117. Neutral Stance

“So… that’s what happened,” Alice said quietly as she sat down across from Ravenna, her fingers lightly tapping the polished surface of the desk.

She tilted her head, suspicion flashing in her sparkling brown eyes. “Are you sure you don't know how all the magical beasts died?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Ravenna.

Ravenna merely smiled, an enigmatic glint in her gaze. “How about you let me read the report first?” she said playfully, avoiding the question altogether.

Alice rolled her eyes but smiled back, understanding that some answers would have to wait. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to it.” With a graceful nod, she excused herself, closing the door behind her.

Ministry of Finance and Logistics, Imperial District, Capital of Ancorna

The heavy oak doors to the Minister’s private office creaked open, revealing a grand room lined with towering bookshelves and thick velvet drapes that muffled the late afternoon sun.

“Welcome, Your Highness Prince Nolan,” said a man in his late forties, his voice polite yet cautious. He wore the formal dark blue uniform of an imperial minister, gold embroidery marking his high status. This was Count Jeremy, the head of the Ministry of Finance and Logistics, known for his sharp mind and even sharper political neutrality.

He offered a small bow before stepping aside to let Nolan enter. “It’s quite late in the day, Your Highness. If you had sent word ahead, I would have come to the palace myself to discuss whatever matter you wished.”

Prince Nolan, dressed in an elegant black coat trimmed with silver, waved a hand casually as he entered. “No need to trouble yourself, Count Jeremy. This is not something I wish to discuss within the palace walls.”

The Count nodded slowly, his expression giving nothing away. He gestured toward a pair of armchairs near a large desk, and the two men sat opposite each other.

There was a beat of silence before Count Jeremy leaned forward slightly, hands clasped neatly on his knee. His sharp eyes locked onto Nolan’s with polite curiosity.

“So…” he began, voice smooth as silk, “what matter brings a fine imperial prince like yourself all the way to my humble office, away from the prying ears of the palace?”

Nolan smiled, resting one ankle over his knee with the ease of someone confident in his station. “As you no doubt already know” he lightly tapped his chest “my dear sister Ravenna has been reinstated into the imperial succession race. And, it seems, Father is finally moving towards making preparations to choose a successor.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice slightly. “Naturally, I believe it is time for me to intensify my own preparations. Like my siblings have.”

Count Jeremy remained motionless, his polite smile unwavering. Not a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

“So you wish to formally start building your own faction within the court,” Jeremy said, stating it plainly. “Just as your brothers and sisters have done.”

He stood up slowly, walking behind his massive desk and settling into his high-backed chair. His smile, while courteous, now had an unmistakable edge to it.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness,” Count Jeremy said, lacing his fingers together. “But as you are well aware, the Ministry of Finance and Logistics maintains strict neutrality regarding matters of succession. It would not be proper for us to back any single candidate.”

Nolan opened his mouth to speak, but Jeremy smoothly continued before he could.

“And even if” Jeremy’s voice grew heavier, like a gavel falling “even if we were free to choose sides, I fear that, in my naïve and limited judgment, I would not pick you to support, Your Highness.”

Nolan blinked, his confident smile faltering as the weight of Count Jeremy’s words settled heavily in the room. “What are you saying, Count?” he asked, a sharp edge creeping into his voice, disbelief tightening his features.

Count Jeremy’s expression remained composed, the same courteous smile playing at his lips, but the words that followed were cold—measured like a blade honed over decades in courtly battles.

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Jeremy said, his voice steady and deliberate, “you bring very little to the table compared to your siblings.”

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the polished surface of his desk, his gaze never wavering from Nolan's face.

“Prince Landon has ‘secretly’ aligned himself with the Vassal State regions, advocating for the establishment of a Senate to regulate the Emperor’s power—a move that has garnered significant support among the anti-imperial sentiment harboding territories yearning for a voice in governance.”

He tapped the table once more, as if marking the points like a judge passing sentence.

“Prince William campaigns for a leaner and more efficient succession plan. He proposes to abandon the archaic Golden Silkworm Method that has embroiled Ancorna in countless civil wars since its founding. Instead, he looks toward the Conley Empire’s streamlined model for peaceful transitions of power—a vision many of the merchant houses and scholarly circles find deeply appealing, plus his recent rise as a Capital’s Hero gives him an edge .”

Count Jeremy’s voice grew firmer, almost instructional, as he continued:

“Princess Serena believes in the power of magic and technological innovation. She seeks to expand our relations with the Western Continent, aiming to usher in a new era of advancement for Ancorna. Her progressive stance has earned her the favor of inventors, scholars, and ambitious young nobles alike, I believe this was precisely why you chose to align yourself with her, not building a faction of your own.”

He paused briefly, letting the weight of each word anchor into the silence of the room before moving on.

“And then there is Princess Ravenna,” Jeremy said, his voice lowering slightly. “Despite her exile, despite the stain on her name, she once rallied a formidable faction around the idea of centralized military power—an end to the constant political skirmishes that bleed the Empire dry. A system of strong, centralized authority. In simpler words, Your Highness, an authoritarian regime. Yet even that controversial vision drew many powerful houses, loyalty aside they still took to back her side, seeking order over endless chaos.”

Jeremy steepled his fingers and fixed Nolan with a piercing stare.

“And you, Your Highness? What do you offer?”

The room felt colder somehow, the late afternoon light dimming behind the heavy curtains as if the very air recoiled from the question.

“You have ambition, yes” Jeremy said, his voice almost pitiful now. “But you have no central agenda. No cause. No dream larger than yourself. Your siblings fight for change—whether right or wrong, they stand for something.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a near whisper:“You, Prince Nolan, stand only for your own survival.”

The words hung between them like a sentence already passed. Nolan sat rigid in his seat, the anger bubbling under his skin barely restrained behind a tight jaw and clenched fists.

Count Jeremy gave a small, respectful bow of his head.

“This is not a condemnation, merely an observation,” he said smoothly. “In the world of emperors and kings, vision is the currency of power. Without it, even a prince is but another pawn waiting to be sacrificed.”

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