After Nreu, Heya, and Aluric left the throne hall, the Emperor remained seated for some time, silently staring at the doors that had already closed behind them.
His gaze did not waver.
Cold.
But lingering far too long for someone who was truly indifferent to what had just occurred.
The Empress was the first to break the silence.
"Everyone, leave the throne hall."
Her voice was calm, yet firm enough that no one dared hesitate.
Courtiers, servants, and guards quickly bowed and began filing out of the chamber.
One after another.
Until at last, the massive doors shut, leaving only the Emperor and Empress alone.
Only then did the tension that had gripped the hall this entire time seem to ease, if only slightly.
The Emperor slowly lowered his head and let out a heavy breath.
A similarly weary sigh escaped the Empress a moment later.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Today had not gone as planned.
They had expected difficulties.
Perhaps surprises.
But not an outcome like this.
One heir had displayed a strong affinity for fire and an impressive volume of mana.
Another had turned out to be an exceptionally rare wielder of two elements, with perfectly balanced potential.
And the third...
The Emperor closed his eyes.
The third had received nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Not the slightest response.
Emptiness.
The white mana stone had not lied.
No gift.
Only a cold and merciless truth that could neither be disputed nor concealed.
The Emperor slowly dragged a hand across his face, feeling the weight of exhaustion steadily building within him.
Such an outcome threatened far more than the fate of a single heir.
It created a problem on a far larger scale.
In this world, bloodline and origin were worth only as much as the strength that stood behind them.
One could be born a prince.
The heir of an ancient house.
Receive a name, a title, and the right to lay claim to power.
But all of it became meaningless the moment there was no real strength behind those pretty words.
The world respected only those capable of protecting their own position.
Imposing their will.
Forcing others to acknowledge them.
Those who possessed strength earned the right to speak in place of others.
They gained power.
Influence.
Freedom.
But those incapable of defending themselves would, sooner or later, become tools in someone else's hands.
Useful.
Temporary.
Easily replaced.
At present, a fragile balance still remained between empires and kingdoms.
Far too unstable to be called true peace.
More like a prolonged pause before the next conflict.
And when that silence finally ended, no one would care about nobility, bloodline, or intentions.
Only one thing would matter.
How much power stood behind your name.
"The world does not forgive weakness," the Empress finally said quietly.
It was not a question.
More a reminder.
The Emperor let out a faint chuckle, only at the corners of his lips.
Without joy.
Only bitter understanding.
"We know that better than most."
After a brief pause, the Empress lightly closed her eyes, as though already calculating the consequences ahead.
"A message must be sent to King Tem."
Her voice was soft and remarkably composed.
As if they were discussing just another matter of state.
"He should be informed that the marriage agreement between Prince Aluric and Princess Flay is no longer valid."
The Emperor listened in silence, not interrupting his wife.
For ruling dynasties, such unions had never been matters of emotion or personal choice.
Marriage was a tool.
A means of strengthening alliances, solidifying agreements, and forging new political obligations between nations.
At times, one successful union was worth more than years of negotiations.
The Empress continued.
"In exchange, another prince should be offered as a candidate for the marriage alliance."
Her tone remained level and collected.
There was no irritation in it.
No regret.
Only the practiced pragmatism of someone for whom such decisions had long since become a routine part of governance.
As though they were not discussing the fate of her own son, but merely another piece on a political board.
"Breaking the engagement without an adequate replacement may be perceived as an insult."
The Emperor turned his gaze toward her.
Then thoughtfully tapped his fingers against the armrest of his throne.
"And who do you propose in his place?"
He fell silent for a moment, mentally sorting through the possible options.
"Of those still free of marital obligations, only Alain, Mern, and Nreu remain."
The Emperor frowned slightly.
"Alain and Mern are still too young."
He paused briefly before adding,
"We will have to find out whether the Kingdom of Tem is willing to wait until they come of age."
After a short silence, he added,
"Or we will have to explain Nreu's... particular temperament to them."
A trace of irony slipped into his voice.
The Empress considered it.
Alain and Mern were fifteen-year-old princes, and their magical affinities had not yet fully awakened.
Too uncertain an option.
The Kingdom of Tem might very well interpret such an offer as an attempt to delay the matter.
Nreu, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.
He had already undergone testing and demonstrated impressive potential.
A strong affinity for fire.
A large reserve of mana.
A promising heir.
From a political standpoint, he was nearly the perfect candidate.
If not for one issue.
His temperament.
Fire rarely gave rise to accommodating people.
Too impulsive.
Too domineering.
Far too accustomed to taking what he wanted by force.
Nreu was exactly that kind of person.
He handled restrictions poorly, and other people's advice even worse.
And he always preferred acting according to his own judgment.
Regardless of what others thought.
The Empress lightly tapped a fingernail against the armrest.
"We will offer them both options."
The Emperor looked at her questioningly.
"Alain and Mern as prospects for the future."
"And Nreu as the immediate option."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"After the first semester at Arkin Academy concludes, we can arrange a New Year's banquet."
"That will allow the Kingdom of Tem to evaluate the candidates personally and make their decision themselves."
The Emperor nodded thoughtfully.
That truly was the most diplomatic solution.
The Empress lowered her eyes slightly.
"As for Aluric, he will be forbidden from returning to the Empire until he completes his education."
Her voice remained calm.
Far too calm.
"We can no longer use him either as a prince or as a marriage instrument."
She paused briefly.
"If, after graduating, he decides not to return, I would be perfectly satisfied with that."
The Emperor remained silent for several seconds.
Then his gaze slowly lowered.
Toward the torn crest of the Kray Empire, still lying on the cold stone floor in the center of the throne hall.
A small piece of cloth.
An insignificant object.
And yet, at the same time, a symbol of a decision that could no longer be undone.
The Emperor exhaled heavily.
He could already feel the approaching headache.
The news that the Seventh Prince of the Kray Empire had been born without a gift would spread quickly.
Far too quickly.
Like a forest fire in a dry season.
Fortunately, Aluric had rarely been seen by representatives of other nations.
At the very least, that gave them some ability to contain the consequences.
At last, the Emperor rose from his throne.
"I will send word to the Kingdom of Tem regarding the dissolution of the previous agreement between Aluric and Flay."
He paused briefly.
"And propose that they consider new candidates in six months, during the New Year's banquet."
The Empress merely gave a short nod.
Rising from her own throne, she gracefully made her way toward the exit of the throne hall.
For several more seconds, the Emperor stared at the torn crest lying on the floor.
Then he turned and silently followed after her.