The world was changing, and nowhere was it more visible than in the Clover Kingdom.

  The streets were filled with unrest. Citizens, once silent and obedient, now marched in the squares, demanding food, clean water, shelter, and proper hygiene. The horrors of the dungeon outbreak had shaken their hearts, leaving them constantly fearful—fearful for their children, fearful that another gate could open at any moment and swallow their families whole.

  Nobles, desperate to maintain their fragile authority, tried to pacify the people with empty promises. When words failed, they ordered their knights to strike down the protests and forcefully disperse the crowds. But even that control was slipping—some knights hesitated, unwilling to raise their bdes against hungry children or desperate mothers.

  Shops were looted. Fights broke out in the open over scraps of bread and barrels of water. Order was colpsing, and with King Augustus Nova still absent in the Holy Empire of Arcania, the burden of rule fell upon the crown prince, Finral Nova.

  Yet, the young prince cked the strength and decisiveness to lead. Every action of his sowed more doubt. He failed to impose control, failed to calm the popuce, and worse—conflict brewed within the royal family itself as nobles whispered against one another in shadowed halls.

  No one in Clover knew it yet, but the return of King Augustus would bring a storm that would forever change their kingdom.

  Meanwhile, in the Presia Dukedom, the atmosphere was different—still heavy, but disciplined. Inside the duke’s office, Duke Jacob Crowell sat at the head of a long table, surrounded by his most trusted department heads. Reports were scattered across the desk, maps of supply lines marked with bck ink, and letters from merchants detailing the strain of trade.

  “Give me a full update,” Jacob commanded.

  One by one, the heads reported: shortages in food supplies, damaged trade routes, prices of grain and water soaring due to manipution from merchants who sought profit in chaos.

  The butler, Adam, stood nearby, waiting silently.

  “Where are Roman and Selena?” Jacob finally asked.

  “They left the pace earlier, my lord,” Adam replied. “Inspecting the situation of the vilges personally. Shall I send for them?”

  Jacob nodded. “Yes. As soon as they return, bring them to me.”

  Before the discussion could continue, a sharp knock echoed at the door.

  “Enter,” Jacob said.

  A messenger rushed in, bowing quickly. “My lord, word from the marketpce. Young Master Roman has ordered the merchants to distribute two bags of food and grain per family. But the order from you was one bag.”

  The room froze.

  Jacob’s expression remained unreadable. For a long moment, silence hung in the air before he finally spoke.

  “…Do as Roman instructed.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The messenger hurried out.

  The treasurer, Ralph, immediately protested, his voice rising in arm. “My lord, this will put immense pressure on our reserves! Even with the surplus Roman acquired from the Ephor Dukedom, this generosity will deplete our stores far too quickly!”

  Jacob raised a hand. The room fell silent.

  “Enough, Ralph. I gave Roman full command for three months. His words carry weight equal to mine. If he chose this path, then he will bear the responsibility.”

  The officials exchanged uneasy gnces. None dared to speak further, but a single truth weighed on all their minds: Duke Jacob had never once shown such trust in anyone before. And now… he had entrusted everything to Roman, the very son he once seemed to despise.

  By the Sora River, Roman and Selena had lingered with the children, watching the rippling waters reflect the pale sky. After a while, they began walking back toward the pace. Along the way, Roman stopped often, speaking with vilgers, checking their conditions, ensuring they had enough food and water. His presence alone gave them strength—when Roman walked among them, hope flickered in their weary eyes.

  When they finally reached the pace gates, Lyra, Roman’s maid, and Captain Allen of the knights were waiting.

  “Welcome back, Young Master. My Lady,” they both greeted respectfully.

  “Lyra,” Roman said gently, “take the children and see that they rest.”

  “Yes, Young Master.”

  Selena was about to head toward her quarters, but Adam appeared swiftly, bowing. “My Lady. Young Master. The Duke requests your presence in his office."

  Exchanging gnces, they agreed and followed.

  The duke’s office was heavy with the smell of ink and parchment. Roman noticed the towering stacks of paperwork on his father’s desk, each one bearing the weight of the dukedom’s survival.

  “You called for us, Father?” Roman asked.

  “Sit,” Jacob said, gesturing. Once they settled, Jacob moved from his desk to sit beside them—an unusual gesture in itself.

  He exhaled slowly. “I want your thoughts. Supplies are strained. Our trade routes are crippled from the dungeon damage. We ck the coin to buy more grain from merchants, especially with prices soaring. Even with the surplus you secured, Roman, it is not enough. We need solutions.”

  As Jacob spoke, Roman’s sharp eyes drifted across the desk. Among the papers, he spotted an official decree stamped with the royal seal. It listed updated prices—exorbitant taxes on food, water, even basic goods.

  Roman’s face darkened. He smmed the paper down.

  “What is this nonsense? Has the royal family lost their minds?!”

  His voice echoed in the chamber.

  Jacob’s jaw tightened. “It is the crown prince’s decree. With the king away, Finral Nova rules in his stead. I cannot reject it openly without branding our house as traitors. For now… we must comply.”

  Roman’s fists clenched. “Complying with this madness will only starve our people further.”

  “Then tell me,” Jacob said evenly, his sharp gaze locking onto Roman’s, “what solution do you propose, one that will not empty our coffers?”

  Before Roman could answer, Selena broke her silence.

  “Father… Roman already has a pn. But…” She hesitated, her voice heavy. “…It is a dangerous one. Perhaps even suicidal.”

  Jacob narrowed his eyes. “Expin.”

  Selena drew in a deep breath. “Roman intends to overthrow Duke Noah Rockson of Ephor, seize his nds, and merge the Ephor Dukedom into ours.”

  The words struck the chamber like thunder.

  Jacob shot to his feet. His chair cttered back against the floor.

  “What did you just say?! Do you understand what you are suggesting?!”

  Selena looked at him calmly. “I am only reying what Roman told me.”

  The duke’s fury burned in his eyes as he turned toward his son. “Roman… do you truly intend this? To challenge Noah Rockson—the strongest duke in the kingdom?!”