In the city of Murion, on the western edge of the Duchy of Migozyria, a little over a hundred kilometers from the border with Dirmistan, a meeting was held whose contents, if made public, would be enough to shake the foundations of a nation.

  Night had fallen on the gray stone towers, and the west wind carried the dampness from the nearby marshes. Inside the administrative palace—the former residence of a now-exiled lineage—torches and magical lamps shone with an almost theatrical intensity, casting long shadows on tapestries embroidered with ancient heraldic shields.

  In the main hall, around a rectangular table of dark wood that appeared to have been carved from a single tree trunk, more than a dozen nobles and several powerful figures, presumably military commanders, were gathered. Some wore clothes still marked with the dust of a long journey; Others wore immaculate armor, a sign that it had never seen combat.

  All of them, without exception, had their eyes fixed on the seat of honor, where the imperial envoy sat. A man whose true identity was a mystery, but who called himself Katmos.

  His presence was understated yet calculated: he wore black, with no visible coat of arms, save for a discreet gold brooch bearing the insignia of the Fullgorth Empire, which he only revealed at official meetings. Many in the room speculated that he belonged to a distant branch of the royal house, though no one dared ask aloud. In that empire, almost all positions of authority were held by the royal family and its many secondary branches.

  After a brief introduction, in which Katmos reviewed the latest reports on the military situation on the border with Dirmistan, including maps of advances, financial statements, and casualty records, the man proceeded to speak his mind.

  "Clearly, the situation is far from the initial plan," he declared, without raising his voice too much. "You were supposed to control at least twenty provinces within Dirmistan by now. And so far, you barely have five… The emperor is extremely disappointed with the results."

  The words weren't spoken in anger, but with something worse: bureaucratic coldness.

  One of the nobles cleared his throat before speaking. It was Count Almeric, the ruler of Murion, a man with a neatly trimmed brown beard and a weary gaze.

  “Your Excellency,” he said, barely inclining his head, “the forces of Dirmistan have demonstrated an unexpected capacity for coordination. Furthermore, they have the logistical and military support of numerous neighboring nations. This is far from being as simple as when we consolidated our control over this duchy.”

  A few heads nodded discreetly. Katmos did not. “That hardly justifies the amount of money the empire has invested in you,” he replied. “Nor the thousands of mercenaries sent as reinforcements.”

  A second nobleman intervened, unable to contain himself. It was Count Erasmos, of a more robust build and a noticeably less diplomatic temperament.

  “All criminals of the lowest kind,” he snarled. “They have brought us more trouble than benefits. Their indiscriminate looting has turned Dirmistan into a hotbed of resistance. They make us look like the absolute villains of this conflict. Not even our own mercenaries want to work alongside them.”

  A murmur of approval swept through the room.

  “Furthermore,” Almeric added, seizing the opportunity, “we need more high-ranking warriors. The number of mercenaries we’ve sent gives us a numerical advantage, yes, but we have an alarming shortage of grand masters and mystic knights. Our greatest defeats have been at the hands of high-level mercenaries, some not even from Dirmistan.”

  Katmos clasped his fingers on the table, somewhat shaken by the harshness of the retorts.

  Almeric and Erasmos were not reckless men. Both held central positions within the pro-imperial hierarchy of the duchy. They knew they were committing treason against the established order of Migozyria… and so they spoke frankly. After all, they had already crossed the point of no return.

  Although the influence and lobbying of agents from the Fullgorth Empire had catalyzed the formation of this faction, the seeds of discontent had been growing for years. The traditional nobility of Migozyria watched with growing irritation the rise of the “Reformists” within the Free States: territories where merchants, guilds, and civic assemblies were beginning to seize most of the political power. Worse still, some of the nations didn't even recognize the nobility as a legitimate institution.

  For men like Almeric and Erasmus, as well as many other nobles, this was an existential threat. They preferred to return to the protection of a centralized empire, where blood and lineage still held sway, rather than witness the slow erosion of their privileges at the hands of bankers and proponents of democracy.

  Katmos let the tension subside before continuing. “You know very well that our greatest efforts are focused on other fronts,” he said finally, this time with a sharper edge to his voice. “To achieve our strategic objectives, we must not only sustain your campaign. We must keep the Eternal Empire at bay, contain the Demihumans, monitor the dwarves’ movements in the eastern mountains… and deal with the two damned southern kingdoms that are determined to prevent our empire from regaining its former glory.”

  His eyes scanned the table, one by one. “You are far from being the Emperor’s top priority.”

  The sentence landed like a heavy weight. It wasn’t an open threat, but a warning. If they didn’t show results soon, Imperial support could dwindle. And without that support, the internal rebellion in Migozyria would be exposed. At the mercy not only of Dirmistan, but also of their own countrymen loyal to the Duke.

  Everyone present knew the political reality of the continent. They knew the Fullgorth Empire wasn't facing a single front, but several simultaneously. Reclaiming its former borders wasn't a linear campaign, but a continental chess game where every move triggered a chain reaction. But Katmos's tone betrayed something unsettling. Things were apparently becoming more complicated than anticipated.

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  The imperial envoy placed both hands on the table and scanned the room before continuing. “I’m going to be frank with you all.” It wasn’t a particularly diplomatic statement. “While you have consistently failed these past few months, I’ve used every resource at my disposal to maintain a steady flow of imperial aid. Especially the deployment of mercenaries. Yes, most of them are undesirables with criminal records… but they possess something your local forces have proven to lack: initiative and a hunger for victory.”

  A few jaws tightened at the remark.

  “Believe me,” he added, his voice growing deeper, “I truly believed in your plans. I staked my reputation, my influence, and my political capital on this faction. But apparently, it wasn’t enough.”

  The murmur that followed was immediate. It wasn’t indignation, but fear. Almeric was the first to rise, pushing his chair back with a thud. “Are we going to lose the Empire’s support?”

  The question, though direct, masked a palpable terror. Without Fullgorth's support, all that awaited them was a bitter defeat.

  Katmos sighed deeply. "On the contrary."

  Relief barely began to appear on some faces.

  “Because part of the responsibility falls on me, I will be replaced in a few weeks by a new imperial envoy. This time, a member of the main branch of the royal family.”

  The reaction was immediate. Several exchanged glances. Others nodded almost enthusiastically. An envoy from the main branch meant more resources, support, and political clout. But the calm was short-lived.

  “The problem for you,” Katmos continued, his tone hardening, “is that, according to my sources, the new envoy will arrive with explicit orders to completely change the strategy. The objective will no longer be the gradual capture of provinces within Dirmistan. The priority will be to eliminate as many enemy forces as possible.”

  The words landed like a stone in still water.

  “Does the emperor intend for us to start an open war?” Erasmus exclaimed, scandalized.

  The murmurs intensified. Some commanders began exchanging mental calculations. A declared war would shatter the delicate balance… with devastating consequences.

  “None of that,” Katmos retorted, raising his voice to command order. “The idea is to continue with mercenary incursions. Irregular operations. But this time with the deliberate intention of forcing engagements. Compelling the enemy to fight… Wearing them down.”

  He pointed to one of the maps spread out before him. “Always ensuring tactical or numerical superiority, of course.”

  “But that will also force us to bleed ourselves dry,” Erasmos retorted sharply. “We don’t have enough mercenaries.”

  “That’s what the Empire’s mercenaries are for,” Katmos replied. “The contingent is expected to increase considerably once the new envoy arrives.”

  The room didn’t seem convinced. Almeric spoke again, this time with a colder calm. "And what will happen if this strategy provokes a stronger reaction from Dirmistan? If we push too hard, we could trigger a real war. What if their mystic princes intervene? They have two, and we only have one."

  The mention of the Mystic Princes made the atmosphere tense. These figures weren't mere warriors; they were living strategic weapons. Their intervention could upset the balance of any conflict.

  Katmos shook his head slowly. "That would be likely if you were the only threat. But you aren't." He leaned toward the continental map. "The pressure will increase on all fronts of the Free States. On the Gorochian border alone, there are already two Imperial armies deployed. Their mere presence is forcing Lutia and Vsererezia to concentrate significant resources on that front."

  Some began to grasp the bigger picture.

  "Dirmistan," he continued, "will be forced to send one of his Mystic Princes toward that real threat. Not toward you."

  A thoughtful silence filled the hall.

  Katmos concluded: "Furthermore, if the reports are true that the new envoy is indeed someone from the main branch of the royal family, it is almost certain that he will arrive accompanied by at least one mystic prince... in addition to several mystic lords."

  That did change the mood in the room. An imperial mystic prince was an absolute deterrent. Two, if you counted the one they already had, meant parity. Perhaps even superiority if one of Dirmistan's princes actually disappeared.

  "Enough," Katmos concluded, "to neutralize the Dirmistan threat... and what remains for the Duke of Migozyria."

  None of those present dared to openly question Katmos's words. Not when the arrival of the new imperial envoy promised much more help. Even so, the silence that followed wasn't one of absolute conviction, but of resignation.

  The previous strategy had been designed jointly by them, tailored to their interests and limitations. The new one, however, would be imposed upon them. And that changed everything.

  During the rest of the meeting, they didn't revisit the military issue in depth. The discussions revolved around economic matters, vital for sustaining the next phase of the campaign. Commitments were made, contracts were reviewed, and agreements were sealed with the cold formality of those who know that money is the lifeblood of war.

  Finally, the session concluded with a carefully orchestrated farewell. Although Katmos would no longer be their direct liaison with the empire, he remained an influential figure within the Fullgorth Empire. Severing ties with him would be as unwise as alienating the new envoy before even meeting him.

  …

  An hour later, as night still enveloped Murion, Katmos's carriage left the city through the south gate, escorted by several dozen soldiers disguised as mercenaries. The wheels creaked on the cobblestone road as the torches on the wall faded into tiny points of light in the distance.

  Inside the carriage, besides Katmos himself, were two men who had been with him for decades. They were not mere attendants; they were confidants and friends. They had been present in the hall, standing alongside the other aides and escorts, observing without intervening.

  For several minutes, only the steady clatter of the wheels could be heard. Until finally, one of them broke the silence.

  "How do you think all this will end?"

  Katmos didn't answer immediately. His mind seemed lost in some important thoughts.

  “I’ve never liked these kinds of traitorous nobles,” the aide continued, gazing out the window into the darkness of the countryside. “But over time… I suppose I grew somewhat fond of them.”

  A faint, weary smile appeared on Katmos’s face. “Many will die,” he finally said, with an honesty he hadn’t displayed in the hall. “Of that I have no doubt.”

  His words held no drama, only harsh, cold honesty.

  “What I haven’t told them,” he added, lowering his voice, “or anyone else… is that I know exactly who the new imperial envoy will be.”

  The two aides exchanged a quick glance.

  “And he’s not exactly the kind of individual one would want to serve under in a campaign like this.”

  “Is he really someone from the main branch of the royal family?” the second aide asked.

  Katmos exhaled slowly. “Worse than that… We’re talking about a direct relative of the emperor. A man forbidden from setting foot in the imperial palace… and whom more than one king and nobleman would rather see dead than alive.”

  The silence that followed was thicker than any argument in Murion.

  “Prince Willard?” one of them finally murmured, incredulous.

  Katmos nodded gravely. “The very same.”

  The name needed no introduction. Prince Willard’s reputation was well known throughout the empire, and not for good reasons.

  “He’s hardly the emperor’s favorite son,” Katmos continued. “Most likely, he’s being sent here as a form of punishment. An elegant exile disguised as a strategic responsibility.”

  He settled back in his seat. “But make no mistake. The man is brutal… and extraordinarily effective at dealing with his enemies. The problem is, he doesn’t distinguish between allies and resources. To him, everything is a tool.”

  His eyes drifted into the gloom outside the carriage. “He spares no expense to achieve victory. If he must sacrifice half his forces to destroy the enemy, he will do so without hesitation.”

  One of the attendants swallowed hard. “So… what does that mean for Migozyria?”

  Katmos turned his gaze back to the carriage. “It means that whoever devised this new strategy is simply seeking chaos. Such profound attrition that Dirmistan won’t be able to recover for decades. Probably in preparation for future military action, with the intention of striking Lutia from the northeast.”

  His voice deepened. “And Willard is the perfect person to provoke that kind of disaster.”