No matter how hard Klaus pushed—
it still took another week.
He went himself.
Through the portal network.
One noble after another.
Those who accepted—
he met in person.
Those he didn't trust—
he sent envoys.
He had done the math.
They wouldn't risk killing his messengers.
Him?
They would.
Without hesitation.
So he adjusted.
Stopped acting like he was untouchable.
For now—
he chose survival.
Risk would come later.
Not yet.
August recovered by the third day.
Klaus didn't praise him.
Didn't thank him.
He buried him in work.
Punishment.
The captain split himself between two fronts.
The underground city—
filling with lowborn and middleborn.
And the estate—
where negotiations never stopped.
Horalde took the army entirely.
Klaus handed him full authority.
The man rarely appeared—
only when it mattered.
Strategy.
Defense.
War.
The king chose a slower method.
Rot.
Skirmishes increased.
Too many.
Too frequent.
And they didn't have enough men.
Didn't have enough time.
If this dragged on—
they would lose everything.
So they held position.
Defensive.
Klaus hated it.
Egor was recovering.
But something had changed.
He pulled away.
Not openly.
Not enough to call out.
But it was there.
Distance.
Invisible walls.
Klaus saw them.
Didn't understand them.
Guilt, maybe.
Blaming him.
For not protecting him.
For letting it happen.
"Don't come today."
The words dropped flat.
Mid-meal.
Klaus didn't move at first.
He had made it a habit—
to eat with him.
Every time.
He set the plate down.
Slowly.
Looked at him.
"You don't want to see me."
Not a question.
Egor froze.
"No—no, that's not—"
His voice faltered.
"I'll just be busy."
"Today."
A breath.
"Tomorrow too."
"And after that."
Klaus's eyes narrowed.
"Busy."
"In a locked room."
"What exactly are you doing?"
Silence.
"I can't tell you."
Again.
That wall.
"I don't like that."
"I know."
Egor looked down.
"I'm sorry."
Klaus watched him.
Longer than necessary.
As if waiting.
For something.
Anything.
"Fine."
He stood.
Picked up the plate.
Turned.
"Where are you going?"
"You said you're busy."
"I won't interfere."
The door closed.
Egor didn't move.
Then—
his hands came up.
Pressed hard against his face.
"If you knew…"
A whisper.
"You wouldn't even touch me."
His hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From what came after.
If Klaus found out—
Klaus didn't leave.
Not really.
He stopped in the corridor.
Turned.
And went straight to Brod.
"I don't care what he told you."
The door slammed open.
"You will tell me what he's hiding."
Brod didn't even look up.
"No."
Klaus stepped forward.
"That wasn't a request."
"It doesn't matter."
Brod finally met his gaze.
"This is not your decision."
"You think I won't get it out of him?"
"No."
A pause.
"I think you will."
"And I think you'll regret it."
Klaus's jaw tightened.
"Then you'll tell me."
"I won't."
"You don't get to refuse me."
"I do."
Brod's voice hardened.
"I have wounded men dying outside this room."
"Skirmishes are getting worse."
"We don't have enough healers."
"We don't have enough time."
"And you want me to stand here arguing with you?"
Klaus didn't move.
"Then don't."
"Tell me."
Assistants came in.
Once.
Twice.
By the third—
Brod snapped.
"Fine."
He told him everything.
The damage.
The surgery.
Why Egor didn't want him there.
Klaus went completely still.
"An operation…"
His voice dropped.
Cold.
Those bastards.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"He thought you'd go after them?"
"They're already dead."
"No."
Brod shook his head.
"He thought you'd look at him differently."
A beat.
"That you wouldn't want him anymore."
Silence.
Then—
a sharp breath.
"What an idiot…"
Klaus dragged a hand through his hair.
"How does he even—"
He stopped.
"…No."
"That fits."
"That empty head of his."
"I'll talk to him."
"Not today."
Klaus's eyes snapped up.
"I'm asking you as his healer."
"Wait."
"Let the procedure happen."
"Then go to him."
Klaus turned before he said something worse.
What was he supposed to do?
Go back—
touch him—
pretend nothing had changed?
Say it didn't matter?
Explain something he barely understood himself?
He could break bones.
Burn men alive.
Make enemies beg.
That—
he understood.
This?
No.
His head throbbed.
If he had known—
they wouldn't have died quickly.
He would have taken his time.
He knew exactly how.
"Lord Klaus!"
A soldier burst into the corridor.
Nearly stumbling.
"There's trouble!"
"Say it properly."
"The estate—they're forming up. Looks like an attack!"
Klaus's expression shifted instantly.
"Who?"
"Not the king."
"The eagle banner."
"…Digger."
Klaus narrowed his eyes.
"Didn't expect that from him."
"Have they moved?"
"No—but they're close."
"We only had patrols—"
"That was the correct decision."
Klaus turned.
"Let's go."
War—
was simpler.
Klaus didn't wait behind the gates.
He rode out.
Small detachment.
Horalde stayed.
August came anyway.
Ignored orders.
"I don't think this is an attack," August said quietly.
Klaus watched the formation.
"No."
"That's not a strike."
"Escort."
Fifty men.
No more.
At the front—
Slash Digger.
"Klaus Defender!"
The man's voice carried effortlessly.
"Still alive, I see."
Danger.
Even now.
Age hadn't dulled him.
"Slash Digger."
Klaus didn't slow.
"You honor my temporary residence."
"What brings the king's war advisor here?"
"You invited the country."
"I accepted."
Klaus's gaze sharpened.
"That's… bold."
"For one of the Six."
"I don't hide," Digger said.
"I spoke to His Majesty before coming."
"I told him I would hear you out."
A pause.
"Or do you prefer to talk in the road?"
"No."
Klaus gestured toward the estate.
"You're my guest."
"But your men stay outside."
"Do you trust me enough to walk in alone?"
Digger studied him.
Long.
Careful.
"I've lived long enough to read people."
"You won't kill me."
"It would gain you nothing."
A step forward.
"Lead."
Inside—
food.
Wine.
Digger ate first.
Without ceremony.
"So."
He glanced at August.
"You live too."
"Why hide?"
August smirked.
"I was inconvenient."
"The king removed the problem."
"I helped him."
He tapped his temple.
"That man died."
"What's left works for Klaus."
"No title."
"No name."
Digger snorted.
"Interesting."
"Cutting off your own crest."
"I understand the lowborn."
"But you?"
"And you, crown prince?"
"You could have waited."
"Took the throne properly."
"Instead—you destabilize everything."
"Do you want this country destroyed?"
"I want it free."
Klaus didn't raise his voice.
"Before I moved against him—"
"I secured our borders."
Digger's eyes narrowed.
"How?"
"Temporary agreements."
"Mutual benefit."
"They won't interfere."
"Not while I reshape this country."
Silence.
Then—
interest.
"You think ahead."
"For someone your age."
"What exactly are you building?"
"Free slaves?"
"And then what?"
"They starve?"
"And the nobles?"
"You strip them of everything—what happens then?"
"Freedom."
"Security."
"Wages."
"Structure."
Klaus leaned back slightly.
"But that's not why you came."
"Say it."
Digger didn't hesitate.
"I spoke to the king."
"He told me why the queen was hidden."
"I see no reason to doubt him."
"And no reason for the highborn to follow you."
Klaus smiled.
Cold.
"And what did he tell you?"
"That grief broke her."
"That childbirth finished the job."
"That he hid her—"
"To protect her dignity."
Klaus let out a quiet laugh.
Sharp.
Controlled.
"And the truth?"
"She did lose her mind."
Klaus's voice didn't change.
"But not like that."
"I can bring the slave who treated her."
"From the beginning."
"A slave's word means nothing."
"They say what they're told."
"And now—you own them."
"I freed them."
"Only those who chose to stay remained."
Digger shook his head.
"Still weak."
"Her word against the king's?"
"No."
Klaus reached into the drawer.
Pulled out two worn ledgers.
Placed them on the table.
"This matters."
Digger frowned.
Klaus opened them.
Names.
Descriptions.
Abilities.
Transfers.
Family records.
Royal records.
Matched.
One by one.
As Klaus spoke—
Digger's expression darkened.
Slowly.
"So that's it…"
"They're afraid."
"Yes."
"Afraid of ending up here."
A finger tapped the page.
"And those who have nothing?"
"Nothing to fear."
"Nothing to gain."
"Everyone wants something."
Klaus smiled again.
Cold.
"I know how to give it."
Digger leaned back.
Studying him.
"And me?"
"A man who lives for war."
"You want to end it."
"What do I get?"
Klaus lifted his glass.
Drank.
Slow.
Measured.
He had him.
Almost.
"I have an offer."
His voice was calm.
Precise.
"One that benefits us both."