Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 469: Terms and Tensions

Alaric let out a quiet scoff, forcing the irritation off his face as he smoothed his coat and stepped inside behind the others.

This gathering marked the first formal exchange between Avenlor and Nordia, less a negotiation than a careful circling, each side testing how far the other could be pushed while laying out initial positions.

Theodric had chosen not to attend in person. In his place, Cassian, the Duke of Duskmoor, and Crown Prince Alaric stood as Avenlor's representatives.

If this stage went well, the two monarchs would later meet to finalize a formal alliance.

Nordia's side was led by Prince Roderic, Fourth Prince Zachary, and their deputy envoy, Byron.

Cassian's wheelchair had barely settled at the head of the long table when Byron rose and inclined his head in a formal bow. "Your Grace."

Zachary, still Flowira in disguise, sat poised and composed. Apart from Roderic, no one present knew her true identity.

Her gaze drifted lightly to the empty space beside Cassian. "Your Grace, will the Duchess not be joining us today?"

Cassian paused for a fraction of a second.

Why does everyone suddenly care so much about my wife?

The thought put a sharp edge in his voice. "She is expecting and needs rest. She won't be troubled with state matters."

Roderic gave a rough, humorless chuckle, the kind that grated against the ear. "I've heard that when a man's legs are shattered badly enough, it ruins more than just his stride. Leaves him with no heirs to speak of."

His eyes flicked toward Cassian's legs, his tone turning openly vulgar. "So tell me, are you certain the child she carries is yours? Would be a pity if you ended up raising another man's blood. Hah."

His Avenlor was clumsy, but the insult landed cleanly.

The hall went still.

Byron stiffened, a sheen of sweat forming at his temples as he shot a cautious glance toward Roderic.

Cassian did not react the way anyone expected. He simply lifted his eyes, calm and unhurried. "If memory serves, every time you lost to me on the field, you managed to run fast enough to save your own skin. I never crippled your legs. So where does all this experience come from? Did your wife take another man to her bed, or have you been doing favors in someone else's household?"

Roderic's defeats had always been a sore point. Being reminded of them so plainly, then mocked on top of it, snapped his temper. He slammed his palm against the table and surged to his feet, fury blazing.

"Uncle."

Flowira's voice cut through the tension, sharp and controlled.

Roderic turned toward her, breath heavy.

"We are here for peace," she said, each word deliberate.

His chest rose and fell a few more times before he muttered a curse under his breath and dropped back into his seat.

Once Alaric had taken his place as well, the talks began in earnest.

Trade routes, border lines, prisoner exchanges, tribute structures, each issue tangled into the next, every clause argued over down to the smallest detail.

Neither side gave ground. Voices rose, hands struck the table, and at times it felt as though the very rafters might shake loose from the force of it.

The back and forth dragged on for three full hours before they finally broke.

Despite the constant friction, the framework had moved forward more than expected.

Alaric rose first, lifting his goblet with an easy smile. "You've all done your part today. It's getting late, so I've arranged a supper in the adjoining hall. Think of it as a small token of hospitality. I hope our honored guests from Nordia will join us."

No one refused.

His gaze slid toward Cassian.

Dominic, Deputy of the King's Works, stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Your Grace, will you attend as well? There are a few finer points from today's discussions I would prefer to report in private."

There was something deliberate in his tone.

Cassian gave a faint nod.

In the adjoining hall, the tables were already laid with roasted meats, fresh bread, and spiced wine. Iron chandeliers cast a warm glow across the room as musicians began to play and dancers moved in smooth, practiced patterns.

After several rounds of wine, Alaric judged the moment right. He raised his cup again, smiling. "Court feasts tend to blur together after a while. Music, dancing, the same old routines. I've heard Nordia values strength and skill, and I've always admired that. Since this is a night meant to bring our nations closer, I thought we might add something more lively. A friendly bout, nothing serious, just enough to show a bit of spirit."

Roderic leaned forward at once. "Now that sounds worthwhile. There's only so much wine a man can drink while watching dancers circle the floor."

His gaze swept the room. "Though I don't see many warriors here. Looks like a hall full of courtiers. Who exactly are you putting forward?"

"Avenlor does not lack for either wit or steel," Alaric replied smoothly, his eyes brushing over Cassian. "Among those present, my uncle is known for strength few can match."

Roderic let out a short, mocking laugh. "You mean him? He's bound to that chair. What's he supposed to do, compete in sitting still?"

A few low chuckles followed.

"If that's the contest," Roderic went on, "then I doubt anyone in Nordia could beat your Duke."

The remark landed poorly.

Several Avenlor officials stiffened, their expressions darkening.

Cassian, however, remained at ease, idly turning his goblet between his fingers as though none of it concerned him.