"--Pascal also said that given Rhin-Lotharingie's political position, it would be best if we managed a peaceful coexistence with the Caliphate."

These words, which came from a young girl merely ten years old, were a proposition towards the foreign policy of an empire.

After over a year spent in Nordkreuz effectively as a prisoner-of-war and political hostage, Princess Sylviane was at last returning to her homeland. Her father Geoffroi, the Emperor of Rhin-Lotharingie, had crossed the border in person to pick her up. And now she snuggled into the side of his broad chest as they rode the royal carriage back.

The young girl watched as an amused smile stretched across her father's visage. His large hand brushed the tresses of her dark-purple hair before rubbing the top of her head. His touch was heavy yet it brought a faint and nostalgic smile to the girl's lips. It was a comforting luxury that she had not experienced for too long.

"Pascal seems to think that politics consist of mere numbers and tools, freely manipulated for efficiency at will," the Emperor laughed. "The Caliph has an ego too. There is no way he'll simply agree to be friendly, when we Lotharins took lands that he painstakingly seized from the Imperium during the last war."

"Not even when we're the enemy of their enemies?" The Princess asked with a curious gaze. "I mean, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', right? Doesn't the Caliphate have to struggle against Skagen's naval projection and the Holy Imperium's maritime dominance over the Inner Sea?"

Power projection, maritime dominance -- they were concepts that Sylviane wouldn't have dreamed of using two years ago. But now, she spoke of them with pride and confidence, hoping to impress her own father with her maturity and growth.

Though for a moment, Geoffroi's smile wavered as he lightly shook his head:

"Sadly, geopolitics aren't that simple. It's not just situational circumstances, but also a clash of cultures and personalities. Apart from interests, there are also cultural values, the egos of rulers, and the trust between two societies..."

An all-embracing warmth soon returned to the father's doting eyes as he looked down to meet the daughter's wisteria orbs.

"I take it Pascal is an adherent of 'Realpolitik'? He is a Weichsen."

"Uh... maybe? Ummm, w-what is real-polit-ick?" Sylviane carefully pronounced the unfamiliar term, abashed that she still fell short of her father's expectations.

However his return smile, full of fatherly pride and love, chased all of her concerns away with ease.

"Looks like the know-it-all hadn't taught you everything after all," Geoffroi chuckled again. "Don't worry. Father will gladly coach you once we get back. And the next time you meet Pascal you can make him envious at just how much you've outgrown him!"

"Oooh, that would be great!" The child princess beamed back. "He's always wearing this smug little grin around. It would be nice to see him falter and cringe for just once!"

Geoffroi continued to smile as he rhythmically stroked her hair. However his blue-violet eyes grew pensive as he turned to look out of the carriage's window at the passing landscape. Their entourage followed the riverside road along the North Lotharingie River as they made their way west, crossing the Empire's heartlands as they journeyed back to the capital of Alis Avern.

"Sylv, you know, you've been talking non-stop about Pascal ever since I picked you up."

There was a tinge of sadness in her father's voice, and Sylviane felt her guilt instantly spike. She had been so engrossed in telling her father about everything she had experienced and learned that she had forgotten to ask about how he, or the rest of the family, was doing.

Her sunny demeanor vanished in an instant. Within seconds, the gloomy clouds of dejection swept in as her gaze dropped to the carriage floor.

"I'm sorry father. I was carried away--"

She then stopped as he reached down and gently lifted her chin back up.

"No, that's not what I meant," Geoffroi reassured with a wistful smile.

For several moments, neither the Emperor nor the Princess said a word. The two of them simply looked upon one another. The father's gaze was proud yet sentimental, while the daughter stared back with uncertain curiosity.

Sylviane couldn't figure out what her father was thinking, not even when his eyes grew glassy with moisture. It was almost shocking to see, as she had never, not even once, seen her father be overwhelmed by emotions.

He was Geoffroi the Great, the steadfast Emperor whose masculine strength was admired by every Lotharin throughout the realm. He was the ruler of the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie, whose efforts to strengthen the nation through his half-century reign showed its results when he twice defeated the Holy Imperium of the Inner Sea.

Everyone whom Sylviane met, be it Pascal, or Marshal Karl von Moltewitz, or King Leopold of Weichsel, they all spoke of her father with great respect.

"Sylv..." Geoffroi finally broke the silence. "What do you think about Pascal? Do you enjoy being with him?"

"He's fun, and interesting... but but, i-it's not like that I like him or anything!"

Sylviane almost shouted back in a delayed, flustered response. She stared at Geoffroi with indignation in her gaze. Yet before those earnest, penetrating eyes, the young girl soon wilted and glanced away.

Her cheeks were burning red and hot. She didn't even understand why. It was just... embarrassing to talk about.

Besides, Pascal was from Weichsel, a country they had been hostile with until just a few weeks ago. She could be friendly and courteous with him, but she couldn't actually be friends with him.

...Let alone anything more than that.

"Royalty should never be afraid of their own feelings," Geoffroi added sternly. "Now, tell father: did you enjoy your time with Pascal? And you swear to the Holy Father that it's the truth, because this is very important."

Sylviane wanted to shy away from her father's gaze, to hide her embarrassment from him. However there wasn't any cover for her to shelter behind, not even a loose blanket. Under her father's unrelenting scrutiny, she finally returned a meek nod.

Silence returned to the air once more, and the young princess couldn't bring herself to peek at her father's eyes. Was he dejected? Disappointed? Disconsolate?

However the words that he spoke next showed none of those emotions:

"I am considering offering him your hand in marriage."

For a brief moment Sylviane completely froze. Her cheeks were glowing-red as her eyes grew as wide as saucers.

"W-w-what are you talking about, father!?" She snapped back. "I'm only ten!"

The young princess felt stunned by her father's proposal. After all, mages rarely married before mid-life, which left two decades after reaching adulthood to find a mate. Marriage betrothals at her age were exceedingly rare, even for a third-born child who had little chance of inheriting the family titles.

"Do you dislike him?"

"I-it's not that I hate him or anything, b-but isn't this against..."

"What have I told you about expressing yourself, Sylv?" Geoffroi cut in with another stern frown. "Clarity. Royalty must speak with clarity, confidence, and determination. There must be no room for misunderstandings. Because if you provide an opportunity for others to misinterpret your words and misrepresent your intentions, they will do so and exploit you to their benefit."

Sylviane shut herself up at once as she cast her eyes down again, ashamed in the wake of her father's lecturing words.

"Sorry."

"You never talked like that before," Geoffroi pondered aloud. "Where did you pick this habit up?"

"P-Pascal said..."

Her meek voice trailed off again as Geoffroi gave a deep sigh.

"That brat."

For the next minute, an uncomfortable silence settled over the two as Sylviane heard only the rhythmic creaking of the wagon's wheels. She could only hope that her reply didn't just ruin any chances of her meeting Pascal again.

"Sylv... do you remember what your mother once taught you about the 'Gaetane Legacy' -- about how our family doesn't make political marriages?"

Sylviane rushed to nod back. It was precisely what she tried to bring up a moment ago:

"Yes father. Before Great-Great-Grandfather Charles the Bold united the Twelve Oriflamme Paladins and founded the Coalition of Twelve Tribes during the Rhin-Lotharingie Independence War, he had to abandon the love of his life and settle for an arranged marriage made by his parents. He blamed his wife and never forgave her, not even when she helped him faithfully during the war. It was not until his dying years that he finally recognized the damage done to his children by his failed marriage."

A nostalgic grin broke across her father's expression as he gently stroked her hair once more.

"Trust your mother to always emphasize the romantic parts," Geoffroi spoke with bittersweet nostalgia that left Sylviane briefly confused before his tone stiffened again. "Charles the Bold was an avid student of history, and he believed strongly that the endurance of any royal dynasty lay in the number of consistently able monarchs it produced. Before he died, he stated that the Gaetane family should never marry for political purposes again, but for loving, supportive families that can raise strong heirs -- not only physically but also mentally, emotionally, spiritually."

The Emperor's doting eyes connected with his daughter's wisteria gaze again.

"Sylv, I know you've been told many things about what a Princess should be. But always remember that as a Gaetane, duty to our family is the same as building the future of our realm." Geoffroi continued his fatherly teachings with a proud emphasis. "The Holy Imperium's Golden Age ended when one of their finest emperors completely failed as a father. Therefore it doesn't matter if it's man or woman, conqueror or administrator -- those who abandon their role as a parent also fail as a hereditary ruler."

Slowly but surely, Sylviane nodded back to her father's smile. She carved his words into memory, promising herself to remember them even years, even decades from now.

"I am certain that Pascal has many excellent qualities and will surely grow to be a capable man," Geoffroi acknowledged, much to the daughter's growing joy. "However, would he be a good husband? A good father? That I'm not sure about..."

"Father," the Princess murmured hesitantly. "You really want to m-marry me off to him? I mean, I d-don't object if you really..."

"Marry you off?" The Emperor said before he laughed. "Oh never! I'm considering asking for his betrothal to you, not the other way around!"

Then, as his tone gradually settled back down:

"Sylv, I know this might seem a bit early, but a political marriage cannot be arranged late..."

With her cheeks still glowing like charcoal, Sylviane instinctively opened her mouth to object. However her father laid a gentle finger upon her lips, stopping her before she even voiced a single word out loud.

"Yes, I know. I'm going against the decree of our dynasty's founder. Yet there is a problem with not forging alliances by marriage, and I have felt it keenly over the years. Ever since its founding, the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie has remained a collection of autonomous and semi-independent feudal states. It is ruled by not just the Crown in Alis Avern, but also four kings and many powerful dukes that command entire regions. Our markets cannot adhere to standardized regulations. Our military lacks centralized control. Our efforts in the economy and industry are always disorganized, and our frontiers vulnerable to neighboring aggression..."

Sylviane nodded back as she understood the pain in her father's voice. Even Pascal had recognized this problem, which he highlighted to her as Rhin-Lotharingie's principal weakness that Weichsel exploited during the war.

"--Your grandfather and I both tried to change this," Geoffroi continued on in begrudging words, "and we both gave up when faced with powerful resistance from the nobility. These centralization reforms are necessary for our nation's future, yet they are also deeply unpopular. For any chance of their success, we need powerful alliances, the most reliable of which can only be obtained through ties of marriage and bonds of blood."

"And... that's why you want me to marry a Weichsen." The Princess realized at last, her embarrassment finally fading in the face of royal duty.

"Not just any Weichsen, but the son of their greatest duke and marshal since that upstart commoner Hermann von Mittermeyer," the Emperor accentuated. "Even without his own considerable potential, Pascal will inherit the richest duchy of Weichsel and retain the good graces of King Leopold through his father's legacy alone. He might not command any military assets without his king's authority, however his wealth and influence will more than make up for it."

Yet as Geoffroi's statement came to a conclusion, the Emperor's gaze softened to that of a father's once more:

"Nevertheless Sylv, I may be risking your happiness, but I'm not prepared to throw it away. That is why I want your honest, truthful reply: what do you think of Pascal?"

Sylviane's cheeks flushed red once more. Though this time, she neither stuttered nor faltered. Instead she fortified her will with a personal sense of obligation, before answering her father in clear, unwavering terms:

"I do get along well with him, and I honestly believe that he will grow up to be a splendid man. It's just that... I'm not sure what to think about him for marriage. For starters, he's not exactly 'chivalrous'..."

The Princess then halted in bewilderment as her father made the weirdest noise. An oddly tilted grin stretched across his countenance as his shoulders shook with something between a suppressed chortle and a choking sigh.

Geoffroi had to clear his throat several times before he could speak again:

"I swear... your mother read way too many romantic stories. What does chivalry have to do with ruling an Empire?"

Sylviane's brows furrowed once more. The title of Emperor was slated for one of her two older brothers. The eldest, Henri, had already secured his eligibility by summoning the phoenix Hauteclaire. It was hardly a task for her, let alone her future husband.

"Sylv, a perfect knight might be able to protect you as an individual, to save you from disaster to live another day," Geoffroi stated. "However a perfect general... he would guarantee not only your safety from thousands, millions of foes, but ensure the prosperity of your children, your descendants, your entire realm for generations to come."

"That is what I hope Pascal will be for you," the Emperor then declared. "A true general, a marshal, just like his father is to the King of Weichsel."

"You want me to secure an alliance and bring a military leader into the family to help my brother?"

It wasn't a flattering statement, but Sylviane knew she had little else to offer her brothers in the family business. At least this way she could ensure her contributions to the Gaetane dynasty, to her royal duties as ordained by the Holy Father.

Besides, she did admit that Pascal was 'hardly a terrible' choice.

Her father did not respond at first. Instead, his expression hardened into a sad frown, as a long and grave silence fell upon them both.

"Father?"

The young girl looked up, seeking the love of that paternal gaze once more. However this time, Geoffroi didn't meet her eye-to-eye. In fact he glanced away with a pained expression as though he was actively avoiding her gaze.

It was almost as if he couldn't face her, as if he was too beset by the guilt of forcing such a heavy burden upon the thin shoulders of his only daughter.

"Father, don't worry," Sylviane stretched a reassuring smile across her lips as her small hands reached out to his. "I'm happy to do the right thing."

For a brief second, she saw a faint smile return to the corner of his mouth. Her father leaned in to press a kiss atop her head, followed by the gentle, rhythmic stroking of her hair. Yet throughout his affectionate display he still would not directly meet her gaze.

Yet he still would not directly meet her gaze.

"It's... it's not just that," Geoffroi's unsteady voice spoke out.

Sylviane looked upon her father with scrutiny, and she saw that beneath the stoic exterior, his eyes had grown glassy with sadness and loss.

Geoffroi might be her parent, but he was also an emperor. Regardless of what happened, an emperor did not simply cry, not even in front of their own child.

Yet, as a single tear trailed down the side of his cheek, her father broke the news at last:

"Sylv, it seems no one was willing to tell you this. But last year, our family was twice struck by Imperial assassins..."

The Princess felt stunned as her thoughts went blank within an instant. Her mind refused to comprehend what her father was saying, not even as her body felt paralyzed as a horribly cold sensation travelled up her spine.

"Your mother and brothers are gone. And you are now the only successor to the throne."