The war room wasn't made for women like her.
Dark oak walls. Heavy iron maps. A fireplace that never went out. The scent of metal and blood and dying paper.
And now?
Aris.
Wearing soft shoes and a violet ribbon around her wrist, walking between generals and councilmen like she belonged.
She didn't speak first. She didn't need to.
The Prince sat at the Emperor's right and gestured her forward.
"This is Aris," he said calmly. "She'll sit beside me."
Murmurs. Protests. An audible gasp from one of the Southern Lords.
"She's a maid," someone said.
"She's my counsel," the Prince replied.
"But—"
"She uncovered the Saintess's corruption," he said. "She predicted the split in the Borderlands. And she's the reason this room isn't on fire."
Lie. Lie. Half-true.
But the Emperor didn't argue.
He nodded once. That was all it took.
A chair was pulled out. Aris sat down.
And smiled.
> System: Congratulations. You now outrank half the kingdom without a single official title.
Just curious, how do you want your crown? Bone, silver, or stolen?
> Aris: "I'll wear their disbelief like a veil."
The generals hated her. She saw it in their posture. The way they clenched their scrolls. How they avoided her eyes.
But they listened.
Because when Aris spoke, her words were laced with honey and arsenic.
She didn't argue. She offered suggestions like gifts.
"Perhaps if we deployed through the merchant routes, the rebels wouldn't see it coming."
"What if we let the Border Dukes think they're winning, just long enough for them to overextend?"
"I believe the Saintess's followers are still active. Give them a cause, and they'll fight our enemies for us."
It was terrifying.
Because everything she said worked.
The Knight stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed.
He didn't speak to her. Not anymore.
But he watched.
Watched the way the generals nodded.
Watched the Prince smile like he was watching a goddess unfold.
Watched the Emperor allow it all.
And when Aris turned her head slightly—just enough to meet his gaze—he looked away.
> System: He's going to break soon. You'll either own him or bury him.
> Aris: "Let him hate me longer. It makes the collapse sweeter."
After the council dispersed, the Prince lingered.
"You were magnificent," he whispered. "You belong in that room."
She tilted her head.
"I belong above it."
He laughed. But not because it was funny.
Because he believed her.
He took her hands. Pressed them to his mouth like they were scripture.
"I would give you the world."
"You already have," she said.
That night, Aris received a sealed note. Delivered by hand. Anonymous.
"The next meeting will be your downfall. The ones you humiliated will not forget. Sleep lightly."
She burned it.
Then poured herself wine. Crimson. Rich.
The taste was sharp.
Like victory.
Like blood.
> System: Are you even afraid?
> Aris: "No. I'm adored."
> System: You are also envied, hated, and surrounded by swords.
> Aris: "Then I must be doing something right."