At dusk, Matthias and Seamus sat across from each other in the Mosey mansion. They were locked in an intense game of strategy. The terrain model between them had become a battlefield, and each move was met with a calculated counter.

Anders stood beside them as he silently observed their game without interrupting.

Eventually, the game ended after Seamus placed a white flag in the terrain model and conceded defeat.

"Your Highness, your grasp of warfare is truly remarkable," he said. "Your tactics are sharp, unpredictable—almost otherworldly. There's simply no defending against them. I've always considered myself a strategist, but clearly, I'm nowhere near your level."

He chuckled and shook his head, then took the white towel the maid handed over and slowly wiped his fingers.

"You flatter me, Uncle Seamus. It was just a lucky break, that's all," Matthias replied humbly.

Though he was born into royalty, Matthias never dared to assert himself in Seamus' presence.

After all, Seamus