The southern isnds loomed in Ravenna’s mind—fertile, strategically positioned, and most importantly, controlling access to the Otto-Bolita Strait.

  Her fingers clenched. "I could raise an army and annex them within a season," she admitted to herself, it would allow her to easily get rid of the order of expansion.

  "I'd need a justification that the Hilde Kingdom would accept. Something more substantial than personal ambition."

  The thought crystallized into a decision. "Hughes!" Her voice cut through the study's quiet like a bde.

  The door opened almost instantly, as if he had been waiting just beyond it—which, knowing Hughes, he likely had. "Yes, your highness?" He stood at attention, his ever-present sword around his waist, his sharp eyes already scanning the room for clues to her mood.

  Ravenna rose from her desk in a fluid motion, the bck sheer one-piece she wore clinging to her like a second skin.

  "Contact the Merchant Association," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for hesitation. "I need intelligence on the current state of the Southern Isnds—everything. Current events, political instability, economic conditions, even tavern rumors. If it’s whispered in a port or scribbled in a ledger, I want to know."

  Hughes didn’t flinch. "Understood, your highness."

  He inquired if she needs anything specific "Shall I prioritize any particur faction? The Hilde-aligned governors, perhaps? Or the local insurgents?"

  "All of them," Ravenna said, waving a hand dismissively. "I don’t care who they swear fealty to—if they breathe on those isnds, I want their weaknesses id bare."

  Hughes bowed sharply and turned to leave, but Ravenna wasn’t done. "And send for Alice."

  Within moments, her sharp-eyed accountant maid appeared, her posture rexed but her gaze alert.

  "Tell High Priest James the public execution is to proceed as pnned," Ravenna said, her voice cool. "And remind him that if the pyres don’t burn bright enough to be seen from the docks, I’ll consider it a personal insult."

  Alice nodded and smirked. "He’ll appreciate the motivation."

  Dungeon Under the Lord Castle, Jo City, Jo Isnd

  The criminal dungeon air hung thick with the scent of damp stone and rusted iron, the flickering torchlight casting long, wavering shadows across the moss-slick walls. The newest prisoner stumbled as the guards shoved him into the cell, his chains cnking against the rough-hewn floor.

  Blinking in the dim light, the man squinted at the figure slumped against the far wall—a ragged silhouette with dark, matted hair and the bearing of someone who had once known power.

  "A-Are you Lord Raymond?" the newcomer ventured, his voice hoarse from disuse.

  A dry, mirthless chuckle echoed through the cell. "My, my. Even in this pit, I’m still recognized." The figure lifted his head, revealing a face that might have been handsome once, before bruises and neglect had taken their toll. "Yes, you lowborn wretch. I am Raymond Heathcliff, cousin to Edward Jo—the former Duke of Jo." His voice dripped with bitter pride, the name spoken like a relic of a lost era.

  The new prisoner cautiously settled onto the grimy straw beside him. "That damn princess," Raymond spat, his chains rattling as he shifted. "Her knights dragged me here like some common thief. Me! A noble of the blood!"

  His cellmate raised an eyebrow. "Aren’t you that child predator they dragged through the streets on the first month of their arrival?" He shrugged at Raymond’s gre. "Don’t look at me like that. I’m no saint either, but even I wouldn’t badmouth Her Highness. She’s cleaning up this isnd."

  Raymond’s lip curled. "And what noble crime nded you in here? Stealing bread?"

  "Stealing bread? Petty Crimes like that are relics of the past in Jo now, I Tried to smuggle a murderer off the isnd," the man admitted, scratching his unshaven jaw. "One of the former sves. Couldn’t set his differences aside. Stabbed a Herptian follower right in the market square."

  "Ha!" Raymond barked, the sound sharp in the cramped space. "A sve? This is what happens when peasants forget their pce. That princess parades around like some savior, but she’s just stirring the pot. And I’m the one rotting here?"

  The cellmate’s expression darkened. "You’re here because you made this isnd suffer. Noble blood doesn’t wash off cruelty."

  "You bastard—!" Raymond lunged, chains snapping taut as his fists grabbed for the man’s throat.

  "Enough!" A gauntleted hand smmed against the iron bars, the cng reverberating through the dungeon. A knight stood in the torchlight, his visor raised to reveal cold, impatient eyes. "Raymond Heathcliff. On your feet. You’ve been summoned."

  The knight didn’t dignify him with a response. The cell door groaned open, its rusted hinges screaming in protest, and Raymond was hauled to his feet. The two armored escorts fell into step behind him, their presence a silent threat—one wrong move, and they wouldn’t hesitate to remind him of his pce.

  The dungeon corridors stretched before them, a byrinth of damp stone and flickering torchlight. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and despair, the occasional moan of another prisoner echoing through the gloom. Raymond’s bare feet scraped against the uneven floor, his chains clinking with every step.

  He couldn’t help himself. "So," he began, his tone artificially light, "I heard something about sves on the isnd now? What’s that about?"

  Silence.

  Raymond gritted his teeth. Eight months. Eight months he’d been rotting in this pit, cut off from the world beyond these walls. The st he’d seen of the outside, his cousin Edward had been fleeing Jo under the Emperor’s decree, abandoning what he’d called "this wretched backwater" without a second gnce.

  Raymond had stayed, of course—why wouldn’t he? His mansion had been full of entertainment, and he’d been certain his noble blood would shield him from consequence.

  Then she arrived.

  Princess Ravenna had swept in like a storm, and within days, his world had crumbled. His "toys" had been freed, his assets seized, and he’d been dragged through the streets in chains before being tossed into this hellhole.

  But maybe… just maybe… A spark of hope flickered in his chest. “Edward must have finally intervened.” It was the only expnation. No noble, not even Ravenna, would dare keep someone of his lineage imprisoned indefinitely. The political fallout would be—

  "Shut up and walk." The knight’s voice was a whip-crack in the darkness, shattering his thoughts.

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