The Monster of Nargoz (Part 1)

Eleonora von Veidt, princess of Nargoz. Despite being born with outstanding magical talents, she rejected the arcane path to dedicate herself to the pursuit of martial excellence.

Though the incomprehensible choice made her the high nobility’s laughingstock, she persisted, and proved an outstanding martial talent, becoming a High Templar at the tender age of 19. Unlike most scions of royalty or high nobility, Eleonora refused to study at the Imperial Academy, preferring the teachings of her bloodkin ancestors instead. Moved by her devotion, her father made her head of the royal guard.

Still, knowing that templars couldn’t reach Archon tier, not many took her seriously. The focus soon shifted on the tales of her peerless elegance and enrapturing beauty, with many Junior Dukes and Princes pledging to claim either the hand or body. Such ridiculous tales had long since stopped shocking Kilian.

Arcadia’s aristocracy was a circle jerk of bored imbeciles. Commoners of various classes did the real work, keeping the economy spinning for their noble masters whose absolute military power prevented all revolt. Unless they focused on the arts or Unique Disciplines such as Technomancy, most aristocrats spent their lives accumulating power to abuse it. Unavoidably, Eleonora became a major priority.

However, little did anyone expect that two years after her promotion, the martial queen would sink into depression, give up her position, dye her black hair purple, and vanish from public sight. Alarmed, the previous king attempted all he could to bring Eleonora out of seclusion, but failed in each attempt.

With no other recourse, he chose the extreme road and gave her husbands—they vanished one after the other. Yes, across the four years following Eleonora’s self-confinement, she received four husbands that all vanished on the wedding night. Realizing that perhaps, marriage prospects didn’t make his daughter ecstatic, the king gave up—and was flayed by Emperor Niklas a few months afterward.

And now hearing Kilian ask for his accursed sister’s whereabout, a sister he planned to murder, Oliver couldn’t stop his heartbeat from spiraling out of control. Did Kars’ Junior Duke also crave his crazed sister’s bosom? He wondered, and prayed to all the gods that didn’t exist that he was wrong.

Sensing the awkwardness settle in, Kilian inwardly chuckled.

“As expected, to say nothing of the Tear of Kalarac, he dares not give me Eleonora’s hand in marriage. But Oliver, the choice isn’t yours to make,” Kilian thought and flashed a harmless smile at his future brother-in-law.

“No need to quiver. I understand your concerns and merely spoke out of curiosity. If she doesn’t wish to appear, so be it. After we draft and sign the agreement, I shall send a message to Kars, and have my father give you what is due. In the meantime, let’s adjourn this meeting,” Kilian spoke in a more formal tone and stood up. After abusing his bargaining chips and milking Nargoz to this extent, Oliver wouldn’t doubt his motives.

Although Klaus would gain more benefits than expected, Kilian knew that it made no difference. For the current Kars, controlling Nargoz’s economy was, at best, a distraction. If anything, though they didn’t realize it yet, Nargoz profited a lot more than Kars’ did.

Standing up, Kilian let two maids lead the way toward his chambers, but as he left, didn’t forget to cast Oliver’s queen a furtive gaze. Well, furtive enough that only the royal couple saw it. Instantly, Oliver’s eyes narrowed, and after Kilian departed, he leaned toward Kathrin.

“According to my intel, though a masterful scholar, this Kilian von Karsten mentally collapsed from the myriads of assassination attempts on his life, both internal and external, and now uses lust to keep his mind at peace. A notorious rake, he deflowered most of Kars’ noble ladies, and even fills some married beds. Perhaps we can put this to use,” Oliver whispered in his wife’s ear, and her face contorted into a frown.

“You mean me?” Kathrin countered, with her hardened gaze staring into Oliver’s.

“I naturally won’t have you compromise yourself, but these are sensitive times. I will have a banquet thrown tomorrow in the boy’s honor and let you sit beside him. We will also bring several of our most attractive handmaidens to the festivities. If he shows genuine interest, entertain him long enough to put him under your thrall and use that spell. We can then use the handmaidens and blackmail him into giving us more benefits. This is definitely not Kars’ limit.” Oliver replied and kissed his queen’s cheek.

Although her long loose curls and sanguine eyes were the norm in the Blood Court, Kathrin stood out with an unearthly seductive appeal that, following Eleonora’s disappearance, made many dub her the Crown Jewel of Nargoz. Though mostly out of flattery, the words testified to her beauty, which Oliver hoped could subdue Kars’ teenaged heir. Still, Kathrin felt unsettled, and pulled her head back.

“He’s the heir of Klaus, the future son-in-law of Rulweil. In military might, those are Arcadia’s mightiest duchies. In prestige, only the imperial family’s high-level can compare. I can allow you to use me to test rumors, but should they prove correct, do you truly dare antagonize him? I know that you’ve never digested Klaus’ eternal superiority, but you can’t use his son to vent your spleen,” Kathrin said, and hearing his wife talk of his childhood rival’s “eternal superiority,” Oliver struggled to contain a surge of emotions.

Pulling in a deep breath, he reclined in his chair, and swept his court.

“This has nothing to do with Klaus. Look at them, the so-called Blood Court. Today, out of fear of the empire’s might, they gather like a flock of birds toward the holy light. But once assured of Nargoz’s safety, they will be the first to bite us both.” Oliver stated, and as his words trailed in Kathrin’s mind, his eyes went from one noble to another.

“I will be one of the few non-Archon kings in Nargoz’s history. Bloodkins have twice humanity’s lifespan, but the same magical talent, and unique racial abilities. Why then do we cower in their shadow? Numbers? No, it has always been internal strife. We stand here because the Blood Court excels at butchering its own future.

Kars’ Crystal Lords may protect us from outside threats, but will they bare their arms at the internal ones? I don’t think so. Which is why we need more power, more agreements, more insurance. Right now, I don’t care to fall in this Kilian’s bad graces. Unless Klaus dies early, he won’t be Duke of Kars before several centuries. A compromised Junior Duke’s ire is something I can handle. Just follow my lead.”

Knowing that there was no room for concession in Oliver’s tone, and aware of his difficulties, Kathrin no longer argued.