Chapter 16: The Contract of the Lion's Den
The carriage rattled over the cobblestones leading to the Schwarzberg Ducal Estate, but the noise was nothing compared to the frantic calculations occurring behind Julian's eyes. One week. The "Great Poisoning" of the Electors had bought him seven days of reprieve, but the clock was already ticking.
'System, if I take this proposal, what's the bottom line? No jokes. Give me the tactical reality.'
[System Interface: Strategic Assessment.]
[Result: The Marriage Shield.]
[Pro: Instant political immunity. The Welf and Luxembourg families cannot move against you openly without insulting a Duke.]
[Con: You become a target for the Habsburgs. You will gain no free land or troops. The Duke will provide gold and equipment, but he will expect you to provide the blood. You are being hired as his personal frontier commander.]
"A glorious promotion," Julian muttered, leaning his head against the velvet padding. "From a sacrificial pawn to a high-ranking mercenary with a ring on his finger."
The carriage slowed. Julian looked out the window. The domain of Saint's Peak was fading into the distance. He had left it better than he found it—revenue was flowing, the bridge at Silver-Stream was reinforced, and the air of death had been replaced by the sweat of a working militia. But it wasn't enough to stop an Imperial decree.
"Master Julian," the knight accompanying him, Sir Berengar, whispered. "I remember the day you were born. I told your father I'd kill to see you reach a Duke's table. I didn't think you'd actually do it."
"Be careful what you wish for, Berengar," Julian replied dryly. "The food at a Duke's table usually comes with a side of arsenic."
The Duke's Terms
The Schwarzberg mansion was a monolith of marble and dark oak, a physical manifestation of "New Money" trying to look like "Old Power." Julian was ushered into a private study that smelled of expensive tobacco and ancient law books.
Duke Schwarzberg did not look like a man who was about to lose a daughter; he looked like a man who was about to gain a chess piece. He sat behind a desk large enough to be a small ship, his eyes sharp and analytical.
"The Emperor called you a 'Philosophical Lad,' Julian von Andechs-Merania," the Duke began, his voice a low rumble. "I hope you have the sense to realize that philosophy doesn't stop a Spanish lance. But a marriage contract? That stops a great many things."
Julian bowed deeply, maintaining his "Elegant Noble" mask. "Your Grace. I understand that a bloodline like mine is a currency. I am here to discuss the exchange rate."
The Duke smirked. "Blunt. I like that. Here are the terms. You marry Emilia. She remains your Primary Wife, regardless of how many mistresses or secondary unions you acquire in the future to stabilize your house. In return, I provide the gold to hire two hundred professional mercenaries and high-grade equipment for your existing 150 militia. I will also back your claims in the Diet—within reason."
Julian leaned in. "And the Italian relocation?"
"The Emperor has approved the list, but it is not set in stone," the Duke admitted. "If you show no capable feat, you go to the border. However, as my son-in-law, I will secure you a command position. Your head won't roll in the first skirmish. But listen to me, boy: I cannot earn your glory. If you win a claim in Italy, I will use every link I have to ensure the Diet recognizes it as yours. But you must hold it. The war is coming, and I need a son-in-law who can survive it, not one who exploits me and vanishes."
The Duke stood, walking to the window. "I am a father before I am a politician. That Habsburg brat ignored her. He treated her like a background ornament while he chased his 'destiny.' I will not have my daughter shamed twice. You will marry her as soon as possible. Do we have an accord?"
"We do," Julian said, the word feeling like a heavy iron shackle closing around his wrist.
"Good. Now leave. My eyes are everywhere, Julian. Don't think you can play both sides."
The Shadow of the Villainess
As Julian stepped out into the hallway, his heart still thudding against his ribs, he found Emilia waiting by a marble pillar. She wasn't wearing her formal court dress; she was in traveling clothes, looking tired but resolute.
[System Notification: Favorability Update.]
[Emilia von Schwarzberg: 20/100 (Interested Ally).]
'Wait, how did it jump from 5 to 20? I haven't even said anything romantic!' Julian screamed internally.
[System Commentary: You just agreed to tie your fate to hers in a room full of sharks. In her world, that's more romantic than a thousand poems. You're her exit strategy. Of course she likes you more now.]
"So," Emilia said, her voice soft but clear. "You survived my father. Most men leave that room looking like they've seen a ghost."
"I've seen the ledgers of my own house, Emilia," Julian replied, offering a tired smile. "Your father is terrifying, but compound interest is worse."
She let out a small, genuine laugh—a sound that didn't fit the 'Villainess' persona at all. "He likes you, Julian. He won't admit it, but he likes that you didn't beg. Just... be ready. The relocation isn't a death sentence if we play this right. We'll make Italy ours before the Electors even realize we've left the North."
The Final Gamble
Julian returned to his carriage to find a secret message from his father, Baron Maximilian. It was a short, desperate note: The Silver-Stream loan is finalized. The village is collateral. I'm hiring the Iron Scale mercenaries. If the relocation isn't stopped, we have no home to return to.
[System Notification: Final Warning.]
[Status: The "Great Poisoning" week is half over. The Electors are recovering. The Spanish are landing in Capua.]
"System," Julian said, looking out at the darkening horizon. "Tell me one thing. If I fail, and my head rolls in Italy... do I get a respawn?"
[System Message: No. But I'll make sure your epitaph says: 'He was a Philosophical Lad who died for a Duke's Daughter and a Bridge.' Quite poetic, don't you think?]
"You're a prick," Julian sighed.
"Let's go," he told the driver. "We have a war to prepare for, and a wedding to survive."