“So, I hear you’ve taken in a disciple,” Prince Nolan remarked, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He carefully sliced a piece of steak with his knife, his tone casual, yet laced with underlying intent. “Strange, though—I’ve never heard of her family name. Are you registering her as a ward? I don’t recall you doing so, sister.”

  Despite his friendly demeanor, his words carried a pointed edge. He was subtly reminding Ravenna that, even though he had been away from the Empire for years, his information network was still very much intact.

  Ravenna returned his smile, unfazed. “I’ve decided against it for now. Once she turns seventeen, I will adopt her officially.”

  Her response was carefully measured. She knew exactly what Nolan was after—Marie’s origins. If she admitted outright that Marie was not of noble birth, Nolan would undoubtedly use it against her.

  In truth, Ravenna had already made up her mind about adopting Marie, not just because of her promise to the girl but because of the political implications. The Empire barred commoners from holding administrative positions, but higher positions within the Herptian Faith were still considered under noble jurisdiction. It was the same loophole she was using in Jola to build an independent education system.

  However, the faith did not permit individuals under the age of seventeen to hold higher-ranking roles. Hence, she had to wait before formally adopting Marie and bestowing upon her a noble title.

  Prince Landon, seated beside Nolan, tapped his fingers lightly against the table and asked, “Why wait until she turns seventeen?”

  Ravenna smirked, effortlessly slipping into her unruly persona. “Because I have no interest in wasting time on unworthy little ladies,” she replied with deliberate crudeness.

  Landon exhaled sharply, clearly taken aback by her bluntness. He had pushed for an answer but was met with a wall of deflection.

  Across the table, Emperor Andrew remained silent, his expression unreadable. His sharp gaze flitted across his children as he listened intently, though he had yet to make any remarks since breakfast had begun.

  Ravenna took another bite of her meal, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. So, he’s merely observing for now.

  In the previous timeline, she had never been invited to this gathering—she had been “kidnapped” before such an event could take place. However, in this life, she was here, and she knew the Emperor’s reasoning had not changed.

  In the original novel, Emperor Andrew had personally summoned all of his children and key ministers to the capital for Serena’s wedding—before Serena herself even sent word of it. The reason was simple: the imperial court had become a battlefield of political factions, and his once-reliable sources of information had been compromised.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Ministers aligned with different contenders for the throne had begun intercepting and distorting intelligence reports, feeding the Emperor either misleading details or outright lies.

  Even Minister Frank Eldric, the Emperor’s closest ally and right-hand man, had subtly begun omitting certain details about his children—protecting Prince Landon’s movements. Though initially neutral, Eldric had slowly drifted toward Landon’s faction, largely due to his daughter's marriage to him.

  By summoning his children to the capital, Emperor Andrew sought to personally assess their loyalties and determine their fates.

  “But,” Ravenna thought as she sipped her tea, “nothing ever goes as he plans.”

  Finally, the Emperor spoke, his deep voice cutting through the air like a blade.

  “I am aware that I called all of you here earlier than necessary,” he said, setting his utensils down. “Serena will be arriving in a week with her fiancé, and the wedding will take place in the Imperial Solious Church shortly after. I trust none of you will find it too inconvenient to remain in the capital for another week?”

  Prince Nolan, ever the diplomatic son, responded immediately. “Of course, Father. I would never miss my sister’s wedding.” Beside him, his wife, Princess Frederica, offered a warm smile and added, “I would also love to spend more time in the capital.”

  Landon gave a small nod of acknowledgment, while his wife, Maria, replied gracefully, “It is our pleasure, Your Majesty.”

  William, disinterested as ever, merely grunted as he continued to eat.

  Ravenna, however, leaned back slightly, her lips curling into a smirk. “Sure,” she said with casual indifference. “I’ll wait for that good-for-nothing to arrive.”

  The Emperor chuckled softly at her remark, though there was a glint of amusement in his usually stern eyes.

  To the others at the table, it might have seemed as though the Emperor was looking forward to the wedding—a final event to solidify alliances and begin weeding out the unreliable figures within the court.

  But Ravenna knew better.

  She had read the novel.

  The wedding would not be a joyous celebration.

  Instead, it would be a disaster—attacked by a horde of magical beasts, turning the ceremony into a bloodbath. And in the chaos, one man would seize the moment to elevate his standing: Prince William.

  Ravenna gripped her fork tightly, her expression unreadable as she took another bite of her meal.

  “I need to change that.”

  If she was going to fulfill her deal with the Herptian to survive—she could not afford to let William seize the moment unchallenged.

  In the original novel, Prince William and Eugene had taken charge during the beast attack, rallying the capital’s forces and leading the counteroffensive. Their valor and leadership had not gone unnoticed—they had saved the Empire’s most powerful noble families from utter destruction. By the time the battle ended, the nobles practically worshiped them.

  The favor William had earned was so immense that Emperor Andrew, despite his earlier hesitations, had been forced to name him Crown Prince.

  Ravenna exhaled slowly, her eyes flickering toward William, who was still lazily chewing his food, completely unaware of her silent calculations.

  "I’m not even in the succession line, thanks to my exile," she thought bitterly.

  Her banishment had stripped her of any claim to the throne. Her name had been all but erased from the Empire’s line of succession, leaving her with nothing but a tarnished reputation.

  But this event—this wedding-turned-catastrophe—was an opportunity.

  A chance to rewrite the script. A chance to steal the moment for herself.

  “If William used this crisis to rise… then I will use it to return.”