"I can't believe it works…" Elliot mumbled, reading the reports, which often were mired by his minor nobles' concern towards the refugees and their apparent cooperativeness, thinking some ulterior motives were hiding behind them.

True enough, if not for Leon, he would think the same, seeing betrayals brewing among the newcomers. Yet, this was not the case. It was simply the effect of their conditioning that he witnessed with his own eyes. A straightforward suggestion was being planted into them: Don't work against Avalon. It was so simple yet effective because everyone who was relocated within his territories, filling up old, empty villages, was no longer openly hostile to his rule. Were they still distraught? Yes. Were they hating Ishillia? Yes, many even hung up old Scorc flags on their new homes, yet nobody was causing trouble or instigating fights with locals and guards who were posted there, guarding their villages.

"Magic… what a frightening tool. I wonder… I do have the same blood as my big sis. Maybe I could sire a mage, too?" He chuckled, thinking about it, finally beginning to consider taking a wife from her maids, if nothing else, working on producing an heir just as Leon did.

…

….

……

"This is utter nonsense…" Levy grunted, standing in a temporary tent, the prepared army of the Black Lands surrounding him, ready for their orders, numbering 3,200 men in total. From that, a thousand were cavalry while the rest were simple foot soldiers, equipped with whatever they brought with themselves, only around a third of them being properly trained fighters, equipped with proper weapons and chainmail armor.

Yet, for now, there were no incidents or any reason to use them and start a march into the Duchy's territory. Yet they were looking for one since their numbers passed 2,000. They even sent some of their men to spy on what was happening, but they have heard nothing from them since crossing the barriers. No matter who they pushed over the borders, they all disappeared or returned with a branding, told to cross over one more time, and they would be executed on the spot.

"Where was everyone disappearing to? We had to push a thousand or so people over already… There should be something happening! Tsk. We will have to move in, using it as an excuse..."

While he was thinking of that, at a different place but at the same time, Countess Matilda Zimmerman, leader of her earldom, was having a formal dinner with her guest, Milan Kustov, son of a newly risen duke within the capital of Ishillia. She was already nervous by the time she received their letter informing her of Milan's visit, but right now, having dinner with him, obligated to have her three sons sit with her, was nerve-wracking.

So far, when the young man arrived, he was polite, not a tinge of haughtiness, something she was expecting from a boy growing up with unimaginable privileges. Especially because her own sons were all like that, even after trying to raise them properly. Was this the difference in the environment they grew up in? Was it the influence of the Silver Region that ruined them, which was filled with either poor and coarse workers or wealthy trading guilds and nobles living lavish lives? She couldn't tell.

"Is the capital really full of exquisite brothels?"

"…!" Matilda almost choked on the piece of meat she put in her mouth when she heard her eldest son's question echoing around the massive table, aimed at Milan sitting five meters apart from her, at the opposite end of it. Until that point, they were only talking about surface-level politics, comparing the land between the capital and here, but his eldest managed to divert the topic into a wall.

"There are." Milan answered without batting an eye, remaining calm, but he didn't look at Reus Zimmerman when answering, who was about a decade older than him. This angered the first in line to inherit Matilda's earldom, but at least he was not yet drunk enough to give voice to his secondary thoughts.

"This is not a topic to be discussed at dinner." Reus's mother spoke after finally managing to gulp everything down, reprimanding her son, who clearly was used to it because he barely batted an eye over it.

Deep inside, Milan was shrugging, feeling that these sorts of questions were nothing compared to what he was going through when working with the Empress. Watching the three, he was reminded of his old friends, people he was used to hanging out and having fun with, and people who no longer dared to talk to him because of Mirian. He didn't need to ask anything; he knew their preferences just by looking at them. He knew why the second brother had heavy makeup on, hiding the black eye he received in some kind of brawl, or why the third brother, who was younger than him, looked to be drunk already.

"Capital boys are cute…" Bastian, the youngest, mumbled, but loud enough for everyone to hear, causing her mother to drop her glass, freezing in place. She knew her youngest had an unusual taste and was the same type of drunkard as she was... She just didn't think he would speak out like this, making his two brothers scoff and look at him in disgust.

“…”

This time, even Milan didn't know how to react to it. He did feel good about it, but then again, he didn't want to show it. On the outside, his face remained collected and nonchalant, a skill he had trained well since meeting Mirian, enduring her constant gropings, even on public occasions.

"I think," Matilda expressed, trying to sound calm, standing up, holding onto the edge of her table to hide the shaking of her arms, wanting to strangle her sons one by one. "We should head into my office to continue, Young Lord Kustov."

"I do notice that your sons look tired." Milan nodded, excusing them, and while the youngest was sighing in disappointment, the middle child was happy to be given the signal to leave and get out of this charade. The one who was getting more and more annoyed was the eldest, thinking that Milan was way too haughty. He may have been someone higher ranked than him, but he was still younger in age and the guest of their house. He shouldn't be the one excusing them!

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"They are." Matilda agreed immediately and was happy to have a valid reason to dismiss them. "Please, young Duke," she said, ensuring that her sons recognized their place. "Follow me."

Walking forward, wearing a long, blue dress with a big cutout on her back, going down to her waist, Milan couldn't help but let his eyes scan her very curve, catching himself when he began focusing on her swaying bottom.

"Damn… If Mirian was here, she would castrate me…" While he was worrying if the Empress would be able to magically read this memory out of his mind after getting home, Matilda was having different thoughts altogether.

"He does look cute. Too bad I am too old to try for a fourth. Though… it would be an upgrade. Maybe someone from the capital is less prone to make a kid who is retarded?" Looking over her shoulders, her motherly smile, mixed with a sudden hunger in her eyes, made Milan shudder because he perfectly knew that type of gaze. Mirian showed him the same look many times already.

"I am already claimed by Empress Mirian." He blurted it out right when they entered the study, only the two of them, all alone. A dozen warning bells were ringing inside his head, not because he found Matilda unpleasant but for the simple reason that Mirian would most likely send down soldiers to round up the whole family and accuse them of treason. Then, as for him, who knows…

On the other hand, his simple comment this time truly made Matilda fall over, her ankle letting out a loud cracking sound as she fell face first, her high heels breaking off from her shoes. Her shock was such that she felt neither pain nor embarrassment, turning around, sitting on the carpet, looking back at her with enlarged eyes, trying to figure out what was even happening. She wasn't drunk; she made sure to not touch alcohol while she had guests, especially such an important one. Did one of his sons prank her and switch her mugs at dinner?

"H-here, my Empress said to present this if something... happens to me." Milan stuttered, now truly troubled because Matilda was lying before her, looking like someone expecting to do something more than talk. It made him pull out a letter Mirian gave him, telling him that if he ever finds himself in trouble, he should show it to the opposing party, and everything should be resolved.

"W-what… I… huh?" Now, even the countess had nothing to say, forcing herself to stand up, hissing from pain before taking the letter and limping to her chair, sitting down. With a blank look, she opened the letter, and her embarrassed, rosy face turned deathly pale, her stomach dropping so low that she felt it wanted to escape her body.

"If you dare to hurt my one and only love, Milan Kustov, I don't care who you are. Be a lowly bastard, a homeless dreg, a bandit, a noble, from a nobody knight to a duke; know this: I will find you, and I will personally kill you. I don't care where you are, and I don't care if I need to waste Ishillia's resources. I will hunt you down with the Spear of Death and impale you before eradicating your whole bloodline, down to your distant cousins and their dogs. Touch my Milly… and die."

The handwriting was beautiful and regal, the ink was almost shining, and all the royal seals were authentic; everything pointed towards one certainty: it wasn't a forgery. It was authentic.

"Duke Jauwn... I think... you have been replaced." She thought to herself, feeling cold sweat running down her back. No matter how the old duke warned her not to humor anybody coming to see her, testing her loyalty and seeing if she would switch sides, he never mentioned anything like this. Duke Kustov's family was nurturing ties with the Empress?! This was a done deal. Milan Kustov wanted something? He gets it. No matter what.

"I am here on official business." Milan explained, regaining his composure and taking back the letter from Matilda's shaking fingers.

"P-p-please. Continue." The countess nodded, reaching for her emergency flask and drinking half of it just to stop her body from trembling.

"Khm. I came because of what is happening to our territory."

"Your... territory?" She asked carefully, liquor dripping from her lips down to her cleavage. The Black Lands, she already knew it.

"A lowly baron is causing trouble, using the Scorc refugees to take advantage of the Frontier. You see, my family is responsible for the safety of the Empire, defending our back from beasts. We can't have anything disturb that, not when we have outside pressure weighing us down in the south and in our newest, eastern region."

"Yes... yes, I can understand that." Matilda nodded, remembering the letter Baron Tobrok had sent her. "I will inform them to cease their nonsense and stop immediately. We will deal with the refugees and redirect them ourselves. The Frontier will have peace!"

"That would be the best. You see, we are improving the security of the Frontier, especially because of the freshly opened borders with the Atuvian League. That is my second reason here."

"Second... reason?"

"Yes, Countess. You have a subordinate region there that already dealt with them, going behind laws and decrees."

"...!" Of course she knew about it. She always got a slice of the profits, and she used it herself many times in the past, being the middle-man between the Atuvian guilds and the duke above her. It was an open secret.

"This time, you don't need to do it so covertly. We will also use it, and the Frontier will be our base of operations, outside of prying eyes. I think you can understand my meaning."

"Outside of the prying eyes of the Empress or the other dukes?" She asked, making Milan fix his position before answering, lying for the first time.

"Even with us being in favor of the Empress, the games between dukes are still deadly."

"That is true..." Matilda shrugged, "I totally understand it, and I will do anything that the Empress wishes me to do as I am her loyal subject. But I need guarantees." After quickly going through everything that just happened, she was already looking at her options, wanting to ensure that her region remained the same and wouldn't be gobbled up by anyone. It may fall after she dies and one of her sons takes over it, but she won't be the one who fails her family's name.

"I understand." Milan nodded, expecting something like this from the get-go.

"I need a written guarantee. By..." she wanted to say the Empress, but she knew it was a nonsensical wish. "By your family. By your father's and your signature, Young Kustov. I will visit the Black Lands myself and stop the pitiful squabble they are having there, but for the trading routes... that will need careful planning! Duke Jauwn won't take it lying down. I can't go against him without support..."

"I understand." Milan smiled, reaching into his breast pocket and picking out an official letter, guaranteeing that the Kustov family would protect her and her interests with everything they had. It was signed and stamped by his father and him, as he came prepared for every occasion. "The Frontier is essential to my family and the Empire. Unlike many of our predecessors, we understand that, and I have the complete support of our Empress. Anyone I support, she does so, too."

"R-really...?" She gulped, licking her lips as her eyes lit up again.

"Yes, Countess Matilda Zimmermann. Some older families of dukes may dislike the fact... But change is coming to Ishillia and sooner than you think."