If one were to look at things objectively, the events in Trakos couldn't be considered a military defeat. Barbarians retreated, and peace was to be restored sooner or later. However, the loss of prestige was impossible to ignore. Knowing that foreign hordes could barge into the Empire's territory caused an understandable wave of anxiety in society. It didn't matter that Rorg, the ports of the Northern Sea, and the Capital weren't even close to the battle. Actually, the eastern regions of the Trakos province weren't in danger either, but the damage was done. The Empire looked weak, and that was unacceptable. Someone needed to take responsibility, even if only symbolically.

          All three lieutenants of the deceased General Mericas submitted their resignation letters. They did this to take responsibility for their inability to punish the insurgents and to avoid the dodge that the disgraced and destroyed Trakos could turn into soon. The Imperial administration treated them with surprising cordiality.

          "Neither of you seeks to cling to your position. It's praiseworthy. However, if the posts of the highest surviving officers in the region were vacated at once, that would probably mean more trouble than it's worth. Your posts will go to other people, possibly less competent. Surely, you wouldn't put His Majesty in a difficult spot? How about giving up your salaries for two years?" was the answer they received.

          "We did consider that," they answered, "but we are soldiers and have our honor. It's time for us to leave; otherwise, I'm afraid it will be said of us that we clung to our positions and pensions when it was time to resign. Please, accept our resignation."

          With all that said, there was no point in arguing. Reluctantly, the letters ended up delivered to the Emperor, who read them, sighed, and didn't comment. The letters were on his desk, though, when Lord Arlo of Rorg entered his private solar. He showed the documents to the young general and asked him whether he wanted one of the vacant jobs.

          It took a long moment for Arlo to answer. Various, rather displeased expressions flashed on his face while he tried to formulate a response.

          "What happened in Trakos was due to the mistakes of General Mericas. He has paid for his sins already with his life, and I don't believe there is anyone else deserving of blame. I can't rob competent officers of their seats when it isn't through any achievement of my own. I humbly beg Your Majesty to restore the three lieutenants to their former positions and give them a chance to prove themselves again as defenders of the border."

          "As you know, we'd like to appoint you as a temporary commander of the military in Trakos. If you accepted it would put our mind at ease. Hence, there are no seats for the old lieutenants."

          Arlo looked at the monarch with surprise written on his face. The Emperor personally was a mastermind behind the ridiculous idea about sending him to another's war.

          "Your humble vassal is honored with your faith in my abilities, Your Majesty. But those who worked there for years know the terrain much better than I and can utilize resources in an effective way, while I would have to learn everything from scratch. Also, it collides with the duties I already have. With all due respect, I do not wish to go to Trakos."

          "If that's what you say, I won't force you. At the same time, I find it concerning how quick you are to deny my request..."

          Arlo felt his heart rate quickening. Here it was, the real request they wanted to present. It was half impressive, half terrifying how hard the issue needed to be for them to start from that high level in the negotiation.

          "I am your faithful servant, but I believe my service is in Rorg, not Trakos. Forgive me, Your Majesty."

          Arlo's answer lacked originality, but that was due to pure calculation. It wasn't time for excessive cleverness and displays of vocal inflections that would undoubtedly describe his inner turmoil in much more precise terms. Arlo did not delight in court games of wit, especially when he was the one being played.

          "I do not question your loyalty," the twentieth Emperor said, outwardly denying what the previous statement implied. "I'm concerned, though. Isn't Army North a part of the imperial military? Aren't your newly acquired ships a part of the imperial navy? Aren't they at my disposal?"

          It was clearly an oversimplification and misinterpretation. Arlo didn't doubt, both done deliberately. In theory, yes, the answer to all the rhetorical questions was affirmative. In practice, if, let's say, conflicting orders came from the Emperor and from Arlo, it was unclear which set of instructions would be followed. With the capital far away, strong local identity, history, culture, and the centuries-long continuity of being governed by Dukes of Rorg-before the surprisingly peaceful annexation by the Empire and after-scales could tilt each way. Arlo has never done anything that may suggest disloyalty, nor did his uncle, the previous Garand Duke. Still, the real power is always expressed through whose orders are fulfilled in a given situation. The uncertainty about his authority over Army North could be a genuine concern from the capital's perspective.

          The concern was unnecessary, Arlo needed to find a way to convey that.

          "Army North is protecting the borders of your Empire, Your Majesty," Arlo replied. "The navy is a novelty addition to their ranks; it's hardly ready to take part in any real battle. Those who claim otherwise are mistaken. Though it will be at your disposal when it's ready."

          "Good," the Emperor leaned forward in his ornate chair. "Do not be offended, Lord Arlo. Your ascension to the proper title has been delayed, and as a consequence, you haven't sworn fealty to me in a manner befitting someone who holds so much power."

          Arlo felt a pang. Now, the Emperor was adding the noble title to the stakes. Going to war was a stick; the raising in the nobility rank must be a carrot then.

          "I'm ready to swear here and now, Your Majesty."

          The Emperor smiled warmly and waved his hand.

          "Words of men guarantee nothing. Actions speak much louder."

          "So, how can I prove the loyalty of mine and my people?"

          "Your loyalty is not questioned, as I've mentioned before. Yet, an idea has been brought to my attention." Instead of explaining what idea, he added. "You've got a cousin, young Princess Laa, I believe is her name. A fine lady I heard?"

          Arlo stayed silent for a long moment as he recalled the issues mentioned in the letter they had received from the capital.

          "Yes."

          "And she's of marriageable age?"

          "She is, Your Majesty."

          "Then, marrying her off to a relative of mine would forge a strong bond, don't you think, Lord Arlo? None would question your allegiance."

          So, this was it? A marriage alliance? But why such drama when the offer was so beneficial? Arlo couldn't imagine a greater match than marrying Laa to a royal relative. The honor and privileges were countless!

          "That would be an honor for my cousin and me."

          "Perfect! A son of mine saw Princess Laa in the palace gardens a few days ago. He was blinded by her beauty. I'm asking on his behalf for her hand in marriage."

          Arlo had to put some effort into maintaining an excited smile on his face. He had a strange premonition, as if something bad was about to happen. Out of all possible excuses, the one with a prince falling in love at first sight was the most ludicrous. Not because it was impossible in general. It was definitely impossible with Laa as a heroine. Arlo loved the girl, knew her good sides, but had no illusions about her beauty.

          Laa wasn't beautiful. She wasn't even average, to be honest. No, all nice-looking features were overshadowed by her weight. Her round body shape was far from what was considered a beauty standard in the Empire. The difference was even clearer when compared to elegant and slim court ladies. It pained him, but Arlo had to admit that Laa was anything but pretty.

          Maybe the Emperor made such a lie for courtesy?

          "A prince?" Arlo asked. "Which one?"

          "Does it matter?"

          "No. Forgive me, Your Majesty, all princes are excellent."

          "Why don't we follow the will of young hearts and match your Laa with my Renard?"

          For a moment, Arlo had difficulties controlling his face. Out of all possible matches, the Emperor had to suggest the one he was least fond of. Prince Renard was a main contender for the imperial throne - which in itself was concerning, as Arlo wasn't sure how Laa would fare in the tricky reality of power struggles. The main problem was that Renard had a political faction following him in the council, led by Lord Advisor Farg. For years, their main postulate was about restricting the power of local high lords, who ruled their provinces like kings, undisturbed as long as they made sure to pay full taxes. Lord Farg claimed such privileges were undermining the Empire, and Rorg was a traditional target of all his reforms. So far, attempts at interfering with their local matters were successfully thwarted, but unfriendliness between Lord Advisor and Arlo was evident.

          But the royal marriage... was there a legitimate reason to refuse? Something better than Arlo's displeasure with the other side's political views? What did His Majesty want to achieve by proposing it? Reinforcing Prince Renard's position? Or weakening it?

          "What do you think, Lord Arlo?" the Emperor inquired.

          "I must consult my cousin. If Laa has no objection, I will give my blessing too."

          The Emperor smiled warmly. They were set, weren't they?