Berhemâs madness didnât stop at consuming the lives of others.
âWhy isnât the war preparation finished yet?â
He needed to kill Count Fenris, the one who had driven him into this corner. Just thinking about him made Berhemâs rage boil over uncontrollably.
He constantly pressured Marquiss Domont, impatient to send his "great army" to crush the North.
Marquiss Domont, drenched in nervous sweat, desperately tried to calm him.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
âYour Majesty, we need more time to prepare. Please, be patient.â
Waging war wasnât something that could be done on a whim, especially against a formidable enemy like the northern army.
Marquiss Domont continued to placate Berhem, his tone steady.
âYour Majesty, the lords are loyal to you. They are merely afraid.â
âAfraid?â
âYes. They remember their previous conflicts with the Dukeâs house. The truce has left them anxious about potential repercussions.â
âThen what must be done?â
âYour Majesty should extend your mercy, forgiving their perceived offenses and assuring them of your protection.â
âVery well. That is not a difficult task. Will that suffice?â
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