I took advantage of the moment to move one of the pieces on the board, positioning it firmly within our territory.
"In the meantime, we need to take care of our house. I want an internal sweep. All of it. Taxes, storage, patrols. If our lands are unstable when war comes, it will break us in half before the first sword even strikes"
"Are you talking about reputation?" Doug asked with a grimace.
"Yes" I replied, without hesitation. "I've been among the peasants. And what I saw bothered me. They don't trust us. They fear us. And not a respectful fear" I added. "It's fear of repression, of arbitrary punishment. I'm not saying it was you. But Alfred... Alfred was moving the gears behind the curtain, and now we're reaping the fear he planted"
My father clenched his fist. That hit him harder than any other part of what I'd said.
"So what do you suggest?"
"Find out what Alfred did. Expose it. And make it up to the people. We'll get down in the mud with them if we have to. Show that we're men, not shadows. Let's give them an idea. A purpose. A flag to follow" my voice rose. "Our history, our origin. We don't need to hide the fact that we come from the mud. That's something to be proud of. You are peasants turned warriors. Casa Udrak did not emerge from marble towers, but from calloused hands"
I paused. Everyone was looking at me now. Even my father.
"I wasn't a peasant" I continued, honestly. "But you were. You know what hunger is. What it's like to plant and not harvest. Use that memory. Make our people feel part of it. Make them fight for something"
I touched the board once more. This time, not like a player. But as someone plotting a route.
My father looked at me with a mixture of bewilderment and concern, but it wasn't him who caught my eye at that moment. It was the others. In the eyes of the older warriors, there was something you rarely saw at meetings: nostalgia. Raw emotion. They remembered.
They remembered who they were before they were called lords. Peasants, serfs, nobody's children. If it hadn't been for their swords, their strong bodies and sharp instincts, they would have died in the mud like any other forgotten commoner.
They were lucky. Lucky to have been accepted. Lucky to have survived the wars. Lucky to still be here.
"Our family has too many flaws in its foundation" I said, keeping my gaze firmly on each of them. "Flaws that we pretend not to see, but which are eating away at everything we've built. We need to invest in these people, in the roots. Well-fed, healthy people become stronger warriors. People with training build better weapons, better armor. But right now, what we need most are minds" I pressed my hand on the wooden board. "We need intellectuals. People with administrative skills, intelligence. And above all... loyalty"
I stopped. I let the silence spread.
"When I learned of my position as heir..." I began, my voice firm but unhurried. "I made a commitment. Not just to my father or to the blood of our lineage, but to every man and woman who bears this name. I promised myself that I would take this house to a new level. That I would turn the Udrak into something more than just one name among many. That I would make us a family of viscounts"
I gave a brief, humorless smile. A smile that recognized the absurdity of my own ambition.
"Can you imagine? Those of us who come from clay and sweat. From the scythe, the plow, our hands calloused by the fields. Among the imperial nobility?"
I looked away for a moment. Not out of shame - but because the memory of my own arrogance hurt more now. Youth have a habit of confusing courage with preparation.
"But today..." my voice faltered a little, and I had to take a deep breath. "Today I saw how far we still are from that"
I let the words hang in the air, then continued more calmly:
"We lack a base. There's no structure. There is no firm ground on which to build anything solid. We're trying to build a castle on sand"
I looked up, this time at the faces in front of me, but my voice had changed. It was lower, more intimate. Perhaps I was speaking more to myself than to them.
"And it's nobody's fault. No one here has failed. We're a young family. Three generations are not enough to found an empire. We're learning to be great while we're still learning to walk. And that's why we make mistakes. Because growing up... hurts"
But I knew what to do. The direction was finally clear.
We needed to purge the impurities. Cut out what was rotten, poisoned, weak. Regenerate. Heal.
The changes I wanted - that needed to happen - would require time. And a reliable network of people. The right people in the right places . People who believed, who were willing to rebuild, not with glory or empty promises, but with their feet on the ground and their eyes on the future.
"It's impossible to become stronger without changing" I began, without turning to face them. "And if we want to change... we need to suffer. Suffering is the only real way to learn"
My voice was low, serene, but every word carried weight. Inside me, this conviction was no longer new. It had been growing for years, and now it was taking shape in front of the men and women who bore the Udrak name.
"What happened to Alfred was a direct consequence of our cultural fragility," I continued. "That cannot be repeated. If we want to build something lasting, something that survives betrayals, the ambition of the weak and the greed of the cowardly... then we need a solid culture. Something that not only defends the past, but honors it"
I stopped for a moment, letting them absorb it.
"We need to shape our children from an early age. From a very young age. Teach them what dignity is. Teach them respect. Give them an ideology, a way of life" My voice sounded almost like a prayer, but it was as cold as a blade. "When people are shaped by an idea, they police themselves. Those who don't follow the pattern isolate themselves. The corrupt are not exalted - they are despised. Only when we achieve unity, organization and clarity of purpose... will we be able to aim higher"
My hands clasped behind my back. I continued to stand, facing the tapestry of the hall, without facing anyone. I didn't need to. I knew they were listening.
My eyes wandered over the embroidered symbol of House Udrak - crudely made decades ago by one of the founders, when we were still just peasants with guns in our hands. It was a reflection of our origins... and of our unfulfilled promise.
I felt my father's hand rest on my shoulder.
I looked sideways, surprised by the gentleness of the gesture. There was a smile on his lips. It wasn't one of mockery or doubt. It was one of recognition. Perhaps pride. Perhaps a little of both.
He didn't say anything straight away. He just squeezed my shoulder lightly. When his eyes met mine, I noticed something new: he was relieved. Relieved to see that his weird, eccentric and reclusive son was now talking firmly about the future.
"I agree" The voice didn't come from him. It was one of the older warriors.
The man knelt, posture erect, sword resting against the ground as a sign of surrender - or reverence. In his eyes there was something I never imagined I would see: adoration. Not for me, but for the sight I had just described.
"Me too" said another, bowing slightly. "If we want power and recognition, we need to change"
"Warriors must be valued. I fully accept" murmured a woman in dark armor, her hard face softened by acceptance.
One by one, they consented. Not out of fear. But out of conviction.
Then I finally turned to face them.
"We'll start with the Purge and Compensation" I announced. "Then, as our people grow, we'll implement the next steps. The first step is to show the commoners our commitment. We will teach them what justice means. Our justice"
And then, for the first time since it all began, I smiled.
"Why do you want to round up prisoners in the castle?" asked Benta next to me, her voice low but firm. She still looked worried, especially about my father.
The question, however, brought a slight smile to my face. The truth cheered me up.
"Why?" I repeated, as if relishing the idea. "Let's just say that my herbal book is almost ready. I just need to put some ideas into practice. Theories are just words until they're tested... and I need results"
The answer made Benta frown, but she said nothing. When the meeting was over, everyone began to disperse. I stayed where I was for a few moments, watching Evelyn in the distance.
She looked even more fragile than the day before. Her face was pale, her shoulders slumped, as if the very weight of existence was on her. I walked over to where she was, wrapped my arms around her carefully and lifted her up as if she were made of glass.
She was surprised, but didn't protest.
I carried her up the stairs, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. With each step, her breathing became heavier, warmer, and the way she leaned on me made me forget the world outside. My heart was pounding - perhaps because of the effort, perhaps because of her.
When we got to the bedroom, I closed the door with my foot and carefully laid her down on the bed. I began to remove the pieces of my armor one by one. The candlelight danced across the walls, casting shadows over my body - slim but defined. My dark hair fell in messy strands, brushing against my pale, warm skin.
Evelyn watched me in silence. Her eyes roamed over my long legs, my broad back, my narrow waist and my defined abdomen, the muscles visible in the half-light as if they had been carved by hand.
We barely knew each other. We'd barely spent a week together. But that night, it didn't seem to matter.
I felt that she could already go crazy; her body had wanted me every moment since the day I held her in my arms. It was an instinctive, wild heat that burned between us.
I pressed her against the bed, taking off her clothes one by one, slowly but surely. As my eyes traveled down her slim, delicate body, I realized how fragile she was - there were no striking curves, even though she was two years older than me. Her body looked weak, almost sickly: translucent skin, thin legs, delicate bust, ribs marked under her skeletal torso. A faint, almost fragile light, as if life could go out at any moment.
I felt her body oppress undermine, her warm skin against mine, as I enveloped her in a searing kiss. My hands touched her fragile back with restrained strength as I penetrated her gently, sliding back and forth, overpowering any resistance.
Her low moans mingled with my heavy breathing, full of desire. We were locked to each other like two beasts, surrendering to the most primitive and savage instinct in us.