Oswald exhaled a sigh of relief. Michael's agreement was a small victory amidst the chaos.
But as Michael turned away, his mind was already preparing for the battles to come.
"Does the Emperor truly intend to surrender? No… A man who's clung to power for this long will not yield so easily. If he cannot keep it, he will destroy everything."
In the heart of Pamillian, Emperor Maximilian I woke with a start, his luxurious chambers lit by the soft morning sun.
Still in bed with his concubines, he stretched lazily, his mind drifting to his youngest son's betrayal.
"That fool Oswald," he muttered, "has thrown away everything for what? To side with my enemies? If they think I'll give up my throne without a fight, they're sorely mistaken."
He rose, his regal figure still imposing despite his age, and donned his robe. He had spent the last few weeks preoccupied with siring a new heir, knowing Oswald's defection meant he could no longer trust his current lineage.
