Chapter 100. Third Prince’s Arrival

The Viscount’s Bedroom, Ironwood Castle

“This never happened in my past life,” Francesca said anxiously. She sat on the edge of the bed, nervously re-reading the heavy paper letter while Miller paced the length of the bedroom, lost in deep thought. “The Holy Civil War started as a slow, creeping aggression between the Central Church and the Northern sect. There was no news of a sudden, violent incident sparking it...”

“It is clearly the butterfly effect you talked about,” Miller replied, slowing his pace to sit down next to her. He gently took her trembling hand in his. “Because we requested that test for your soul, we inadvertently gave them leverage over us. But that is not the main thing we need to worry about right now, Francesca.”

He paused, looking at her with a pained expression. “I... I don't want this secret to hurt you any more than it already has. With our marriage not even reaching its first anniversary...”

“If the news gets out... the First Prince will certainly use it as grounds to void our marriage,” Francesca replied, her golden eyes widening in understanding as she gripped his hand tighter. “It would completely sever the political dependency between the Third and Second Prince factions, perfect opportunity for him.”

“But... we cannot just blindly send our men into a war either,” she continued. “In my past life, you used the conflict strictly for mercenary contracting work, meaning you never officially chose a side. If we do exactly as the Church commands...”

“We will be declaring a side. The First and Second Prince's factions can easily use that against us as well,” Miller finished, gently caressing her back to soothe her nerves.

“Prince Vadim will be arriving here soon, and the war is about to erupt prematurely. If we back the Northern Church, the Capital might frame our involvement as a full scale political rebellion rather than a simple skirmish between religious factions, like they did in my past life,” Francesca sighed, pressing a hand to her aching temples.

“However... they didn't explicitly demand that we join the war in this letter,” Miller pointed out, leaning over to re-read the elegant script. “It only asked us to show up in secret so we can negotiate terms.”

He looked at her seriously. “Even if we hate being roped into this... we still need the Northern Central Church to win this civil war, right? Otherwise, those progressive adoption laws that were passed in your past life will never come to fruition.”

Francesca lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “We cannot let the future change wildly out of our control... my knowledge of it will continue to become obsolete the more the timeline fractures. We need the Northern Central Church to win the war, but strictly on our terms.”

“It is decided, then,” Miller declared, tossing the blackmail letter onto the bedside table and lying down next to her. “We will go to Viscount Hollowland's New Year's banquet right after Third Prince Vadim arrives in Ironwood next week.”

In A Week, North Gate, Lord’s Castle, Ironwood Viscounty

The expansive courtyard of the North Gate had been completely cleared of last night’s heavy snow, but the harsh Winter Freeze raged on with a fresh, relentless snowfall.

Francesca stood at the main entrance, holding her cane firmly in one hand for balance, while Miller provided a rock solid, supportive arm on her other side. The Viscount couple waited in quiet anticipation as a grand procession of luxurious carriages, escorted by nearly a hundred heavily armed Imperial Knights, arrived perfectly on schedule.

“It is really great to finally be back in the North!” a satisfied voice rang out as the main carriage doors swung open.

A man with distinctive hazel hair and bright hazel eyes stepped out into the freezing courtyard. He wore a charming, carefree smile on his face, entirely unbothered by the heavy snow falling onto his fine royal coat.

“We missed you too, Your Highness, Prince Vadim,” Miller replied with a polite smile, walking forward with Francesca by his side to officially greet him.

Prince Vadim paused, his eyes darting between the two of them before he suddenly yelled, “Yo, Miller! Look at you! Mister Stoic here is acting all lovey dovey with his adorable wife!”

Miller's face instantly flushed red with sheer embarrassment.

Francesca just wore an odd, bewildered smile. This is not at all what I expected the Third Prince to be like... Every time I met him in my past life, it was at a formal event. Is this his true personality?

“I... I thank you for the praise, Your Highness,” Francesca replied, her own cheeks turning a bit pink at the sudden compliment regarding their relationship.

Prince Vadim chuckled loudly, stepping forward to clap Miller heavily on the back. “My, my... Are you actually turning red? This is quite a sight!”

“He has been married for a while now, Your Highness,” Stella commented dryly as she walked out from the castle doors to join the greeting party.

Prince Vadim’s hazel eyes instantly sparkled with manic delight. He rushed right past the Viscount couple, scooped Stella up by the waist, and lifted her into the air.

“STELLAAAA!!!!” his joyful shout reverberated throughout the entire snowy courtyard.

“Yeah... yeah... I hear you...” Stella tried to speak flatly, but the Prince just kept enthusiastically spinning her around in circles.

“Your Highness, please put her down! Her head must be spinning!” Kenny panicked, frantically chasing after Prince Vadim as he continued to spin a thoroughly defeated looking Stella.

“T-this is a very... bizarre situation,” Francesca muttered, watching the insane chaos unfold in the snow.

Miller gently tapped her shoulder, a fond smile breaking through his earlier embarrassment. “This is nothing. Just wait until you see how much more eccentric his antics get the longer you hang around him.”

His face radiated a deep glow of pride and genuine warmth as he looked at the chaotic reunion. Francesca didn’t fully understand the Prince's wild behavior, but her own heart felt instantly at ease seeing Miller believe so deeply in his friend, even if the man was so wonderfully odd.