The Grand Duke's Principle: Only Fight Battles You Won't Lose
The Grand Duke's principle was to only pick fights he couldn't lose.
"But weren't you scared when that Sword-Tooth charged at you?" Daniela asked.
As soon as Daniela, finally calmed down, slipped out of my arms, we decided to hurry back to Winter Castle. We'd just received word that the Emperor's envoy had arrived unexpectedly.
The Emperor's envoy? It was sudden, that's for sure. I'd thought the messages for Jackson and Leroy would come separately.
"I was scared."
"But how did you manage to shoot your arrow?"
"I figured if I timed it right, I'd definitely win. It had an arrow in its side already, and a frenzied Sword-Tooth like that would be desperate just to escape first."
Daniela tilted her head, puzzled. She didn't know much about Sword-Teeth yet. In any case, it had been sheer luck, but my hunch hadn't been wrong.
Daniela startled at the sight of the Sword-Tooth's corpse being dragged behind us. To take down something that massive...
"You're amazing."
"Nah. James did a great job herding it my way. Right?"
James, off in the distance, started shouting praises at my compliment. Daniela chuckled softly and nodded along.
Her reaction only made me more embarrassed.
"As expected of Your Grace the Grand Duke! You've always said that fights you can't win are meaningless. But even when victory seemed impossible, you always created a situation where you'd triumph..."
"Enough! Thanks!"
I bellowed to cut him off, and the itchy flattery finally stopped. Sometimes it was downright mortifying.
"Heh. The North lives up to its reputation. The stink of country bumpkins is overwhelming."
Muller muttered to one of his attendants hovering nearby.
The North's winter was surprisingly mild. Something about a forge reactor, they'd said. Muller couldn't have cared less. All that mattered to him was delivering the Emperor's message—and scrounging for something to eat! His double chin jiggled as he spoke.
"You don't mean to keep the day of delivering His Majesty's words waiting out here in front of this rundown castle, do you?"
"Wouldn't it be better to deliver His Majesty's words directly to the Grand Duke?"
"Just appoint a proxy."
"Deliver it face-to-face with the Grand Duke."
Jackson snorted derisively.
After arriving in the North, Leroy had stepped away briefly for treatment on his wounds. Meanwhile, Muller and the Southern envoy delegation stood in the inner garden of Winter Castle. A barren garden in winter—essentially an open training ground for troops.
"His Grace the Grand Duke arrives!"
With the gatekeeper's shout, Jackson bowed his head. As the gates of Winter Castle swung open, a raucous chorus of voices echoed out.
A massive Sword-Tooth was strung up behind the man striding at the front, his presence utterly distinct from the followers trailing him. A head taller than any Southerner. His build matched the Northerners', but with every step he took, the air grew heavier with pressure.
Muller instantly pegged the man in the center as the Northern Grand Duke.
"Your Grace! I have returned to the North alongside the envoys from the South!"
"Mm..."
He said nothing.
Jackson bowed so low his head nearly scraped the dirt. The Grand Duke entered his castle with the massive Sword-Tooth in tow.
The Grand Duke gestured for Jackson to rise. Muller, standing nearby, felt an inexplicable dread wash over him.
"From the South..."
"Are you the Emperor's envoy?"
His voice was like winter itself. Though unintended, the Grand Duke's reaction to the words "Emperor's envoy" was coldly detached. The soldiers and retainers advancing with him all loomed a head taller than the Southern delegation. But what terrified Muller most was the Northern Grand Duke leading the pack.
No air of refinement, courtesy, or noble elegance about him—just raw intimidation and icy precision.
"No need for you to come all the way from the South. What a hassle."
"Not at all. His Majesty the Emperor specifically instructed me to convey his regards."
"Sending a hundred men to do it? How amusing. Come in."
Without so much as a glance, the Grand Duke strode into Winter Castle. Soldiers and retainers followed. Jackson joined the procession inside.
Muller swallowed dryly. There'd been no prior contact with the North, but he instinctively sensed this was an emergency. A killing tension, like his head might roll if luck soured. No way the Emperor's envoy gets offed, he reassured himself.
Winter's Hall was chillingly cold. No ostentation, and more worn than Southern castles. The moment Muller entered, he knew it was worlds apart from the imperial chambers. Did an empty guest hall really warrant such fear?
"Your Grace! I have delivered your words from the South and returned! Furthermore, having received a proper reply from His Majesty the Emperor, his envoy has arrived here!"
Jackson's booming voice filled the hall. Muller flinched and halted at the entrance.
Several ministers already stood around the hall. The guards, in simple attire, exuded menace through presence alone.
"What are you doing over there? Come forward."
Prodded by Jackson, Muller finally approached. He'd do the same as the Northern envoys—act rudely to show how discourteous they'd been. He kept his posture defiant.
"You are the Emperor's envoy."
"Yes."
"Speak. What did His Majesty say?"
Muller drew a scroll from his robes. Stamped with the Emperor's seal. Jackson took it first, passing it to the Grand Duke.
The Grand Duke examined the seal, then unrolled it. He read slowly before handing it back to Jackson.
Despite the lack of decorum, Muller couldn't muster a protest. Who in their right mind would challenge the Northern Grand Duke?
He'd make excuses to his superiors later.
"What is your name?"
"Muller von..."
"Muller. Right. This scroll doesn't have the answer I want. Is this everything?"
"That's all I received from His Majesty."
The Grand Duke slouched deeper into his chair. From ramrod straight to utterly relaxed. No manners whatsoever. Muller held his tongue. Clearly, the Grand Duke was in a foul mood.
"How far were you authorized to go? With His Majesty, I mean."
"To appropriately adjust the related matters and conclude them this time..."
"So you're the one responsible for this issue?"
The Grand Duke's question left Muller speechless. The palace had said they wanted it resolved quickly, but he lacked full authority to provide answers.
"You know what the scroll says. It's inadequate."
"That's the conclusion from the palace..."
"Then here's a counterproposal. You know this amount is laughable, right?"
Muller nodded unwittingly. Debts over a decade old. Direct payment barely covered three years; indirect, about five.
"We should get interest on what we're owed so far—or something else in compensation."
"The North upholds loyalty to the Empire and staunchly defends against the nomads..."
"Spare me the platitudes. If that's the case, what about the proper compensation we haven't received from the South?"
Muller bowed his head, silent. The North defended for imperial loyalty, but the Empire had obligations too.
"If we leave the gates open and nomads sweep south, we wouldn't lose much."
"That's absurd, Your Grace...!"
"Exactly. So get a proper answer from them."
Muller had no retort to the Grand Duke's tongue-click. But he wanted to pitch a new proposal. It was obvious he'd reject it, but giving grounds to demand tangible payment would suffice.
"Actually, His Majesty has devised a solution for the North, but it hasn't been fully discussed in the noble council yet..."
"What is it?"
The superiors' and Emperor's plan was simple: Ignore past debts and normalize relations with the Empire and North anew.
"If the North is amenable, we offer a new status."
"I'm already Grand Duke. What status? Marcher Lord of the North? Supreme Commander of all Northern forces? I already have them all."
"Not that— a new status for the North itself."
The Grand Duke stroked his chin thoughtfully. Muller doubted if the persuasion was working. The Emperor had repeated: no need to pay, just don't make trouble. Hence, buying status with withheld funds.
The Grand Duke kept stroking his chin. Jackson smirked faintly, unnoticed by all. That habit emerged when the Grand Duke's plans fell perfectly into place.