Ah.
This was exactly as I remembered.
The moment Aeliana died in the novel, that was when the decline of the Thaddeus Duchy truly began.
It was the turning point.
Because after that—after losing his daughter—the Duke himself had taken on a suicidal task.
He had confronted the Kraken.
And he had lost.
Not his life—no, not immediately.
But his arm.
Even as an Awakened, even as a man who had reached the peak of an 8-star, he could not regrow something severed by an otherworldly being like that Kraken.
The wound had been permanent.
A mark of failure that could never be undone.
And that? That had changed everything.
The loss of his right arm had been more than just a physical handicap. It had been a symbolic defeat.
A reminder that the once-unshakable Duke Thaddeus was not invincible.
The Duchy’s reputation had suffered a staggering blow.
And then—like wolves scenting blood in the water—the Royal Family had moved.
Because with the Duke weakened, with Stormhaven—the Duchy’s capital—still recovering from the Kraken’s rampage, with public faith in Thaddeus shaken beyond repair, the Emperor had taken his chance.
Stripping the Duchy of more power.
Pushing Imperial influence deeper into naval control.
Slowly, carefully, piece by piece, eroding the authority that the Thaddeus bloodline had held for centuries.
And in the end?
By the time the dust had settled, by the time Thaddeus had realized what had happened, it was too late.
The Thaddeus Duchy—once the strongest noble house outside of the Royal Family itself—had been reduced to nothing more than a shadow of its former self.
I had read this.
I had seen how it played out.
And now, sitting here in this chamber, watching the Duke, watching the tension in his shoulders, watching the way his golden eyes darkened ever so slightly at my words—
I knew.
Even without Aeliana dying this time.
Even without that exact sequence of events playing out.
The same threat was still looming.
The Royal Family was already making its moves.
I exhaled lightly, my fingers tapping idly against the armrest of my chair.
I didn’t like the Royal Family.
But that wasn’t really the issue, was it?
It wasn’t about personal dislike, nor was it about some moral stance against their tactics.
Because, in the world of politics, things like this happened all the time.
When one faction grew too powerful, the other would move to counter it. When an empire sought absolute control, it would chip away at the autonomy of those who held too much influence. It was nothing personal. It was just the game.
And who was I to criticize them?
After all—
Wasn’t I doing the exact same thing?
Albeit differently, of course. But at the core of it, I had done to Aeliana what Clades Lysandra was doing to the Duke.
I had capitalized on a weakness.
The Duke’s weakness.
The difference was that the emperor had done it quietly, patiently, like a slow-moving tide eroding a shoreline.
And me?
I had taken the direct approach.
I had saved Aeliana. Would I still save her if she was not the daughter of the Duke?
Or would I still save her if she didn’t appear in the novel, and I didn’t take a liking to her?
Most likely not.
But there is still this factor that no one can deny. I had saved Aeliana, not out of some grand kindness alone, but also because it allowed me to shake the balance of power in this mansion. It forced certain conversations to happen. It made it so that truths could no longer be buried, that history could no longer be rewritten in the way Madeleina wanted it to be.
It was a power play.
Not unlike what the emperor was doing to the Duke.
Which meant the problem wasn’t what was being done—it was who was doing it, and why.
I smirked slightly, leaning back against my chair.
‘After all, I myself also need quite a bit of power for the future.’
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I couldn’t do everything on my own, could I?
Even if I wanted to, even if I deluded myself into thinking I could waltz through this world without any backing, without any allies—
The reality was simple.
Not just strength. Not just skill.
Power.
Influence. Protection. Resources.
And right now?
The Thaddeus Duchy was still standing. Still strong. Still the only noble house in the empire that could challenge the emperor’s creeping control.
‘And well, in the academy it will be quite useful.’
I am not the most respectful person, so I need some backing.
Master’s silhouette can only cover up to this much for now, isn’t it?
But if things continued as they were—
If history played out the way I knew it would—
Then that would change.
And I had to decide.
Would I let it?
Or would I shift the course of this game before the board even recognized what I was doing?
*******
Thaddeus exhaled slowly, his golden eyes never leaving Lucavion.
Now that everything was slowly being laid bare—now that Lucavion had spoken the words that most nobles only whispered behind closed doors—the Duke knew one thing for certain.
This was no idle conversation.
Lucavion wasn’t here for curiosity.
He wasn’t here just to test his patience, to trade clever remarks and hidden implications.
He had come here with a purpose.
And if Thaddeus was going to be dragged into this, then he needed something in return.
A sharp silence settled in the chamber.
Then, slowly, Thaddeus shifted his stance.
His presence, already heavy, became denser, more imposing.
His next words were not a question.
They were a demand.
“So what if the Royal Family is pushing the Duchy?”
Lucavion raised a brow.
“So what?” Thaddeus repeated, his voice steady but unforgiving. “What does that have to do with you?”
Lucavion’s smirk remained, but Thaddeus saw the faintest flicker of calculation in his dark eyes.
“That,” Thaddeus continued, “is the important part, isn’t it?” His golden gaze bore into Lucavion. “You speak as if this concerns you. As if my conflicts are yours. But why?”
Lucavion said nothing.
And that was what made Thaddeus’ irritation grow.
“You have laid my situation bare,” the Duke continued. “You have dragged out all these truths, tested my reactions, measured my stance.” He exhaled sharply, fingers tightening against his sleeve. “Now it is your turn.”
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, listening.
Thaddeus’ jaw clenched.
“Who are you, Lucavion? What are you trying to pull off?” His voice lowered, but it did not soften. “And most of all—what is your reason for doing all of this?”
Because this—
This was becoming too big to gamble now.
The weight of it, the scale of it—
It was no longer just a matter of simple favors, of political positioning.
Lucavion knew too much.
He had moved too carefully.
And Thaddeus Duchy did not entertain uncertain gambles.
Not unless they knew exactly what was at stake.