Although a long time ago by now, she still remembered her early years after coming into her majority. It had been her duty at that time to ingratiate herself with her subjects whether commoner or noble. Her father, while brilliant at what he did, could hardly be blamed that a decade of regency had left the title with little power, especially as it had been the King who had chosen the regent. What her father had left her, though, were men loyal to him, who would extend that loyalty to her as his successor.

Such a situation had not necessarily left her upset. Regardless of the circumstances, she had grown up knowing well the illusion of power. That, just as it was important to maintain the illusion of the pursuit of justice, the King relied on his own illusion of power to rule. The strength of such an illusion balanced the weight of the King's demands with the loyalty of his subjects—not just the nobles, nor his "allies", but even the commoners.

Regardless of how much power she may have started with, that did not change her goals. She had grand ambitions. To accomplish them, she needed the loyalty of her subjects. She needed such loyalty that they would be willing to discard centuries of tradition to embrace the changes she gathered from anywhere and everywhere.

To acquire such loyalty, she could not rush, needed to prove herself bit by bit. Needed to prove herself worthy of such loyalty.

"Sir Wilhelm, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her guest this day was the son of a baron under her rule. In the distant past, the barons of Buchloe had overseen a lucrative salt tax, and one such baron had purchased a baronet title. Although a son could not use a baronet title as a courtesy, the baronetcy entitled the son to a knighthood. With the gradual decline of nobles providing service, instead preferring to pay scutage, it had even become common for these sons of baronets to be knighted regardless of if they had trained as a squire first.

That all existed between the baronet and the King, though. The importance of such to her was merely that her guest should be suitably addressed. Rather, what was important was that this guest was the heir to a title under her.

Although he was of an age to be considered an adult, she could not shake the boyish impression he gave, a youthful face that had yet to learn to conceal his feelings—and there was an attempt at a beard. Someone who could not help but frown as he smiled, a gaze that exposed his discomfort.

"Ma—am," he said with a bow of his head.

She thought his unnatural pause likely due to hesitating over her address. "Pray be at ease," she said, her voice gentle, and she turned her head to the other side. "This is Sir Ludwig."

Her guest gave another bow, then his gaze drifted and darted between her and her knight, his mouth opening ever so slightly before closing.

"While my husband is away or otherwise unavailable, I impose on Sir Ludwig to accompany me for such meetings. He understands well the importance of privacy. However… if sir has something particularly sensitive to discuss, Sir Ludwig may keep a polite distance."

Her guest hesitated a moment longer, then gave a shake of his head. "It is…. There is nothing sensitive about my questions, so I shall leave it to Ma'am's judgement if he may hear the answers."

She could have laughed, but she did not. Instead, she fixed him with a smile, a slight curve of her lips, eyes that little narrowed, then tilted her head. "If that is what sir thinks is best."

There was a chill to the room, the fireplace only lit at his arrival and parlour rather spacious. As it was, she sat on the couch facing the growing flames, the armchairs either side where her guest and her knight sat, and there was a low table in the centre.

At this time, her maid returned with a tea set for one, the butler-in-training behind a step with stiffer drinks for the gentlemen. While the butler poured the brandies, she took a sip of her tea and then placed her cup down.

"Although I would always make time to meet with my subjects if asked, I hope sir does not think me… idle," she said, a noticeable emphasis on that last word.

His thoughts showed on his face, at first tensed and then almost guilty. "O-of course not."

"Then I think we should leave the pleasantries for a social occasion," she said, her hands coming together in a muted clap.

Hardly a subtle statement, his hands tensed around his cup before he took a deep sip. It seemed for a moment that he would cough, his eyes watering, but both those passed with a breath and a few blinks.

"It is… I am… curious why Ma'am is fighting King Sigismund." While he did not mumble, he did not speak with confidence either.

She tilted her head to the side. "Is it that you are afraid your father may die?" she asked gently.

"No, no, of course not," he said quickly, that fluster clear on his face.

"You should be. King Sigismund is a capable foe with an army few may match, and we have driven him into a position where he will likely answer with violence," she said, almost disinterested, picking up her cup as she spoke and punctuating her reply with a sip of tea.

He sat there stunned for a long moment, only to then spend another moment hesitating over his response. "Why are… we doing that?" he asked, little more than a whisper.

"Precisely because he is such a threat."

Her answer, again, came without emotion, and he again took some time before he spoke. "I do not follow."

"Well, that is only natural. I am of a higher station and have held this position for almost your entire life." She paused there for another sip, then continued. "However, many of my peers lack my vision, so you are not alone in not following why it is I do what I do."

Her words landed sharp and prickly and he did not hide it, his mouth thin. "That is not an answer," he said, barely not a mumble.

"No, it is not. I never said I would answer your questions. After all, you are not entitled to answers. It would also be rather bizarre to give you such answers when your father, who is both my vassal and the one risking his life, is not privy to such answers. Or rather, he has chosen to involve himself in this without knowing such answers while knowing such risks."

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She gave those words a moment to be heard, then brought up a hand, a smile playing on her lips.

"Of course, I am not unreasonable. I may not provide you with answers; however, I am willing to provide a lesson. You did attend Count George's Academy, did you not?"

The shift in topic and tone left him stunned, an awkwardly long few seconds before he cleared his throat, head bowed. "I, I did."

"Then I should hope this lesson is within your grasp. I confess, I have no experience with teaching, so I may only present this lesson as it is."

She paused there to take a sip, only to frown. By the time she placed down her teacup, her maid was already there to take it away.

"Now then, let us reiterate the answer I did give…" she said, her gaze on him rather expectant.

"You said… King Sigismund is a threat."

She brought her hands together in a light clap, then reached out to accept her fresh cup, a sip of tea before she placed it down.

"Wonderful. Next, let us imagine you rule over some land. Your neighbour often goes to war with his other neighbours for their land. How would you protect your land from his aggression?" she asked.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, his doubt clear in his furrowed brow. "That is… I would build defences. A fort or even a castle."

Again, she clapped her hands together, yet this time it was loud, sudden, not enough to make him jump, but his breath was stuck in his throat.

"Wonderful. You have made it so that, when he does attack, he will muster a much larger army to ravage your lands. Not only that, but, once he takes your defences, he will now hold a position that gives him immense leverage in any negotiations. It is also the case that one must consider the costs of both building and maintaining such defences, that you would have much less to put towards an army."

Once more, she did not make it easy for him to reply. This time, though, the anger lurking beneath his expression broke through. "What nonsense is this? He can double the size of his army, but I cannot afford any? He can take a castle so easily?"

As heated as his words were, she gave no reaction, simply kept a small smile while staring at him. Once he finished, he tried to match her gaze. It was not long before he looked away.

"This nonsense is precisely what King Sigismund has already done, though. He overwhelms defences and pillages the land to fund his army. There cannot be peace because, without war, he cannot fund his army. Because he is in this constant state of either warfare or preparing for war, he and his men have become well-trained in carrying it out. That aside, if his army could be so trivially stopped, do you believe everyone else so incompetent?"

She spoke calmly, without emotion. It was neither an accusation nor was it chiding. After all, he was hardly the only person to struggle to "solve" this problem. However, that she did not chide him did not mean he did not feel chided, his head hanging low, hands on his knees, fingers digging in painfully. A fool who called the truth nonsense.

He mumbled a single word.

"Pray say that again," she said, tilting her head.

"How?" he asked through gritted teeth.

She stared at him a moment longer. "That is, how should one protect one's land against such a neighbour?"

Another awkward pause before he gave a slight nod.

With a sigh, she turned her gaze from him to the fireplace. "The honest truth is that we are still learning how best to do so. At this time, my husband and I believe that, as King Sigismund requires these wars to be profitable, then we should have him incur unexpected costs. Thus, we organised this coalition of Empire forces for the purpose of… chaos."

He blinked. "Chaos?" he asked.

She loosely gestured to the side. "Although I am sure others would disagree, I believe an army's greatest weakness is uncertainty. It is rather easy for uncertainty to become that most fatal panic."

"How does that… incur costs?" he asked, raising his head.

"I wonder?" she said lightly and covered her mouth as a few titters fell. "Pray consider how it is the people of his army should react upon hearing news that an army is invading their homeland. There will be immense pressure from common soldiers and magnates alike to return. However, King Sigismund knows well that to retreat from Greece now would give the Greeks time to prepare a proper defence, effectively ending the campaign before they could achieve the necessary… profits."

His eyes widened, mouth pressed thin. After a few breaths, he quietly asked, "Does that not mean that he will retaliate with anger?"

Slowly, she turned her gaze from the fireplace back to him. There was no smile, no warmth in those eyes, instead a cold anger of her own. "What of it? Are our men cowards who would be intimidated by such a tyrant? Let him bring his rage, we shall see how it fares against our gunpowder and steel."

A beat, then that anger of hers shattered, her mischievous smile as if that little speech had never happened.

"Or perhaps our men shall fall back. While the Polish hussars may travel fast, the infantry and cannons cannot, and our army has no lack of spears and pikes to hold back even the most ferocious of charges. By the time the rest of the Polish army arrives, our army could be back in Bohemian land with the border fortresses to bolster our strength against an army which has been on the march for weeks."

Her smile faded.

"In the end, whichever strategy is used is at my husband's discretion, along with the other commanders of our coalition. I may only say why we would declare such a war, not how we should inflict it upon our enemies. It is important that one recognises these as two separate things and that, for each, the most suitable people are put to the task."

Silence followed, in which his face showed his feelings through little twitches and such. A face so easily read.

As always when faced with such a person, she had to consider if it was instead the result of someone with talent. After all, she had been such a person to portray herself as emotional, someone so easily read. Even now, she had reason to do so in certain situations. So it instead became a question of if she could fathom how her guest could benefit from being perceived in this manner.

She could not.

Still, whether or not this was an act of his, it did not change her responsibilities to him. She had long accepted that her beliefs on rulership required her to empower even those who would act against her. A rather simple belief. Just as the existence of cities implied that the vast majority of people were good, she believed—wished to believe—that she could position and present herself in such a way to have the vast majority of her subjects support her. As long as she had such support, then to empower all of them naturally benefited her much more than it would ever hurt her.

A lesson her mother had left her. For all the disputes over inheritances, so few turned to violence, and all soon settled. Rare was the first son who did not succeed his father. Once she had claimed her title without issue, the risk of any insurrection practically disappeared. Even a greedy tyrant like the late Lord Grosburg had ruled for many years without violent unrest.

Until someone outside his realm acted, then it all came crumbling down so easily.

She not the only one in thought, he took his glass from the table and, with a wince, downed the rest of it. It almost made her laugh. Almost, but it did not.

What amused her more was this gradual shift. Long ago, she had been the one who had to seek out everyone in order to ingratiate herself with them, and now they came to her. At the same time, her goals had not changed.

"Ma'am has my thanks. And I apologise for my… rudeness."

She tittered, a hand over her mouth, then let out a sigh as she lowered her hand back to her lap. "Sir need not worry too much. While appearances must be maintained around others, for these occasions we may speak a little more freely. I would hate for a subject of mine to be afraid to discuss such an issue. After all, if I am making a mistake, I would want to correct it."

Pausing there, she brought her hands together in a quiet clap.

"However, I do hope sir will, like his father, extend me a measure of trust. There are many decisions I have to make and many subjects affected by them. As one may imagine, I cannot discuss each decision with every subject."

He bowed his head twice in exaggerated nods. "Of course, Ma'am," he said, bringing a hand to his chest. "I understand."

By his expression—whether or not it reflected his true feelings—she saw his sincerity, and she smiled.

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