Chapter 85: Shackles for Freedom 3

“Damn it!”

Enraged by the alliance terms stated in the letter before him, Duke Carlos of the Braun region erupted:

“They demand we accept such outrageous conditions? It practically amounts to surrendering our territory! Unacceptable! Absolutely impossible!”

Hurling the letter aside in fury, the Duke’s irate manner prompted his uneasy attendants to remark:

“But… Your Grace… With our current strength alone, we cannot withstand the Emperor.”

“The Imperial forces are stationed right next door in the occupied Palatinate. If we resist, General Spinola’s blade could descend upon us all.”

“And you suggest we sign such a slavish, unconscionable pact? Bowing our heads to the likes of Count Turen, no less! I would sooner bite my tongue and die!”

“Haah…”

Sighing at their liege’s vehement objection, the concerned attendants inquired:

“Then… What do you intend, Your Grace? Apart from Bohemia’s alliance, what other recourse do we have?”

“Hmm…”

Though their anxious query warranted consideration, Duke Carlos could only maintain a stony silence.

While Bohemia’s terms were indeed excessively harsh, no viable alternative presented itself.

The looming threat of General Spinola – that 10th-rank mage – and his 25,000-strong army lurked like a crouched beast, awaiting any opportunity to subjugate this region.

The occupied Palatinate had already descended into a living hell – cities ravaged, farmlands scorched, citizens and nobles plundered – all under the pretense of purging heresy against God’s will.

This impending calamity compelled many lords, however reluctantly, to accept Bohemia’s ruthless yet relatively tolerable conditions for an alliance.

And Duke Carlos of Braun, despite his defiant stance, found himself similarly trapped with no evident escape.

‘An untenable situation… And yet, bowing to the Bohemian lord’s outrageous demands is…’

As Carlos agonized over resolving this predicament, an unexpected voice intruded:

“Ahaha! It seems you are deeply troubled, dear brother? Yet the solution is quite simple, if I may say.”

The slightly unhinged feminine tone prompted Carlos to cast an exasperated glance in its direction.

“Christiane! This is no place for you to interject! We discuss weighty matters of the territory – do not overstep your station!”

His sharp rebuke accompanied by a piercing glare fell upon his younger sister, the ruler of the neighboring petty domain Halberstadt.

Christiane Braun – with her raven tresses, pallid complexion, and faintly manic dark eyes.

Neither outright ugly nor beautiful, her countenance hinted at an underlying aberrance accentuated by the steel prosthetic adorning one arm.

A 6th-rank mage, she regarded them with a mocking expression before addressing her brother in a lighthearted tone:

“Why, of course the great Duke of Braun’s affairs are beneath my notice, as one who merely oversees a speck of land. But if I could offer a solution to your plight, brother, would you entertain it?”

“…What nonsense is this?”

Caught off guard by her unexpected claim, a sense of unease mingled with piqued curiosity stirred within Carlos.

His ever-eccentric younger sister Christiane did, on rare occasion, provide flashes of insightful inspiration – insights Carlos had previously found unexpectedly useful, despite their unorthodox, near-deranged nature.

Of course, her proposals invariably bordered on the extreme, yet their pragmatic utility could not be dismissed outright.

Thus, Carlos cautiously prompted her to elaborate:

“A solution, you say? If you have one, speak it. If viable, I shall consider it.”

“Huhu, a simple solution indeed, brother. One that would enable us to resolve this crisis through our own power, without relying on them.”

Her words accompanied by a gleam in those dark eyes elicited an inexplicable chill within Carlos.

Then, with a hint of perverse glee, Christiane continued:

“We could employ the one still lurking in the southern regions – Mansfelt.”

“Mansfelt? You mean that mercenary leader?”

Carlos’s dismayed utterance of that unexpected name prompted immediate concern from his attendants.

“M…Mansfelt? Surely you don’t mean that traitor who betrayed the Palatinate?”

“A reckless notion, Lady Christiane. Have you not heard how his treachery led to the Palatinate’s downfall?”

Once a betrayer, always a potential traitor – the name alone raised the attendants’ guard.

Yet regarding their wariness with an eerily serene smile, Christiane remarked:

“But regardless of his untrustworthiness, his formidable might remains an undeniable fact. When employing mercenaries, such risks are inherent, are they not?”

“Well…”

“That may be, but…”

“Moreover, enlisting Mansfelt would grant us autonomy unlike joining the heretical alliance. In other words, we would have greater freedom of action.”

“Freedom of action? What do you mean by that?”

“Huhu… Allow me to explain…”

Accompanied by an unsettling smile, Christiane’s words sent chills down their spines as she manipulated her prosthetic arm.

Once her disturbing proposal concluded, she regarded her brother with an expression of perverse amusement, inquiring:

“Well, brother? If handled adroitly, this war could serve as a stepping stone to vastly expand Braun’s dominion.”

“…Well… That may be true, but…”

On its surface, Christiane’s suggestion reeked of outright madness.

Yet as she claimed, its potential utility merited consideration – a riskier path, but one promising greater rewards.

As Carlos wrestled with this dilemma, Christiane’s features contorted into an unsettling semblance of a smile as she stated:

“Still, the choice is yours, brother. Whether to remain Bohemia’s underling, relegated to trivial errands… Or to seize this opportunity as a foothold for Braun’s ascendance. Ponder it carefully.”

“…Hmm…”

His sister’s words, leaving the ultimate decision to him, compelled Carlos to face the harsh reality:

‘Surely the Emperor will not simply tolerate us heretical lords defying him in this region. And since making that one-sided pact with the Bohemians is undesirable, I have no choice left.’

Having reached this conclusion, Carlos solemnly nodded before addressing his grim-faced sister:

“…Very well. We shall proceed as you suggest. Send word to Mansfelt.”

“Huhuhu, a wise decision, brother.”

Regarding her resolute kinsman with a sinister smile, as a sense of foreboding gripped Carlos, he could only inwardly pray that this fateful choice would not prove grievously misguided.