Episode-864
Chapter : 1727
"Let us be clear, Your Majesty," Liam continued, his voice now a low growl that vibrated in the chest of every person in the room. "I do not trust you. I do not trust your court. And I certainly do not trust a peace offered by a nation that has spent the last century sharpening its knives on our borders."
He placed both hands on the table, leaning in until he was staring directly into Seraphina’s eyes. "If this is a ploy... if this is some elaborate theater to lower our guard so your legions can strike... know this."
The mana in the room spiked. It wasn't a spell, just the sheer, crushing weight of the King's intent flooding the space.
"I will not just defeat your army," Liam whispered, and the sound was louder than a shout. "I will burn your kingdom to ash. I will sow your fields with salt. I will dismantle your cities stone by stone until the name 'Altamira' is nothing more than a cautionary tale told to frighten children. I will not surrender a single one of my own. Not a soldier. Not a peasant. And certainly not a Ferrum."
The threat was absolute. It wasn't political posturing; it was a promise of annihilation.
From the shadows near the back of the room, Lloyd watched the scene with the detached, analytical gaze of an engineer watching a pressure gauge redline. He stood among the minor nobles, disguised by his lack of flashy attire, but his mind was already running combat simulations.
Distance to the Queen: Forty feet. Obstacles: Two heavy tables, twelve guards. Threat level: Critical.
Lloyd shifted his weight slightly, his hand brushing the spatial pocket where his spirits rested. If Liam attacked, the room would turn into a slaughterhouse in three seconds. If Seraphina’s guards reacted poorly, it would be two seconds. Lloyd calculated the vectors. He would need to neutralize the Lion Guard on the left flank first—they were too eager, too twitchy. Then he would have to shield Seraphina, not because he trusted her politics, but because he knew the woman beneath the crown.
This is going south, Lloyd thought, his internal monologue a dry, sarcastic commentary on his impending doom. We came here for a handshake and we’re about to get a bloodbath. Wonderful. I should have stayed in the lab. The Golem Heart never threatened to start a continental war.
He looked at his father. Arch Duke Roy hadn't moved a muscle, but the air around him was distorting, a heat haze of pure, contained violence. Roy was ready. He was probably already visualizing the trajectory of his first strike.
The silence stretched, thin and brittle as ice. One cough, one dropped scabbard, and the peace talks would end in a massacre.
"Is that your warning, King Liam?" Seraphina asked softly. She didn't blink. She didn't retreat. She looked at the man threatening to erase her civilization and simply tilted her head.
"It is not a warning," Liam replied, sitting back down with a deceptive casualness. "It is a statement of fact. Now. Convince me why I shouldn't treat your proposal as an act of aggression."
The tension in the chamber was a physical thing, a tightening noose around the collective throat of the assembly. The minor nobles near Lloyd were sweating, their eyes darting between the King and the Queen, looking for the nearest exit. Lloyd, however, remained perfectly still. He was running a diagnostic on his own readiness. His spirit energy was topped off. His Void reserves were full. He had three escape routes mapped out, though using them would mean abandoning the diplomatic mission and likely becoming an international fugitive—again.
Just another Tuesday, Lloyd thought wryly.
He watched Seraphina. He knew her better than anyone in this room. He knew the terrified girl who had been suffocated by her own mana. He knew the sister who had defied a tyrant. He knew she wasn't here to play games. But he also knew that King Liam wasn't bluffing. Liam was a ruler who smiled while he cut you, but he would absolutely burn a kingdom down if he felt his own people were threatened.
Seraphina took a slow breath. She didn't look at her guards. She didn't look at her advisors. She kept her eyes locked on Liam.
Chapter : 1728
"You speak of burning ash and salted fields," Seraphina said, her voice steady, carrying a resonance of power that hadn't been there months ago. "You speak of the past as if it is a chain we are doomed to drag forever. You threaten me with extinction because that is the only language our nations have spoken for a hundred years."
She stood up. It was a risky move. In a room full of edgy warriors, sudden movements invited steel. But she moved with a deliberate, regal slowness.
"I did not come here to be threatened, King Liam. And I did not come here to threaten you. I know the cost of war. I have seen my own capital turned into a prison by my brother. I have seen the Devil Race treat my people like cattle."
She placed her hands flat on the table. "You say you will not surrender one of your own. Good. Because I am not here to take. I am here to give."
Arch Duke Roy’s eyes narrowed. "Give what?" he rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "Land? Gold? These are temporary. They do not buy trust."
"Trust is not bought," Seraphina corrected him, turning her gaze to the Arch Duke. "Trust is forged. Usually in fire. Sometimes in blood."
She stepped away from the table, walking into the open space between the two delegations. It was a position of extreme vulnerability. A single arrow, a single spell, and she would be dead before her guards could scream.
"I am proposing a permanent solution," she announced, addressing the entire room. "Not a treaty written on parchment that can be burned. Not a truce that expires when the winter ends. I am proposing a binding of bloodlines."
Lloyd felt a sudden, cold prickle on the back of his neck. His instincts, honed by two lifetimes of dodging catastrophe, were screaming at him. Abort, his mind yelled. Whatever she is about to say, it’s going to be a problem. A massive, logistical, headache-inducing problem.
"A binding of bloodlines?" King Liam’s eyebrows shot up. The hostility in his posture eased slightly, replaced by a sharp, calculating curiosity. "You speak of marriage."
"I do," Seraphina said.
The room erupted in whispers. A political marriage was standard procedure, but between Bethelham and Altamira? It was unheard of. The hatred ran too deep.
"And who," Liam asked, his voice dripping with skepticism, "would be the sacrifice? Do you offer a cousin? A niece? Some minor royal with a drop of blood to seal the deal?"
Seraphina smiled. It was a sad smile, one that Lloyd recognized. It was the smile of someone who had looked at all the options, done the math, and realized there was only one path forward, no matter how difficult.
"I offer no cousin," Seraphina said softly. "I offer the Crown."
The whispers died instantly.
"I offer myself," she clarified. "The Queen of Altamira. I offer my hand, my throne, and my kingdom in a union with House Ferrum."
Arch Duke Roy actually flinched. It was a microscopic movement, a tightening of the jaw, but for a man of his stoicism, it was the equivalent of a scream. "You wish to marry into my house?"
"I wish to unite our houses," Seraphina said. "To end the feud by making us one family. If the Queen of Altamira is a Ferrum bride, there can be no war. An attack on you becomes an attack on myself."
King Liam leaned back, steepling his fingers. The threat of violence had evaporated, replaced by the high-stakes thrill of political gambling. "A bold move, Your Majesty. Unprecedented. You would subjugate your kingdom's independence to a foreign house?"
"Not subjugate," Seraphina said firmly. "Partner. An equal union."
"And who," Liam asked, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he began to see the shape of the trap, "is the lucky candidate? The Arch Duke is... happily married, I believe."
Roy grunted, a sound that clearly conveyed don't even think about it.
Seraphina didn't look at Roy. She didn't look at the King. She turned, slowly, deliberately. Her gaze swept over the rows of knights, the clusters of minor nobles, the scribes and the functionaries.
Lloyd tried to blend in with a tapestry. He tried to make himself small, insignificant, just another face in the crowd. He activated his stealth techniques, suppressing his presence to that of a potted plant.
It didn't work.
Seraphina’s eyes locked onto him. They cut through the shadows, through the crowd, through his disguise of mediocrity. There was no hesitation. No searching. She knew exactly where he was.