The chalkboard was filled with words and plans.
And in the middle of it all was the name Valen Maddach.
Despite the glamorous red and pink dresses, she wore in public, when alone, she dressed almost as plainly as a peasant.
Her hands were pale white, covered in chalk dust, some of it smeared across her face.
She added another line, continuing from Valen Maddach to the word Baron, and then added another box.
God Emperor.
Her son, her only son.
She had spent nearly her entire life preparing her son for the Baronship.
After all, the Baron himself didn't have time to groom his children for greatness.
So, it had all fallen to Rhyla.
She had studied most of the noble teachings herself.
And while she was not at the level of a Calculor, she was still capable of thinking far ahead.
She knew exactly what her son needed.
From his education to his martial skills, to his public image.
From the moment she conceived Valen, she had been prepared to mold him into an obedient, mentally stable, and self-reliant man.
And she was proud of it.
No one could take that from her.
She had developed a system, a method to calculate House Maddach's popularity rankings.
For a long time, the names Valen Maddach and the Baron had always been at the top.
But just recently, one name had easily surpassed both.
Liam Maddach.
She circled the name multiple times, trying to determine whether or not he was a threat to Valen.
Although her calculations said no, she had a feeling.
A mother's instinct.
Liam had taken her son's attention.
Which meant that for this whole week, the week when the God Emperor's announcement would be made public for the world to see—
Her son wouldn't be the center of attention.
Instead, it would be Liam Maddach.
'Liam will lose…'
But the timing, the timing was terrible for her.
If she could somehow turn this situation into a moment for Valen, then maybe she could get ahead of the other heirs vying for the Imperial Throne.
She knew the other Houses were preparing their own representatives as well.
Her knight, Asterix, sat on a chair, his back arched in exhaustion, tired of his Lady's obsession.
"My Lady, you're paying too much attention to the swine," he sighed.
Watching her fixate on Liam Maddach's sudden rise in attention was painful.
"You haven't seen what I've seen, Asterix."
She remembered the reaction that Calculor Cheng had when Liam said no.
'If Cheng didn't expect it, then there will be more unexpected events in the future.'
And she had a feeling that Liam would be at the center of it.
"My Lady—no… Sister, there is no need to worry about this," Asterix reassured her.
"It doesn't matter if Liam is getting attention now. Valen is still the chosen heir to the Baronship. Even if Liam somehow defeats Jorvik, he'll be forgotten in months.
But your son?
Valen Maddach will be remembered for all of eternity.
You just have to let this go."
Rhyla stopped writing on the chalkboard, sighing.
'Maybe he's right…'
She realized she had been giving Liam Maddach more attention than anyone else in the family.
She limped after hours of standing and pacing, finally sitting beside her brother.
"I need to rest…" she muttered. "Make sure there are no holes in my plans."
"Don't worry." Asterix nodded.
'Jorvik will beat Liam.'
That was one thing he was sure of.
***
Three bottles of blue cream lay on a scratched wooden table.
A piece of old, yellowed parchment, slightly torn from age, rested beside them.
Jorvik squeezed a small amount of the blue cream onto his fingers and massaged it into his muscles.
The cream was a mana-infused formula made for skin absorption.
There had been attempts in the past to use mana to enhance physical ability, but those efforts had been ineffective and sometimes even harmful.
The cream, however, was safe for use—made specifically for consistent application.
It worked by breaking down muscle tissue and then rapidly rebuilding it, making it stronger.
"Tss…"
A sharp pain spread through Jorvik's arms as the cream activated, burning his muscles—almost as if they were cramping.
Normally, one bottle was enough to completely transform an individual.
But Jorvik was one of the least gifted members of House Maddach when it came to mana control.
And that wasn't something that could be taught or trained.
It wasn't something that could be improved with experience.
For some, mana simply favored them, allowing them to perform miracles.
A prime example was the God Emperor Vossian himself.
It was said that mana refused to harm him.
That even when the greatest wizards tried to attack him with magic,
The mana itself stopped, refusing to hurt its own creator.
Mana was more than just energy.
It was spirit.
The Temple of Vossian considered it an extension of the Godhood of Vossian.
For most, mana was simply neutral, it allowed minor enhancements like increased strength, faster reflexes, and heightened perception.
House Maddach focused on maximizing the practical use of mana in martial arts.
Hand-to-hand combat.
Weapons training.
And one advanced technique—
Weight Control.
It didn't change how one looked externally, but it could change how much they weighed internally.
A warrior skilled in Weight Control could make themselves weigh thousands of pounds.
Which meant that their attacks would be devastating enough to kill with a single strike.
But there were others—those unlucky few—who weren't blessed with mana's favor yet still weren't fully incapable of using it.
Jorvik belonged to this group.
Mana resisted him, making even the simplest applications difficult.
So even with the aid of the enhancement cream, his growth remained slow.
But still, he felt a change.
He looked around his small room.
His larger quarters had been traded away to another family member in exchange for more bottles of the cream.
They weren't cheap, even by noble standards.
Jorvik picked up the old parchment beside the bottles.
It was the only thing he had to remember his mother by.
She had died the moment he was born.
And despite never meeting her, he knew—
She had loved him.
He read the letter, over and over again, as if he were speaking to her.
It was his belief that she wanted him to be Baron.
'I will be Baron…'
'Baron Jorvik Maddach.'
A small smile formed on his lips.
Then, he looked toward the setting sun outside his window.
As it descended, it seemed to burn even brighter before disappearing over the horizon.
A sign?
His eyes widened.
'Not Baron—but Emperor?'
He shook his head—then corrected himself.
'No…'
'God Emperor Jorvik Maddach.'