The Academy's Grand Strategy Hall was built to resemble a fortress within a fortress. Its circular walls were lined with heavy, enchanted tapestries depicting the historical monuments of the Edrath conquests, and at its center sat a massive, three-dimensional tactical map table made of solid slate. High-tier mana-crystals floated above the table, casting an eerie, holographic blue glow over the topography of the Northern border valleys that was swarming with shadow monsters.
Cassian stood at the head of the table, his slate-gray uniform buttoned securely to his chin, his posture tall and unyielding. After the psychological catastrophe at his private townhouse, he had constructed an absolute wall of professional, icy detachment. He needed to re-establish himself as a commander now in front of all the prominent figures present in this war room. He needed them to look at his brain, not his body.
"The winter campaign simulation will focus primarily on the supply lines through the Iron Caldera," Cassian spoke, his deep voice crisp, commanding, and perfectly echoing his past-life experience leading multinational syndicates. He tapped a glass rod against a specific valley coordinate on the map. "The traditional Valemont doctrine dictates a slow, heavily armored frontal advance which is truly outdated for my liking and it is mathematically stupid against a mobile northern force. We will be implementing a rapid, decentralized squad deployment pattern instead."
Prince Vikra Madurai sat across from him, tapping his chin with a slow, intensely intrigued smile. "Decentralized deployment? That is remarkably close to how our vanguard operates in the Steppes, Prince Cassian. Where exactly did an imperial scholar learn to think like a seasoned border general?"
"I read a book, Lord Vikra," Cassian deadpanned, his poker face immaculate but definitely avoiding Vikra's eyes.
"I suggest your ministers do the same before the simulations begin Great warrior of the Iron Steppes."
Vikra let out a low, smooth chuckle, leaning forward over the table.
"Fascinating. The more I audit your mind, Cassian, the more I find myself wanting to—"
*VROOOZT.*
Before Vikra could finish his sentence, a sudden, suffocating wall of pure, localized holy mana erupted from the shadows directly behind Cassian's chair. Sir Lucien Arden stepped into the blue holographic light. The Knight Commander hadn't taken his hand off the pommel of his holy broadsword since they returned from the capital. His ice-blue eyes fixed onto Vikra with lethal intensity, his aura physically pressing against the Eastern Prince's personal space like a falling boulder.
"The Grand Strategy Hall is a venue for military logistics, Lord Vikra,"
Lucien's voice cut through the room, his armor clinking softly.
"Not for foreign dignitaries to practice their unrefined courtly flirtations. Therefore keep your dialogue restricted to the coordinates."
Vikra's smile didn't fade, but his knuckles subtly tightened against his armrest as he noted the knight's hyper-vigilant, territorial posture.
"The Holy Knight has quite changed during the period he spent with the Prince of Edrath. I must say, it never crossed my mind that the swordmaster had such personality to him."
"Neither did I." Cassian also admitted as he didn't even bother to look back at his guard. He was entirely focused on the intense, highly inappropriate physical sensation currently developing beneath the mahogany table.
Thoris was sitting to his immediate right. The Barbarian Prince hadn't looked at the tactical map a single time since the briefing began. Instead, his sharp amber eyes were fixed entirely on the sharp line of Cassian's jaw. Beneath the heavy table, entirely hidden from the view of the ministers, Thoris had extended his thick, heavy leg, deliberately sliding his rough leather trouser against the side of Cassian's polished boot, pushing his weight firmly against the prince's knee in a bold, unspoken claim of territory.
Cassian's left eyebrow twitched violently.
'This muscle-brained toddler is playing footise under an imperial strategy table,'
Cassian scoffed in unadulterated executive fury.
'I am explaining modern flank tactics, and he is trying to initiate a mating ritual during a multi-national summit!'
Cassian sharply moved his foot back, but Thoris simply grinned ferally, his leg following the movement, firmly pinning Cassian's knee against the heavy wooden pillar of the table.
*SLAM!*
Cassian violently brought his glass rod down onto the slate map, the sharp crack echoing like a pistol shot through the silent hall. He leaned his hands flat against the table, his crimson eyes flashing with an unhinged, lethal authority that instantly silenced the entire room.
"If a single person in this room discharges their aura, makes a crude comment, or even moves their lower limbs out of their designated perimeter one more time," Cassian hissed, his voice dropping into a low, venomous aristocratic rasp that made the floating mana-crystals rattle, "I will personally execute you all for high treason, clear the slate, and run this entire simulation with my underclassmen alone. Focus on the valley coordinates, or vacate my sight. Am I making myself entirely clear, Prince Thoris?"
Thoris slowly pulled his leg back, a deep, breathless chuckle tearing from his throat as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Perfectly clear... My Commander. Perfectly clear."
*****
Seeking a sanctuary away from the suffocating atmosphere of the war room, Cassian immediately strode down to the private training grounds to inspect his secret underclassmen cult and probably ease his mind for a moment. The summit meeting didn't go well as he had planned because of the lunatics surrounding him. And as long as they remain on his side, nothing else will ever work out as intended.
Elias followed two paces behind Cassian, still serving him with that icy, silent, and highly dramatic butler judgment. When they reached the plaza, the forty junior prodigies were already executing their modern mana-compression drills. Leo was leading the vanguard, his palms crackling with a condensed, hyper-focused crimson flame that moved with the precision of a modern firearm.
"Big brother Lord Cassian!" Leo instantly stopped his drill, his eyes lighting up with a profound, brotherly devotion as he rushed toward the dais. But as he got closer, his smile instantly vanished. His sharp gaze tracked the deep, dark circles under Cassian's eyes and the hyper-vigilant tension in his shoulders.
"Brother..You look–... drained, My Lord. Has the capital burdened you? Has someone insulted your prestige?"
"I am fine, Leo," Cassian muttered, rubbing his temples. "Just standard administrative fatigue. Continue the sequence and let me see where I should help you."
"Well he doesn't look fatigued to me, little bird," a deep, booming voice rumbled from the courtyard archway.
Thoris sauntered onto the training grounds, his massive jagged greatsword resting casually on his bare shoulder. Right behind him, walking with the rhythmic, ominous clink of polished silver steel, was Lucien Arden. Neither of them had allowed Cassian to be out of their sight for more than a hundred seconds since the morning.
Thoris stopped at the edge of the dais, looking up at Cassian with a smug, thoroughly predatory smirk.
"Your prince simply spent the entire night in the city showing his... elite dominance... under the covers. He moved so fiercely he didn't even notice when an intruder slipped into his bed."
The words were meant to taunt Lucien, but they had a catastrophic biological effect on the plaza instead.
*FROOOOM!*
A sudden, explosive wave of pure, concentrated kinetic heat violently erupted from Leo's body. The underclassmen's eyes turned entirely bloodshot, his face twisting into a mask of pure, unbridled cult-like fanaticism. To Leo and the others, Cassian was now a divine entity, a sovereign commander who had saved their futures. Hearing a barbarian prince make a crude, suggestive comment about their lord's bedroom was an unforgivable sacrilege.
"You northern dog," Leo whispered, his voice trembling with a dark, murderous rage as a compressed blade of hyper-dense fire materialized over his forearm. "Insult his highness Cassian's honor again, and I will burn your lineage into ash!"
The forty junior prodigies behind him instantly dropped their drills, their hands glowing with synchronized, lethal spatial and elemental arrays, all of them locking their crosshairs directly onto Thoris's throat.
Thoris's grin widened into something wild and feral. He gripped the hilt of his greatsword, his elemental tundra-mana flaring to life. "Oh? The little vipers have teeth. Come on then, boy—"
"Leo, STAND DOWN!" Cassian's voice cut through the plaza like a physical whip.
Cassian stepped directly down from the dais, his slate-gray uniform rustling smoothly as he placed his own body directly between his fanatical student and the barbarian prince. He glared at Leo, his crimson eyes flashing with an unyielding authority. "If you discharge your mana without my direct command, Leo, you are no longer a part of my vanguard. Disarm your squad. Now."
Leo's breath hitched. The murderous flame in his hands instantly flickered and died, his head dropping in immediate, trembling submission.
"M-My apologies, big brother Cassian. I merely... I cannot tolerate them looking at you as if you are a prize."
Cassian let out a long, heavy sigh, realizing with a sudden, sinking dread that his private militia was becoming just as obsessively protective of him as his suitors were.
'I am running an asylum,' his mind wept.
'A literal asylum.'
"Anyway my little lambs I have an important announcement for you all. As of today your theoretical training will come into halt."
The underclassmen stood silently as they attentively listened to Cassian speak.
"Leave your training weapons back to the stands, go back to your rooms and pack up all of your bags. Because tomorrow morning we are going for a practical training to a dungeon raid and studying our empire's ancient ruins to decode the profound history of our magic."
"This is not for leisure little lambs, your courage will be tested and your lives will hang by the thread in the hands of the monsters. But this is to make you stronger so trust and follow me if you want to gain more strength...if not, then fuck your tails between your legs and fuck off my sight this instance."
Cassian trailed his eyes around them but the students didn't flinch, they didn't budge as they remained headstrong on the spot and Cassian smiled.
"Good. After all this is to prepare for the competition coming up next week. Keep on working hard and showing me good results and you will be one of the few chosen to represent the Academy alongside me."
'And I will work you all to the bone to search for the dimensional artifacts that I need to steal from the north.' Cassian chuckled on his hand that rested on his mouth. Lucien sighed shaking his head.
He can't be bothered to be surprised anymore, the prince always does things that are beyond his understanding.
"Now let's wrap up the announcement here, go back to your dorms and prepare yourselves for tomorrow."
"YES YOUR HIGHNESS!!"
The loud shouts echoed all over the training grounds and Cassian sighed also turning on his heel to leave.
"Now please excuse me, I will retreat first to get some rest."
Just then Cassian stopped walking, not turning around. "Sir Arden."
"Yes, Your Highness," Lucien replied instantly leaning closer from behind.
"If I explicitly told you to stop following me into my residential quarters, will y—"
"No."
Cassian slowly closed his eyes, inhaling a deep, calming breath of campus air.
"I wasn't finished with my sentence, Knight Commander."
"The answer remains no, My Prince," Lucien spoke, his ice-blue eyes flashing with a dark, suffocatingly intense as he stared at the back of Cassian's neck.
"My directive is absolute. I will not leave your side."
Thoris barked out a delighted laugh, stepping slightly closer to Cassian's shoulder.
"He's like an over-trained guard dog, Cassian. A silver hound barking at the wind."
Lucien's gloved hand immediately settled onto the pommel of his holy broadsword as he unexpectedly rolled his eyes.
"Says you," Lucien whispered, his voice laced with boredom "—while requiring fifty imperial vanguard soldiers just to help him strap on his armor before a summit."
The central courtyard fell into an absolute, suffocating silence.
Thoris's smirk instantly vanished and his amber eyes narrowing into slits of pure, primal rivalry. Bickering like little kids.
'Seems like they get along now.' Cassian sighed shaking his head and his fingers rested on his temple.
"Enough."
Cassian's voice came out as a whisper but, both men fell dead silent like two obedient wild beasts listening to their master.
Cassian slowly turned around on his heel, his patience having officially expired as he makes his way towards his residence, yearning for the deepest slumber.
But he couldn't help sparing a moment to scold the two big men hovering over his head.
"One of you is the future warlord of the Northern Steppes," Cassian spoke, his voice a low, as he pointed a white-gloved finger directly at Thoris's bare chest. The barbarian prince straightened slightly, his chest heaving.
"And the other is the most respected Duke, also a highly decorated knight in the Valemont Empire." He shifted his finger, pointing it straight at Lucien's silver chest-plate. The Knight Commander offered a stiff, silent nod.
"Yet somehow," Cassian hissed, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, cold-element mana that made the grass beneath his boots turn to frost, "—both of you continue to behave like undisciplined children fighting over the last sweet at a high-court banquet."
Silence hovered. A deep, agonizing silence.
Thoris looked away first, a low mumble vibrating in his throat. And Lucien followed suit a second later, sheathing his blade by a micro-inch. Neither man appeared ashamed; they just looked profoundly annoyed by each other's existence.
Cassian let out a long, heavy sigh, turning back toward the residential sector.
'Gods above. Truly, I am managing hyper-destructive toddlers. Very large, and very dangerous toddlers.'
"Your Highness!,"
"Urgh what now?"
Elias frantically stepped onto the dais, a rare expression of genuine political concern on his face. Elias whispered quickly.
"An unannounced delegation from the Capital High Court has just breached the main gates. High Inspector Vane, sent directly by the faction of Crown Prince Adrian and Duke Reinhardt. They are demanding an immediate, public audit of your sector's finances and military credentials."
Cassian's lips curved into a sharp, thoroughly wicked smirk.
'Adrian? Reinhardt? You're trying to retaliate because your little fertility trap failed at the gala?'
"Perfect,"
Cassian chuckled.
"Let them come. I have been looking for an outlet for my rage all morning."
Just then within five minutes later, High Inspector Vane—a pompous, heavily adorned bureaucrat wearing the purple silk robes of the Reinhardt faction—strode into the central plaza, flanked by ten imperial legal guards. He held a golden scroll bearing the Crown Prince's seal.
"Prince Cassian Valemont!"
Vane announced pompously, his voice carrying across the entire training ground. "By the collective decree of the High Court and Crown Prince Adrian, your sector is being audited for suspicious budget allocations. We have reason to believe you are wasting imperial funding to train an illegal, non-traditional private militia outside the jurisdiction of the war ministry—"
"Are you mathematically illiterate, Inspector Vane, or do you simply enjoy making a clown of yourself in broad daylight?"
Cassian's voice was an absolute ice-storm. He walked slowly down the steps of the dais, his arms crossed behind his back, his posture dripping with old Cassian's untouchable, unhinged arrogance.
"The funding for the Senior Elite Sector was personally approved by the Emperor under the Special Educational Defense Act of Year 74," Cassian drawled, his modern corporate legal knowledge dismantling the bureaucrat's argument in seconds.
"Every single copper allocated to these underclassmen is classified as a 'tactical experimental training expense.' If Crown Prince Adrian wishes to challenge an imperial decree signed by his own father, tell him to bring his own spine to the campus instead of sending a decorated clerk to do his sobbing."
Vane's face turned an ugly, mottled shade of purple. "Y-You... how dare you—! Guards, seize the financial ledgers from the main office! If the Prince resists, it will be treated as—"
"It will be treated as what, clerk?"
A sudden shadow fell over the inspector. Thoris Madurai stepped forward, his massive, bare-chested frame completely blocking the sun.
He didn't look like a prince; he looked like an absolute monster as he rested the flat of his jagged greatsword directly against Vane's delicate silk shoulder, the heavy iron forcing the inspector's knees to buckle.
"You soft-skinned capital rats love to bark when the King is far away," Thoris purred, his amber eyes bloodshot and terrifyingly wide as he glared down at the guards.
"But where I come from, when a parasite wanders into an alpha's territory to disturb his partner's morning... we peel its skin off and hang it from the tents. Should we test that doctrine here, Cassian?"
"Mhm perhaps we should....it doesn't sound like a bad idea for an experiment."
Before Vane could scream for mercy, the heavy, metallic clink of silver armor cut off his breath entirely.
Sir Lucien Arden stepped to Cassian's left side, his holy broadsword fully drawn, the dark gold executioner's mana singing a high-pitched, lethal note of absolute authority. He looked at Vane with dead, hollow ice-blue eyes.
"High Inspector Vane,"
Lucien deadpanned, his voice a freezing baritone that made the imperial guards instantly drop their hands from their hilts.
"As the appointed Knight Commander of the Vanguard, I govern the legal security of this summit," Lucien spoke, his voice a freezing, rhythmic tone that made the imperial guards' freeze on the spot.
"Your unannounced intrusion during an active international military exercise constitutes a severe breach of continental security. If you or your guards take a single step toward the prince's office... I will execute you on the spot for high treason under martial law. And Adrian will not be able to salvage your carcass."
Cassian stood perfectly still between the two towering, hyper-violent monsters. His crimson eyes stared blankly at High Inspector Vane, who was currently trembling so violently his silk robes rustled, scrambling backward out of the courtyard alongside his white-faced guards.
The Reinhardt faction's strategic audit had been completely, flawlessly demolished in less than sixty seconds. The two nightmare stalkers had just executed Cassian's defense like a highly coordinated, perfectly synchronized tag-team.
And for once? Cassian was actually, deeply proud of them.
Cassian slowly raised his hand, aggressively burying his face in his palm as a massive, throbbing headache bloomed behind his eyes. He looked at Thoris through the gaps of his white-gloved fingers. The barbarian prince was flashing him a smug, immensely proud grin, practically begging for praise. Then he glanced back at Lucien, who was standing close enough to breathe down his neck, his fingers twitching on his pommel with a dark, suffocatingly possessive pride.
'I wanted to show them that I didn't need them,' Cassian silently though, but just then a cold smirk slowly tugged at the corner of his lips.
'But I guess it can't be helped. If they want to be my hounds so badly... Then I'll use them instead. I will use them just as much as they want to be used.'
"On second thought...."
Cassian's voice crackled through the frozen silence like snapping ice. He slowly lowered his hand, looking at Vane through his fingers with a gaze so dark, so predatory, that the air pressure in the courtyard instantly plummeted.
"I was about to head to bed just now," Cassian sighed, taking a slow, elegant step down the dais. The pristine white of his gloves caught the morning light as he smoothed down his uniform jacket.
"—but you disturbed me. You disturbed my peace. And now, I have a magnificent headache because of your incredibly loud, unrefined disturbance, Inspector Vane."
"You have truly wasted a very busy man's time."
He stopped at the bottom step, his posture dripping with old Cassian's untouchable, tyrannical malice. "And for that... I just can't seem to find a way to forgive you at all."
Vane and his ten imperial guards flinched violently, taking an instinctive, panicked step backward into the dirt.
"W-We... we sincerely apologize, Your Highness!" Vane stammered, his eyes darting frantically toward the locked palace gates. His smug bureaucratic authority had entirely dissolved into a pathetic whine.
"I was merely a—a—"
"You were merely a what?" Cassian cut him off, his voice dropping into a venomous, amused whisper.
"My brother's messenger? Oh. Well, that's sad. It is truly too bad that you sided with my brother and landed yourself in this tragic situation."
Cassian sighed softly, tilting his head as if deeply considering the logistics of the courtyard.
"And perhaps dealing with you properly will ease the tension in my bones. Perhaps it will ease the headache splitting my skull apart."
"Thoris. Lucien."
The two men instantly stepped closer, their shadows completely enveloping Cassian's frame and Cassian casually pointed at Vane.
"I want his head rolling."
A collective, horrified gasp echoed from every underclassman and guards present in the training court. The air turned entirely still.
But Thoris? The Barbarian Prince grinned so wide and wickedly that every single one of his sharp teeth was completely exposed to the sun. He ripped his jagged greatsword off his shoulder, the heavy iron humming with bloodlust.
"With pleasure, My beloved Commander."
"Wait! You cannot—! This is a violation of the high court—!" Vane shrieked, his knees buckling entirely as he fell into the dirt.
"Yes I can Vane... and if the empire demands a structural reason for your execution," Cassian spoken over the bureaucrat's screams, his tone perfectly calm, indifferent, and chillingly corporate as he shrugged.
"Then we will just tell them you stormed in here uninvited during a multinational summit and threatened me. And that constitutes to high treason, doesn't it?"
Cassian turned his back on them, his slate-gray cloak swirling smoothly around his boots as he began to walk toward the residential sector.
"Now please, get it done," Cassian called out over his shoulder, adjusting his white gloves with a casual flick of his wrists.
"I actually don't have a birthday present for my big brother this Friday... and Vane? Vane could make such a lovely, festive gift. Wrap it up nicely, Lucien."
"As you command, Your Highness," Lucien's freezing voice echoed behind him, followed by the terrifying, high-pitched sing of a holy blade clearing its scabbard.
As Cassian walked away, the sounds of desperate begging and the heavy, brutal crunch of iron against steel filled the morning air, leaving a wide, thoroughly satisfied smile on the Tyrant Prince's face. If Adrian wanted to play games with his peace, Cassian was more than happy to send the first piece back.
*****