
"Yourncern is appreciated, but as the leader of thisalition, I must do my part. Excessive worry, however, is unwarranted."
Though the noble bowed and murmured his agreement, the truth was clear to everyone present. The nobles weren't trulyncerned for Sylas's safety—they were terrified by his newfound authority.
"The rumors about the Dragonslayer were impressive enough, but to see him in action…"
"Is he even human? They say he singlehandedly obliterated Anton's forces."
Before this battle, the nobles had seen Sylas as anvenient figurehead—someone who legitimized their claims to new territories. But after witnessing his power firsthand, they realized he was no mere figurehead. He was a one-man army, capable of achieving what thousandsuld not.
"Talk of pressuring him for more land was utter madness."
"Forget about applying pressure. If he's displeased, my neck will be the first to go."
As the gravity of their situation settled in, murmurs spread among the nobles.
"What do we do now?"
"Don't look at me like that! You think I'll stick my neck out for this?"
"I wasn't suggesting that! I just wanted to discuss our options."
"Well, if you have a plan, by all means, share it. I'm all ears."
The whispers fell silent. No one wanted to make the first move and risk bming a scapegoat if things went wrong.
"Still, there's no need to panic just yet," one noble finally ventured.
"No need? His Excellencyuld have our heads with a flick of his wrist!"
"True, but he hasn't done so. Have you noticed his temperament? He's lenient, jovial, even humble at times."
The nobles reflected on Sylas's behavior. Apart from his terrifying power, he had shown himself to be approachable, prone to flattery, and eager to boast of his achievements.
"If we appeal to his sense of honor and pride, he'll reward us for our loyalty," the noblentinued.
"Appeal to his pride…"
"Exactly. Emphasize the sacrifices we've made, and express how much we value his acknowledgment. Stroke his ego a bit, and he'll respond favorably."
It wasn't a bad idea. By portraying themselves as loyal and selfless, theyuld secure their positions without provoking Sylas's ire. A few evennsidered forming a faction to present a united front.
But just as they began exchangingnspiratorial glances, a chilling voice cut through the music.
"What did you just say?"
The sound of metal being crushed followed, silencing the room.
Every head turned toward the source.
Sylas stood there, glaringldly at one of the nobles. In his hand, a metal goblet had been twisted into an unrgnizable shape.
"Are you saying you can't drink the wine I've offered?"
"N-no, that's not what I meant…"
The strained sound of metal yielding under Sylas's grip filled the room, and the noblesllectively held their breath.
What had just happened?
"Here, take this."
"Thank you, Your Excellency."
The beginning was unremarkable. Sylas was simply going around, personally pouring wine into the glasses of the nobles. In a way, it was an honor.
After all, wasn't this wine being poured by aunt, even if he hadn't officially taken his title yet? The issue arose when an unexpected situation unfolded midway.
"Why don't you have a drink as well?"
"I apologize, Your Excellency. I've already had too much and cannot take more."
A baronet respectfully declined Sylas's offer of wine. It wasn't an ummon occurrence. The unspoken rule was to drink immediately when a superior offered, but healthncerns allowed for refusals.
