Amelia paused to survey the courtyard in detail from the shadows. Low boxwood shrubs framed the polished flagstones. Several potted fruit trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches rustling in the night breeze. Braziers dotted the perimeter, glowing with faint enchantments, but none that would immediately ensnare a spy—at least not if the spy was as skilled as Amelia certainly was.

I don't expect anything of the sort. He's far too confident to do it, and we haven't yet declared personal enmity. Even so, I will not neglect my duties. Being captured here would be a significant blow and, more than that, an embarrassment.

Her gaze drifted across the corners of the enclosure, searching for signs of hidden arrays, glyphs, or runic triggers that could link to a perimeter alarm. She sensed no unusual mana beyond the standard wards over the manse. Unless a Champion Wardmaster had prepared the field, she wouldn't miss anything like that. The two she knew of were in different countries, kept far from bloody conflict.

Bernard, as she expected, was not anticipating an ambush. Alternatively, he may have grown confident enough to believe he was strong enough to handle any intruder. Yes, that's more like him.

Still, Amelia extended her awareness outward for a second sweep. She noticed half a dozen soldiers posted at the edges of the estate, strong enough to indicate that the occupant of the house was someone of high rank. Another figure—a robed mage, likely assigned to sensory duty—lingered nearby, pacing a corridor that opened onto the courtyard's far side. Not an insurmountable threat for her, but enough to deter the unprepared.

Some may interpret their presence as a sign of an ambush, but these men are too weak, and he knows it. No, they are likely here as a concession to the other Generals. They wouldn't want the First Lance unprotected, even if they all know he doesn't need protection.

Once she was certain there were no hidden spells ready to activate, Amelia released a quiet breath, allowing the shadows that cloaked her to fade away. A swirl of dark smoke emanated from her silhouette, starting at the top and revealing her luminous, purple eyes in what she knew was an intimidating display.

Bernard, reclining in his chair, tilted his head with a faint smile when he caught sight of her. He did not flinch or start—proof enough that he had anticipated her presence, as she expected. Exuding his usual languid grace, he lifted his crystal goblet in a salute.

"Amelia," he said softly, warmly. "I hoped you would join me."

As if on cue, the robed mage at the far side bowed out of the courtyard, while two watchful knights stepped discreetly behind a column, leaving Bernard seemingly alone with Amelia. It appeared that he had meticulously orchestrated an invitation that relied on mutual restraint for the purpose of negotiation.

She moved forward without speaking, absorbing the changes in her former friend. She hadn't seen Bernard in person since just after the climax of the Incursion, when they had still been allies.

So much had changed since then—his rank, his loyalty, his place in the kingdom. Yet some things, she realized, remained the same: he was as handsome as ever, with a soft sheen of dark hair, a strong jaw, and an undeniable aura of power that rippled around him.

He inclined his goblet towards the free armchair. "Please, have a seat. I took the liberty of having something prepared in case I had guests."

It was typical of him, this poised courtesy. She wondered how much effort he'd put into staging the entire meeting specifically to appear nonchalant, unconcerned about her ability to slip through his lines. "I'm not here for pleasantries," she remarked, though she still settled into the chair, crossing her legs neatly. For a moment, neither spoke, allowing the silence to build.

Bernard took a leisurely sip of his wine and then set the glass aside on a small marble-topped table. "How long has it been, Amelia? I believe we parted ways at the end of the Victory Feast, though we never had the chance for proper farewells." His voice was smooth, laced with that cultured accent he had never lost.

She suppressed a grimace at how effortlessly he fell into polite conversation as if they were still friends. "Years," she responded tersely. "Long enough for you to rise in rank, it seems."

His lips curved into a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "The kingdom required strong leadership after the war was won. The King recognized my talents, and… here we are."

Amelia tilted her head, feigning mild interest. "Indeed. Congratulations on your new position as First Lance. Does the power suit you?"

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He chuckled softly. "I prefer to think I serve the kingdom. Power is just the means to an end."

"And what end is that?" She met his gaze, her luminous purple eyes unblinking. "Preserving the status quo? Preserving a system that enslaves its own citizens?"

Bernard stiffened, a mere fractional tightening of his shoulders. "We can debate politics if you want. But I believe you didn't come here to question the moral fiber of my office."

A sharp retort rose to her lips, but she held back. Leonard had entrusted her with a mission: to deliver the Revolution's demands and assess Bernard's reaction. She decided to steer the conversation forward. "If you're so eager to skip the banter, let me get straight to the point. I've come to present the kingdom with an offer."

His interest flickered, a single raised eyebrow betraying curiosity. "An offer? You know that your revolution is deemed traitorous. If it were discovered that I was even entertaining this discussion, I would risk much."

She let a small, humorless smile surface. "I sincerely doubt you are here without the express permission of the King or at least the Prime Minister. And even if that weren't the case, you are canny enough to get away with it." Slipping her hand into her cloak, she removed a thin scroll. "We demand recognition of Hetnia's independence. The kingdom must cede all claims to it forever. We also demand the abolition of slavery throughout Haylich within one year, enforced by royal decree."

Bernard stared at her as if she had spoken in a foreign tongue. "You… demand sovereignty and immediate emancipation?" A short, incredulous laugh escaped him. "You can't be serious. Even Leonard can't be that naive."

Amelia's expression grew cold. "Our victories speak for themselves. The South rallies behind us, and with Hassel now liberated, we have complete control over it. And if you were hoping to apply pressure on us from the West, you should know that Jean Franklin recently annihilated Duke Garva's blockade. The monarchy is losing ground. One might say it is in no position to refuse."

He shook his head slowly, a note of disbelief coloring his voice. "Perhaps you've reclaimed a few strategic points. But the entire might of the Royal Army stands behind me. You cannot hold onto Hetnia forever, much less impose your demands on the King. We have four more provinces to mobilize that have yet to be called upon."

She leaned in, allowing her gaze to sharpen. "You underestimate the extent of our support. There is discontent in many circles—nobles, peasants, even foreigners. The King's tyranny won't endure if more forces align with us. This is your last opportunity to negotiate a more peaceful resolution, Bernard."

Bernard's eyes flickered. "This is madness," he said quietly. "Don't tell me Leonard has struck a treaty with Brander or some other external power. I have refrained so far from labeling you as traitors, but this is something I cannot ignore."

Amelia simply smiled, allowing him to interpret her silence as he pleased. She had learned that sometimes a bit of mystery unsettled an opponent more than a direct claim. Bernard's fingers drummed against the armrest, revealing a trace of nerves.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, his voice tightening with anger. "I wanted to end this peacefully, for old times' sake—but if you consort with foreign armies to overthrow the crown and bring war to every corner of our fair land, you leave me no choice."

She let out a short, scornful laugh. "The monarchy that has persecuted its own champions, enslaved innocents, and allowed the provinces to rot wants to act as if it is the defender of justice? Where was your sense of honor when Belinda was poisoned? Did the 'kingdom's stability' demand her life too? Did your honor make you stand aside when Leonard was falsely accused of her murder?"

A flash of regret flickered across Bernard's face. He swallowed, composure faltering. "I… I never wished for her to die. You know that."

"You never did anything to show it," she retorted, her voice sharp as a whip. "You speak of old camaraderie, yet after the war, you turned your back on those who needed your help the most—like Leonard, Belinda, and everyone who recognized the decay in the system and tried to fix it. Instead, you remained loyal to the King merely to gain the power you so desperately desired."

His hands gripped the chair arms tightly. For a moment, she thought he might snap them off. When he spoke, his tone was clipped. "I have responsibilities, Amelia. I can't simply throw them away because a few old friends find the kingdom lacking. No matter how valid your grievances may be, there are protocols—"

"Protocols that keep you in power," she snapped, cutting him off. "Now you hide behind your rank to justify ignoring everything we once fought for."

Silence enveloped the courtyard like a shroud. The brazier's flames fluttered in a sudden gust. Then Bernard rose abruptly, his eyes flashing with anger. "You have made your demands. My answer is no." His voice turned cold. "The monarchy will not relinquish Hetnia, nor will it abolish slavery just because you request it. That's absurd."

She rose as well, mirroring his stance. "So be it. Then you can face our full might. And if the monarchy persists in its cruelty, others will align with us. Your King will find himself isolated and soon without a crown." And a head, she added to herself.

Bernard let out a bitter laugh. "If Leonard is so confident, he should have come here himself. Or is he too afraid to confront the kingdom's rightful champion?"

Amelia's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "I always knew your jealousy would lead to your downfall. You resent Leonard for consistently surpassing you. Perhaps that's why you cling so fiercely to your new title—afraid of being overshadowed once more?"

He stiffened, his aura flaring in an unmistakable display of raw power. She felt the pressure of his mana as he called upon the might of a Champion. White energy crackled around him, warping the stone with its mere presence. The braziers flickered wildly, and the manicured bushes trembled under the force.

"Leave," he snarled, voice cracking with fury. "Leave now, Amelia. Next time, we'll meet as enemies on the battlefield."

She refused to yield an inch, even though the crushing force of his aura pressed against her senses. With calculated calm, she let a swirl of darkness flutter around her feet. Her own power rose in quiet defiance, less showy than his but formidable in its own right. "I see. Then consider this courtesy expended. We gave you a chance to settle things without further bloodshed. You've thrown it away."

His jaw clenched as the swirl of white mana around him intensified, sending arcs of light dancing across the courtyard. She had no intention of battling him here; that wasn't part of the plan. He was trying to provoke her, to test the Revolution's resolve, or glean more of their secrets.

Instead of responding in kind, Amelia let out a final mocking laugh. It echoed hauntingly off the stone walls, and she knew her amusement would be all the more grating. She allowed her body to sink into the shadows, her form dissolving as if consumed by a black tide.

For a fleeting moment before the darkness fully engulfed her, she caught Bernard's expression: a blend of anger, regret, and something deeper. Perhaps it was a twinge of nostalgia for the days they had fought side by side.

Then, she was gone, her presence slipping beyond the courtyard's wards, leaving only the soft echo of her eerie laughter behind.

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