The Road to Schwarzburg

Spring came to the Black Forest.

In the two weeks following Elise's declaration, Schwarzburg hummed with unprecedented activity.

Trade caravans arrived daily, bearing goods from allied beast-folk territories. Craftsmen worked around the clock forging armor and weapons. The Magic Soldier Corps drilled endlessly in the training grounds.

And in the midst of it all, Altrelis struggled to keep pace.

"This is the revised trade agreement with the Southern Wolf Tribes," Fido explained, sliding yet another document across the desk. "They're offering a favorable rate on iron ore in exchange for exclusive access to our medicinal herbs."

"Approved." Altrelis signed without looking up.

"These are the infrastructure proposals for the new eastern road..."

"Approved."

"And this is a marriage proposal from the Cat-Folk Confederation, offering their chief's daughter—"

"WHAT?!" Altrelis's head snapped up.

Fido chuckled. "That got your attention."

"Declined. Very declined. Extremely declined."

"I thought as much." The old man's eyes twinkled. "But I thought you might enjoy the entertainment."

Altrelis groaned, slumping back in his chair.

"Is this what being Demon King means? Paperwork and marriage proposals?"

"Among other things, yes."

A knock interrupted them.

"Enter."

Luna stepped through the door, her expression characteristically unreadable.

"My lord. Our scouts have returned with troubling news."

Altrelis straightened immediately.

"Report."

The war council convened within the hour.

"House Medean has been busy," Luna began, spreading a map across the table. "In the past fortnight, they've dispatched emissaries to both the Ilston and Hilt families."

"Seeking allies," Isana murmured. "Predictable."

"More than allies. They're claiming we kidnapped the princess—that the declaration was coerced."

"Does anyone actually believe that?" Tor asked, her ears flattening.

"Enough do. Or pretend to." Luna's voice was flat. "The Ilston family has already begun mobilizing troops. The Hilts are still deliberating, but our sources suggest they'll follow."

"Numbers?"

"Combined? If all three houses commit their full strength... perhaps eight thousand soldiers. Against our current force of three thousand, plus the Magic Soldier Corps."

Grim silence settled over the room.

"We're outnumbered," one of the generals growled. "But not outmatched. Our warriors are worth three of theirs."

"Pride before numbers is how armies die," Isana said coolly. "I've seen it happen."

"What do you suggest, then?"

"Intelligence. Preparation. And identifying the enemy's weakness before they exploit ours."

While the military deliberations continued, Elise sat quietly to the side, listening intently.

She wasn't a warrior. She had no skill in magic or strategy.

But she had something else.

"I know about them."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

All eyes turned to her.

"L-Lord Hirt of the Hilt family. Lord Palras of the Ilston family." She gathered her courage. "I've met them both. I know their temperaments, their ambitions..."

"Speak," Altrelis encouraged.

Elise took a breath.

"Lord Hirt is cautious. Risk-averse. He won't commit unless he's certain of victory. If we could demonstrate strength early—make him doubt the outcome—he might withdraw."

"And Lord Palras?"

"...He's more dangerous." Her expression darkened. "Ambitious, ruthless. He's long coveted our—my father's lands. He'll see this alliance as an opportunity, not just an obligation."

"So he's the true threat."

"Yes. If Lord Palras commits, Lord Hirt will follow. But if we could somehow... neutralize Palras first..."

"Assassination?" Isana raised an eyebrow.

"No! I mean—politically. Diplomatically. Something to undermine his position."

The room fell silent as they absorbed her words.

Then Fido spoke.

"The girl has insight." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps there's a role for her beyond symbolism after all."

Altrelis nodded slowly.

"Elise. From now on, you're our advisor on human affairs. I want detailed briefings on every noble house we might deal with."

Elise's eyes widened.

"You're... you're trusting me with this?"

"You've earned it." He smiled. "Now prove me right."

That evening, the Magic Soldier Corps conducted a night drill.

Two hundred soldiers moved through the forest in perfect formation, their enchanted staffs held ready.

Commander Ragnar—a grizzled wolf-man who had served under the previous Demon King—walked the line, observing.

"Their formation is solid," Luna remarked from beside Altrelis. "Much improved from a month ago."

"Ragnar's doing."

"Indeed. He's a capable officer."

On the field, a young lion-folk soldier stumbled, nearly losing his grip on his magic staff.

Ragnar was there instantly.

"STEADY!" his voice boomed. "You drop that staff in combat, you're dead. Again—from the beginning!"

Altrelis watched the harsh but fair correction.

"How long until they're ready for real combat?"

"A month. Perhaps less." Luna paused. "Long enough?"

"It will have to be."

'The enemy won't wait for your convenience,'* the Wisdom observed. *'But neither must you wait for theirs. Sometimes the best defense is to strike first.'

'I'm not starting a war.'

'You may not have a choice. The war has already begun—in hearts and council chambers, if not yet on battlefields.'

Altrelis said nothing.

But his grip on the Void Scepter tightened.

End of Chapter Five

—Next Chapter: The Cat-Eared Messenger