Charles V's expression grew increasingly grave. Even based on Michael's current contributions, it seemed inevitable that his rank would need to be elevated. And if he continued to achieve more, how far would his influence reach? The king even contemplated the possibility of granting him the title of Grand Duke, though the thought troubled him. After all, Michael's lands lay near the border, a strategic location fraught with complications.
The king realized that Michael might already have ties with Ellonia and possibly secret agreements with the Crown Prince of Pamir. If so, it meant the man could potentially establish a duchy—or even an independent state.
"That's a serious matter," Charles V muttered. "So, what exactly is your suggestion?"
Maintaining a serious demeanor, Duke Capone replied, "For these reasons, I believe Crown Princess Astrid should take Count Michael as her consort."
The king rested his chin on his hand and fell silent, his thoughts heavy. Warm early summer sunlight streamed into the reception room, illuminating the peaceful rose garden outside. Yet Charles V's expression was anything but serene. Meanwhile, Duke Capone kept a composed exterior, though his fingers betrayed his tension as they fidgeted with his teacup.
If a marriage between Astrid and Michael were to come to fruition, it would undoubtedly have far-reaching consequences for the kingdom. Charles V exhaled deeply as he began to organize his thoughts.
"Sending Astrid to Count Michael…" he murmured, pausing to close his eyes. He understood all too well that this decision would touch upon the very survival of the kingdom.
The suggestion reminded Charles V of the queen's earlier proposal to marry Astrid to her family member—a match clearly driven by personal gain rather than the kingdom's welfare. While the queen's nephew was an easygoing boy, Count Michael was a man of extraordinary military talent and strategic acumen. Such a man, Charles V pondered, would never be content to remain merely the queen's consort.
Yet royal marriages were rarely, if ever, about personal happiness. Astrid, however, was different. Unlike himself, who had been able to keep the queen and her family in check, Astrid might not have the same leverage.
As he wrestled with these thoughts, Duke Capone broke the silence. "Your Majesty, in times like these, it is crucial to prioritize the kingdom's interests. If Count Michael were to join the royal family, his accomplishments would become those of the crown. And let us not forget the potential children from such a union."
Charles V opened his eyes, his attention suddenly sharpened. Of course. That much was undeniable. If Count Michael became his son-in-law, the kingdom's power would undoubtedly grow stronger.
"You're right," Charles V conceded. "No matter who becomes Astrid's consort, the expansion of their influence is inevitable. If that's the case, it's better to entrust the role to someone capable."
And with such an alliance, the royal bloodline would only become stronger. Charles V swallowed the unspoken thought. The queen's beauty had been a source of great satisfaction, but her intellect… remembering Randolph's tragic death only solidified his resolve.
Duke Capone carefully observed the king's reaction. He sensed that Charles V both trusted and remained wary of Michael's capabilities. This, however, was only natural for a king who was considering entrusting his daughter—and the kingdom's future—to such a man.
"Your Majesty, if I may speak freely, my observations of Count Michael have revealed him to be a man of exceptional character," Capone ventured.
Charles V turned his gaze back to the rose garden outside. Its beauty was unchanging, but the king's thoughts remained heavy. After a long silence, he nodded slightly. "If you believe that, it must be true. Marrying Astrid to Count Michael could help stabilize the borders."
Having made up his mind, Charles V called for a servant and quietly issued an order. "Bring Princess Astrid here. I must hear her thoughts on this proposal."
The reception room, bathed in the stillness of early summer, awaited the weight of a king's decision.
Meanwhile, back at Orlando Fortress, Michael returned to find an assortment of elderly individuals awaiting him. Their presence was a clear sign that his efforts to spread his reputation had borne fruit. Perched on his shoulder, his feline companion, Miaomiao, muttered dryly.
[Goodness… every single old geezer on the continent must have come. If they all attack at once, neither I nor Marcus will stand a chance.]
Startled, Marcus turned his long neck to face her. [Sister, is that true? Are those frail elders really that strong?]
Miaomiao nonchalantly licked her paw before replying, [Of course someone as simple-minded as you wouldn't sense their power. You'd need to be as sharp as I am to notice.]
Michael chuckled at their banter, shrugging. "Don't worry, Marcus. You won't have to fight them all at once."
As Michael landed lightly in the fortress's courtyard, Anita and Ismahal descended cautiously behind him, still unsteady in flight. They gripped their saddle straps so tightly that their hands ached.
"Ah, so you're the famed young Count Michael?" one elderly man bellowed. "You look so pale and feeble. They say you're a master archer?"
"Hmm," another chimed in. "Are you as skilled with a sword as with a bow? If so, I'd like to test you."
"Look at him! So handsome," an elderly woman exclaimed. "He reminds me of my third husband."
"Third husband? He's been dead for fifty years!" a gruff old woman retorted.
"He was the most handsome, though! That's why I'm comparing him, you crazy hag!" The two bickered loudly, and chaos erupted.
Michael sighed, steeling himself as he addressed the gathered crowd. "Thank you all for coming. Have you registered in the order of your arrival?"
A burly old man, wielding a massive greatsword, shouted back, "Why do we need to register in order? Does arriving first give us an advantage?"
Just as he expected, they were unruly and competitive. To bring this group under control, Michael knew he would have to stoke their desire to win. Now was the time to showcase the results of his meticulous preparation.