Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 114: Where Duty Stands

[Thalryn Empire — Imperial Palace — Guest Chamber — Later]

The chamber prepared for the private council was smaller than the great hall, yet the air inside felt heavier than any battlefield.

A single brazier burned near the wall, its low flame leaving long shadows on the stone floor. Outside the tall windows, the northern wind struck the palace towers with a hollow, restless sound that did not seem to stop even for a breath.

On the table between them lay the opened parchment bearing the imperial seal. The words written upon it had already changed the mood of the entire palace.

"...Zahryssar has decided to support the Western Empire."

The emperor’s voice still lingered in the room, even though he had spoken the words moments ago.

Levin sat straight in his chair, his posture flawless, his face calm as ever; only his fingers betrayed him.

They twitched once against the armrest, then stilled again. Across from him, Duke Aren held the parchment in his hand, reading the lines once more as if hoping the meaning would change the second time.

It did not.

His jaw tightened slightly.

"...I had thought," the duke said slowly, his voice heavy with restrained disappointment, "...that at the very least, we would not stand alone in this matter."

The emperor remained seated at the head of the table, one hand resting against his forehead, his brows drawn together in deep thought.

"I believed the same," he admitted quietly, his eyes lifted toward Levin. "At least the support of Zahryssar... I thought we would have that much, Malika."

The title hung in the air like a weight.

Princess Seraphine stood beside the emperor, her hands folded in front of her, but her gaze had already moved to Levin the moment the emperor spoke.

There was worry in her eyes, not as a princess, not as a ruler, but as someone who knew exactly how heavy those words must feel to him.

Levin did not look at her; he kept his eyes on the emperor. For a moment, he said nothing, and then he spoke, his voice calm, steady... almost too steady.

"...Just because the Malik of Zahryssar is my husband... does not mean he will favor the empire I was born in, Your Majesty."

The words settled heavily on the table.

Duke Aren looked up at once. Seraphine’s fingers tightened slightly. Levin continued, his gaze unwavering.

"The Serpent Emperor will always choose what benefits Zahryssar first." A pause. "...Not the emotions of his consort."

Silence followed.

The wind struck the window harder, the glass trembling faintly in its frame. The emperor stared at Levin for a long moment, as if searching his face for anger... for hurt... for anything that might break the calm he was showing.

But Levin gave him nothing, only composure, only duty. The emperor exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead with worn fingers.

"...You speak like a ruler already."

His voice lowered.

"And that is exactly why this burdens me."

He looked at Levin again, more carefully this time. "I would not have called you here for this matter... if the situation were not standing on the edge of war."

Aren placed the parchment down on the table.

"If we withdraw from the vault now," the duke said, his tone firm, "the Western Empire will claim the treasure without resistance."

"And if they do," the emperor continued, "they will grow stronger... strong enough to challenge even Zahryssar."

His eyes darkened slightly.

"And if Zahryssar stands with them ..."

The sentence did not need to be finished. Levin’s hand tightened faintly over the armrest; he lowered his gaze for a moment, then spoke quietly.

"...Then Thalryn will stand alone."

The emperor did not deny it.

"Yes."

The word felt like stone; for a few moments, no one spoke. Only the fire crackled; only the wind howled.

Then Seraphine stepped forward; her voice was softer, but it cut through the silence more sharply than any command.

"Father..."

Both men looked at her. She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether she should speak at all.

Then she did.

"...Why must we hold the vault at any cost?"

The emperor frowned slightly. Seraphine continued, her eyes moving from him... to the parchment... and then briefly to Levin.

"It is treasure, nothing more." Her hands tightened together. "Is gold... is stone... is mana... Is it worth more than the lives that will be lost if war begins?

The room grew still again. Aren’s expression hardened slightly, but he did not interrupt.

Seraphine spoke more quietly now.

"If Zahryssar stands with the west... and we stand against them... the matter will not remain a border dispute." Her gaze lowered. "It will become a war between empires."

The emperor closed his eyes for a moment, as if the words struck deeper than he wished to show.

"You think I do not know that?" he said, his voice worn out. "You think I wish to send young soldiers to die over a vault buried in ice?"

Seraphine did not answer.

The emperor’s hand tightened on the arm of his chair.

"But if we step back now," he continued, "we show weakness."

His eyes opened again, sharp despite the weariness. "And when a ruler shows weakness... war comes anyway."

Silence, heavy and unavoidable. Levin’s fingers curled slowly into his palm; he spoke at last, his voice lower than before.

"...Your Majesty."

The emperor looked at him. Levin lifted his eyes. "I understand why you cannot step back, and I understand why Zahryssar did not choose us."

His voice did not tremble, but the weight behind it filled the room.

"I stand between two thrones." His hand moved slowly to his chest. "The consort of Zahryssar ..."

Then his gaze shifted slightly toward Duke Aren.

"...And the heir of Veyrhold."

The words felt like chains.

"And... those two paths do not walk together."

No one spoke; even the wind outside seemed to fall silent. Levin lowered his eyes again.

"...Tell me what you need me to do, Your Majesty."

The emperor did not answer at once; he watched Levin for a long moment, longer than a ruler should watch a subject, longer than a king should watch a future lord.

And in that moment, the weight of years showed clearly on his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.

"...No."

Levin looked up slightly, and the emperor straightened in his chair, his gaze steady but no longer commanding.

"Not this time, Malika." A faint breath left him as he placed his hand on the table. "This decision... cannot be ordered."

Silence deepened; he continued slowly, each word chosen with care. "Whatever choice you make... I will respect it."

Duke Aren’s eyes shifted toward him in surprise, but the emperor did not look away from Levin.

"If you stand with your husband... I will bow my head to that choice." The words settled heavily in the chamber. "And if you stand as the heir of Veyrhold... and choose Thalryn..."

A faint pause.

"...I will bow my head to that as well."

Seraphine’s breath caught softly, though she said nothing. Levin blinked once, as if the words had not reached him properly; for the first time since entering the room, he looked uncertain.

His fingers tightened slowly over the arm of the chair, and his gaze lowered.

Silence stretched, long, uncomfortable, and heavy. Inside his mind, the words echoed again and again.

’Your husband... Your empire... Your birthland... Your duty ...’

His hand moved unconsciously to his stomach, resting there for a moment as if seeking strength from the life he carried.

As his fingers curled slightly against the fabric, his thoughts sank deeper.

’If I stand with Zahryssar... Thalryn stands alone. If I stand with Thalryn... I stand against him...’

His jaw tightened faintly; for a long moment, he did not move, then slowly he straightened, and his back became perfectly upright.

His expression returned to the calm mask he wore in court; when he spoke, his voice was steady and clear.

"...As long as I stand in Veyrhold..." After a pause, his fingers tightened once more before going still. "... I will stand with Thalryn."

The words fell into the room like a final seal. Duke Aren’s shoulders eased slightly, the faintest smile appearing at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained serious.

Seraphine lowered her gaze, but the relief on her face could not be hidden. The emperor closed his eyes for a moment, then exhaled slowly, as if a burden had shifted from his chest.

When he looked at Levin again, there was both gratitude... and something like regret.

"...Thank you." His voice was softer now. "Thank you for choosing us."

Levin shook his head faintly.

"This is not a favor, Your Majesty." His gaze lowered briefly. "It is my duty."

A pause.

"The land that raised me... stands before the throne I married into." His hand rested lightly against his chest. "And while I walk these halls... I am still the son of this empire."

Silence followed.

Then Duke Aren stepped forward, his expression returning to that of a commander rather than a father.

"Then we waste no more time." He placed his hand on the table beside the parchment. "If Zahryssar stands with the west... we must prepare as if war will come."

The emperor nodded slowly.

"Yes."

His eyes hardened again, the ruler returning where the fatigued old man had been moments ago.

"We will strengthen the eastern border." He looked toward Levin. "And we will need your counsel, Levin."

Levin inclined his head.

"You shall have it."

Seraphine stepped back slightly, watching them all in silence, her hands folded tightly in front of her, because in that room...there was no sword, no battle, not a single drop of blood—a line had been drawn.

And in that moment, Levin Veyrhold, Consort of Zahryssar, Heir of Veyrhold, had chosen to stand with the empire he was born in.