"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."
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 King of Hungary offers an alliance," Bořivoj
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. But for tonight, the borders were safe, and
Vratislav leaned in, his eyes gleaming with the sharp light of a man who saw opportunity in every shadow. "An alliance secures our southern border, brother. It makes us untouchable. With the Hungarians at our back, we could finally claim the Duchy of Nitra." To his left sat his Chancellor, a man
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.