Chapter 21: The Emperor's Iron Gavel
The road to Frankfurt was a blur of high-speed travel and suffocating silence. In the carriage, the air was thick with the scent of dried ink and Mathilde's floral perfume. Julian sat rigid, his hands gripping his knees. The news had arrived just before departure: a letter from Duke Schwarzberg, sealed with the roaring lion of his house.
"The marriage is in one week. Today, at the Diet, I announce the union. Don't think you can vanish into the woods after spending my gold and arming your men. You are mine now, Julian."
[Affection Monitor: Mathilde.]
[Status: Possession Level High.]
Mathilde had read the letter over his shoulder. The pressure she exerted on Julian's hand as they rode was no longer comforting—it was a vice. Her grey-blue eyes were fixed on the passing trees, but her voice was a low, melodic threat.
"Julian," she whispered, her grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. "Do you truly like your Aunt? Or am I just the person who keeps the ink wet in your study?"
Julian felt a cold sweat prickle his neck. "I... I value you above all, Aunt. You know this."
She didn't let go. Instead, she pulled him toward her, forcing his head into her lap. It was a gesture of maternal comfort, but her eyes were wild with a widow's desperation. "You've been working so hard, my little bird. Too hard. You think you can fly away to a Duke's nest? You need to rest. Here. With me."
'System,' Julian screamed internally. 'Is this the Yandere flag? Tell me I haven't triggered a yandere flag!'
[System Commentary: Oh, please. She's a mature widow in a world where her only legacy is you. This isn't a 'flag,' you melodramatic brat. This is the natural territorial instinct of a woman who sees her prize being stolen by a Duke's daughter. Suck it up and enjoy the lap-rest while you still have a head.']
The carriage lurched to a halt. The spires of Frankfurt rose like jagged teeth against the grey sky. Julian sat up, smoothing his tunic and adjusting his mask of "The Philosophical Lad." The intimacy of the carriage was over; now, he was entering the lion's den.
The Imperial Diet
The Great Hall of the Diet was an architectural masterpiece of cold stone and high mana-resonance. The Emperor sat upon the throne, a figure of terrifying, golden stillness. Below him, the seven Electors—including the "recovered" Duke of Saxony and King Albrecht of Bohemia—sat in a semi-circle of power.
As Julian entered, he noticed his seating had been moved. He was no longer at the back with the minor gentry. He was positioned in the middle tiers, among the Viscounts and mid-ranking Counts.
The session was adjourned for a moment of silence before Duke Schwarzberg stood up. The room went deathly quiet.
"Your Imperial Majesty," the Duke began, his voice booming. "I officially announce the dissolution of the engagement between my daughter, Emilia, and Albrecht von Luxembourg. The Prince's repeated neglect and pursuit of... foreign adventures... have made him an unsuitable match for House Schwarzberg."
A collective gasp rippled through the nobility. The King of Bohemia's eyes narrowed into slits, but before he could speak, the Duke delivered the killing blow.
"Furthermore, I formally announce the engagement of my daughter to Julian von Andechs-Merania. The marriage shall be solemnized in one week's time."
The Duke of Saxony broke the wine glass in his hand, the red liquid staining the white tablecloth like blood. The Emperor, however, only leaned forward, his gaze landing on Julian.
"Julian," the Emperor spoke. The name echoed through the hall. "Come to the front."
The Gilded Trap
Julian walked the long aisle, the eyes of the entire Empire's elite burning into his back. He reached the dais and offered a perfect, formal bow—the bow of a servant who knew his place, even as his mind plotted their downfall.
"This servant bows to the Son of the Empire and the noble Electors," Julian said, his voice steady.
"Philosophy is a luxury for the peaceful, Julian," the Emperor remarked, a faint, dangerous smile playing on his lips. "But competence? Competence is the currency of war. You have conquered the County of Castell in three days. Even if the Count was a man of fading glory, the feat is undeniable."
The Emperor signaled to the Imperial Chancellor.
"For this display of merit, House Andechs-Merania is hereby elevated. You are no longer Barons of the Peak. You are formally recognized as Viscounts of the Middle Rank, with hereditary rights. Furthermore, the County of Castell is granted to your house as family territory."
For a split second, Julian felt a surge of triumph. 'I did it. I saved the house.'
"However," the Emperor continued, his voice turning to ice. "The discovery of a High-Purity Mana-Crystal Vein within your domain changes the calculus. By the Strategic Resource Doctrine of 1184, all high-mana nodes are property of the Imperial Crown during times of mobilization. The mine is hereby confiscated to fund the Crusade against the Spanish."
Julian's heart plummeted. 'They knew. They knew before I even walked in.'
"In exchange for this 'donation,' the Diet will provide your house with 100 Imperial Regulars and clear the remaining 'Treason Charges' against your main branch. You are restored, Julian. You are wealthy. You are a Viscount."
The Electors exchanged amused, calculating glances. They had stripped him of the gold mine, but given him just enough rank to keep him useful.
"And finally," the Emperor said, the final blow falling like a guillotine. "Because you have proven so capable of conquering fortresses in three days... your family is removed from the relocation list of civilians. Instead, you are formally commissioned as a Second-Rank Lieutenant. You will lead the vanguard to Italy."
Julian stood frozen. The room felt like it was spinning. He had won the war, he had won the girl, he had won the rank—and yet, the Emperor had just used those very successes to march him straight into the meat-grinder.
"As Your Highness deems," Julian choked out, his voice hollow. "The servant obeys."
He retreated to his seat, his ears ringing with the silent, mocking smiles of the Electors. He had played the game, but the Emperor had simply rewritten the rules.
Status Update:
* Rank: Viscount (Mid-Rank).
* Territory: Saint's Peak + County of Castell.
* Asset Lost: Mana-Crystal Mine (Confiscated).
* Military: 150 Family Troops + 400 Mercenaries (Contracted) + 100 Imperial Regulars.
* Destination: The Italian Front.