Another aide, ever eager to please, chimed in with a sycophantic tone.
"Ah, we aren't as young as we once were, Your Grace. You must take care of yourself. Perhaps a nap during the day would help?"
A third noble added, "Indeed! Surely Your Grace has been too busy to rest. If you're feeling unwell, perhaps we should adjourn for the day and resume the meeting tomorrow."
The room quickly filled with murmurs of concern for the duke's health. Unlike the northeastern faction, which was mired in internal disputes, the northwestern faction was firmly under Duke Rochester's control. Any dissenters had already been eliminated during the chaos of the war.
Rochester furrowed his brow and shook his head.
"That won't be necessary. I appreciate your concern, but let's continue with the meeting."
He straightened in his seat, attempting to refocus on the discussion. Yet, the repetitive complaints and grievances of the other nobles only pulled his thoughts further astray.
Philip… why haven't I heard from you?
Philip was the duke's son, born from his truest love, Esmeralda. Though excluded from succession due to the laws favoring legitimate heirs, Philip was exceptionally capable and held a special place in his father's heart.
However, since Philip had been conscripted into the allied forces supporting the Kingdom of Elonia, all contact with him had ceased. This silence gnawed at the duke, his worry growing with each passing day.
The other nobles exchanged glances as they noticed their leader's distracted state. It was clear that continuing the meeting in his current condition would yield no meaningful results.
One noble cleared his throat and proposed,
"Ahem, there seem to be several unresolved issues on our agenda. Perhaps we should reconvene tomorrow afternoon?"
"That's a sensible suggestion," another agreed. "There's little point in pushing forward without proper preparation. We'll only have to meet again."
"Yes, let's call it a day and resume tomorrow after a good rest," a third chimed in. "What do you say, Your Grace?"
Rochester, startled out of his thoughts, looked up at the mention of his name.
"There are still materials to review, so we're suggesting postponing the meeting until tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"
The duke nodded absently, relieved to have an excuse to end the session.
"Very well. Let's reconvene tomorrow. You've all worked hard—come to the castle tomorrow, and I'll ensure you're treated to a fine luncheon before we resume."
With that, the nobles began to rise, gathering their belongings. What had been less of a council meeting and more of a covert assembly of spies with ties to the Pamir Empire finally came to an end.
As the chamber emptied, Duke Rochester made his way back to his quarters, his expression heavy with unease. This silence surrounding Philip could not be ignored. If his son had perished in battle, he should have received official word by now—but there had been none.
Once inside his private chambers, the duke summoned his most trusted knight. Lowering his voice, he gave his orders.
"It seems something has happened to Philip. I need you to find out what has become of him."
The knight, who had served the duke for many years, responded with a respectful bow before leaving the room. Though his feelings toward Philip, a legitimized bastard who had enjoyed numerous privileges, were complicated, he knew his duty to the duke came first.
Meanwhile, Michael awoke nestled between Marcus and Miaomiao. Stretching and enjoying the soft fur beneath him, he quickly regained his composure. Both Marcus and Miaomiao remained fast asleep, their exhaustion evident.
It's no wonder—they've barely rested while flying nonstop.
After dressing and tidying his belongings, Michael left the two to their slumber. Breakfast was brought to him shortly after, prepared by a chef accompanying some of the more indulgent members of the expedition. The meal was unexpectedly delightful for a campaign setting.
Stepping out of his tent, Michael surveyed the camp. The Pamir Empire lay just ahead, and it was time to reorganize.
Until now, they had relied on airborne travel due to the lack of enemy threats. However, such an approach would no longer suffice. While smaller groups on individual mounts could prepare for battle mid-air, transporting larger numbers made them vulnerable.
To address this, Michael had tasked Leonardo with studying the structure of the airships commanded by Drayko, a notorious raider who targeted merchant vessels from the Holy Land of Radiance and the Pamir Empire.
Drayko had welcomed Leonardo warmly, and now, the results of their collaboration stood before Michael.
Leonardo approached with a beaming smile, bowing deeply before gesturing grandly toward their creation.
"This, my lord, is the newly constructed Crassus! A marvel of engineering!"
Tall and golden-haired, Leonardo's fervent admiration for Michael was always a bit overwhelming. Yet, his loyalty and skill were undeniable, and once again, Leonardo had exceeded expectations.
Michael stepped forward, drawn toward the Crassus as if spellbound. The sleek, ivory-colored airship spread its elegant wings in a graceful arc. Gasps of awe erupted around him.
"Unbelievable! You're saying we can actually fly in that?"
"This is incredible. Where did he find such an alchemist?"
"Not just an alchemist—it's said he's of Yoma descent. Given that Michael's maternal family were executioners, it makes sense."
Listening to the admiration around him, Leonardo puffed out his chest and declared,
"It doesn't just fly, my lord. The side-mounted cannons make it a formidable weapon as well."
Michael worked to steady the excitement building in his chest, a thought crossing his mind.
Of course… every great hero needs cannons.
On the road to Pamilian, the capital of the Pamir Empire, a small fortress stood guard. Isolated from its surroundings, the fortress acted as a shield protecting the heart of the empire, instilling pride in the soldiers stationed there.
As the air grew colder with the approach of night, the fortress's commander, Bulak, spotted a glittering dot on the far horizon. He frowned.
The twinkling light in the dark, endless sky was unlike anything he'd ever seen in his life. Bulak immediately sensed it wasn't a natural phenomenon like a star or a shooting star. The light shimmered faintly and, with each passing moment, inched closer to the capital.