In the spacious meeting hall, a beam of golden light fell upon Vlad, as though he were bathed in fine, radiant sand, lending him an aura of sacred majesty.
As he gently ran his fingers across the throne beneath him, Vlad's thoughts drifted back more than ten years.
He remembered a middle-aged man seated on this same throne, asking him how it felt to sit there.
"Uneasy~"
"Remember that feeling."
The very next day, barely eleven or twelve years old, he had been sent off to the Sultan as a political hostage.
Snapping back to the present, he glanced around the now-empty council chamber. Lifting his gaze to the magnificent dome of stained glass overhead, he murmured to himself:
"Father, just wait and see. It shouldn't be me who feels uneasy."
He stood, his expression returning to its usual calm depth.
As the chamber doors closed behind him, Vlad made his way toward the palace at the rear of the castle.
The luxurious Savari carpets beneath his feet were so soft it felt as if he were walking on clouds.
He casually dismissed the maids waiting in the corridor. When he entered the hall and saw Mirena laughing with Marishka and Mina, his expression softened. A quiet sense of relief settled over him.
Mirena, who had just been chatting happily, noticed his arrival. Her smile immediately disappeared. With a discontented huff, she turned her head away.
Of course, Vlad knew why she was acting this way.
Looking at Mirena's petty expression, he only smiled, walked up behind her, and took out an exquisite necklace—uniquely shaped and inlaid with colorful gemstones. He gently placed it around her neck.
"Do you like it? I had it made just for you."
A flicker of surprise passed through Mirena's eyes, though she said:
"Hmph, don't think you can bribe me with this. I'm not that easy to win over."
She rolled her eyes at him, then turned back to Marishka, pretending to resume their conversation.
Vlad knew she wasn't truly angry. She was simply taking the opportunity to express her dissatisfaction.
From the side, Marishka and Mina exchanged quick winks with Vlad, signaling that everything was under control.
He understood instantly.
It was likely thanks to these two that Mirena had calmed down so easily.
Silently praising their cleverness, Vlad joined in the conversation.
Although Mirena tried to stay aloof, she couldn't resist sneaking glances at him. With Marishka and Mina's help, it didn't take long before she began to engage more directly.
"You want to establish a Wizarding Academy!?" Mirena stared at him, shocked. "That will definitely anger the Church."
"Don't worry, I've planned for that. The challenge now is getting support from your father and a few key ministers."
"I've been gone for years. I don't know much about the current cabinet—especially Earl Grantham, the Chief Home Secretary. What do you know about him?"
Mirena understood that this was a serious topic—one that could stir political upheaval if handled poorly.
After a moment of careful thought, she answered:
"Earl Grantham is fair-minded and highly respected by both nobles and commoners."
"During the old king's reign, he was a key figure. But he's also a devout believer… I don't think he'll support a Wizarding Academy."
"As for the others, I believe my father will stand behind you. The Minister of War, Viscount John, I don't know well—he rarely makes public appearances."
"Maester Mayne doesn't seem to have a strong political stance. According to my father, he's very wise and tends to support whatever benefits the kingdom."
Vlad nodded silently, taking in every word.
That night, under the shadow of darkness, Vlad stood on the terrace, overlooking the ancient castle that had stood for centuries.
This was the highest point of the structure, offering a clear view in every direction.
A cool breeze drifted through. Vlad placed his wineglass on the nearby table.
Just then, a pair of slender hands rested gently on his shoulders, beginning to massage them with delicate pressure.
"You've been doing well lately, Verona," Vlad said softly. "You haven't disappointed me."
The hands paused for a moment, then resumed their gentle kneading.
"How is it, Master~? Comfortable?"
"I learned this just for you. I've been practicing for a long time."
"It's excellent."
Vlad smiled, pleased. He turned and embraced Verona—tall and slender, with a graceful waist and poised elegance.
She wore a sheer, flowing gown with a daring neckline, accentuating her alluring curves.
Her bright eyes locked onto his, and she asked shyly, "Do you like it? I wore it just for you."
A faint blush crept across her cheeks as she subtly lifted her chest, clearly hoping for his approval.
Seeing her efforts, Vlad felt a wave of warmth. He gently caressed her delicate face with his fingertips.
"You look stunning. The land may be barren, but you're rich in beauty."
His eyes roamed appreciatively, and he chuckled softly.
Verona took his teasing in stride. She even lifted her skirt slightly, revealing her long, elegant legs, playfully tempting him.
Such an obvious invitation was one Vlad would never refuse. They hadn't seen each other for some time, and desire had built up between them.
Without another word, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the grand bed.
As clothing scattered to the floor, a pair of smooth, ivory legs rose behind the gauzy canopy. Under the soft light of chandeliers and candles, her skin glowed like silk.
The air filled with soft moans, urgent movements, and the rustling of curtains. It was a picture of passion and tenderness.
By dawn, their intimate exchange came to a close. Verona lay exhausted, spent and glowing.
Sweat trickled slowly down her smooth back. She hadn't yet recovered her senses.
Vlad stood, fetched two glasses of wine, took a sip, and handed one to Verona.
"Drink this. You need to rehydrate."
Verona drank eagerly, gulping down the wine.
"Slow down," Vlad said with a smile, shaking his head. "No one's going to steal it from you."
"Ohh~ I feel drained…"
Setting her glass aside, Verona let out a long, contented sigh and collapsed onto the bed, completely relaxed.
Despite her words, the glow in her face showed pure satisfaction—a woman who had been thoroughly fulfilled.
Vlad, watching her, simply smiled.
He casually took a photo of the resting Verona, her lush, curvaceous figure sprawled across the bed in serene beauty.