In a sprawling royal suite, two figures shared a rare moment of peace.
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The room itself was a masterpiece of regal artistry, with its sublime paintings, ornate sculptures, and grand architectural details. Yet, what set this suite apart wasn't its grandeur but its bold, unconventional aesthetic. Coal black dominated the decor, weaving through every corner and surface. Far from diminishing the room's charm, it enhanced it, lending an air of dark beauty.
Even the furniture followed suit. A towering, luxurious bed sat at the heart of the space, large enough to comfortably fit four people. Though the bed was grand, it was currently occupied by just two.
Ludmila leaned against the headboard, her long pale legs stretched out casually. Ivan lay perpendicular to her, his head cradled on her lap. Both were dressed in simple black attire that, despite its plainness, somehow exuded elegance.
Ludmila's pale fingers traced soothing patterns through Ivan's pitch-black hair. A small, serene smile played on her lips as she spoke. "I think Camelot will be fully rebuilt within three months, at most."
"That's good," Ivan muttered, his eyes closed.
This was one of those rare, quiet moments Ivan cherished. With Ludmila, he felt safe enough to let his guard down completely—a kind of rest that went beyond physical relaxation. It was a rare balm for his soul. If only Kamila were here, too, it would have been perfect—
-Thud
As if summoned by his thoughts, the door swung open. Kamila entered the room without hesitation. There were only four people in Camelot who had the liberty to disregard boundaries like this, and Kamila was one of them. For her like the other three, he'd forgive anything.
Kamila closed the door behind her with a sigh of exhaustion. Without a word, she slipped off her boots, climbed onto the bed, and made herself comfortable near Ivan.
"Running an empire you don't care about is exhausting," Kamila muttered, flopping onto the bed with a huff.
"What happened." Ivan asked without opening his eyes.
A sweet smile crept onto Kamila's lips. Without answering immediately, she crawled closer, draping herself across Ivan's chest. Her body pressed against his as she looked up at him.
"Oh, just the usual. The nobles are still whining about their 'circumstances.' It's hard for them to accept the shift in our Faith," she said.
"Anyone who refuses will be executed," Ivan said, opening his pitch-black eyes.
"I've already executed at least a hundred of them in the last few months," Kamila replied without a hint of hesitation. "Those who refused to change their Faith or accept your rule, Ivan."
"And their families?" Ivan asked.
"As per your orders, we've sent the family members of those who resisted to forced labor camps," Kamila said. "No exceptions—regardless of their age. Many have already died from exhaustion, but at least it sends a clear message. People think twice before defying our Faith now."
Ivan nodded slightly. "Continue the same approach for the old, the women, and the men. But as for the children of those who defy us…Instead of sending them to the camps, transfer them directly to the Cathedral."
It was a shift in policy, but a calculated one. Until now, the children had been kept with their families in the camps. Now, they would be taken away entirely. At the Cathedral, they would be raised within the culture of Seraphiel's Faith—indoctrinated from a young age to ensure absolute loyalty.
For Ivan, it was a practical solution. For Ludmila and Kamila, it was a blessing. They saw it as sparing the children from their parents' misguided ways, granting them a chance to grow up within the true Faith. Ruthless as it was to separate children from their parents to then endoctrinate them, neither of the women hesitated to approve the idea.
"Understood," Kamila said with a nod. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against Ivan's in a tender kiss. She lingered for a moment, savoring the connection before pulling back and slumping onto the bed beside him.
"Sorry, Ludmila," Kamila said, turning her gaze toward Ludmila. "I didn't mean to interrupt your time alone with Ivan."
Ludmila shook her head. "I've told you before, Kamila. There's no 'my time' or 'your time.' It's always our time with Ivan."
"I know, but it feels so short sometimes…" Kamila mumbled, resting her head on Ivan's chest. She closed her eyes, listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat.
Ivan's hand reached out, his fingers brushing against Kamila's cheek in a rare display of affection. "Do you want me to stay longer with you?" He asked tilting her head to meet her gaze.
It was an unusual offer. He was clearly willing to forego his usual schedule if it meant to please Kamila.
Kamila couldn't help but smile at Ivan's words, though she shook her head gently. "I don't want to interrupt. I know whatever you're doing, it's for us."
Ivan reached out, brushing his fingers along her cheek in a soft gesture. "Kamila, you can ask me anything."
Her next words were direct and without hesitation. "Then marry us."
"Kamila…" Ludmila sighed.
It wasn't the first time this topic had come up. Both Ludmila and Kamila longed to marry Ivan under Seraphiel's blessing, but the situation was far from simple.
The main issue was their families. Neither Kamila's nor Ludmila's relatives approved of their devotion to Ivan, disapproving of how the two women—and Dimitri—had chosen to leave their families behind to follow him. Ivan had held off making them his official wives precisely to avoid stirring trouble within Gevurah.
Both women understood this. They'd been patient, content to simply remain close to him. But everything had changed after Ivan's wedding to Gwenyra. Kamila, no matter how understanding she had been before, couldn't hide her growing frustration.
"Fine, sorry," Kamila muttered, glancing at Ludmila before sighing deeply.
But Ivan's voice rang right after.
"After the war against Unadora, I'll take you both as my wives."
Ludmila and Kamila froze, staring at him in stunned silence. They hadn't expected this—not now, not after so many delays.
"Ivan…" Kamila began hesitantly. "But our families…" The prospect thrilled her, yet the weight of potential consequences loomed large. Defying their families wasn't a trivial matter, especially considering their origins.
Both women were from the line of Gevurah's founders, a legacy steeped in secrecy and immense responsibility. Kamila's parents had been killed during an attack by the Holy Church, and she'd been taken in by her uncle, another key figure in Gevurah's leadership. Ludmila still had her mother, one of the founders, who harbored ambitions for the future of the Holy Continent.
Their families saw them as crucial pieces in Gevurah's precarious balance of power, and marrying Ivan—soon to be the most powerful figure in their world—threatened to shatter that delicate balance. It was this fragile balance that had kept Ivan from making a formal commitment until now.
But Ivan had changed.
Before, he might have hesitated at least until Holy Continent fell in his hands. Now, with the strength of six Antagonists coursing through him, there was little left that could scare him—or stop him. If there was a problem within Gevurah, he would simply deal with it.
"Are you sure about this, Ivan?" Ludmila leaned closer, her black eyes locking onto his with an almost obsessive intensity.
"I am. Are you?" Ivan replied.
"I am," she answered without hesitation. Ludmila didn't care about the consequences or her family's disapproval.
Her attention shifted to Kamila, who sat hesitantly, torn between her heart's deepest wish and the fear of what it might cost.
Ivan rose his body, closing the space between them. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek as his dark eyes met hers. "I won't let anyone hurt you or Dimitri. Not even my own father."
Kamila grasped his hand, nodding her head.
But the moment was cut short by the door swinging open.
"Yo, Ivan," Mikhail greeted casually as he strolled in, Dimitri trailing behind him.
The sight of Kamila and Ludmila practically clinging to Ivan made Mikhail smirk. "Am I interrupting a family moment? We can come back later, can't we, Dimitri?"
Dimitri raised an eyebrow, glancing at his sister. "Don't you think clinging to him first thing in the morning is a bit much, even for you, Kamila?"
"We weren't doing anything!" Kamila blurted out, flustered. "We were just talking!"
"Huh," Dimitri muttered skeptically.
"What's going on?" Ludmila asked, cutting off any further teasing before it escalated.
"Oh, right," Mikhail spoke up. "It's about Urvan. He's here. Apparently, we're being summoned to the Cathedral for a meeting about the attack on Unadora."
Unadora, a southern Kingdom in the Holy Continent, was Gevurah's next target. After the conquest of Britannia, preparations for this campaign had been steadily building. As Commander of the First Legion, Ivan's involvement in the attack was inevitable.
Kamila groaned audibly. "Ugh…"
A visit to the Cathedral meant crossing paths with her uncle and the other higher-ups of Gevurah—particularly the other Legion Commanders. While they technically shared the same goal, they quite disliked each other.
Ivan, of course, didn't care about their opinions. He never did. For him, it was just another step for his dream.