R.L Alencar
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Chapter 132 (From engineer to Conqueror part 2)
🕑 Added 2025-02-12 14:24:45 +0000 UTCThe gates of the mansion slowly opened, revealing a meticulously arranged scene. Two rows of soldiers were positioned along the stone path leading to the main entrance, forming an honor corridor for the duke’s arrival. They wore immaculate uniforms with dark blue and gold accents, polished boots, and rigid postures. Discipline was evident, and the solemn silence only enhanced the grandeur of the reception.
Valmir was the first to step down from the carriage, his experienced eyes taking in everything around him. He immediately noticed that this was not a mere staging to impress him. These soldiers were well-trained; they weren’t hastily recruited peasants, but rather a disciplined and efficient military force.
Cecília followed her father closely, her elegant dress made of light fabric moving gracefully with the breeze. She maintained her composure, yet it was impossible to hide the way her eyes roamed the scene, absorbing every detail of the city-state that Miguel had built.
The duke began to walk among the soldiers, fully aware of the gravity of the moment. The rhythmic sound of his boots echoed softly along the stone path, accompanied only by the rustle of the Drakmoor flags hoisted along the way.
At the end of the corridor, waiting at the mansion’s entrance, stood Miguel.
The first thing Valmir noticed was the young king’s posture. Miguel did not try to appear larger than he was, nor did he force an exaggerated air of authority. He was simply there, firm and unyielding, like a solid pillar in the midst of a storm.
His uniform was impeccable—a white coat with dark blue details, adorned with golden buttons that gleamed in the sunlight. The insignia of Drakmoor was proudly displayed on his chest, and an elegant sash crossed his torso. He dressed like a true king, not like just any rebel.
At his side stood Amélia, wearing a military uniform tailored to the female form. Her posture was haughty, and her keen gaze made it clear that, although noble, she was also a warrior.
On the other side of Miguel, a tall, strong man observed the duke’s arrival with an analytical expression. Valmir deduced that he must be one of Miguel’s military advisors.
When the duke finally stopped at a respectful distance, he bowed his head slightly in a gesture of respect.
“Your Majesty,” said Valmir, his voice deep and measured. “It is an honor to finally meet you in person.”
He then gestured lightly toward his daughter at his side.
“This is my daughter, Cecília.”
Cecília offered a slight bow, keeping her gaze fixed on Miguel as she assessed him with curiosity.
Miguel maintained his composure and replied with a slight nod.
“The pleasure is mine, Duke Valmir Eldersbag. Welcome to Drakmoor.” He then turned his gaze back to Cecília and bowed his head in respect. “And it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cecília.”
Cecília smiled subtly, still maintaining her refined posture.
Miguel then gestured toward the mansion’s entrance.
“Please, come in. There is much we can discuss.”
Miguel’s office reflected the transformation of Drakmoor—elegant, refined, and meticulously planned. The carved stone fireplace kept the room warm, its flames casting soft shadows against the polished wooden walls. Above the fireplace, a built-in shelf displayed leather-bound books, detailed maps, and several objects of symbolic value.
At the center of the room, a sturdy dark oak table dominated the space, neatly arranged with papers, an inkwell, and a silver quill. Behind it, a large window allowed the late afternoon light to filter in through blue-gray curtains that harmonized with the rest of the decor.
For added comfort, a dark velvet sofa and two armchairs were placed near the fireplace, forming a space for more relaxed conversation. The thick rug underfoot muffled footsteps, creating a cozy atmosphere that still exuded authority.
Miguel motioned toward the seats.
“Please, have a seat.”
Duke Valmir and Cecília accepted the invitation, settling into the armchairs in front of the table. Amélia, who had accompanied them, gave Miguel a brief signal.
“I’ll wait outside.”
Miguel nodded, allowing her to depart. The door closed softly behind her, leaving them alone.
He then looked at the duke.
“How was your journey to Drakmoor?”
Valmir adjusted his posture, resting an arm on the back of the chair.
“It was pleasant.” He paused, studying the office with interest before continuing. “I am well acquainted with alternative routes. For many years, I was a merchant before becoming a duke. Knowing the best paths was always a necessity.”
Miguel smiled slightly, interlacing his fingers on the table.
“I’m glad you arrived safely. I must admit, I was impressed that you managed to bypass the entire frontline.”
The duke returned a subtle smile, his eyes appraising Miguel.
“Thank you.”
The young king then shifted the tone of the conversation.
“Tonight, we will have a ball in the ballroom, and you are our main guests.”
Valmir raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised by the formality.
“I am honored.”
“Well,” continued Miguel, “I know you must be tired, so I have prepared accommodations for both of you here at the mansion. Once we’ve had some rest, we can speak further.”
The duke nodded, seemingly pleased with the hospitality. “I appreciate your consideration, Your Majesty.”
However, when Miguel stood up, signaling that the meeting was coming to a close, Valmir raised his hand slightly.
“Before we retire, there is an important matter I would like to broach.”
Miguel tilted his head slightly, intrigued.
“Please, go ahead.”
A silence settled over the office for a few moments following the duke’s declaration. The flames in the fireplace crackled softly, casting dancing shadows on the dark wooden walls. Miguel maintained his controlled expression, though his mind raced internally.
“In my duchy, we are suffering somewhat because of this war...” Valmir began, folding his hands over his lap. “For now, the king allows the duchies autonomy regarding the conflict you initiated with the newly formed Kingdom of Drakmoor.”
He paused, his gaze momentarily drifting to the wine glass on the table before returning to Miguel.
“But that seems about to change.”
Miguel remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“I’ve heard rumors about your kingdom… and about its potential.” Valmir leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a more cautious tone. “And that is why I would like to propose an agreement between our parties.”
Miguel narrowed his eyes slightly.
"But your presence here already goes against Ardia's laws."
The duke did not hesitate.
"I know." He took a deep breath. "But I no longer intend to follow... Ardia's laws."
Miguel interlaced his fingers on the table, studying Valmir with a calculating look.
"What are you planning, Duke?"
The man let out a soft sigh, as if he were about to voice something that had been gnawing at him for a long time.
"Even though the king hasn't yet forced the duchies to become directly involved in the war against Drakmoor, he has found another way to exercise his control..." Valmir paused, his expression growing more serious. "He's levying absurdly high taxes on each duchy to finance his campaigns. Two duchies have already fallen into financial collapse because of it."
Miguel raised an eyebrow, absorbing the information.
"Do you fear that yours will be next?"
Valmir nodded slowly.
"Yes."
The young king took a deep breath, reflecting.
"And how exactly could I help with that?"
Then the duke smiled—a smile of someone who already knew the answer even before the question was asked.
"You certainly can help. I'm not here to ask for your military technology or your weapons." He raised his hand slightly. "What I want is your support."
"Support?" Miguel repeated, frowning.
Before Valmir could respond, Cecília joined the conversation, her voice firm and determined.
"We intend to declare our duchy's independence."
Miguel diverted his gaze to Cecília, surprised by the firmness in her tone.
The duke laughed softly, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look.
"There's your answer, King Miguel."
The weight of that revelation hung in the air. If Valmir's duchy were to rebel against Ardia, it could completely change the course of the war. But it also raised a series of new questions—and dangers.
The duke leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing his fingers over his knee and letting out a controlled sigh. He had said what needed to be said, but it was not the time to delve too deeply into that conversation.
"Well, we can discuss this matter further after the ball."
Miguel nodded, recognizing that this was as much a strategic game as it was a political negotiation. The duke did not want to appear desperate for support, and Miguel did not want to reveal that he was already weighing the implications of such a proposal.
"Agreed." He stood up, adjusting his white coat slightly and extending his hand in a courteous gesture. "Allow me to guide you to your chambers."
Valmir and Cecília stood up at the same time. The duke maintained his firm posture, but with a slightly satisfied expression. He gave Miguel a formal salute—a respectful nod of his head—accompanied by his daughter.
Miguel returned the gesture with an evaluating look before turning his attention back to Cecília.
"You have great potential."
She raised her eyebrows slightly, surprised by the remark, but maintained her composure.
Then Miguel looked to the duke and gave a slight nod.
"It was a pleasure meeting you both."
The duke smiled discreetly. "The pleasure was ours, Your Majesty."
They walked toward the door, with Miguel following them in silence. As soon as they left, he paused for a moment, gripping the doorknob.
Before closing the door, he looked at the office one last time. The glow of the flames in the fireplace reflected off the polished wooden walls, and the documents on his desk remained exactly where he had left them—a reminder that this night would be only the beginning of a long negotiation.
