Heinz was right.
Heinz was so, so right.
As the final day of the summit unfolded and Heinz made his formal announcement—solidifying the partnership between the royal court and the four ducal houses—Florian found himself completely distracted. Everyone applauded. Smiles bloomed across noble faces. The dukes approved his proposals. By all accounts, he had succeeded.
And yet…
All Florian could think about was the same lingering question that had plagued him since morning:
'Who the fuck is the perpetrator?'
He watched the room with tight, unreadable eyes as nobles raised their glasses in cheer. The golden morning light filtering through the throne room windows should have made things feel warm, celebratory.
Instead, it felt like it illuminated too much—like it peeled back the curtains and left everyone exposed.
Florian's mind was restless, racing.
'Is it someone who wants Heinz dead too? Are they the same person who's been riling up villagers, terrorizing the nobles?'
