Jessica tapped a spot on the map—the island of Jola. “Why don’t we attack Jola?”

  Edward’s brows furrowed, and his voice carried a mixture of confusion and apprehension. “What are you saying, Jessica? Attack the dukedom of an Imperial Princess? That’s madness!”

  Jessica sighed, leaning back in her chair with a frustrated look. “Father, think logically. How else do you propose we dispose of 2,000 slaves without attracting attention? If we move them inland using carriages, it would be far too conspicuous. The Imperial Court would sniff us out before we got halfway to our destination.”

  Edward shook his head, his fingers curling into fists. “You’re suggesting we provoke an Imperial dukedom. Ravenna may be exiled, but she’s still an Imperial Princess. If we march into her lands, she’ll inform the capital. Her word carries enough weight to have us arrested and executed for treason.”

  Jessica’s eyes gleamed with cold determination. “Not if it looks like the work of pirates,” she countered, leaning forward to tap the map again. “Jola is isolated, far removed from the Empire’s core territories. She’s stationed there with only 300 knights for protection, hardly enough to fend off a large assault. We could send 500 of our knights along with 300 of Hericules’ mercenaries, posing as a pirate raid. They attack, dump the slaves: dead or alive on the island, and capture Princess Ravenna. Once she’s in our custody, we can stage a ransom exchange at Ronin’s port. It will appear as though pirates attacked her, and her testimony would support that narrative.”

  Edward’s face paled at the audacity of her plan. “Jessica… are you hearing yourself? You want to attack an Imperial Princess’s territory, dump thousands of slaves there, and kidnap the Imperial Princess? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Even if we succeed in capturing her, if she figures out it’s us, her testimony could still expose us later.”

  Jessica’s expression hardened, her voice dropping to a sharper tone. “Father, listen carefully. You said it yourself—her testimony carries significant weight. That’s exactly why we need her to confirm the pirate’s involvement. If anyone accuses us of being tied to the slave auctions, her word that it was a pirate attack will outweigh any other evidence. She’s the perfect solution for our problems right now.”

  Edward hesitated, his doubt still lingering. “But the Emperor and the court won’t just let Jola fall to pirates, Jessica. The island has strategic importance. They’d respond swiftly to any attack.”

  “I’m not suggesting we occupy the island,” Jessica replied calmly. “Our objective isn’t conquest—it’s disposal and distraction. The knights and mercenaries won’t stay to hold Jola; their task is to ensure the slaves are left on the island and Ravenna is taken. Once she’s in our hands, we’ll stage the ransom exchange. By the time the court realizes what’s happened, it will already be too late for them to pin anything on us.”

  Edward rubbed his temples, his unease growing. “And what if Ravenna sends an emergency magical message to the Imperial Palace? The court would dispatch reinforcements immediately.”

  Jessica waved her hand dismissively. “We’ll cut off access to Ronin Town. It’s the most logical port for launching an expedition to Jola, and we control it. We can fabricate a reason, say, a natural disaster like a fire or severe flooding—to block entry for a few days. By the time they start to enter the town, the operation will already be complete.”

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  Edward paced the room, his boots clacking against the polished wooden floor. “This is far too risky, Jessica. If anything goes wrong, it will mean the end of our house. You’re gambling with everything.”

  Jessica stood, her voice unwavering. “Father, keeping 2,000 slaves here while Prince William dismantles the black markets is far more dangerous. Every moment we delay increases the risk of exposure. This is our only viable option. If we don’t act now, When Prince William is away, we’ll be the ones he uses as scapegoats to build his so-called ‘heroic reputation.’ Are you really willing to sit and wait for that to happen?”

  Edward stopped pacing and turned to face his daughter. He could see the resolute determination in her eyes, the same fire that had driven her to rise as the head of the family. She was right—there was no other option.

  “Fine,” he said with a heavy sigh. “But understand this, Jessica: if we fail, there won’t be a second chance. The Ronin family’s survival rests on your shoulders now.”

  Jessica nodded, her smirk returning. “Then let’s make sure we don’t fail.”

  Herptian Church, Jola City, Jola Island

  Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant patterns of red and gold on the polished wooden table between two figures. High Priest James and Princess Ravenna sat across from each other in the modest yet dignified meeting cabin of the Herptian Church. Ravenna leaned back slightly in her chair, her expression composed yet commanding. Today’s discussion was critical—she had come to address two pressing issues: the city's urban development and its current crime rate.

  James folded his hands on the table, listening attentively as she spoke. “And your proposed solution involves public executions combined with Herptian ceremonial rituals?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” Ravenna replied firmly. “The ceremony will add a divine weight to the punishment, making it clear that the condemned are being judged by the Goddess Herptian herself, not just the laws of men.”

  James frowned, shaking his head slightly. “I understand the intent, Your Highness, but I fear it may not have the impact you hope for. Goddess Herptian, while revered by her followers, is not exactly known for being a virtuous deity like Solious or the other gods. Her myths speak of her disdain for evildoers, yes, but...”

  “...but Herptian’s definition of ‘evildoers’ is quite different from other faiths,” Ravenna finished for him, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

  James nodded gravely. This was the crux of the issue. Unlike the more universally respected deities, Herptian was a complex and often controversial figure. The Goddess of Indulgence was known for her lustful nature, her penchant for theft, and her willingness to kill on a whim—all actions glorified in her legends. Convincing the public that such a goddess would judge criminals with divine authority was no simple task.

  “That’s not the only complication,” James continued hesitantly, his voice dropping. “There’s also... the matter of your lineage. As an Imperial Princess, you are a direct descendant of Goddess Solious. For you to speak on behalf of the Herptian Church... well, it might be seen as... conflicting.”

  Ravenna chuckled softly, her golden eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah, yes. The Imperial Daughter, blessed by the virtuous Solious, preaching the will of Herptian, the goddess of indulgence. Quite the paradox, isn’t it?”

  James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure how to respond. The silence lingered for a moment before Ravenna leaned forward slightly, her smile widening. “But what if...” she began, her tone teasing yet deliberate.

  Before James could process her words, Ravenna stood gracefully, the long slit in her dark maxi dress parting as she lifted its edge slightly to reveal her thigh. James averted his eyes immediately, his cheeks flushing as he muttered something incoherent about decorum.

  But something caught his attention—a symbol etched into her skin, glowing faintly with a deep crimson hue. His gaze returned despite himself, widening in shock as realization dawned.

  Ravenna smirked, her voice smooth as silk. “What if I told you, your holiness, that I am not just a princess of Soliou's bloodline... but an Apostle of Goddess Herptian herself?”