From Negotiation to Coercion

In Arcadia when a monarch died, until the next coronation, it was common courtesy to refer to the legal heir as August Orphan. If all citizens were the monarch’s children, then the heir naturally was the most honorable of them all—hence the term “august.” At least that was how the Arcadians saw it. By refusing to employ proper decorum, Kilian was telling the Blood Court that Kars didn’t recognize Oliver as heir to Nargoz’s throne.

Hell of a way to start negotiations.

The Nargozi Grand Prince’s eyes twitched, narrowing at Kilian who stared back as an equal rather than the lower ranked aristocrat he was. Instantly, Oliver disliked him. But seeing that Kilian’s face showed no contempt, he restrained himself. Others didn’t have the same self-control.

“What does Your Lordship mean by this? Please refer to the August Orphan as propriety demands. Unless, Kars refuses to acknowledge our lord’s rightful claim?” A Nargozi duke chimed in. But ignoring him, Kilian took three steps toward Oliver, breaching his personal space, and now standing a few centimeters away from him.

“In a case like this, decorum is for sycophantic cunts. My deepest condolences, long live Your Highness, all those are lies, and I don’t care to spew them. As things stand, if you take the crown, on your father’s first death anniversary, we will carry your coffin. My father’s words, not mine,” crossing his arms behind his back, Kilian replied without glancing at the indignant duke.

By using Klaus to give his words weight, Kilian knew he’d instantly throw Nargoz’s court into a panic. And as expected, many started fidgeting in their pants. Meanwhile, the bodyguards couldn’t understand why the Junior Duke so actively provoked the Blood Court.

Still, Oliver kept his composure, and with a smile, motioned for Kilian to take a seat. Nodding, Kilian took his assigned place, and the Blood Court followed suit. For a second, Kilian swept the sanguine tapestry depicting Nargoz’s history, then returned his attention to Oliver.

“According to His Grace, there’s no way that Nargoz, the most powerful of the four tributary kingdoms, could miss the tributes’ deadline. Better, it makes no sense that after 3,000 years of loyal service, the emperor’s first response, is the worst of humiliations. This year’s incident quite possibly stems from the will of Emperor Niklas, and if he doesn’t get what he wants, next year we shall have a repeat.” Taking a brief pause, Kilian observed all the changes in Oliver’s face. Using the irregular flutter of the prince’s eyes and the nervous moves of his lips, Kilian confirmed his assumptions, and pursued.

“However, what the Empire wants isn’t something you can give. Perhaps even the Tear of Kalarac, your Crown Jewel can’t compare. Otherwise, your father wouldn’t be a flayed corpse. Your back is against a glassy, fractured wall, and you’re about to tumble from the 15th floor.

Seeing your plight, my father sends me to offer you Kars’ protection—in exchange for a few things.” In less than five minutes, the situation went from negotiation to coercion. And though Oliver couldn’t digest the implications, as the future monarch and protector of 200 million lives, he had no other choice.

“What do you want?” Oliver asked. With his father’s death, Nargoz lost its only Archon. And with its military’s level, to say nothing of the empire. Any one of the grand dukes could effortlessly trample it. Such was the gap between the true Arcadian high nobility and the tributary kingdoms. A supportive Klaus was indeed his only hope, and Kilian saw that right off the bat.

Klaus dared not get attached to things he couldn’t protect from himself. Therefore, his mysterious guardian aside, he didn’t have friends. Only servants and tools. Since Oliver understood that truth better than Kilian, the talk could proceed smoothly. But even with his father’s crushing pressure, there were things Kilian knew Oliver would never agree to. Those two things, he’d snatch.

“Simple. For the next 100 years, Nargoz trades only with Kars. Orstalph, zuri, knife-staves, dra reactors, all will come from Kars. Naturally, we set the prices.” Although zuri was the number one mineral of magitech matters, most couldn’t afford it in large quantities. At the state level, orstalph became the cheaper option. And while overall less efficient, orstalph was more malleable than zuri. Still, though the largest reserves lay in Kars, most countries and duchies had substantial quantities.

On top of other requirements, by forbidding Nargoz from exploiting its own reserves, Kilian was forcing them to become Kars’ economic slave. Let’s not mention the Blood Court. Even Oliver couldn’t contain his fury. But as he neared his outburst, Kilian cut, “In exchange, you will receive three Crystal Lords and 12 Zurishell-equipped guards,” and instantly, all dissent vanished.

Equipped of three meters tall, amethyst mech suits, with refraction fields, stasis fields and dra lasers able to blast a city into dust with a casual strike, Kars’ Crystal Lords stood at the peak of Arcadia’s military might, a match for even the empire’s Golden Knights. More importantly, they represented Klaus’ will.

With those three alone, before attacking Nargoz, the empire would first have to confront Kars. How could Oliver not be elated.

His lips stretched into a broad grin, but then he wondered if the boy had such authority, and as if anticipating his words, Kilian pulled out his letter of credence stamped with Klaus’ Mystical Seal. 

Before the glowing amethyst eagle, Nargoz’s August Orphan had nothing to add, and bowed in thanks.

“No need for false pretense. From now on, Nargoz is in your care. As long as you don’t threaten our foundation and future, we will do our best to meet your expectations,” Oliver humbled himself to stroke Kilian’s ego. But at that time, Kilian swept the Blood Court, seeking among them the true reason for his eager visit—but failed to find her.

“I do not see Her Highness,” Kilian said, and the Blood Court answered his words with hardening gazes and clenching fists. Even Oliver and his queen showed complex looks.

“Well, how can I say this? My sister...hasn’t left her chambers in the last three years. I’d rather not disturb her.”