Chương 255: 11.ii

Being the husband of a Tyrant Wyrm has yet to provide a single season I could ever call routine. When it is not the terrors of sorcery, the overseeing of common law court in my mother's When it is not overseeing common law in Kaeketeh then it is imbibing divinely 'blessed' sacrament for a provincial harvest festival! Then there is the confusion of my wife's spawn. And I still marvel at not using the term as an insult! Her own sorcerous confidant attests to the terminology and more. It is bizarre to experience!

A child who is at least sometimes of one mind with one's own wife. Furthermore is the fact that even when she is apart from her mother little Gem is the perfect spy. The potential there extends Jewel's already tremendous advantage in courtly intrigue to levels that make me a bit faint. Combine this with the hand language she can speak so fluently? This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

If I didn't know Jewel so well I'd think she was intentionally cultivating the means to spread her awareness to near omniscience within her realm! But no, although she is growing better in her grasp of such matters my wife is still far more a martial countess than anything else. And not even a general! Jewel cleaves strongly to the example set by her father and house. A flier and warrior first over a planner or guide for the army.

If it would not risk the continuity of Viznove I'd insist on attending her in the next war as her general of the land. But no it is best to leave that to those trusted and skilled among her vassals. A liege lord or lady must always be present in one's demesne to guide the people and see to such affairs. As my mother As Jewel's predecessor did before her I will stay behind to oversee my wife's county when war calls Viznove again.

I fear that despite all the efforts to ensure peace through overwhelming threat that war is inevitable. Like two dogs and a scrap of meat the Realm and the Magarska Kingdom will always covet the lands between them. Until one is finally slain. -Excerpt from the Journal of Count Consort Paul Nádasdy