After a long period of contemplation, he finally made a decision.
"There's no other way. I'll have to confess and beg for leniency."
At the same time, a dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes. If he played his cards right, he could not only secure leniency but also exact revenge on the other tribes that had framed the Stone Bear Tribe for the attack on Michael's estate.
The Royal Capital of Lania: The King's Private Drawing Room
King Charles V read the report from the underground prison and was so shocked that he nearly collapsed in disbelief.
"What? The nobles of the Northwestern Territories have been smuggling military supplies and weapons to the five great tribes? And this continued until recently?"
The king's furious voice reverberated against the walls of the drawing room. His aged face, already lined with deep wrinkles, turned an alarming shade of red as he slammed the report onto the table.
"How could such treachery go unnoticed for so long?"
The Northwestern Territories were the most remote and perpetually disgruntled region of the kingdom. Though their defiance was often overlooked, the king had tolerated their grievances and even granted them substantial resources in an effort to maintain peace.
But for this region to not only rebel but also engage in large-scale smuggling with enemies? It was beyond betrayal.
Seething with rage, Charles V barked an order. "Summon the Court Steward of the Northwestern Territories to me immediately!"
The Rochester Ducal family was in utter chaos. A letter from the Court Steward, with whom they had maintained a clandestine relationship, had arrived, bearing dire news.
The Duke of Rochester, usually composed and exuding the dignity befitting a high noble, could no longer contain his emotions.
Tearing open the sealed letter, he gritted his teeth as he read its contents.
The letter informed him that Charles V had ordered a sweeping investigation into the nobles of the Northwestern Territories for their collusion with the enemy. Worse yet, the letter concluded with a veiled threat that the investigation could lead to the extermination of entire noble families.
"Charles V, that wretched fool! After I kept silent about my son's brutal execution, now he seeks to destroy my house?"
The duke slammed his fist on the table and leapt to his feet, pacing the room with trembling hands. He threw the letter to the floor, where it fluttered before settling.
His frustration and despair felt like a bottomless abyss.
"After all we've endured protecting this barren land from invasions, this is the thanks we get? Surely, our minor transgressions could be overlooked."
Though smuggling to the enemy was a grave crime, the duke convinced himself that circumstances justified their actions.
Furthermore, Charles V was the same man who had tortured and killed his beloved son, Philip.
Without hesitation, the duke summoned the nobles loyal to him.
Soon, the dimly lit conference room was filled with the most powerful figures of the Northwestern Territories. The flickering firelight from the hearth cast shadows across the walls, and the tension in the room was palpable as the nobles exchanged anxious glances.
The Duke of Rochester took his seat at the head of the table and addressed the assembly in a low, somber tone.
"It seems Charles V has finally decided to betray us. According to the Court Steward, a comprehensive investigation is underway, one that could lead to the eradication of entire families."
A noble leapt to his feet, his voice rising in outrage. "This is outrageous! After everything we've done for this kingdom, he seeks to destroy us for such a trivial offense?"
Another noble chimed in, "Exactly! We've served this nation tirelessly. Even if we diverted some supplies to the neighboring kingdom, it's nothing compared to the sacrifices we've made."
"They've always seen us as a thorn in their side," another muttered bitterly. "When it suits them, they call us the guardians of the North. But the moment we step out of line, they condemn us without hesitation."
The hypocrisy of their protests was evident. These were the same nobles who had sacrificed soldiers—both theirs and others—in pursuit of their own interests. Yet, this was the nature of politics.
The Duke of Rochester remained composed amidst the rising complaints, though his eyes gleamed coldly.
Raising a hand, he quieted the room and spoke with calm determination.
"The time has come to put an end to this. We have tolerated Charles V's reign for far too long. It is time to remove him from the throne—and to eliminate the so-called heir he intends to install."
He paused briefly, his thoughts turning to Michael.
"That arrogant upstart, parading as a hero and now a grand duke, thinks he can rise above his station? Preposterous."
The mention of Michael caused the room to fall silent once more.
The duke pressed on, his voice steady but menacing. "If we do nothing, at least six of our families will be destroyed, and the rest will be torn apart by opportunistic vultures. It's better to act now, while we still have strength, and strike them down."
Reaching into his coat, the duke retrieved a small vial and held it up for the nobles to see.
"This," he said, "is a colorless, odorless poison purchased from the shaman of the Pamir Highlands. It cannot be detected, nor can it be cured. It is said to be less a poison and more a curse from an ancient deity."
As the nobles leaned in, their gazes fixated on the vial with a mix of fascination and greed, the duke continued, "We will administer this to Charles V and that upstart Michael. Afterward, we will marry Astrid to my eldest son. The throne will then be ours."
The room was silent, the nobles' eyes glinting with avarice.
With this plan, there would be no need for risky military action. The balance of power could be overturned with a single, decisive act.
After returning from his tour of the estate, Michael finally had a chance to enjoy a meal with his father and sisters.