The Conference of the Imperial Heirs necessitated the gathering of the three imperial princes and Princess Sophia, all of whom held the right to inherit the throne of the Ancient Aceraceae Empire. This crucial discussion to determine the future of their inheritance would decide the fate of the Empire in its entirety.

"However, Your Highness, we've only just met the prerequisites for this auspicious meeting. If we cannot resolve matters amicably, we will not be able to quell the chaos that has engulfed the Empire," an advisor warned, his voice low with concern.

"I know," Sophia replied, her tone calm yet carrying the weight of the Empire’s future. "But this is not something I can achieve by myself."

The guests of honor were the two imperial princes, and if their torrent of thoughts didn’t converge toward a single resolution, the meeting would end in disaster. Princess Sophia couldn't guarantee the likelihood of them coming to an agreement with any confidence.

"Nonsense," Karl, the servile city administrator, reassured her, mistaking her reply as a sign of anxiety. "You were the one who helped the Empire pause the civil war and persuaded the imperial princes to participate in this meeting. As a servant of the Empire, I urge you to wield that power once more and bring a peaceful resolution to the Conference of the Imperial Heirs."

Sophia understood the precariousness of her position. If she appeared as an obvious rival competing for the throne, her brothers would surely crush her. Yet, she had skillfully portrayed herself as a princess motivated solely by love for her nation. Each prince was scheming to win her over, hoping that aligning with her would enhance the reputation of their faction. For this reason, she couldn’t afford to act recklessly.

In a secluded chamber reserved exclusively for the imperial family, the curtain was about to rise on the Conference of the Imperial Heirs, where the fate of the Empire would be decided.

King Phillipe and King Philonous arrived late to the conference, each trying to outdo the other by being the last to arrive, thus implying greater importance. Princess Sophia, maintaining her composure before her two imperial brothers, began the meeting. “Let us discuss the future of the Empire—”

...

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room elsewhere in the city, a man sat fuming with rage, his fingers drumming impatiently on a table. The door creaked open, and a subordinate entered, her face pale with fear.

“What was that?” the man barked, his lips trembling in anger as he listened to her report. “Did you just tell me they failed?”

“Yes…” the trembling woman apologized, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man's rage was like a thunderstorm in the middle of the night. His underling prayed his lightning wouldn’t strike him dead as she cringed to say, “It’s confirmed. The Twilight operative is still alive.”

“…Let me get this straight: We spent all that time and money to infiltrate the city guards only to fail to kill a one-star operative? Worse yet, the guards we bribed managed to get themselves killed?”

The subordinate looked distressed. Even nodding in response seemed too much. “…Yes, but there is good news, sir," she answered quickly, "It seems the Twilight operative has not yet caught on to us, so I do not believe we will face any consequences. And—”

“…Try again!” the man yelled, his voice dripping with icy fury.

“Pardon?”

“Send out more men. We’ll do this again… We cannot fail the Night Order. Destabilizing Twilight is only the first move. If we can’t do that completely, then you and I are both dead. Use every trick up your sleeve to kill that man!”

The subordinate’s eyes snapped open. “P-please wait! It will take time to bribe more guards. Not to mention the city is on high alert! It will be much harder to carry this out without being discovered compared to our last attempt.”

“What about it?! We don’t have a choice. If we’re not useful to the family, they won’t leave us alive. I don’t care if we have to kill all the imperial children and blow up half the city. I will see the Night Order’s command through.”

...

Back at the conference, Henry found himself in a private meeting with Kings Phillipe and Philonous. Since the kings’ invitations had come to him at the same time, Henry normally would have had to choose one to postpone to a later date. However, that would not send the right message. Wanting to remain on good terms with both kings, it was in his best interest to avoid stirring up any negative emotions. Thus, he had planned to meet them both simultaneously.

The kings sought to win Henry over and size him up at the same time. Henry, too, wanted to meet the kings for himself. This led them all to this tense encounter.

Phillipe leaned back in his chair, his expression carefully neutral as he sipped his tea. "So, Henry, you come to us with the reputation of a man who seeks to navigate these troubled waters with wisdom. Tell us, why should either of us trust your intentions when we know so little about your true goals?"

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Henry set his own cup down carefully, meeting Phillipe's gaze evenly. "I have no interest in choosing sides, Your Majesties. My loyalty lies with the peace and prosperity of this land, not with the ambitions of any one ruler."

Philonous raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "A diplomatic answer. But peace is a fleeting thing in times like these. One might even say it's a fool's errand to chase it. What makes you so certain you can succeed where others have failed?"

Henry smiled slightly. "I'm not certain of anything. But I do know that chaos benefits no one—not your people, and not mine. That's why I'm here: to find a way forward that doesn't involve further bloodshed."

The room fell silent for a moment, each man assessing the others. All three parties remained on guard against a nonexistent trump card as they continued to dance around the topic. The server took away the cold tea, poured fresh cups, and placed one in front of each of them, then tried to leave the room as the two kings sat wordlessly.

“Don’t move,” Henry barked to the server, his voice suddenly sharp. One of the perks of dating an alchemist is that you learn the subtle signs of potions and poisons.

“Ngh…” The server’s shoulders trembled, and he turned around.

“Wh-what can I help you with?” The server blinked in surprise. Philonous was no different. His eyes darted between them as he wondered what was going on.

“Did you brew this tea?”

“…Yes, but…” The server timidly nodded, seemingly puzzled by this sudden turn of events. Henry pressed him mercilessly.

“Drink it.”

“What…? This tea?”

“That’s right.”

The server looked around the room, but the others said nothing, agape at Henry’s strange behavior. Realizing that no help was forthcoming, the server bowed as low as possible.

“With all due respect, that tea has been hand-selected for hosting and entertaining nobles. Someone such as I must not—”

“I said drink it,” Henry ordered forcefully. It sent chills down the servant’s spine. “You should be able to consume it—if there’s nothing extra in it.”

The attendants in the room finally understood the situation. Henry was implying the tea had been laced with poison. All eyes turned on the server. With his head still bowed, the server gnashed his teeth in frustration. How did he find out…?!

The server was one of the Night Order’s spies. He had infiltrated Philonous's domain a few years prior, providing information on his faction. Just the day before, he’d been ordered to kill the Twilight operative when he arrived at the meeting. The server chose poison as his method of assassination, and he never thought he’d be found out right before he could finish the job.

‘Shit! How do I get out of this…?!’ He had no way of knowing that as bloodline Bearman, Henry had heightened senses that took note of tea's aroma… Heather had taught him to recognize alchemical ingredients, especially poisons and healing herbs.

Henry’s eyes homed in on the server’s every move. His mind raced with speculation: Was it Phillipe or Philonous trying to poison the other? Why poison them when we’re all three together? Is one trying to blame his brother’s death on me? Or is this a third party? Would it make more sense if the culprit were a different order? They might have perceived me as a threat.

Phillipe, who had been observing the scene, leaned forward, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Well, this is certainly interesting. A poisoned cup of tea in the presence of two potential heirs. And my sister's allies. Quite the dramatic twist, wouldn’t you say, Philonous?"

Philonous frowned, his gaze shifting from the server to Henry. “A poisoned cup of tea in my palace wing? Ridiculous! You’re suggesting that someone would dare to attempt an assassination in my domain?”

Phillipe’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, come now, brother. Isn’t it a bit convenient that this servant just happened to be the one serving Henry’s tea? Maybe you should have vetted your staff more carefully.”

Philonous bristled at the implication. “And maybe you’re deflecting because you had a hand in this yourself, Phillipe. Or is this just your way of testing Henry?”

Henry remained silent, watching the exchange. He needed to keep his composure, to understand the dynamics at play between the brothers. But his patience was wearing thin. “Enough of this,” he interjected. “There’s poison in this tea, and I want to know why.”

Philonous leaned back, crossing his arms. “Fine, Henry. If you’re so convinced, then perhaps we should let this servant drink the tea and prove you wrong.”

Phillipe laughed, clapping his hands. “What a splendid idea, brother! Let’s see who is truly responsible for this... misfortune.”

The server, realizing he had no way out, hesitated. “I—I can’t drink this tea. I have... a condition.”

Phillipe rolled his eyes. “A condition? How convenient.”

Philonous nodded to the server. “Drink it. Now.”

The server, trapped, reached for the cup with a shaking hand. But before he could take a sip, Philonous snatched it from him, his eyes locked on Henry. “I’ll prove there’s nothing wrong with this tea.” He downed it in one gulp.

Henry’s eyes widened in horror. “No, wait—!”

But it was too late. Philonous’s face contorted in pain almost instantly. His hand went to his throat, and he gasped, collapsing to the floor.

Phillipe’s amusement vanished in an instant, replaced with panic. “Brother!” He rushed to Philonous’s side as Henry barked orders to the attendants.

“Get a doctor now!” Henry shouted, his mind racing with the possible implications.

The room erupted into chaos. Servants and guards scrambled to find a healer, while others tried to secure the area. Henry knelt beside Philonous, trying to remember the remedies Heather had taught him for different poisons. He could see Phillipe’s face twisted with fear and anger.

Phillipe was quickly escorted out of the room for his own protection. But he stopped to glare at Henry before leaving.

“This was not my doing,” Henry said firmly, trying to maintain a semblance of calm in the face of the unfolding disaster. “Someone wants to pit us against each other. We need to work together if we want to uncover who’s behind this.”

Phillipe nodded, though his eyes remained suspicious. “I feel same, but I wonder if it was my sister or her knight commander." Then he stormed out the room with his guards.

Henry felt the weight of those words. This was no longer just a matter of political maneuvering; it had become a fight for survival. As the seconds ticked by, he knew that the balance of power within the empire was about to shift dramatically. And if he wasn’t careful, he might find himself caught in the crossfire.

A healer finally arrived, rushing to Philonous’s side. She began her work, murmuring incantations and mixing potions with practiced hands. Henry watched intently, hoping that it wasn’t too late.