Duke Ibzles sat in his dimly lit study, fingers gripping the armrests of his chair. The air felt thick, suffocating with tension.
He was uneasy.
The royal army had stationed itself within his territory, shackling his every move.
He couldn't mobilize his troops or act without scrutiny.
The Coalition Army had been annihilated. All the noble houses that had joined the war against Armand were now suffering.
Resources depleted. Morale shattered. The once-mighty coalition had collapsed into ruins.
And now—
The king's forces were watching.
Waiting.
Ibzles' breath came out slow and controlled, but deep down, panic gnawed at his mind.
"Damn it all… this wasn't supposed to happen."
Armand was supposed to fall. Javier De Armand was meant to be nothing more than a troublesome child—not a monster who wiped out armies.
And Garius—
Ibzles gritted his teeth.
That man.
That damned man.
Even now, Count Garius De Armand remained untouched. Unfazed. A king without a crown.
