The aristocratic quarter of Ravana was a place of splendor, its environment refined and carefully tended. Along the wide marble avenues, tall Alia trees—native to Vadacia—stood in perfect rows. Their blossoms, pure white and fragrant, bloomed in every season, filling the air with a perfume so rich that walking the streets felt like moving through a sea of flowers.
Yet Richard had little mind to admire such beauty. Guided by the officer, he soon reached the Trizzi Palace, rising behind its lofty walls, and there beheld his grandfather—King Harlaus Carrera of Vannes—the stern figure he remembered from childhood tales.
King Harlaus wore a robe of fine crimson silk, embroidered with gold thread and adorned with precious stones. A small golden crown rested upon his red curls, lending him an air of majesty and unshakable authority.
For the arrival of his grandson, the king showed rare warmth. He ordered a banquet to be held in the palace and summoned several of the realm's most esteemed nobles, intending to present Richard to them and secure his place in their eyes.
Before the feast began, Harlaus I called Richard to his side. The nearly fifty‑year‑old monarch reached out with rough, calloused hands—hands hardened by years of war—and gently touched the face of his daughter's only child. Gazing at Richard's delicate features, he seemed, for a fleeting moment, to see his beloved daughter Mary returned to him after more than twenty years apart.
He remembered well the days before Mary's marriage to the Kingdom of Winster. She had been a girl then, fond of clinging to him with girlish affection. At that time, Alfonso II of Winster had only just ascended the throne. In those early years, Alfonso had captured the traitor Fulvio alive in the city of Chur, within the Principality of Ukraine, and had defeated the combined forces of the Principality of Lasker and the Republic of Connor.
It was precisely because of those victories—proof of Alfonso's strength and promise—that Harlaus, a king who valued military prowess above all, had agreed to give his cherished daughter in marriage to him.
It was hard to believe that more than twenty years had passed since the majestic young king of Winster had stood in his prime—only to be buried beneath the treachery of a usurper's rebellion.
Thinking of his daughter's voice and smile, Harlaus—the iron‑blooded king—felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye.
"Grandfather, I want to avenge my father and mother." Seeing the grief in Harlaus's eyes, Richard's own heart ached. The sorrow of this body, mingled with his own determination, pressed upon him constantly.
At these words, Harlaus's gaze flashed with relief. He reached out, running his rough hand through Richard's soft blond hair, and said gently, "My child, I will personally avenge that damned dog Julian. Stay here in the Trizzi Palace and wait for my news."
"No," Richard shook his head, his fists clenched tight. "I must avenge Julian with my own hands. Not only him—I will also conquer the Principality of Lasker and the Republic of Connor, who dared to support his rebellion!" His words were not only born of grief and anger, but also strengthened by the mysterious Total War System that now guided him.
"I am glad to hear you say that," Harlaus murmured, pulling his grandson into a firm embrace. "But the road ahead will be difficult. Alone—or even with your sixty Janissaries—your chances of success are slim."
"You'll help me, won't you?" Richard asked, lifting his eyes to meet his grandfather's.
"Yes, I will help you," Harlaus replied, his voice steady. "But I cannot always stand at your side. The aristocratic factions in this kingdom are complex, and they will not permit me to aid you without demanding their price in return."
"I understand." Richard had already steeled himself. The lessons of his previous life stood before his eyes, and he would not naively believe that Harlaus could risk everything for him.
Before his grandfather could speak, Richard pressed on. "But with your power, would it not be simple to grant me a piece of territory—so that I might use it to build my own strength?"
"You mean… give you a territory?" Harlaus looked at the boy in his arms with surprise. For a moment, he could not see through his grandson's thoughts.
"Yes, my lord grandfather. I know well that if you were to send troops directly to restore me, I would become nothing more than a puppet of Ravana, without any foundation of my own. Even if you yourself had no such intention, what of your heir—my uncle? And those greedy nobles? Can you guarantee they would not harbor such designs?"
Richard's voice was steady, his words sharp. "My teacher in Nord once told me: between kingdoms, there are only interests. Surely it is in Ravana's interest to support an obedient puppet in Winster."
Such blunt words, spoken by a boy of only fifteen, made King Harlaus pause. He studied the down‑and‑out prince who had been driven into exile at so young an age. Then, with a deep breath, the iron‑blooded king laughed aloud.
Releasing Richard, he rose slowly to his feet. "In truth, before you arrived, I convened my court. The nobles and my ministers all urged me to seize this chance—to annex Winster outright, or else to set up a puppet king there."
Richard listened in silence, his calm expression betraying no surprise, as though such a course were only natural.
"Before I met you, I intended to follow their counsel," Harlaus admitted. "But after seeing you, I hesitated. I could not bear to let Mary's only son suffer such a fate." His clouded eyes fixed on Richard's composed face. "Yet if I reject their advice, I will face many obstacles in raising an army.
Most of Ravana's forces are still drawn from the levies of the nobles. The standing troops in the capital alone cannot hope to defeat Julian, not while he enjoys the support of Lasker and Connor."
"So, I do not expect you to send troops directly. I only hope you can grant me a piece of territory, so that I may gather my strength and launch my war of vengeance when the time is right."
"If it is only a matter of granting you a territory, then the nobles and courtiers will have no grounds to object," Harlaus replied with a nod. He exhaled deeply, as though a burden had been lifted, then gently clasped Richard's hand. "My child, come with me to the banquet. I will introduce you to the nobles and courtiers of Ravana. Once you begin to develop your fief, you will inevitably have to deal with them—better to know them in advance."
"Yes, my lord grandfather," Richard answered at once. He quickened his pace to follow the tall, imposing figure of King Harlaus as they made their way toward the great hall.