Late that night, the study still held the lingering warmth of his family's presence.
But once the door gently closed, that warmth ebbed like a tide, leaving only a lamp that stretched Louis's shadow long.
He sat alone at his desk, the gentleness fading from his eyes inch by inch, replaced by the composure unique to a lord.
It was like a blade sliding back into its sheath. Its edge was hidden, yet its presence remained unmistakable.
A knock sounded.
Bradley entered, carrying a letter sealed with deep crimson wax.
The Wax Seal bore the Calvin Family's wave crest, marking an urgent, confidential letter of the highest priority.
"My lord, a personal letter from the duke."
Louis looked up, his expression so steady that it betrayed no emotion. He did not even seem surprised.
Half a month earlier, the daily intelligence system had already provided the relevant information.
Duke Calvin had secretly met with Salomon, the Holy See's special envoy, and struck a deal: funding would be supplied to have Louis sow chaos in the Northern Frontier and tie down the Empire's northern army.
This letter was merely a prop arriving late in the script.
Still, Louis took it, picked up a letter opener, and unfolded the pages.
The contents gave him the inexplicable weariness of a veteran actor repeating an old routine.
The gist was simple: the Empire was in turmoil, and this was the Calvin Family's chance to return to its former heights.
Louis, you are the family's sharpest sword, the hope of the Northern Frontier.
For the Northern Frontier, for the family, you must cut off the imperial northern army's supplies and provoke clashes along the border.
Once you succeed, the family will support you fully in becoming the true king of the Northern Frontier.
Fine words,