"Exactly. Ambition." Rimuru stood up, meeting the Black Princess's piercing gaze head-on. "So, tell me. What right do you have to ask him to abandon that ambition?"
"As long as Austria remained in your hands, it was just... Austria. A stagnant patch of dirt, untouched by the Church, but completely devoid of ambition or purpose."
Rimuru paced the room, speaking with the smooth, measured cadence of a corporate consultant. "Negotiation is an exchange of leverage. It requires chips, whether for cooperation or compromise."
"But you didn't lead with any chips. You walked into that meeting relying purely on the pride and status of being the supposed Queen of the Dead Apostles. However... as everyone in the underworld knows, the only True Ancestor the White Wing Lord actually respects is the one who originally held your surname."
Rimuru stopped and looked at her. "So, conflict was inevitable. You fought him, and it ended in a draw. Tell me, do you consider that a humiliation?"
"Is it not?" Altrouge scrunched up her nose. She understood the geopolitical logic he was laying out, but she stubbornly refused to concede the emotional point. "I have zero interest in his boring ambitions. That doesn't give him the right to insult me."
"Then you have to give him a compelling reason to cash in his chips," Rimuru laughed, amused by her pouty expression. "Take me, for example. When you strong-armed me into your service, did you ever stop to ask what I wanted?"
"I promised to help you! And you're certainly using my resources without a shred of guilt," Altrouge muttered defensively, crossing her arms. "Meanwhile, that wretched old man swallowed half of Austria without so much as a warning!"
"True. But you can't deny..." Rimuru tilted his head, his golden eyes glinting. "When you recruited me, deep down, you thought, 'He should be honored I even looked his way.' Didn't you?"
"..."
"Ortenrosse thinks the exact same way about you. He doesn't despise you, but he probably thinks negotiating with you is like playing chess with a pigeon."
"..."
Altrouge's eyes narrowed dangerously. She ground her teeth, a dark aura leaking from her frame. "He thinks I'm not a threat?!"
"He thinks you lack the drive to commit," Rimuru corrected smoothly, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "To you, territory is just a toy. It isn't worth managing. So why should he offer you genuine concessions? You never backed him into a corner."
"But I believe your talks haven't failed. They're just paused. Setting a fire in his backyard? That was a signal. You just told him that if he wants Austria, he has to bleed for it, or face the wrath of a rival monarch."
"And you have to give him a reason for your sudden aggression. Why risk the combined wrath of the Church and the Mage's Association over this? What is your actual stance?" Rimuru's tone was gentle, almost hypnotic, like a man trying to coax a wild predator into a cage with a piece of meat.
Altrouge's brilliant mind instantly supplied the answer. "Cornwall? Claiming Cornwall proved my resolve... my willingness to actively shelter and govern other Dead Apostles?"
"You're finally starting to care about empire-building, Princess." Rimuru nodded, a satisfied smile behind his mask. "Once you project the necessary strength and resolve, you earn your seat at the table. A grandmaster won't play against an opponent who isn't trying, but they will never refuse a genuine challenger."
"But how do you know he understood my 'signal'? What if he just ordered the escalation in Austria because he was genuinely pissed off?!" Altrouge countered.
"Does it matter?" Rimuru shrugged lazily. "We played our card. Now we see how he reacts. If he's just throwing a tantrum, then the White Wing Lord is a mediocre tactician and easily dealt with. But if he is the cunning old fox I suspect he is, then this escalation is an invitation to cooperate."
"..."
The anger faded from Altrouge's face. She stared into Rimuru's eyes for a long time. Finally, she let out a soft, amused scoff.
"Tch."
"You spun this massive, elaborate web of logic, all just to convince me to go back to the negotiating table and cooperate with him."
"But as you noted, my actions are dictated entirely by my own whims. What if I tell you right now that I simply hate his guts, and I refuse?"
Rimuru shook his head, completely unfazed. "Then there's nothing to be done. I just adapt and calculate the next optimal route."
"But Princess, have you ever stopped to consider what Ortenrosse's ultimate endgame actually is?"
Rimuru leaned against the desk. "He hates True Ancestors, yet he champions Dead Apostles. It's a rebellion. Vampiric species are biologically superior to primates in every conceivable metric. Yet, they are forced to hide in the shadows. Even the Twenty-Seven Ancestors, a coalition capable of crushing the Association and the Church combined, can't even match the geopolitical influence of declining human factions like the Wandering Sea or Yggdmillennia."
"Ortenrosse willingly became a Dead Apostle to pursue Magecraft. He fought against the True Ancestors and liberated the vampires. But despite all his power, the human world refuses to legitimize him. Why?"
"Why shouldn't Dead Apostles have a recognized, sovereign state? The right to exist openly under the night sky?"
Rimuru spread his hands. "Founding a Dead Apostle Nation is his ambition. But it is a win-win scenario for you. Because you are the true heir of Brunestud. If a vampiric kingdom is established... you are its rightful Queen."
"..."
Altrouge listened to his eloquent, perfectly reasoned speech. She lowered her eyes. A chilling, humorless smile touched her lips.
He was so calm. His logic was airtight. But for some inexplicable reason, a nameless, furious inferno ignited in Altrouge's chest. She knew exactly why she was angry.
CRACK!
Her small fist slammed into the heavy mahogany desk, obliterating it into a shower of splinters.
Rimuru's speech died in his throat.
Altrouge stepped over the wreckage. The playful, haughty teenager was gone. She stared up at Rimuru, her crimson eyes radiating absolute, lethal peril.
"I admit, your logic is flawless. You are exceptionally gifted at manipulating hearts," she said, her voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
"But from start to finish, you formulated this entire master plan from the perspective of a Dead Apostle. From my perspective."
She bared her fangs. "Aren't you supposed to be on the side of humanity?"
"I simply operate from where I sit," Rimuru replied, his expression perfectly stoic against her killing intent.
"Do you really expect me to swallow that?!"
Altrouge took a sharp breath, her patience completely snapping. The temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero.
BOOM!
A terrifying eruption of demonic mana blasted through the room, blowing the heavy doors clean off their hinges. Strout and Primate Murder materialized instantly, weapons drawn, ready for war.
But they froze in shock.
Rimuru hadn't backed down. He met her eruption head-on. A tidal wave of stolen, primal True Ancestor mana exploded from his core, violently clashing against the Black Princess's pressure. The air between them warped and shrieked under the strain of the competing domains.
"I don't care if my subordinates plot against me," Altrouge hissed, the air around her vibrating with murderous intent. "I don't even care if you useme! If you manage to exploit me to achieve your goals, I will applaud you for it. It means I was useful."
She narrowed her eyes, her voice a deadly, unforgiving blade.
"But do not treat me like a clueless, brain-dead princess. Do not insult me with your cheap, patronizing bedtime stories."
….
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