Count Agon saw the First Princess, Michelle, in a pitiable state. Over the course of just two days, a string of catastrophic events had drained the color from her face. Her voice carried strength and conviction, but an undercurrent of anxiety was evident. Though her hands were clasped calmly in front of her, they trembled ever so slightly.

"The situation doesn’t look good," the count remarked, to which Michelle nodded in agreement.

"They’ll continue to tie our hands and tighten the noose around us relentlessly. Looking at Leon Benning’s previous actions, he’s been cautious and methodical in consolidating power... but now…"

On that fateful night, Leon Benning and the Second Prince had acted as if nothing could stop them. It wasn’t simply that they had lacked the strength to retaliate against the king before; they had the justification for military action and the forces necessary to overturn the palace. The only thing that had restrained Leon Benning until now was his desire to avoid leaving a blemish on his record.

"But now, the circumstances have changed. They’ll aim to eliminate any chance for us to move or retaliate," Michelle added.

Count Agon let out a hum of discontent.

"The option to peacefully inherit the throne and consolidate the kingdom’s power has been erased. Since they’ve already begun spilling blood, they have no reason to hesitate to shed more," he said, frowning as if his own words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"There is a glimmer of hope," he added. "Reports say the Marquis from the eastern border is advancing with his forces to rescue the First Prince. But there’s no guarantee they’ll safely reach the capital."

The situation left Michelle with only one choice: to rise and take up arms before the enemy’s blade reached their throats.

"Summarizing it all just makes it seem even bleaker," Michelle muttered bitterly. Her gaze drifted toward the suddenly silent Count Agon, who appeared to be carefully weighing his words. Michelle studied him for a moment before breaking the silence.

"So, Count, what is it you want to say?"

Closing her eyes briefly to brush away the sympathy lingering in his gaze, Michelle waited. The count sighed and spoke with deliberation.

"I am prepared to act whenever Your Highness commands. My retainers are currently gathering the troops stationed here along with the knights of Myura who accompanied me," he said.

Michelle nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle heavier on her shoulders. Her decisions and actions now carried the power to decide the lives of countless people. This realization darkened her gaze further, though Count Agon, recognizing this, showed no outward pity. He knew that offering easy sympathy at this moment would only weaken her resolve.

"But I must ask one question, Your Highness," he said, his tone carrying a grave weight.

It was a daring breach of decorum, but the count had chosen to take on the role of antagonist to strengthen her resolve.

"Are you prepared to become the ruler of this kingdom?"

Michelle’s expression turned blank with surprise. She had never been asked such a question before—never even considered it. Not once had she imagined herself sitting on the throne of this kingdom.

"Are you rallying your forces simply out of a desire to rescue your brother, the First Prince?" the count pressed.
"Of course…," Michelle began, but her voice faltered as her expression stiffened.

It was true. Her sole focus had been on rescuing Louis, using the soldiers and knights she had gathered to free him and restore the kingdom to normalcy.

But what then?

If she succeeded in rescuing Louis, what would come next? Their father, who had anchored the kingdom’s stability, was gone. What remained were contenders for the throne supported by two powerful noble factions.

"I…"

"Even if, by some miracle, we defeat the Second Prince and Leon Benning and retake the palace, do you think that will be the end of it?"

The count’s voice grew firm, his words unyielding.

"Retaking the palace is impossible with our current forces alone. We need the help of the Marquis advancing from the east—that is non-negotiable."

Michelle felt the pressure in the count’s voice as he drove his point home. From where he stood, Adeline stirred, ready to speak up, but Maxim’s hand stopped him.

Why are you stopping me? Adeline’s eyes asked.

Maxim shook his head slowly. He could tell that Count Agon’s intentions were not to pressure Michelle into taking the throne for his benefit, nor to corner her into submission for his own gain. There was something deeper. Maxim observed the count’s furrowed brow, etched with the lines of time.

"Just wait," Maxim whispered, holding Adeline back. Adeline lowered his gaze and backed down, though his frustration was evident.

"Answer me, Your Highness," Count Agon continued. "Understand that this is not a question for me personally but one that represents all those who follow you—soldiers, knights, and retainers alike."

His gaze was unwavering, as if he were testing her.

What kind of answer is he expecting from me? Michelle wondered, biting her lip. No sooner had one obstacle passed than another blocked her path. Was she truly ready to become a ruler?

Her gaze drifted to Maxim, Adeline, and Yvonne, who had escorted her to the count’s mansion.

Why are they following me?

The thought gripped her, pulling her into a sea of doubt.

Not just them—her thoughts extended to the Fourth Guard waiting at the Adventurer’s Guild, the maids, and Marion. Were they following her because they genuinely wanted her to become queen? Or was it for the allure of power?

Her wavering eyes met Maxim’s. As if sensing her silent plea for help, he slowly shook his head. His golden eyes were unwavering, steady. She turned to Adeline’s dark eyes, then Yvonne’s green ones.

None of them seemed afraid. Their loyalty was clear—they would follow her no matter what decision she made.

"We won’t regret any outcome, nor will we blame you for it, Your Highness," Yvonne said firmly.

Michelle turned her gaze to Adeline.

"Even if all you wish to do is save the First Prince and not claim the throne, we are ready to follow you," he added.

I see now. I was thinking about this all wrong from the start.

Her eyes returned to Maxim.

But what about Louis? If I declare my intent to become queen, will he stand against me? Will he raise his sword and rally the Marquis against me? If that happens… will I have to fight him? Or will I shoulder all this weight and step aside for him?

"Prince Louis…" Maxim’s voice broke her thoughts. Michelle stiffened at the mention of his name.

"He has always worried about you. Even on the verge of the uprising, his final order to me was to protect you in his stead," Maxim said.

Louis…

The trembling in her eyes was no longer from fear or uncertainty.

"I don’t know if that answers your question sufficiently," Maxim said.

Michelle began to banish the dreadful thoughts that had clouded her mind. She wanted to believe. She wanted to believe the bond she shared with Louis was something special.

"I trust Louis," she said, her voice firm.

Louis had always protected her. Maxim standing here before her was proof of that.

"Now, it’s my turn to repay Louis."

Michelle believed with all her heart that Louis would never raise his sword against her, no matter what happened. Even if he did, she would lay everything down to make peace. Their father had understood this from the start, which was why he had divided support between Count Agon and the Marquis.

And so, Michelle knew the answer she had to give. Count Agon had merely been waiting for her to come to this realization. Taking a steadying breath, Michelle met his gaze.

"I have no intention of becoming queen right now," she said resolutely.

Count Agon’s expression hardened, but Michelle didn’t soften her tone. Whether he had tested her or truly believed his words, she would not waver like a fool swayed by the whims of nobles like Kyle had.

"Rescuing Louis takes precedence over anything else. And so, should you prioritize making me queen over quelling this chaos and saving Louis, how can you claim to be committed to restoring this kingdom?" she continued, her voice rising.

Michelle slammed her hand on the table.

"Count, I’m not rejecting your words entirely, but for now, I am focused on extinguishing the immediate flames. Deciding who ascends the throne can wait until Leon Benning is executed," she declared.

Having said her piece, Michelle grew quiet. Count Agon didn’t seem particularly displeased by her defiance. Instead, his gaze shifted to one of encouragement, as if to say keep going.

Michelle realized his questioning hadn’t come from a place of disrespect but from a desire to prepare her for the burdens ahead.

"Then let me ask you this," Michelle said, her voice steady now, with a hint of certainty.

"Count, are you ready to follow any command I give?"

The count smiled faintly at her counter-question. Perhaps his sovereign was far more astute and composed than he had anticipated.

"Yes, of course."
"Then I trust you’re prepared to make me queen if I so command."
"Yes, Your Highness. I am always ready to place you on the throne."
"Then why did you ask if I was ready to become queen? If you’re prepared to make it happen, you need only act on it," Michelle said, her words sharp.

The count’s smile deepened. The First Princess had seen through the contradiction and intent in his question. He was no sycophant blinded by power, nor a coward reluctant to pledge loyalty to the kingdom. Nor was he so stubborn as to continue pressing her once she had seen through him.

"It seems Your Highness has seen through my thoughts entirely," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

Watching from behind, Maxim allowed himself a small smile. Adeline and Yvonne widened their eyes in surprise as the count slowly knelt before Michelle.

"Forgive my insolence, Your Highness," he said.
"No, Count. Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to steady my resolve," Michelle replied.

His gamble had paid off. Seeing the determination reignited in the princess’s eyes, the count felt at ease.

"Now, let’s begin discussing our next steps in earnest," Michelle said.

Of course, this was just the beginning. There was no room for complacency or celebration.

"We can’t march our forces to reclaim the palace immediately," she said.

The count nodded. They needed a plan to avoid being crushed under the enemy’s superior forces.

"We must establish contact with the Marquis advancing from the west," she added.

The count summoned a servant to bring a map of the kingdom, spreading it across the table. His finger traced a line from the barren no-man’s land in the east toward the western forest near the capital. Adeline’s expression hardened—this was the same forest where the Marquis’s knights had been brutally slaughtered.

"By tomorrow, the Marquis will reach the outskirts of the capital. Leon Benning will do everything he can to stop them from entering," the count explained.
"And at the same time, he’ll try to ensure we can’t leave the capital. If we’re not careful, both forces could be annihilated," Michelle said, her voice grave.

The count’s lips curved into a smirk.

"It’s a precarious situation for us, but the same holds true for them. They’ll have to fend off the Marquis’s forces while also keeping us contained."

With a decisive thud, the count drove his dagger into the map, its blade piercing the forest near the capital.

"This is our last opportunity, Your Highness," he declared.

Michelle swallowed dryly.

"And it will be their final obstacle," the count added.

Michelle nodded, her gaze fixed on the dagger gleaming coldly over the map.

"We march at dusk," she said firmly.

The count bowed deeply.

"As you command, Your Highness."