THE COMMON ENEMY
“What... what did you just say, Brother?” Princess Quina gasped, her voice shivering as she stared at Prince Erwin in pure shock.
Standing rigidly beside her, Erina’s knuckles turned chalk white as her hand gripped the hilt of her rapier. I remained perfectly still in the corner, keeping my 6'4" blonde frame relaxed.
“Please, keep quiet for a moment, Quina,” Erwin commanded calmly, keeping his unwavering gaze locked entirely onto the Blood Tyrant. “I am speaking for myself,Blood Tyrant.”
The mountain-sized monster on the throne leaned forward, his deep, voice echoing through the vaulted space. “Does your father, the King of Krane, possess prior knowledge of this treasonous proposal?”
“No. He does not,” Erwin replied without a shred of hesitation. “And I have zero intention of revealing this to him. This grand campaign will formally initiate only after I successfully ascend the throne.”
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the Grand Summit Hall. With that single sentence, Erwin had just confessed to a coup—openly declaring himself the future Crowned Prince. It was a flawless piece of theatrical deception, entirely fabricated by my blueprint.
“The moment you defy the Sages, your nation will be branded as heretics,” the Blood Tyrant rumbled, testing his resolve. “Your kingdom will bleed, just like ours.”
“So what if we are branded?” Erwin smiled, a fierce, sudden confidence illuminating his features. “We will simply make our nation infinitely more prosperous than yours.”
Grand Commander Kenon stepped out from the shadows of the dais, his red hair catching the torchlight. “And how precisely does a blockaded, heretical kingdom intend to accomplish such an economic miracle, Prince?”
“By weaponizing the exact same financial methodology as yours, Sir Kenon,” Erwin countered smoothly. “I will locate a failing, neutral territory exactly like the Ontario Kingdom and invest our hoarded gold directly into their markets. But because our campaign will occur in the future, we won't even be required to deplete our ancient weapon storehouses. We will have already accumulated more than enough wealth to fund the shadow trade.”
Thump.
Kenon’s eyes violently widened, his aristocratic composure completely shattering. His teeth ground together in sheer shock. Erwin knows about the Ontario Money Game. The information leak was completely impossible, yet the Krane Prince had just laid their ultimate state secret bare on the table .
“Tell me now, Grand Commander Kenon...” Erwin pressed, seizing the upper hand. “Do you agree to the terms, or not?”
Kenon rapidly recovered his posture, his gaze narrowing into cold slits. “There is something I must ask you first, Prince Erwin.”
“Speak, Sir Kenon.”
“Why the hell would the Blood Throne choose to cooperate with you?” Kenon hissed. “What long-term strategic advantage do we gain by assisting a fractured Krane royalty?”
Erwin flinched slightly, caught off guard by the blunt refusal.
“The Sacred Soul religion is our common enemy,” Erwin reasoned, trying to stabilize his position. “By combining our resources, we can dismantle their temples and destroy their influence across the continent.”
“Tell me your backup plan, Prince. What if this insane strategy leaks out to the Sages?”
“It won't,” Erwin answered firmly. “This information will not leave the confines of this room for the next few years—not until the crown rests securely on my head.”
“Are you entirely sure about that?” Kenon chuckled darkly, slowly lifting his hand to point a steel-gloved finger directly behind the diplomats. “Because the lady knight serving as the princess's shield is actively sweating through her armor. Her hand hasn't left her hilt for a single microsecond. She doesn't trust a single word falling from your mouth.”
Prince Erwin violently looked back over his shoulder.
Erina stood frozen, her eyes pinned flat against the marble floor, her breathing ragged, and her lips sealed tight in absolute, rigid silence. Her posture screamed total, unyielding opposition to the coup. She didn't utter a single syllable.
“I... I will personally explain the necessity to her later,” Erwin stammered, realization hitting his brain.
“You can't,” Kenon deadpanned, his black eyes flashing with a cold, political experience. “I can read the loyalty burning inside her core. She is a hound of the crown. The exact second her boots touch Krane soil, she will warn the King. And it will be a mere matter of time before you are publicly executed for high treason.”
The Blood Tyrant’s heavy, destructive aura began to subtly seep back into the air, locking onto the bleeding-out negotiation.
Kenon stepped down the dais, staring directly into Erina's pale face. “Tell me, Miss Erina Novalanch... what exactly do you plan to do the moment you exit these palace gates?”
Erina remained dead silent, the pressure locking her jaw shut.
The chessboard is fracturing. It’s time to flip the table.
“We are going to systematically plan the total destruction of the church right now,” a deep, booming voice cut through the suffocating silence.
Everyone in the hall violently flinched, their heads snapping toward the western corner.
The words hadn't been spoken by Prince Erwin, Princess Quina, the Blood Tyrant, or Grand Commander Kenon. The person who had just boldly shattered the royal protocol of the summit was the lone, 6'4" blonde rookie knight standing behind the diplomates was
WILL GRUBERR
“Stop this madness, Sir Will!” Princess Quina gasped, her voice trembling as she frantically tried to pull me back into line. “You are completely violating royal protocol!”
“No. Let him speak,” Prince Erwin defended firmly, lifting his hand to silence the room. “I trust Sir Will’s tactical judgment.”
I dropped into a rigid, dramatic bow of fanatical devotion. “Thank you for your unmatched leniency, Your Highness.”
Grand Commander Kenon stepped forward, his vibrant red hair catching the torches as he locked his piercing gaze onto my 6'4" blonde frame. “Explain yourself, boy. What kind of insane operation are you planning to execute?”
“An operation to completely overthrow the Sacred Soul from the Kingdom of Krane,” I replied, my deep, disguised voice carrying an icy clarity. “And we can initiate the grand design without our delegation ever leaving the borders of this land.”
Ruken leaned forward on his massive throne, the tattered dark cloak shifting over his mountain-sized shoulders. “And how precisamente do you intend to accomplish that, rookie?”
“Because I am aware of the truth,” I whispered, looking directly into the darkness of his hood. “I know about the ancient cavern. I know about the towering idol of the Devil built by the Sages beneath this very country.”
VREEEEEEM!
The suffocating, terrifying weight of the Blood Tyrant's destructive aura instantaneously flooded the chamber once more. The sheer, unadulterated power gap returned to the room, cracking the marble pillars.
“There is a monument hidden beneath our soil,” Ruken rumbled, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dual-resonant register. “So what? Even if we drag that stone monstrosity out and show it to the world, the fanatical human empires will simply claim it is heretical fabrications. No one will ever believe us.”
“You are completely correct,Blood Tyrant,” I nodded, entirely unfazed by his crushing pressure. “They won't believe your word. But consider the timeline of the continent.”
“Speak clearly before I lose my patience.”
“Before the Blood Tyrant’s glorious reign began twelve years ago, this nation was the single biggest, most dedicated follower of the Holy Soul,” I explained, laying my chess pieces on the table. “The record ledgers state that Sage Cros visited your borders regularly. Yet the sage never entered your capital
The secret pilgrimage wasn't to a church, the memory of Kiro's flashback echoed in my mind. It was a demonic summit with the devil idol in the cave.
Kenon’s aristocratic composure completely shattered. He took a violent step down the dais, his knuckles white as he clutched the hilt of his sword. “Answer me right now, boy... and I advise you do not utter a single lie. Where the hell did you find Kiro?”
“Inside the ruins of an ancient church,” I answered, staring back at him with unblinking eyes. “He was crouching in the dirt, completely broken. When I asked him why he spent his days hovering in the ashes, he told me... he went there simply to laugh at his own miserable fate.”
The moment the phrase miserable fate fell from my lips, the suffocating mana in the room abruptly ground to a dead halt.
Grand Commander Kenon and the mountain-sized Blood Tyrant sat entirely paralyzed, their expressions turning hollowed out and pale as the tragic ghost of their fifteen-year-old brotherhood crushed their minds.
Prince Erwin looked back at me, his brow furrowed in total confusion. “Will... tell me who exactly is this Kiro? What is this madness about a devil's idol, and what are your true intentions here?”
I immediately dropped back into my brainwashed, over-dedicated son persona, keeping my cover airtight. “I will explain the historical details to you later, Your Highness. As for my true, sacred intentions? They are simply to serve my foster father, and ensure the House of Gurberr is elevated to a high-ranking noble family.”
Kenon took a deep, shaky breath, desperately forcing his political mask back over his features. “Tell me what you propose we do, Sir Will.”
“According to the classified border archives, there are exactly three more kingdoms on this continent where Sage Cros conducts these frequent, unannounced visitations,” I explained, tracing the grand grand design. “Every single time he travels to those territories, he uses the exact same excuse—claiming he is visiting a secret, secluded holy sanctuary. The Kingdom of Krane is one of those three targets.”
I leaned over the mahogany table, looking directly at Kenon.
“There is a strict pattern to his visitations. His next scheduled secret pilgrimage to Krane will occur exactly eight days from now. If the Blood Throne does not trust the validity of our alliance, then the Krane diplomats shall remain here as temporary hostages for those eight days. In the meantime, Prince Erwin will scribe a confidential royal letter to His Majesty, the King of Krane.”
Erwin’s eyes widened, catching the genius of the trap.
“The letter will command the royal shadows to secretly shadow Sage Cros during his next visitation,” I concluded, a slow, dangerous smirk hiding behind my blonde facade. “Let our own King follow the holy saint into the dark... and watch the treason of the Sacred Soul with his very own eyes.”
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