Meanwhile—
deep within the royal palace.
The noble council chamber was already filled with high-ranking elites. The room was vast, almost feeling like a world separate from the bustling capital outside. Its ceiling stretched high, adorned with grand paintings depicting the kingdom's long history—bloody wars, glorious victories, and betrayals hidden behind triumph.
Massive pillars stood firmly along the hall's sides. Every carving on their surface told stories of the past. Yet today, no one paid attention to that beauty.
Because everyone present knew—
the decisions made in this room… were more dangerous than any war.
A long table stretched across the center. Made of dark, aged wood, its surface was smooth yet marked with faint scratches—the remnants of past meetings.
Around it—
dukes, counts, and viscounts sat in their designated positions.
There was no laughter.
No light conversation.
Only quiet voices—
controlled… calculated.
Every word spoken was not merely a word.
But a signal.
A threat.
Or even a war yet to be declared.
The formal meeting began.
An elderly nobleman, his hair completely white yet his eyes still sharp, spoke first.
"Today…"
He paused briefly, ensuring all attention was on him.
"…we will not discuss many things."
Silence.
The faint murmurs that had lingered slowly disappeared.
All eyes turned forward.
He continued, his tone deeper.
"Only one."
The silence grew heavier.
As if even the air itself held its breath.
"Rodieck."
The name fell—
like a massive stone into still water.
There was no explosive reaction.
No protests.
But the ripple… was felt.
Some faces hardened.
Others remained expressionless, too well-trained to show emotion.
A duke on the right crossed his arms, leaning slightly forward.
"Their territory is expanding too quickly."
The sentence was delivered calmly, as if it were merely an observation.
But everyone in the room understood—
this was not just a report.
Another added.
"Their resources are increasing."
"Their military strength is growing."
"And… their influence is spreading."
Each sentence was carefully spoken.
None sounded like a direct accusation.
Yet the direction of the discussion—
was clear.
Slowly, all eyes turned toward one point.
A middle-aged man sat calmly. His attire was simpler than the others, yet that was exactly what made him stand out. No excessive jewelry. No symbols of power on display.
And yet…
his presence could not be ignored.
Finally, he spoke.
"Is that a problem?"
His voice was calm.
Neither loud nor soft.
But enough to silence all whispers.
All eyes were now fixed on him.
He was Duke Rodieck.
His gaze swept across the room slowly.
Unhurried.
Unpressured.
As if everything that had just been said…
was insignificant.
Another noble replied, this time more carefully.
"The issue is not growth."
A brief pause.
"The issue… is balance."
The word hung in the air.
Balance.
A concept always maintained within the kingdom.
A concept that determined who survived… and who fell.
Too strong—
becomes a threat.
Too weak—
becomes a victim.
Everyone in the hall understood this better than anyone.
Duke Rodieck leaned back slightly. A small movement, yet enough to show he was not pressured.
"Balance is relative."
Several faces immediately hardened.
He continued, in the same tone.
"As long as the kingdom is strong… isn't that what matters most?"
No one answered immediately.
Because everyone knew—
this was not about the kingdom.
This was about who held control over it.
A viscount who had remained silent finally spoke, his voice low but sharp.
"And if one day… that strength no longer aligns with the center?"
The question slid like a thin blade.
Barely felt… until it cut.
A few nobles smiled faintly.
Not out of amusement—
but understanding.
This was not a question.
It was a warning.
Duke Rodieck did not answer immediately.
He simply looked—
one face after another around the table.
Measuring.
Assessing.
Like someone who had already known the direction of this discussion before it even began.
"If that day comes…"
He paused briefly.
Long enough to make some tense.
"…we will discuss it."
A simple answer.
Yet it gave no certainty.
Nor rejection.
And that—
made the atmosphere even heavier.
Because uncertainty…
is more frightening than open threats.
Some nobles exchanged glances.
The conversation paused.
No one truly won the discussion.
But one thing became clear—
The balance they spoke of…
was beginning to crack.
—
Back to the plaza.
Outside the tense hall, life continued as usual.
The fountain in the center reflected sunlight. Children ran around, laughing, speaking freely without burden.
But in one corner—
Khan still stood there.
Silent.
Still.
Not trying to join.
The children who had fallen quiet earlier began speaking again.
But the atmosphere wasn't quite the same.
Some of them… still glanced his way.
Curiosity mixed with something they couldn't explain.
Finally, a boy gathered the courage to approach.
His steps were slow.
Hesitant.
"Where… are you from?"
Khan looked at him.
Only for a moment.
A gaze unlike that of a child his age.
Not empty.
But not emotional either.
"Rodieck."
The answer was short.
But its impact—
was not.
The boy immediately fell silent.
Some other children who overheard froze as well.
That name…
They had just heard it.
From their parents.
From whispers.
From conversations they weren't meant to hear.
A name spoken with seriousness.
Sometimes… with concern.
And now—
That name stood before them.
In the form of a small child.
"…"
The boy took a step back.
Unconsciously.
Not entirely out of fear.
But something deeper—
Instinct.
Khan didn't continue the conversation.
Didn't explain.
Didn't react.
He simply looked around again.
The fountain.
The shifting light on the stone floor.
The movement of people passing by.
As if everything was part of something larger.
And within him—
Something moved.
Slowly.
Not emotion.
Not joy.
Not fear.
But… awareness.
That this place—
Was not just a city.
Not just an annual event.
This was the center of something.
Something complex.
Layered.
Dangerous.
A game unseen.
Yet one that determined everything.
And without anyone realizing—
That five-year-old child…
Began to understand the patterns within it.
How people spoke.
How they held back words.
How they hid intentions.
Things even many adults…
did not fully understand.
The wind blew gently again.
The golden lion banner fluttered in the distance, gleaming under the sunlight.
Life continued all around him.
But in the midst of it—
Khan Rodieck stood still.
Observing.
Absorbing.
Understanding.
A world that, one day…
Would never be the same.
Not because of war.
Not because of disaster.
But because of one thing—
Someone…
Who, since childhood, had already seen further than the others.
And when the time comes—
He will not merely be part of the game.
He will change it.