Chains of Diplomacy I

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Arriving with plenty of time to spare turned out to be more of a curse than a benefit. Many nobles, along with members of the clergy, began sending me invitations to their estates. These gatherings were framed as intimate family affairs, small celebrations meant to foster camaraderie. Yet what could have been an opportunity for rest quickly became a source of constant discomfort. At every one of these events, the hosts insisted on dances.

Unlike the battlefield, where my movements were precise and calculated, here I felt clumsy. I had two left feet, and no matter how much I tried, rhythm and grace evaded me entirely. Some found it endearing, a sign that even the "Mighty Caesar" wasn't perfect. Others merely saw it as a source of amusement behind their wine glasses.

Something about these gatherings always felt forced, as if there were an underlying agenda I wasn't privy to. Conversations were shallow, yet the introductions seemed overly deliberate. The glances, the suppressed laughter, and the way certain women were "casually" introduced began to strike me as increasingly peculiar with each event.

Then, after yet another interminable evening, one of my frumentarii decided to intervene. Upon returning to my quarters in the imperial estate, I found him waiting for me as usual, disguised as a servant. If he was there, it was because he had something important to share.

"Lord Caesar," he began in his measured, respectful tone, bowing slightly. "It's admirable how you navigate the vipers of the capital, even in these… entertainments."

"'Entertainments' isn't the word I'd use," I replied irritably as I sank into a chair. "They're a waste of time—pointless gatherings, dances I loathe, and conversations that lead nowhere."

The frumentarii allowed himself a faint smile, as though my response confirmed something he already knew. "Ah, my lord, but these gatherings aren't as simple as they appear. I'm sure you've already noticed the pattern."

"Pattern?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, Lord Caesar. These aren't mere festivities. They are carefully orchestrated events with a singular purpose: to pair you off. Every host is introducing you to their daughters, nieces, or even widowed relatives. I've even overheard discussions suggesting engagements with girls barely out of the cradle, as though your position could be secured with promises for decades to come."

I sat in silence, processing what he'd just said.

"Pair me off? Why on earth would they do that?" I finally asked, though something in the back of my mind was already piecing it together.

"Because you're young, single, and powerful, my lord," the frumentarii explained, leaning slightly forward. "To them, you're a political prize. Marrying you into their families guarantees them a direct link to your influence. It's not merely a marriage; it's a transaction—a political contract disguised as familial union."

"That explains why they keep introducing me to all these women," I muttered, recalling the persistent efforts and overly calculated smiles. "And what do you suggest I do?"

"You already know, Lord Caesar," he said, nodding slightly as if affirming the obvious. "Do what you always do: play the game. Listen, smile, but don't commit. Your responses thus far have been sufficient to keep them intrigued, yet unsure of their hold over you. Stay firm. They want to tie you down, but you must decide when and how to move the pieces."

I nodded slowly. Though his revelation irritated me, it made sense. These invitations weren't simple gestures of courtesy—they were traps. Traps designed to tether me to the ambitions of families seeking to exploit my rise.

"Thank you for clarifying this," I said at last. "Keep your eyes open. I want to know who the most persistent players are in this game."

"As you command, Lord Caesar. They may be relentless, but no one plays this board better than you."

When the time came, I prepared as I always had—but this time, not for battle. I donned my armor, identical to that of any other legionnaire, save for the wolf's head adorning my helmet, a trophy taken from a goblin shaman. Its enchanted properties, which heightened my senses, were invaluable—especially in a place like this, where every word and gesture could be a snare.

The imperial ceremony was long and laden with pomp. The Golden Hall of the palace glittered with opulence, adorned with imperial banners and chandeliers that cast their light on gilded walls. Nobles, clergy, and generals alike gathered to witness what was nothing more than a carefully staged spectacle.

It was there I met the emperor, Maximilian II—a man with meticulously groomed gray hair and a regal bearing that sought to mask the weight of his years. His presence was solemn, but his coal-black eyes studied me with the cold calculation of someone accustomed to weighing others as tools.

Beside him stood the empress, Valeria Lissandra, a dark-haired woman with a piercing gaze that scrutinized every movement and word with surgical precision. Her beauty, though undeniable, was tinged with a sharpness that reflected her role as the dynasty's guardian. It was clear she was no mere ornamental figure.

The imperial couple had three children:

Aleksander Maximilian, the heir to the throne, a young man of about 18 years with a proud demeanor and a calculating gaze. Though he tried to exude confidence, there was a subtle unease in his posture, as if uncertain of his ability to live up to his legacy.Elena Valeria, 16 years old, radiating serene beauty. Her smile seemed innocent, but her eyes, like her mother's, observed with a curiosity that extended beyond the surface. It was evident she understood the court's political games.Sebastian, the youngest at just 10 years old, seemed far more interested in the hall's decorations than the ceremony itself. Unlike his siblings, his face bore no political mask; he was simply a child, blissfully ignorant of the weight of the crown.

During the ceremony, the emperor delivered a speech full of praises, extolling my achievements in the east and my loyalty to the empire. His words were measured, intended both to recognize me and to remind the nobility that my success was tied to imperial power.

At last, I was granted the title of Marquess of the East and Defender of the Empire. Along with it came all the lands I had conquered—the territories wrested from fleeing nobles, the hundreds of kilometers gained in our fight against the beastmen, and Castra Caesarea, my new home and the keystone of our control in the region. All of this was now officially mine, not just by conquest, but by imperial decree.

As I accepted the scroll bearing the emperor's seal, I felt every eye in the hall fixed on me. Some nobles looked on with admiration, others with jealousy, and a few with barely concealed disdain. To them, I was a soldier who had risen too quickly, a reminder that power wasn't always confined to bloodlines.

Despite the smiles and applause, this title was as much a recognition as it was a shackle. The emperor had granted me power, but he had also placed me squarely in the spotlight. Now, more than ever, every move I made would be scrutinized.

Lucien let out a laugh, a controlled chuckle that felt more like a performance than a genuine reaction. "Ha, ha, ha. Always so direct, Lord Caesar. We did have a grand time when you heroically destroyed my sister—may she rest in peace. Of course, we did."

His tone carried that forced familiarity he used with everyone, but I noticed something in his body language: tension. Our relationship was purely pragmatic, built on mutual benefit. To Lucien, I was someone to be feared, a man who had proven his worth and strength far beyond anything he could ever imagine. Though he tried to act as though we were on good terms, every word and movement of his was meticulously calculated.

The conversation shifted to trivial matters—memories of campaigns in his lands and the situation in the east after my withdrawal. As we spoke, Lucien lowered his voice, leaning slightly closer to me.

"I must say, Caesar," he whispered, "standing here with you is… convenient. Certain nobles, upon seeing me speak with you, will assume I have a deeper connection to your esteemed person. A connection I, of course, would never confirm nor deny."

His words were a confession of his need for validation. My presence gave him an air of authority he could not otherwise claim. I nodded slowly, offering no response. Lucien needed to believe he had my tolerance, even though we both knew our relationship was far from an alliance.

Before the conversation could continue, I felt movement to my left. The imperial princess, Elena Valeria, approached with the elegance and confidence that only someone raised to rule could project. Lucien instinctively stepped back, bowing his head in respect before withdrawing, as if fearing proximity to what was about to unfold.

"Lord Caesar," the princess said with a slight smile. "Will you grant me this dance?"

The hall fell silent. I could feel the eyes of every noble in the room fixed on us. Refusing her was not an option. It would not only be a personal insult to the princess but could also be interpreted as a direct affront to the emperor.

"Of course, Your Highness," I replied, inclining my head. Leaving Lucien behind, I stepped forward to meet her on the dance floor. The princess took the lead, subtly guiding my movements in a way that avoided exposing my lack of grace. She was skilled—not only in dance but also in the art of political maneuvering.

"My father wishes to speak with you," she said as we turned. Her tone was casual, as though discussing something trivial, but her words were laden with implications. "The title he has granted you is only the beginning. There is something more, something he considers a true prize."

"And what might that be?" I asked calmly, doing my best to follow her steps.

"You will know soon enough," she replied with a smile that revealed nothing more. "You need only wait until this… celebration concludes."

When the dance ended, Princess Elena Valeria made a graceful motion with her hand, gesturing toward a door at the far end of the hall. Her movement was fluid, almost as if it were part of the dance we had just performed. I understood immediately—it was an invitation to something private, something significant.

I turned to my legionaries and gave them a brief signal, a simple nod of my head. They understood at once and moved with military precision, forming a silent but imposing formation behind me as we approached the door.

The princess led me to an adjacent chamber, a space far more subdued than the grand hall. The walls were adorned with maps of the empire, portraits of past emperors, and ceremonial weapons—a blend of history and power. At the center of the room, seated at a dark wooden table carved with scenes of battles, were Emperor Maximilian II and Empress Valeria Lissandra. Both exuded authority, though in markedly different ways: he, a man of solemn demeanor and evident fatigue; she, a calculated presence whose gaze seemed to pierce through everything.

The emperor looked up as I entered, and a slight motion of his hand signaled that I should approach. My legionaries, understanding the protocol, remained at the entrance, standing firm like silent sentinels.

"Lord Caesar," the emperor began, his voice resonating with an authority that still held despite his years. "I must say, your actions in the east have been nothing short of extraordinary. Not only have you defended our borders, but you have also reclaimed lands the empire believed lost forever."

I inclined my head slightly in respect but did not speak. This was not the moment to interrupt.

"Your title as Marquess of the East is a recognition of your achievements," he continued, "but I wish to offer you more. You have proven yourself a pillar of the empire, and I want to reward your loyalty and genius. Tell me, Lord Caesar, what is it you desire? Whatever it is, if it is within my power, it shall be yours."

I knew exactly what to ask for. I had fought, worked, and sacrificed to build my dominion in the east, and now I ruled almost absolutely over my territories. However, there was one obstacle I couldn't overcome with steel or strategy: the magically gifted slaves in my army. They could be an invaluable resource, but their potential was wasted because no mage in the empire would deign to teach them. It was a gap I needed to bridge.

"Your Majesty," I began, bowing my head slightly in respect. "I desire neither gold, nor additional titles, nor more land. What I need is a skilled mage, someone with the knowledge to train the magically gifted slaves under my command. No master has agreed to do so, claiming such a task is beneath them."

A heavy silence settled over the room. The emperor raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I felt my words had captured his attention in a way few could achieve. The empress, meanwhile, studied me with a calculating gaze, as if weighing the implications of my request.

"Interesting," the emperor murmured, stroking his beard as he considered my words. "Asking for a mage to train slaves is not a common request, nor one that can be granted without causing... murmurs."

"I understand that my request is unconventional," I replied, maintaining a firm tone. "But if the empire wishes for its eastern frontier to become an impenetrable fortress, I will need every resource at my disposal. These slaves represent a power that can be shaped into a force serving the empire. With proper training, they will be a unique advantage on the battlefield. Without a teacher, their talent goes to waste."

The emperor clasped his hands on the table, his gaze locked on mine. "You are pragmatic, Lord Caesar—a trait I admire. However, finding a mage willing to teach slaves will not be easy. The arcanists have their pride, and many would see such a task as a stain on their reputation."

"In that case," I said without hesitation, "perhaps it is time for the empire to stop worrying about the sensitivities of mages and start prioritizing the security of its borders. If I cannot be provided with a suitable teacher, I will take it as a sign that my efforts are not as valued as they are proclaimed to be today."

My words were direct, dangerously close to a threat, but I knew I couldn't show weakness here. If I yielded, I would not get what I needed. The emperor regarded me for a few moments longer before letting out a soft sigh.

"A mage will be sent to you," he declared at last, his tone making it clear that the matter was settled. "Someone competent and capable, but also someone who will not pose a threat to your authority in the east. I will make the necessary arrangements to ensure this teacher understands that their task is not up for debate."

I inclined my head again, masking the satisfaction I felt.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said at last. "With this, I can assure you that the empire's borders will be more secure than ever before."

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Any opinion and comments are welcome