“Huh? In here?” Hilriad stared at the tower’s uncanny inner world, and for a beat his mind went blank, like a candle snuffed by a draft.

Andra chuckled ahead, leading the way like a fox slipping through reeds, clearly pleased with his little brother’s ghost-struck face.

He glanced at the old mage barring Eli and the others, and smiled. Good.

Hilriad took in the scene, breath catching like frost on glass. Awe kept spilling out of him.

He stood in a warm world with no snow, a pocket spring cupped inside a winter fist.

It felt like those great forests beyond the Snow Empire, green lungs under a bowl of blue.

The air was crisp as bitten apples. The sky was a polished shard of sapphire. The trees shed ice and wore life like new silk.

Andra pointed up. “Ninth Brother, look.”

Across the vast sky, wooden doors drifted like lanterns on a slow river, circling something unseen as if pulled by a hidden tide.

Hilriad couldn’t stop praising it, words fluttering like birds from a hedge.

The stone path under his feet curled like a gray serpent, no end in sight. It led to no rooms, to no thresholds, only to horizon, so he had no way to track the mages.

The doors above were only doors, skins without houses, shells without snails.

“Second Brother?” Hilriad called, voice small as a pebble in a pond.

Andra looked back with a smile. “What is it?”

“This… is this really inside a mage tower? Not some kind of tree teleport array or something?”

“Of course it’s not a teleport array. Have you read too many of those messy storybooks?” Andra winced, smile tight. He did have that itch to swat Hilriad dead right here, like a fly on a scroll.

But lately the Mage Tower felt split like ice along a fault. One wing of the Holy Mages didn’t seem eager to back him.

Otherwise, he’d have left the boy here, then put a puppet brother on the throne. No fuss, no mess. He could then focus on Third Brother. He could even use the chance to put the Tower under his thumb, so it’d serve him like a trained hawk.

“Second Brother? Then how do we find those mages in here?” Hilriad’s breath came quick, a puff of white in his own chest.

Andra snapped back and smiled at him, then sighed inside. What a pity. “Good brother, I’ll give you a proper tour first. Finding mages can wait. I’ll show you how later.”

He thought, then added, voice smooth as oiled wood, “Ninth Brother, do you want me to call in a few mages I trust? People I know. It’d help you.”

“No need for now.” Hilriad followed with a smile, eyes bright as leveled steel.

Your trusted mages? Heh. (。・_・)/~~~

Just say you want to plant spies and be done.

Sorry, with the Crown Prince’s plants still fresh in memory, you think Hilriad will take your people? He wasn’t born yesterday.

Why buy someone else’s true sight and plug it by your side, then babysit it and can’t even tear it out? That’s just inviting a thorn into your boot.

They walked the stone road, admiring scenery while trading moves, slow and soft as Tai Chi under willow shade.

By the fourth time Hilriad shot down Andra’s offer, the nagging had worn thin as paper, and Andra finally stopped droning like a monk on a long sutra.

Andra pointed ahead. “Ninth Brother, there’s a mage door close by. Let’s take a look.”

Hilriad nodded, impatience flicking like the tip of a whip.

Andra stepped over a brook, the water bright as glass, and stopped under a floating door. He tossed a first-circle Fireball at the wooden slab in the sky.

The small fireball kissed the door and rippled like a ring on a pond, then vanished. The door dropped from the heavens like a leaf, landing slow where Andra had stood.

The little door creaked open. A white-haired elder burst out, brows knotted like twine, a book wrapped in red paper clenched in his hand, temper rolling like a thunderhead. “Who?! Which pig-brained fool disturbed my experiment?!”

Andra’s smile froze. Damn. Why run into this one first?

This mage belonged to that smaller camp that didn’t support him.

Andra’s face soured, but he still lowered his head with a frown. “Respected mage, forgive the intrusion. I’m Andra Osborne, Second Prince of the Snow Empire.” He pointed at Hilriad. “This is my Ninth Brother.”

Andra stood a step ahead, so to the elder’s eyes, Hilriad looked even more delicate, like a sapling behind a trunk.

The old man snorted. “Second Prince, Ninth Prince. Sure. Your Highness Andra, don’t take me for senile. You’ve got a little girl behind you and call her the Ninth Prince? Hm? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Andra’s mouth twitched. He glanced back at his Ninth Brother, saw those innocent big eyes, and sighed.

He pointed at the white-haired elder, speaking to Hilriad. “So. Ninth Brother. You explain. I can’t get through to this old— this gentleman.”

Hilriad covered his mouth and laughed, light as bell chimes. The smile was frankly adorable.

Seeing it, the elder only grew more disdainful. “Heh?”

Andra rolled his eyes. This old fossil. When I seize power, I’ll make sure you’re the first to go.

Hilriad gave a precise noble salute, posture flowing like water, then spoke with calm grace. “Sir. I’m Hilriad Osborne, Ninth Prince of the Snow Empire. I am not my Second Brother’s lover or anything like that.”

The old mage frowned, thinking, gears creaking like a millwheel.

The etiquette was perfect for a nobleman. But…

He squinted, as if memory fluttered back like a loose page, then slapped his brow with theatrical flair. “Ah—crap. My mistake. I forgot. Your kingdom’s youngest prince does look like a girl.”

He looked Hilriad over. “Your Highness the Ninth Prince won’t be offended?”

Hilriad smiled. “Why would I?”

Andra cut in at once. “Apologies, sir. I still need to show my brother around. We won’t keep you from your research.”

The elder stared at Andra for a long beat, then shrugged. “Fine. This old man will get back to it. Don’t go knocking at random on mage doors. If you hit a bad temper, you’ll get a fire dragon to the face.”

Andra’s smile faltered and went gray. “Thanks for the warning, sir.”

Damn it. I try to look impressive in front of Ninth Brother, and this old corpse has to mouth off. Was that a warning?

Damn. Truly damn.

He and Hilriad watched the elder retreat into his room and shut the door. The wooden door then rose by itself, floating back to the sky like a freed kite.

Andra smoothed his face in a heartbeat, put on a clownish smile, and led Hilriad onward to see the rest.

…

“Pff. Ha. Seems the Mage Tower’s condition is better than I thought.” Yiyi lounged on the sofa like a cat in a sun patch, laughing after Hilriad finished recounting Andra’s grand tour.

“Yeah. I don’t know why, but lately Second Brother’s grip on the Tower has slipped a little,” Hilriad said, shrugging like a leaf shedding dew.

“That’s the best news we’ve had in a while.” Yiyi smiled, eyes bright as flint.

Liqianyu came in with a plate of fruit again, watched the two talk strategy like wind tracing maps in sand, and felt like an outsider staring through glass. She dropped the thinking. Point me at someone and I’ll hit them. Brains aren’t my department. _(:3」∠)_

Moser watched Liqianyu carry a heaping plate of fruit into the room, then carry out empty plates, then bring in another piled plate. By the fourth trip, he couldn’t take it.

Mr. Moser caught her by the shoulder. “Miss Liqianyu, please come with me.”

“Huh? But I want to listen to their blah-blah. Sounds convincing,” Liqianyu said earnestly, eyes round as coins.

Do you even understand any of it?! Moser screamed inside, a kettle rattling on the boil.

“Miss Liqianyu, there’s good food waiting for you. Please don’t, uh, stir the pot in here, alright?” Moser pleaded, fraying like old rope.

“Should’ve said so. Fine. I’ll go eat.” Liqianyu beamed and left like a breeze.

Yiyi nodded. “You might win over that slice of the mages. As for the army, your Third Brother’s probably pressed down most dissent. We won’t have many strong hands to spare.”

“Mm. But that barely nudges the balance. Even if I don’t compare myself to Big Brother, Second Brother, Third Brother—right now I can’t even match Fourth,” Hilriad said, sigh deflating him like a pierced bellows.

Yiyi smiled, a thought flicking by like a fish. So, you’re basically telling me you want the crown?

If he becomes king, will he make cross-dressing national policy? Ahem. Kidding.

Anyway, once I finish my part, I’m gone. Why fuss over his plans?

Yiyi shrugged, light as a crane folding its wings. “So what else do you think you can win?”

Hilriad frowned, brows knitting like black thread. “I don’t know.”

Yiyi tapped her chest. “There’s still the people.”

“The… people?” Hilriad blinked, as if the word were a pebble dropped into a well.

“Yeah. The people. If you want to protect yourself—if you want real standing—there’s one road left.”

“Eh?”

“Tell me,” Yiyi said, voice soft but firm as bamboo, “in the people’s hearts, what’s the highest faith?”

Hilriad thought. “The… king?”

“No.” Yiyi’s smile slanted. “You forgot a very special presence.”

“A special… presence?”

“Right.”

“…”

“The Church, dummy,” Yiyi said, helpless, snorting like a piglet for the tease.

“The Church? But… the Church won’t join in state struggles. In Mite, the Holy Court Church doesn’t even have a temple in the imperial capital,” Hilriad said, puzzled clouding his face.

“That’s because Mite is a bit backward,” Yiyi said, giving him a look sharp as a paper cut.

“…”

“What? Not convinced?” Her brow arched like a drawn bow.

“…”

“In the Central Empire—Holy Paris—they’re a superpower greater than all your kingdoms and empires combined, right?”

“Mm…”

“Wherever they are, there’s always a grand cathedral of the Holy Court Church,” Yiyi said with a small smile, voice ringing like a bell.

“…”

“So the simplest way,” Yiyi went on, fox-bright, watching Hilriad, “is to get the Church’s support. Let those old foxes wade into your mess—Mage Tower, army, princes and ministers—and stir the pot for you.”