I lowered my eyes, pretending to study the veins in the marble floor while I thought.
If Alice truly wished to seize the duchy, the path was clear.
Draw the ancestral sword a time—and no one could deny her claim.
Her talent, her poise, her bloodline… all of it made her a natural ruler.
But Alice was not a creature driven by simple ambition.
That was the difference between her and the wolves waiting beyond the meeting hall.
"…If it were me," I said at last, keeping my voice neutral, "I'd avoid forcing a choice. I'd let the vassals exhaust themselves watching for signs of succession. And when their attention finally turns elsewhere… I'd strike only if absolutely necessary."
Alice tilted her head, a faint smile ghosting across her lips.
"A patient hunter's answer," she murmured.
"Patience keeps you alive," I replied. "Especially when the prey isn't a thief but your own kin."
Her eyes softened for a heartbeat, the faintest flicker of warmth behind that crimson hue.
