The Great Banquet Hall of the Imperial Palace was an oppressive sea of gold leaf, heavy silk tapestries, and suffocating aristocratic vanity.
By royal decree, every administrative, military, and educational activity across the Valemont's Holy Empire had been brought to a mandatory, grinding halt. It was the birthday of Crown Prince Adrian, and the court intended to ensure the entire continent bowed to the spectacle.
Rows of high-ranking dukes, foreign ambassadors, and stone-faced ministers choked the lower tables, their diamond-encrusted chalices catching the light of a thousand floating mana-candles. At the apex of the room sat Emperor Cedric and the Empress, their expressions pristine, unblinking masks of absolute imperial prestige.
For three grueling hours, the court heralds had done nothing but loudly project Adrian's triumphs. The air hummed with magical illusions displaying his recent border defense layouts and his heavy tax extractions, systematically shifting every ounce of spotlight away from the Second Prince's recent academic and military victories.
Adrian sat at the center of the royal table, his golden robes loose at the collar, his eyes already glazed over with a dangerous, unstable sheen from multiple heavy chalices of imported wine. He looked down from the high dais, his gaze locking onto Cassian, who sat perfectly poised at the head of the lower tables. Cassian wore his pristine white gloves, his posture radiating a cold, untouchable elegance that a three-hour propaganda show couldn't dim.
The alcohol in Adrian's system, fueled by months of bitter, toxic frustration over his failing grip on the court, completely shattered Adrian's royal filter. He stood up abruptly, knocking his golden chalice over. The deep red wine spilled across the white linen cloth like fresh blood as he staggered down the steps of the dais, pushing a servant out of his way.
"My esteemed lords! General ministers of the realm!" Adrian shouted drunkenly, his voice echoing loudly through the sudden, horrified silence of the banquet hall. He pointed a trembling, crimson-flushed hand directly at Cassian's face.
"We sit here celebrating the achievements of the crown... yet we tolerate the presence of an unruly, arrogant child in our midst! My little brother... Prince Cassian... who thinks his minor academy credentials give him the authority to execute High Inspector Vane on a whim! A dedicated, high-ranking servant of the High Court, slaughtered like a dog in a training yard! Is this the behavior of a Valemont prince, or a mindless, volatile tyrant who mocks our laws?!"
The entire hall froze. The Empress gasped softly into her silk fan, while Emperor Cedric's eyes narrowed into slivers of terrifying, localized gravity. The high nobles held their breath, waiting for the Second Prince to explode, to draw a weapon, or to cause a catastrophic scene in front of the foreign dignitaries.
But Cassian didn't even blink. His default deadpan facade remained entirely locked in place.
He slowly raised his own glass of vintage wine, his hands perfectly steady, his crimson eyes tracking his brother's staggering form with a look of profound, icy amusement. Unlike Adrian, who was visibly slurring his words, Cassian possessed a 79-year-old mercenary soul that could handle high-potency liquor like pure water. He knew exactly how to navigate an unoptimized corporate ambush.
"My dear Brother,"
Cassian spoke, his voice a calm, smooth baritone that effortlessly cut through the thick tension of the hall, dripping with effortless, cold-headed arrogance.
"You seem remarkably overwhelmed by the weight of your own festivities. High Inspector Vane breached an active international military summit without imperial authorization and actively threatened a royal representative during a security drill. Sir Lucien Arden executed him under standard, binding martial law. If your chosen ministers cannot comprehend basic imperial military protocol... perhaps you should spend less time auditing my academy and more time educating your staff."
A low, collective murmur of absolute admiration rippled through the back rows of the high nobility. Cassian looked stable, rational, and completely in control of his faculties—while the Crown Prince looked like a degenerate, emotional liability in front of all the prominent figures.
What Adrian didn't know—what no one in the hall could possibly guess—was that Cassian had spent the afternoon coordinating with Elias to subtly spike Adrian's personal wine cask with a rare, highly concentrated northern hallucinogen.
Right on cue, the poison took its definitive hold.
Adrian's eyes suddenly widened in pure, unadulterated horror. He stopped mid-sentence, his jaw dropping as he began clawing frantically at his own neck. He screamed at shadows that didn't exist, his mind completely twisting the golden tapestries into giant, bleeding serpents slithering down from the ceiling.
"Get them off me! The serpents! Adrian's line is burning! They're choking the crown!" the Crown Prince shrieked, collapsing into a pathetic heap on the polished marble floor directly in front of the foreign ambassadors. He began vomiting violently, his limbs convulsing as the imperial guards rushed forward in absolute panic to drag his screaming body out of the banquet hall.
Cassian slowly set his glass down with a precise, soft clink, completely ignoring the chaotic cleanup as he turned his back on the dais. He smoothly moved toward a group of high-ranking border dukes from the Western Marches, who were currently staring at the empty, ruined royal table in shock. Standing right beside Cassian was Leo, looking immaculate and dangerous in his fresh Crimson Vanguard uniform.
"Lords of the Western Marches,"
Cassian purred, his voice smooth, calculating, and chillingly corporate as he gestured to his top student.
"While my brother recovers from his... temporary, unfortunate indisposition... allow me to introduce Leo Valemont, the vanguard leader of my new division. His performance in the northern dungeons this week has officially secured a new, unintercepted supply line for your territories. I believe you will find his tactical mind far more reliable for the future of our borders than the current crown administration."
The dukes looked at the corridor where the disgraced, screaming Crown Prince had just been dragged away, then looked back at the brilliant, calm second prince and his fiercely loyal prodigy. The political alignment in the room shifted instantly. Cassian hadn't just survived his brother's birthday banquet; he had completely demolished Adrian's reputation, placing Leo directly into the elite spotlight to prepare the foundation to take the Crown Prince's place.
But what Cassian didn't fully realize in that moment was that the calculating eyes of these high-ranking figures did not truly settle on the half-blood prodigy, Leo. They simply rested on him.
To the seasoned vipers of the high court, Leo was merely a brilliant weapon—but Cassian was the hand wielding it. Even Emperor Cedric sat in total, heavy silence on his obsidian throne, his piercing gaze tracking his second son's every movement with a dark, newfound appreciation.
Recognizing that the atmosphere had shifted entirely, Emperor Cedric brought the public celebration to an abrupt conclusion far earlier than the court itinerary dictated. With a single wave of his armored hand, he dismissed the lesser nobles and invited Cassian, alongside the most vital continental rulers, foreign ambassadors, and prime ministers, to a highly secure, separate imperial meeting hall.
Rich, enchanted elven wines and heavy dwarven spirits were poured as the heavy iron doors sealed the outside world away.
This high-level diplomatic summit had been the Emperor's main objective from the very beginning. He had cleverly guised this crucial meeting within the framework of Adrian's birthday celebration, intending for the Crown Prince to be tested for this exact moment. But since Adrian had just caused a catastrophic, drug-fueled scene in the banquet hall, his standing in the imperial court was now incredibly shaky, leaving a massive power vacuum at the table.
Cassian evaluated the room in a single, sweeping glance. He knew very well that a young academy student like Leo, despite his combat prowess, would never be able to handle political talks of such grave, continental importance. If pushed into this arena, Leo would panic under the suffocating pressure of world leaders, and the flawless reputation Cassian had meticulously built for him would instantly crumble to ash.
Therefore, with the smooth, unbothered confidence of a seasoned corporate syndicate boss, Cassian took the seat at the right hand of the Emperor to handle the meeting himself.
The agenda for the night was staggering in scope:
>**The Shadow Monster Crisis:** Formulating a multinational alliance between the eastern and western continents to deal with the unprecedented, violent high rise of shadow monsters breaching the border gates.
> **Intercontinental Commerce:** Restructuring high-volume trade routes between continents to ensure safe passage through monster-infested waters.
> **Fiscal Stability:**
Establishing unified, modernized ways to maintain taxes across the provinces without inciting peasant rebellions or merchant strikes.
> **The Sovereign Tribes:**
Most importantly, discovering diplomatic or leverage-based ways to persuade the isolationist elder races—such as the elves and beast-kin—to abandon their neutrality and join the alliance.
As the discussion progressed, Minister Datuk, a prominent member of the Edrath council who belonged strictly to Crown Prince Adrian's political faction, desperately tried to stand out and salvage his patron's ruined reputation.
"Your Imperial Majesty, if I may interject," Datuk spoke up, his voice sharp with calculated defiance as he gestured toward the map table.
"Regarding the shadow monster incursions and the border tax maintenance, Crown Prince Adrian had already drafted a highly comprehensive suggestion before his... unfortunate illness tonight. He suggested a heavy, immediate draft of the commoner populace to fortify the vanguard walls, funded by a secondary tariff on the merchant guilds."
A few loyalist ministers nodded, trying to breathe life back into Adrian's camp.
But Cassian crushed it all in less than sixty seconds.
"A remarkably short-sighted strategy, Minister Datuk,"
Cassian drawled, his voice a cool, mocking baritone that instantly commanded the room. He leaned back in his velvet chair, casually swirling the wine in his glass. Drawing upon the ruthless administrative wisdom and economic warfare strategies of his past lives, he systematically dismantled the councilman's entire argument.
"Drafting the commoner labor force during peak harvest seasons will completely collapse your domestic agricultural supply chains within six months,"
Cassian reasoned coldly, looking at the minister as if he were a slow-witted child. "Furthermore, imposing a secondary tariff on the merchant guilds will simply force them to reroute their smuggling paths through the neutral zones, entirely bypassing imperial taxation. My brother's suggestions wouldn't solve the monster crisis; they would simply trigger an artificial famine and a domestic depression."
The hall went dead silent. The Edrath minister turned a dark shade of crimson, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"Instead,"
Cassian continued, leaning forward and tapping a precise finger on the northern border map, "we utilize the Crimson Vanguard's newly secured dungeon trade lines to subsidize the border defense. We offer the merchant guilds tax exemptions only if they fund the mercenary outposts directly. This keeps the commoners in the fields, keeps the gold flowing, and places the financial burden entirely on the wealthy elite who require the protection."
The foreign ambassadors looked at each other, their eyes wide with absolute astonishment. The economic logic was flawless, aggressive, and completely brilliant.
By the time the bells struck midnight and the talks were officially done, Cassian had gained himself an immense, unprecedented backing from the international community. The Western Continent Dukes, the foreign ministers, and even the strict Edrath councilors were looking at him with deep respect, practically tripping over themselves to offer private contracts, military investments, and political alliances.
Standing up with effortless elegance, Cassian took the crystal decanter and personally poured everyone another round of drinks, his face a perfect, deadpan mask of royal hospitality.
But beneath that calm, white-gloved exterior, his corporate mind was racing at an absolute, unhinged speed. He looked at the powerful figures raising their glasses to him, a dark, triumphant thrill blooming in his chest. With the newfound wealth, military backing, and political leverage he had just secured tonight, he didn't just have power within the academy anymore.
He now possessed the structural authority to command even throughout continents.
'Hehe, with this even Lucien will find it a hassle to decapitate my head.'
*****