Upon hearing the Clan Leader speak, I nodded, a thin smile tugging at my lips.
"I didn't expect the leader of the Bihu Clan to be such a keen observer. You've certainly surpassed my expectations. I'll admit—you've taught me a valuable lesson today."
I paused, then added with a subtle shift in tone, more formal and resolute,
"Now then, before we begin our discussion in earnest, allow me to officially introduce myself."
I didn't bow, following Prince's advice. "My name is Christopher Von Windsor, second prince of the Bluesta Empire."
Braska responded in the traditional manner of his tribe, placing his left hand firmly against his chest.
"I am Braska, the twenty-fourth clan leader of the Bihu Tribe."
We both took our seats, facing one another. The air in the room thickened—heavy with tension and unspoken expectations. It was clear this wouldn't be a casual conversation.
I gave him a slight nod, signaling he could ask what he wanted. He understood immediately.
"Why are you here?" Braska asked bluntly. "From what I've heard, there's a conflict in your empire. You and your elder brother are locked in a battle for the throne. So tell me, what business does a prince, trapped in the center of such chaos, have wandering all the way to my land?"
His directness made me smile.
"That's one thing I like about you, Braska. You don't play games—you go straight to the heart of the matter. So let me do the same."
I leaned forward slightly. "I want your support. I want the strength of your people beside me in my battle for the throne."
Braska's expression turned cold, stony. His voice hardened.
"If that's your intention, then I'll have to decline. This is your Empire's internal affair. My people have no part in your royal quarrels. You'd do best to leave peacefully, before your presence becomes a problem."
He stood as if to leave.
But I didn't move.
"No… that's not how this works, Braska." My voice was calm but firm. "Did you really think I came all the way here just to be dismissed? I'm the prince of a mighty empire—do you believe I came empty-handed? If I've made it this far, it's because I have something to offer… something worth your loyalty."
Braska turned, fury flashing in his eyes.
"You think you can buy us? Our loyalty is not for sale. You misunderstand us if you think we'll trade our honor for coin or promises."
I'd expected this reaction. His pride was his armor—but I knew how to pierce it.
"Everything in this world has a price, Braska," I said softly, but with unmistakable confidence. "Even loyalty. And I know the price you value most—food for your people… and the life of your vice leader."
Braska's breath caught. His rage didn't vanish, but something else flickered behind his eyes—doubt, hope… fear.
"You're a prince," he said cautiously. "You should know the weight of your words. Can you take responsibility for what you've just claimed?"
His voice was stern, but I saw it. That glimmer. That unspoken desperation. He wanted to believe me.
"I take full responsibility for every word I've spoken," I replied. "And I can prove it. The real question is—if I do, will you support me?"
He stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, Braska brought his chair closer and sat beside me.
"How?" he asked quietly, almost breathlessly. "How can you save her? What do you know about our vice leader's illness?"
"First, calm yourself," I said gently. "She won't die tomorrow. We have time. Let's talk like allies, not enemies. After we settle this with a magical contract, I'll treat her tomorrow morning… and I'll tell you exactly why her health has been failing."
Suspicion returned to his face like a stormcloud.
"But how do I know you're not the cause of this? Her health… it's a private matter for us. And yet you, a prince of our enemy state, know about it? Why shouldn't I suspect you?"
On the surface, I remained composed—but inside, fury churned.
In the novel, he didn't question the protagonist this much. Is the world rewriting itself to shield the protagonist? How many more tests do I have to pass to change fate?
I took a deep breath and masked the irritation in my voice.
"I understand your doubt, Braska. If I were in your position, I might feel the same. But I swear, there are no spies from my empire in your clan. What's happening here… it originates from a single man in my state. He's plotting something far greater than your clan, something that threatens the entire region. You might not be his target—but you're in his path. I came to stop him. And in return, I ask for your help."
Braska's eyes narrowed, unreadable.
"Assuming you're right—and someone from your Empire has tampered with her health—why should we believe you? Even if I help you… how can I be sure you won't betray us once you get what you want?"
That was the final wall. The last chain wrapped around his conviction.
At first, I'd been afraid that revealing too much would make him misinterpret my intentions and declare war. But now, seeing him still here, still listening… I knew. He wanted to believe me. He just needed that final reassurance. That final nudge.
I leaned in, my voice low and firm