Strategic Analysis

Silence seemed to have gained weight, pressing heavily down on the great stone carpet woven with golden threads.

In the fireplace, the carefully selected logs burned with remarkable restraint. Most of the crackling as the flames licked at the wood was swallowed by the solemn silence—as if even the fire knew how to read the room and dared not make a fuss while the emperor was deep in thought.

Fatih sat upright in his high-backed chair, as motionless as a sculpture.

The telegram was lengthy, but its key points were only two:

"The Duchy of Weissen's actual grain production is far lower than its published figures."

"We respectfully ask Your Majesty to act from the south and disrupt the Duchy of Weissen's grain procurement channels in the Inner Sea region."

After reading the final line, Fatih gazed into the fire.

The flames danced in his pupils, reflecting a metallic chill.

After a long while, a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, cold as the ice that never melted atop a snowy mountain.

He handed the telegram to the woman standing silently beside him, his movement casual and unhurried, as if what he was passing over were not a secret message that might reshape the balance of power on the Western Continent, but an unimportant guest list.

"What do you think, Therma?"

Therma took the telegram.

The firelight outlined her profile. She no longer looked as she had years ago in the slave market of Wanjing City. The desert wind and the sand of the battlefield had turned her skin a deep, honeyed amber. Her thick hair was braided into dozens of fine plaits, then bound with silver rings into a single heavy braid that fell to her waist.

Therma's gaze was sharp as lightning, quickly sweeping across the