Alfred marched at the head of the Unyeilding alongside Isra. Much like his Royal Gurad, his armour was pure black but with a noticeably darker hue. It felt like it repelled light itself. However, his golden hair and piercing blue eyes starkly contrasted, making Alfred look like an angel of death, both holy and unholy. Isra stood by his side with custom armour. It was silver in colour with noticeable lest armour around the joints, letting her move more freely. To everyone, it should have been a strange sight to see a woman dressed ready for battle, but Isra didn’t. Everything about her suggested that she had been on the battlefield her whole life.

They had been marching for a while now, and finally, they saw their meeting point: Duke Henryk’s lands. A couple of horses rode towards them, and stopping the march, Alfred waited until Lech came into sight. The man and the few nobles he had come with quickly jumped off and bowed.

"I greet His Majesty the Emperor," Lech said with both respect and fear, not daring to look up too early. The nobles with him, however, were less respectful, taking strange glances at Isra, wondering why she had come.

"Rise." With one word, it felt like Lech and the noble’s body weren’t their own. They followed the order and finally got a good look at the man they had been forced to swear fealty to. Alfred’s piercing cold eyes stared back and increased Lech’s nervousness. He knew the truth. Everything that happened, from his brother’s death to the pirate invasion. It was all caused by the man before him. He easily guessed the pirate invasion was Alfred after meeting him, and it terrified him how far forward he was looking.

"What is the situation?" The march started again, and Lech, along with his followers, walked alongside Alfred.

"Snowid has been unable to make a breath into the West yet, but even with Your Majesty here, I believe it will be hard to push him. We need the south to fall to break the stalemate as Snowid will only get more reinforcements." Alfred nodded deeply and looked at Isra.

"Thoughts?" Isra’s eyes darkened as she lowered her head. Whilst it was strange to everyone else that Alfred was asking her for her opinion, Alfred knew the truth. Isra was more of a warrior than anyone he knew. Her past life was enough experience, and whilst she may have lost her edge from it, she still had her knowledge.

"Maybe what Catherine proposed is the best way. A river crossing is dangerous no matter who, and Snowid will be desperate." Pausing, she looked out, "But there could be another way." With a smile full of deeper intentions, she leaned closer to Alfred’s ear. "Flood the river. Force them to retreat." Whispering so only he could hear, Alfred looked at her and smiled.

"Maybe." Alfred tried to think if it was possible and worthwhile. His mind thought of Earth. China had done something similar during the Sino-Japanese war, albeit to defend their lands rather than attack, but the devastation it brought wasn’t light. Isra’s plan could work, but it relied entirely on nature and could easily wipe out his own forces if he wasn’t careful.

"No. If we do that, we risk too much." Shutting down the idea, Isra shrugged, throwing it out as a concept. Even though she knew the risks, they weren’t desperate enough to try something so extreme yet. They could easily win if it worked, but failing was too big a price.

"Lech," Alfred called out to the man, who quickly stiffened up. "That problem Issac brought to me. Has it been solved yet?"

With his back going wet, Lech felt his lip twitch as he forced a flattering smile. "Somewhat. A few understand the necessity, whilst others do not so much." Lech lied as best as he could. He didn’t even tell the nobles who still indulged in luxury to stop. He couldn’t. He still needed their support and hoped the Empire would deal with it instead.

Alfred scoffed but said nothing. He hated it. It felt hypocritical that he hated the nobility of this world when he was an emperor. But Alfred didn’t care. He worked to better the Empire. He may have indulged in some luxury, but for the most part, he worked. Whilst those closest to him were like him, the majority of the nobility were just a sickness to him. Something that needed to be cured before it infected his whole Empire. No matter how he did it.

But he calmed himself. It was too early to do anything. He understood why Lech had been so pacify when dealing with them. They still needed a united front in the war and couldn’t risk upsetting the balance created. Looking at Isra, he saw a strange light in her eyes. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. It had gotten like that since the bastards came. Before, he understood her, but now, everything she did was for Edward’s future. He couldn’t keep track of the moves she was making.

"Do you have the list?" Alfred redirected his attention back to Lech, who nodded.

"I did as Prime Minister Flanders ordered. It is in my private quarters. We have a feast ready for your arrival."

"usel..." Alfred stopped himself from finishing the word. "Fine. Nothing too much, I hope." Lech nodded, and finally, Alfred smiled. He didn’t care about the feast but needed to make his place known in the rebel camp. He needed the Commonwealth nobles to know who was in charge. Without saying another word, Alfred led his men to the manor, his eyes radiating a cold light.

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"Introducing His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress." The noble of the manor all quite down and looked to the double door. Some had fearful looks, others cunning and a few hateful. None showed the respect deserving of their new overlord, and Lech could tell instantly what awaited them all. ’Just think about your future.’ He steeled himself. He couldn’t care about them, only himself. His father had already condemned them to die before he swore allegiance to the Empire, and now he had to do the same.

Alfred and Isra walked in with the Royal Gurads, still in armour. Walking through the sea of people, they didn’t look around, only ahead at the chairs that awaited them at the head of the room. Walking through, Isra sat first and arrogantly leaned back, looking down on everyone like filth, whilst Alfred drew his sword and leaned on it, staring out with a cold gaze that could freeze hell.

The scene seemed to everyone like something straight out of a story—as if a conqueror had come and sat on his throne. His eyes alone controlled the room, and those who felt anything but fear quickly stiffened up and hid their intentions, although they felt they couldn’t hide their thoughts from the two pairs of eyes that stared deep at them.

Insult about woman joining the war, remarks about their new Empore being a tyrant, jokes about their future being in the hands of a cripple Crown Prince. Everything was suppressed and stuck in their throat as they looked at Alfred.

With a single smile, they felt like they were looking at the devil. "Start the music. You may resume." Alfred’s cold words came out, and the musicians quickly started again.

"They really need to go." Isra quietly whispered as she looked down at them. She could see their intentions. Only Lech was loyal; the rest were here simply because they didn’t want to be on the losing side of the war. Alfred smirked but said nothing. "When will we move?"

Leaning deeper into his sword, Alfred took a deep breath. "Tommorow. I don’t want to be here longer than I must." Isra nodded as Charles came up the steps.

"The Unyeilding have are all resting." Alfred nodded to the man and looked out at the nobles. They were noticeably on edge and peeked glances up at the three.

"I know it’s a tough ask, my friend, but talk with them. Find anyone who is worthwhile to keep around." Charles bowed and smoothly joined the feast. His presence alone seemed to have a calming effect on those he spoke to, and the feast quickly calmed down.

Leaning back into his chair, Alfred let the sword fall on his chest and watched everything happen with Isra. The two sat in silence, understanding it had a greater effect than speaking to one another.

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Horace walked alone through the streets of Torun, the Commonwealth capital, with a friendly face, politely nodding to people he walked past. At his side was a rougher-looking man with one hand. Despite his appearance, he tried his best to put on a friendly face.

Looking at the Gentleman club, Horace took a deep breath and felt slightly nostalgic. It was the start of everything here. "Never reveal anything about the Empire in here." Warning Halfdan, the small man gave a disgruntled nod in understanding.

He wondered why he was even here. No one trusted him in the Empire, for good reason, and yet he was chosen by Horace to be his guard. He couldn’t even use one of his hands anymore after Alfred cut his fingers off. Horace had noticed the confusion in Halfdan long ago and smiled.

It was obviously fake, but Halfdan knew better than anyone why he wore a mask. He had been with the Underwells for too long and had come to respect their way with power. It was hidden. No land or armies. Instead, only a name and information. But they had risen to be the second most powerful in the entire Empire, despite holding the rank of Count.

Horace paid the gold for the two and walked in. Looking around, he tried to see if he could find anyone, and, recognising someone, he smiled; this time, it came from his heart. "Oskar." Walking over, he said the man’s name, making him jump and look at Horace in confusion, which quickly turned to caution.

"Jedrick?" Asking in confusion, Horace took a seat without being invited, annoying the men with Oskar. One wanted to say something but was quickly stopped by the man in question. "Why are you here?"

Halfdan saw as Horace quickly shifted into the role of Jedrick Mikos and couldn’t help but be impressed, taking a seat. "This is my guard. In these times, even a poor family like myself needs one."

Oskar looked at him, analysing everything Horace did. "Didn’t your family join the revolt?" The other around the table looked at Horace with hate and prepared to move, but Horace remained calm, flashing a small smile.

"Do you honestly still think I’m Jedrick? I thought you were better than this, Oskar." The slight arrogance in his voice annoyed Oskar, but he calmed himself.

"Leave us." Turning to his friends, they glanced at the newcomers before leaving. "No. So, what does Konrad want?" Oskar asked cautiously, making Horace’s smile grow wider.

"Straight to business." Horace looked around and called a servant holding a tray over. Taking a drink, he handed it to Halfdan to sip first and handed it over. Smelling the glass, Horace took his time. "I did miss the drinks from here. They are quite nice."

"Answer the question. "Oskar couldn’t be bothered with the mind games Horace wanted to play, knowing he would likely lose.

"It’s simple. Why hasn’t your father moved yet?" Taking a sip, Horace’s eyes chill. Oskar sighed, knowing something like this was going to happen eventually. The Laskas had put off mobilising for too long.

"We are steadily gathering troops still. If the King has an issue, he can bring it up with my father." Oskar waved his hand and dismissed the concerns, knowing the power his family now had during the war. Horace thinly smiled.

"Is that all. I mean, a year should be long enough. My boss is getting very worried, you know. Has something happened? Do you need us to send aid to you? I know the war is happening, but loyal servants like the Laska’s are worth diverting a few resources." The sudden switch in Horace’s attitude put Oskar on edge, but he ignored it and breathed.

"It’s fine. My uncle has already sent word to my father. We will begin soon."

"Really. Then there is nothing to worry about." Horace didn’t finish his drink and stood up. He had other matters to deal with, and using Oskar was too dangerous. "For the drink." Putting a gold coin on the table, they walked off with the needed information.

"Send word to the Emporer when we get back. Tell him the Laska’s are on the move now." Outside, Horace quickly ordered. The two walked down the street, taking a convoluted path back to their safe house.