I finished telling them about Hinata and the attack. I had planned to keep some things quiet, but Elen ruined that for me by blurting out the rest.
"Anyway, Papa already knows about it, right?" she said, looking up at Duke Erald with those bright, careless eyes.
"Elen-chan… Even if Papa knows, you don't need to tell foreign nations everything," the duke sighed, embarrassed and annoyed.
Perfect. She'd removed my need to hide anything. Since the news was already out, I simply stated the facts plainly.
"I became a Demon Lord," I told the room. "More precisely, I am a True Pharaoh-Dragon. But call it whatever you prefer. The point is: my power exists, and we will not be bullied again."
A cold murmur ran through the delegates. Then Duke Erald straightened, his face folding from the pampered father into a calculating statesman.
"Let me be clear," he said, his voice iron-cold now. "The Mystical Dynasty of Sarion planned to observe these events. But because my daughter was involved, we are forced to intervene. If your future actions harm Sarion's interests, we will not hesitate to crush you. Be warned."
The room went tense. My commanders shifted. Shion looked ready to stand, fists clenched, but I put a hand on my knee to stop her. No rash moves now. This was serious business.
I nodded once, even. "Understood." My voice was calm, but my thoughts were already sorting through the options.
I then explained the situation with the captured King of Falmuth and the envoy of the Holy Church. I laid out my plan plainly, in the language of strategy, not vengeance.
"First," I said, "we will release their king. He will be made to accept reparations for the invasion of Eterna."
Fuze snorted softly. The dwarven king's projection, Gazel, closed his eyes and stayed silent. Duke Erald listened with that unreadable noble expression.
"But that reparations demand," I continued, "is a pretext. It's a lever. We will use it to split Falmuth's court. The nobles will balk at raising the money. They will argue. The king's authority will crumble." I watched faces as I spoke. Some tried to hide their surprise. Some didn't bother.
"The crown prince is a minor. If the king loses support, the nobles will scramble for control. They will form factions. A succession war is likely. Either they pay and humiliate themselves — in which case they're weaker — or they refuse, and civil war follows. In either outcome, Falmuth breaks apart."
Fuze rubbed his chin, thinking. "You want to destabilize them from the inside, then support a new ruler?"
"Yes." I didn't soften my tone. "Youm will be our focal point. He is popular enough to rally the people. Once the king's promise breaks — and it will — Youm will move. He will frame it as restoring honour and upholding oaths. The nobles will be split between loyalty and fear. We delay open alliance until Youm consolidates power. When he is secure, Eterna will formally recognize him and back his claim."
A hush fell over the hall. The plan was direct and cold. It used law and scandal instead of open massacre. That would fracture Falmuth without bleeding us dry.
"You intend to puppet a nation's crown?" Fuze asked at last, voice rough with doubt and a little awe. "You'll make Youm king and… then what? He gives you allegiance and that's it?"
I met his gaze. "We will gain a buffer state. We will gain political influence. That influence will deter coalitions against us. We will take time to win the people, show them governance and stability, and when Youm is secure, the nobles will find themselves crushed — or irrelevant."
Gazel's projection finally spoke. "A calculated plan. Less risk of an all-out war with neighbouring powers if we can keep it politically contained."
Duke Erald's lips thinned. "Cunning. If Falmuth fractures, the balance of power shifts. Sarion stands ready to act if needed. But be aware — shifting thrones can invite outside coalitions. You tread a fine line, Atem."
I answered plainly. "I know. That's why we act with speed and cover. Solarys, run the probabilities."
<< Calculating. Probability of successful political destabilization without major outside intervention: 76%. Probability of coalition response: 18%, mostly if dwarves or Blumund believe open action will harm their interests. Recommended steps: rapid information campaigns, secure trade ties with neutral states, and decisive public policy moves in Youm's favor once he moves. >>
I nodded. "Good. We will proceed. First: release the king. Publicly demand full reparations. Then we shall manage the media — proclamations, witness reports, and the documentation of broken promises. Propel Youm as the man of honour. Support his public image."
Fuze rubbed his forehead. "That's ruthless in the way politicians dream of. But will the people accept Youm?"
"They will if his actions match his words," I said. "We'll help craft his policies, provide advisors, and—most importantly—show the people immediate gains. Infrastructure, food supplies, compensation for losses. Make them feel the difference."
Shion shifted, voice low but fierce. "And if the nobles rebel openly?"
"Then we respond," I said flatly. "But we will not be the ones who look like the aggressors. Let them look like the ones who tore the kingdom apart. We will back the lawful claimant, support him publicly, and crush those who actively rise to destroy order."
Gabil, always blunt, asked, "If we press too hard, other nations might intervene to stop us."
"They might." I looked around the room slowly. "Which is why we first show restraint and legalism. Documents, negotiations, visible attempts at peace. The world will see us as reasonable. The nobles will appear as the ones who refused fair terms."
A pause. Then I said, quietly but firmly, "And if any outside power seeks to force the matter, we will be ready. Eterna has new strength. We will not be bullied."
Duke Erald nodded once, eyes calculating. "Your method is smart. If it succeeds, Sarion will consider relations anew. But remember — success depends on timing and perception. Fail either, and the price is high."
I met his stare. "I will not fail."
The room hummed with uneasy approval. Plans had shape now. I had framed the move not as vengeance, but as a long game: destabilize a hostile power, install a friendly ruler, bind him to us by legitimacy and gratitude, and use that to deter future attacks.
The conference continued after that, with details: who handled propaganda, which ministers would be approached, where funds would be demanded publicly so the nobles faced the embarrassment. We discussed contingency plans if the king fled, if the nobles united, if other countries stepped in.
Everything was methodical. Cold. Efficient.
When the council adjourned, my generals stayed behind. We reviewed troop placements, civil projects for Youm's future campaigns, and the timeline for the reparations declaration. No one smiled. No one cheered. We were building a future from the ash of attack — and I intended to shape it in a way that left Eterna unassailable.
"Remember," I told them as we dispersed, "this is not merely revenge. It's strategy. We build, we persuade, and if we must strike, we will do so with precision. The world will learn not to threaten Eterna."
They nodded. Duty and urgency weighed in the air. The next moves were set — not by brute force alone, but by the slow, merciless gears of politics.
One should not expect to found a nation in a few short years. I had hoped it might take two or three, perhaps longer if fools interfered. But if the king chose flippantly to defy us again, Youm would move at once — brutal, precise, and without remorse. I finished explaining up to that point, and Fuze leaned forward, his face folding into thought before he spoke.
"I understand. Then we will join that plan. Marquess Müller and Earl Hermann are close with Blumund. If they agree, they could stand with Youm-dono when he acts."
His words hit like a cold blade. Could a guildmaster of a Liberty Union branch really claim that kind of authority? My skepticism showed, and Fuze kept talking to soften it.
"In short: Marquess Müller and Earl Hermann have the Blumund king's backing. Müller and the king are relatives — distant, but close enough. Hermann was raised by the marquess; he owes him everything. As the marquess of a significant nation, Müller can't parade affection openly, but privately they are allied. It's why betrayal from Hermann is unthinkable."
I stared. Was Fuze risking everything by airing that openly? He laughed, low and easy.
"Hahaha. It's supposed to be a secret, yes. But the dwarven king's covert agents already dug it up. Blumund trades in information — it's how a small country survives. If we don't control data, we vanish. Still, we've not uncovered all of the dwarven king's spies." He glanced sideways at Gazel. "Right, Your Majesty?"
Gazel — the dwarven king — merely raised an eyebrow. No surprise, no alarm. That single gesture told me he had known this all along.
"But Fuze," Duke Erald exploded, voice sharp like flint, "do you realize what you just said? A nation's dangerous secret thrown about casually! My country hasn't even dug all of that up. You sound outright reckless!"
Fuze tilted his head, unruffled. "Duke Erald, frankly, if Blumund storms into war with Eterna under Atem-dono, we'd be crushed. That's just arithmetic. So resistance is pointless. What remains is to survive. To survive, we must cooperate with him. My country's leaders decided that. Me? I'm a guild member — an intelligence officer stranded where I am. Fate's funny: posted to Blumund and somehow placed in charge of their bureau." He spoke plainly, no theatrical remorse. He spoke like someone who had already accepted the cost.
The room crackled. Guards shifted. I could feel the weight of that decision pressing on every face present.
"You expect us to simply bend the knee to Atem?" Duke Erald's jaw tightened. "He's no ordinary sovereign. He commands powers older than nations. If he wishes to take a throne, he takes it — and leaves nothing behind."
Fuze's eyes hardened. "That is why we must be careful. Not groveling, not worship. Alliances built on survival, not fear. Marquess Müller can keep things smooth. He won't show overt friendliness, but privately he'll tip the balance. Hermann will follow, as will others who owe him. Youm will act decisively when the time comes. That's the plan."
Gazel's voice, flat and slow, cut through the tension. "And if Müller's loyalty is exposed? If the king of Blumund is shown to be the marquess's friend?"
Fuze shrugged. "Then Müller's network does what it does best: spin, misdirection, cut the leak. Our intel can bury it or manufacture a counter-narrative. Blumund's survival depends on secrecy. They train their economy on it."
A silence rolled out. I pressed my fingertips into my palms. My thoughts were not on the politics of secrets; they were on the man we were discussing. Atem.
Atem did not act like a prince or a general. He moved like an absolute: measured, severe, and decisive. Where others negotiated, Atem commanded. Where others hesitated, he did not. His power was not mere force — it was a conviction, an ancient authority wrapped in ritual and the old magics. He wielded the artifacts of the ancients: the Millennial relics that hummed with judgment, the ability to call forth shadows and hope, and the merciless skill to bind fate itself to his will. People called him a sovereign for a reason. He made rulership into law.
"If Atem decides," murmured Duke Erald, "then all our careful threads will snap. He will not take prisoners."
"Perhaps," said Fuze, "but he is not the kind to waste time with vague threats. He expects clarity. That's what we can give him: clarity and allies. The marquess trusts me enough to sign a letter of representation — full authority to negotiate in his name. I had it prepared during the break. They were willing to move fast." He tapped the parchment at his breast as if it were a talisman.
"And you trust them that far?" Gazel asked. His tone hinted at something older than doubt — a memory of betrayals that had cost crowns.
Fuze's smile was dry. "I trust what they have to lose more than what any conquering force has to gain. People who would be destroyed by war will choose survival. Müller will hedge, but he will hedge the right way. Hermann will stand as a bulwark; he owes his life to Müller. Youm will move when given a reliable spearhead."
The duke slammed his palm on the table. "You make it sound neat. But nations are not chess pieces. They breathe, they panic, they betray."
"Then we bind them with something better than fear: mutual interest and the certainty that refusal means annihilation." Fuze's voice was cold enough to make even the duke's anger falter. "We are not asking for blind obedience. We are asking for survival contracts signed in blood and ink. When Atem moves, we will have allies who cannot turn away."
Duke Erald's face drained. "And where does that leave us?"
"Ready," Fuze said.
Gazel rose slowly, the dwarven king's gaze sweeping the room like a verdict. "If we are to stake our future on Atem's decision, then every step must be precise. No loose ends. No talk on tavern benches. No bragging that can be traced. If Müller and Hermann will play their parts, they will be shadows — invisible and effective. And those who cannot keep quiet will be taken care of."
A cold smile flickered across the duke's lips, a smile of reluctant acceptance. "Then we keep our mouths shut. We make our arrangements. And when Atem chooses, we act. If we live through it, then perhaps we bought more than days. We bought our children's future."
Fuze nodded. "Precisely."
I watched them all — men and women who balanced nations on the edge of a blade. I felt, too, the shadow of Atem stretching across every map, across every treaty. He was not a man to be negotiated with lightly. He trusted only results, and he punished the timid. If Youm struck, it would be quick; if Atem moved, it would be final.
The room filled with the hush of people who had just agreed to gamble their lives. Outside, the wind struck the battlements like the footfall of an approaching army. Inside, we tightened our plans. There would be no more talk of delay. There would be only preparation, and the cold certainty that when rulers moved, realms answered — one way or another.