Pе™гўtelг© A Nepе™гўtelг© Crusader Kings Iii-flt Now

The flickering torchlight of the Great Hall in Prague cast long, dancing shadows against the stone walls. Duke Bořivoj sat at the head of the heavy oak table, staring at a small, wax-sealed parchment. To his left sat his Chancellor, a man who had served his father; to his right, his ambitious younger brother, Vratislav.

"I... I would be honored," Vratislav stammered, realizing his scheme had been countered by a superior stat.

Bořivoj grunted. He looked at his icon in the corner of his mind—or rather, the bond he felt with his Chancellor. The old man shook his head. "The King of Hungary is 'Ambitious' and 'Deceitful,' my Liege. He doesn't want a partner; he wants a claim on your throne. Once your daughter is in his court, she is a hostage, not a bridge." The flickering torchlight of the Great Hall in

As his brother backed out of the room, Bořivoj sighed and leaned back. The fever was worsening, his "Stress Level" was rising, and his heir was still a three-year-old child with the "Scaly" trait. But for tonight, the borders were safe, and the internal threats were managed.

The Duke didn't shout. He didn't call the guards. Instead, he turned to his brother and smiled—the cold, calculated smile of a player who had just checked the . He looked at his icon in the corner

"The King of Hungary offers an alliance," Bořivoj muttered, his voice gravelly from a week of fever. "He wants my eldest daughter for his second son."

Suddenly, a notification seemed to chime in the air—a . " Bořivoj muttered

Vratislav’s face paled. He knew the mountain pass was infested with "Bandits"—the kind of bandits a Duke pays to ensure a tragic accident occurs.