"Your Highness, that is the sum of the situation," Aegis reported, his voice steady as he finished recounting the shadows moving in the north.
Lucia did not offer an imdiate reply. He gestured for Aegis to take his seat, then rested his chin on his hand, slipping into deep thought.
Within the Royal Tent, a heavy silence reigned. Neither the two Elders, Muriel and Yatog, nor the high-ranking officers like Guilel, Olvens, or Anastasia made a move to speak. They waited, their eyes fixed on the silver-haired youth at the head of the table.
In previous etings, Lucia had been lenient, treating these seasoned veterans as equals. But the atmosphere had shifted. This was no longer just about the internal affairs of the Ancient Dragons or the safety of a minor resupply hub. The brewing storm outside Caelid was a symptom of a power struggle involving the greatest noble houses of the Golden Dynasty. In an age where the Erdtree's shadow covered the world, this turmoil could ignite the entire continent.
To speak before the Prince in this mont would be more than a breach of protocol; it would be a challenge to his sovereignty.
"Elder Muriel," Lucia said, his voice cutting through the stillness. "How much do you know of the roots of the Ofnir family?"
Elder Muriel, seated to Lucia's left, was a sprightly figure despite his 872 years. He was a living chronicle, one of the few who rembered the world before the Forbidden War. To a dragon like him, the Golden Dynasty and the Carian Royals were little more than upstart children playing in the ruins of giants.
"Ofnir?" The old man mused. "As Your Highness likely knows, Regent Hectov is of the Lunte branch from the Altus Plateau. His eldest brother, Marquis Osarion, serves as the Supervisor of Leyndell, and his second brother, Viscount Rowens, is a Deputy Commander in the Northern Legion. Nominally, they claim neutrality in the court's factional wars, but in truth, they are stalwarts of the New Faction. I have heard the Viscount is particularly close to young Prince Godrick."
"Godrick?" Lucia raised an eyebrow. "When did he beco a puppet for the New Faction?"
In his recent studies, Lucia had parsed the binary politics of the capital. The Old Party, led by Queen Marika, stood for the traditional Erdtree doctrine. The New Faction, championed by the new King Consort, Radagon, pushed the Fundantalism of the Golden Order—a more rigid, intolerant philosophy that sought to purge anything that didn't fit the Golden System.
But Godrick's involvent made little sense. As the son of the Golden Prince Godwyn and a direct descendant of the main lineage, Godrick should have been a neutral diator. Why choose a side and invite political enemies?
"Your Highness is unaware," Muriel coughed awkwardly. "Prince Godrick has always been... unconventional. Queen Marika and Prince Godwyn hoped he would be a bridge between the factions, but the boy has an innate disdain for those outside the Golden System. He has publicly claid that the Queen's rcy is a weakness—that she allows 'vulgar and despicable' races to bask in the Erdtree's light. After several such outbursts, the Old Party found him impossible to stomach."
Lucia was stunned. He turned to the others. "Is this common knowledge?"
"It is," Aegis confird. "Prince Godwyn once tried to give Godrick command of the Crucible Knights to temper him. But Godrick's insults were so profound that even the Misbegotten warriors felt the sting. Knight-Captain Ordovis had to et with Godwyn personally to settle the matter. After that, Godrick's guard was swapped for Rodel Knights, and his promotion was quietly buried."
A talent. Truly, a talent, Lucia thought, fighting back a smirk.
He rembered the Godrick he knew from the ga—the "Lord of All that is Golden" who would graft anything to himself to gain power. It seed that even before he beca a monster, Godrick was a bigot who hadn't yet been humbled by reality.
This explained Hectov's behavior. The Ofnir family were fanatics, eager to impress Godrick by showing disdain for "monsters" like the Ancient Dragons. If Lucia weren't a demigod, and if Farum Azula weren't a nuclear power in its own right, this camp wouldn't even exist. Hectov would have left them to rot in the mud.
"One more thing," Lucia said, turning back to Muriel. "Have you ever heard of a knight nad Gideon within the Ofnir ranks?"
The old man thought for a long ti, then shook his head. "If he is a collateral relative without a title, I might not know him. But there is certainly no knight of that na among the landed nobles."
"I see."
"However," Muriel added, "if Your Highness is certain of the na, I can check the genealogies once we reach Leyndell. A branch of the Ofnir followed the Warlord Godfrey in the early days. After the Caelid campaigns, many of them were exiled across the Mist along with the Warlord. This Sir Gideon may well be among the Tarnished."
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