Lord of the realm

”I’ve never met Princess Gwendolen personally, but her reputation reaches even provincial nobles like myself. She’s formidable—intelligent, strategic, and willing to take risks that more cautious politicians avoid.”

”And she was passed over for the succession,” Jaenor said.

”That must have created resentment.”

”Undoubtedly,” Emmanuelle agreed.

”Though she’s hidden it well. Publicly, she supports her sister and serves the Empire loyally. But there are always whispers, rumors of her building independent power bases, cultivating relationships that bypass official channels.”

She looked at Jaenor directly.

”The question is whether you trust her enough to engage. Whether the potential benefits outweigh the risks of becoming entangled in imperial politics.”

Jaenor held up the letter, rereading key passages.

”She offers help against the Covens. Resources to challenge or even overthrow the Mother Supreme. That’s... significant.”

”It’s also dangerous,” Morgana warned.

”The Mother Supreme is one of the most powerful individuals in the realm. Directly opposing her requires tremendous force and perfect execution. If you try and fail, the consequences would be catastrophic.”

”But I’m already opposing her,” Jaenor pointed out.

”She tried to kill me at Ki’thara village. She views me as a threat that needs to be eliminated. Whether I actively work against her or not, we’re enemies by default.”

”There’s a difference between being her enemy and actively trying to overthrow her,” Morgana said.

”One is defensive, reactive. The other is aggressive, making you the instigator rather than the victim.”

”And potentially making you the aggressor in the eyes of neutral parties,” Emma added.

”Right now, you can claim you’re just defending yourself. Start actively working to overthrow Coven leadership, and that narrative shifts.”

These were good points.

Jaenor appreciated that his family wasn’t simply agreeing with him but rather challenging his thinking, making him consider angles he might have missed.

He stood, moving to the window.

Outside, the estate grounds were dark except for guard torches. And beyond the walls, Drakenten slept—his duchy, his responsibility, filled with people who depended on him to make good decisions.

”What’s your instinct telling you?” Emmanuelle asked quietly.

”Setting aside politics and strategy—what does your gut say?”