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In a room in the ancient capital of Vest, a beautiful woman in a dress is idly playing with the flowers in a vase. It is Eleora.
Perhaps because she has just finished a meeting, she looks thoroughly exhausted.
Her subordinate, Natalia, enters the room.

“Thank you for your hard work, Your Highness. Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you, Natalia.”

As Natalia sets down a cup of tea, she glances at Eleora from time to time.

“Hmm, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you look so lovely, Your Highness, I couldn’t help but stare.”

Princess Eleora gave a wry smile at Natalia, who shyly hid her face behind the tray.

“I’m not good with dresses. I’m sure they’d look better on you.”
“No, no, a dress like that is a waste on me! By the way, Your Highness, how did the meeting go?”

Princess Eleora sighed.

“I could only play defense. As expected of Lady Aylia, the Demon Ambassador. She was no ordinary woman.”
“What about Lord Black Wolf?”
“He left the trouble to Lady Aylia and just watched me struggle. I must have looked quite comical.”

Eleora pinched the hem of her dress and took a sip of tea.

“As I thought, the tea you brew is the best. The Miraldians’ tea is… too weak.”
“I am honored, Your Highness.”

Only when she spent time with her subordinates could she feel at ease.
For Princess Eleora, both the people of Miraldia and the demon race were opponents she could never let her guard down against.

Meanwhile, in the fortress city of Worngang, whilst Princess Eleora was away.
Governor Kurst had traveled from the nearby agricultural city of Vilheim to negotiate a wheat trade.
Although the wheat harvest had not yet begun, he had come to assess the demand in Worngang for this year. With a large contingent of soldiers stationed there, food demand in Worngang fluctuated frequently.
Worngangg’s Governor Donéva was an old acquaintance of Kurst’s. He was a cheerful middle-aged man.

After their business talks, the two sighed deeply.

“The matter of the city rankings really hit me hard.”

Kurst glanced out the window. A familiar face was lost in the crowd. It was the group that had been tailing him all the way from Vilheim.
Kurst was known for his gentle nature, but that didn’t mean he was a fool. As any governor would, he remained vigilant against assassination attempts and eavesdropping.

Kurst tried not to look out the window too much as he mentally reviewed the face he had just seen.
Their features differed slightly from those of the Miraldians. There was also something off about the way they wore their plain clothes.
They were likely soldiers from Rolmund. In other words, they were the surveillance detail assigned by Princess Eleora.
It seemed he wasn’t trusted.

Donéva, perhaps noticing Kurst’s expression, offered a sympathetic smile.

“Her Imperial Highness has some very dedicated subordinates, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. It’s infuriating that they think they can go unnoticed… but I suppose they’re underestimating me.”

Kurst could only offer a wry smile.

Donéva didn’t press the matter further and steered the conversation back to the city rankings.

“The rankings were determined not by a city’s importance, but by its contribution to Rolmund. Take us, for example, our city became a battlefield and our city gates were blown to bits, yet thanks to the Senate, we’re ranked eighth.”

They were managing to repair the city gates at their own expense, but estimates indicated that rebuilding the destroyed infrastructure would cost a fortune.

Kurst moved away from the window and sat across from Donéva.

“And my Vilheim is ninth—the lowest rank. We’ve worked hard as the granary of the northeast, you know? This is simply too pitiful.”

“No, no. Without Vilheim, Worngang would starve. In my eyes, Vilheim is number one, Worngangg’s greatest friend.”

The Senate had prohibited conflicts between governors, but it was tolerant of them deepening their personal ties.
As a result, neighboring governors were all on good terms with one another.

Kurst softened his already gentle expression even further and bowed politely.

“Worngang is indeed a reliable knight of justice for Vilheim. Since my great-grandfather’s time, how many times have you protected us from countless threats?”

Then Donéva shrugged her shoulders exaggeratedly and put on a playful act.

“Speaking of knights, the members of the Order have been in a bad mood lately…”
“What’s the matter?”

“Well, Her Imperial Highness reorganized the knightly orders. As a result of merging several orders, a great many knights have lost their positions as commanders.”
“Ah… I see…”

Unlike mercenaries who fight for money, a knight’s greatest reward is honor. For them, honor is a precious asset directly tied to the future of their clan.
If they’ve lost that honor, it’s only natural that they’d be dissatisfied.

Donéva sighed and gave a wry, resigned smile.

“If they’d at least offered some compensation, the knights might have accepted it to some extent. But they refused.”

It’s just a ceremonial commander position anyway. If they’d awarded them a medal from Rolmund, that would have sufficed.

However, Princess Eleora offered no compensation whatsoever.
Her reasoning was that “bestowing honors on those without merit is an insult to those who risked their lives to achieve them.”
Since Eleora holds full authority over the treatment of those who have surrendered, there is nothing more that can be done.

Donéva gave a wry smile and took a sip of the tea Kurst had brought as a gift. Donéva preferred her tea brewed strong with Vilheim’s premium tea leaves.

“She always strives to be righteous. Just and impartial—that is a very fine thing. Ha ha ha.”

Though his expression was cheerful, his words held a bitterness deeper than that of the strong tea.

Kurst sensed this and tried to soothe his old friend.

“But Her Imperial Highness enjoys immense popularity among the people. As long as the people are happy, we have no choice but to be patient.”
“Yes. As long as the honeymoon between the people and Her Highness continues, that is.”

Kurst stared intently at Donéva’s face, but eventually changed his tone and said,

“Lord Donéva, are you familiar with Lord Veit of the Southern Federation?”
“The werewolf who deflects stone projectiles? I’ve heard stories from soldiers who fought in the Battle of Zaria. A terrifying monster, isn’t he?”

Kurst gave a wry smile and shook his head.

“No, he’s actually quite reasonable, you know. Vilheim was caught between two tough choices, and it was him who advised me to surrender to the Liberation Army.”
“I see…”

Donéva’s expression changed. It was no longer the face of a cheerful middle-aged man. It was the face of a governor ruling over a military stronghold.

“I’d like to hear a bit more about that.”

Donéva called a servant and ordered fresh water to be boiled.