The Imperial Decree didn't arrive via a standard messenger. It was brought to Kazriel's private estate within the capital by the Prime Minister himself, who was sweating through his silk robes and bowing so low his nose was practically polishing the marble floorboards.
"Your Grace," the Prime Minister squeaked, holding up a golden scroll sealed with the Emperor's personal dragon crest. "A crisis has arisen in the Northern Territories. The Mountain War has completely mutated. The local garrisons have been slaughtered. The region is now a frozen hellscape overrun by high-tier monsters, ruthless bandits, and rogue weapon masters who have broken their oaths to the crown."
Kazriel sat on his velvet lounge chair, casually peeling a grape and dropping it into Aria's mouth as she rested her head lazily against his chest. He didn't even look at the scroll.
"Tell the Emperor I'm on vacation," Kazriel said deadpan. "I am currently a full-time Duke and a full-time fiancé. My schedule is entirely booked with spoiling my beautiful partner and ignoring imperial politics."
Aria giggled, swallowing the grape and adjusting her position so she could look up at him with those sharp emerald eyes. "The North? That's the lawless ridge. The terrain is entirely jagged peaks, frozen canyons, and localized mana storms. Standard imperial legions can't even deploy their formations there. It's an individual combat playground."
"Exactly, Lady Aria!" the Prime Minister nodded frantically, wiping his brow. "The enemy forces are led by exiled weapon masters—men who can cleave glaciers with a single swing of their sword-qi. Regular knights are just meat for the grinder up there. We don't need an army. We need a monster. The Emperor specifically told me to tell you: 'Get your overpowered ass up north before I have to go activate my own bloodline and handle it.'"
Kazriel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He's getting lazy in his old age."
Author's Note: When the Emperor views a national security crisis as an 'administrative inconvenience' for his favorite Duke, you know the power scaling in this empire is completely broken.
"Fine," Kazriel murmured, his eyes flashing with a sudden, icy glint of genuine anticipation. A lawless zone full of rogue weapon masters? Honestly, his knuckles had been itching ever since he arrived at the capital. "But I have conditions. First, Aria is coming with me as my Chief Strategic Advisor. If I have to breathe in freezing mountain air, I'm bringing my personal heater."
Aria's cheeks flared a light pink, but a dangerous, beautiful smirk spread across her face as her fingers intertwined with his. "I wouldn't let you go alone anyway, Kaz. Who else is going to make sure you don't accidentally level an entire mountain range when you get bored?"
"Second," Kazriel continued, turning his gaze toward the courtyard window. Down below, Amien was currently running laps while carrying a massive stone pillar on his back, with Mariela shouting encouragement. "We're taking the kids. Amien needs a real battlefield if he wants to master those dragon scales. You can't cultivate a true beast in a peaceful courtyard."
The Prime Minister looked absolutely horrified. "You... you want to take an unranked disciple into a war zone filled with S-rank psychopaths and rogue swordsmen?"
"Think of it as a premium, hands-on internship," Kazriel smiled smoothly, a terrifying, suffocating aura briefly flaring from his body that made the Prime Minister's knees completely lock up. "By the time I'm done with that mountain, those weapon masters will be begging the imperial executioners to save them from us. Pack the bags, Aria. We're going hunting."