Demetrius was silent for a few minutes. His eyes were still on me, but they were no longer weighing something; it was more as if he had reached a decision. He placed the cup he was holding on the table, then turned his head slightly.

"Follow me, Leonardo."

His tone was not a command, but a measured invitation. I quietly walked behind him. The stone paths of the garden were still damp in the morning cold; our steps occasionally left a crunching sound. We passed through the palace and arrived at a tall arched door. A few men stood beyond the door, dressed in simple but high-quality fabrics in shades of grey. They bowed slightly as we entered.

Demetrius's voice echoed: "The Council Chamber."

The room was smaller than I had anticipated. Three people were seated around a large table: one, an elderly man with the look of an accountant; another, a clerk struggling with thick files; and a third, a young advisor whispering quietly. All of them rose when the duke entered.

"Continue," Demetrius said, raising a hand. "Today, we'll have a guest joining us."

At Demetrius's words, those in the room looked at me with slight surprise. It was impossible not to feel the questioning looks in their eyes, but none of them spoke out. Overstepping their bounds in the Duke's presence would be a career-ending mistake.

He walked to the table and took his place at the head. He gripped the edge of the table with his hands and leaned slightly forward. Meanwhile, I backed into a corner behind the Duke, making sure not to be a distraction.

"Summarize the reports again," he said. His voice was soft but carried a tone that permitted no objection.

The elderly accountant cleared his throat. As he opened the ledger in front of him, his spectacles slid down his nose.

"Your Grace… there has been a sharp decline in trade along the northern routes over the past two months. Tax revenues have dropped by almost fifteen percent. Three of our ships have not returned. Most appear to have been lost due to that new group known as the 'swamp pirates'."

The young advisor interjected, his voice cutting across the table like a sharp knife: "Calling them pirates is too generous. They are trained. They move like soldiers. So much so that some of our captains suggest they are remnants of the old legions, turned rogue."

Demetrius frowned slightly, tapping a rhythmic pattern on the table with his fingertips. The movement indicated not impatience, but careful consideration.

"Legion remnants…" he murmured. "If that's the case, we're not dealing with a simple gang."

The air in the room grew heavy. The clerk pulled a file toward him, rapidly flipping through the pages.

"Sir, the complaints are increasing. Merchant guilds are demanding protection from you. The Iron Anchor Guild, in particular, has begun to pressure us. They say that if the routes are not secured, they will complain directly to the Empire."

A subtle smile appeared on Demetrius's face. It wasn't anger; it was more like the cynical smirk of a player who has spotted a dangerous move on a chessboard.

"The Iron Anchor Guild… always opportunistic. They are the first to cry out when a problem arises. But sometimes their cries are effective; their echoes in the court are strong."

The old accountant added hesitantly: "Your Grace, perhaps… we should partially mobilize the army? Even a small detachment could be a deterrent."

The young advisor immediately cut in: "Mobilizing Duke Demetrius's entire army for a small group of pirates is simply unwise. It would only damage the Duchy's prestige and make His Grace look weak."

Demetrius's face seemed shadowed; he neither rebuked the advisor nor agreed with the accountant. His silence weighed heavily, as if he were measuring which of the words spoken were foolish and which were noteworthy.

As the gazes of those at the table locked onto the single word that would come from his mouth, the Duke withdrew his fingers from the table, leaned back, and spoke in a low voice:

"You are both right… but incomplete."

He surveyed the room for a moment, then turned his head toward me.

"Leonardo," he said, raising his voice slightly. "You are a man who has read about these matters in books, perhaps even witnessed some firsthand. What, in your opinion, should be done?"

I felt my mouth dry up, but the sensation passed quickly. Because here it was: Duke Demetrius was looking at me. This look was an invitation to a test. The accountant had advocated for cautious spending, the advisor, for rejecting a showy display of force. Both were protecting their own perspectives, but both saw the danger in only one dimension.

My job was to find the third way.

I straightened my back, let my eyes travel across the table occupants one by one, and began to speak without undermining the Duke's authority.

"Your Grace," I said, keeping my voice measured. "It is true that sending a small detachment would be a deterrent, but if the rumors of the pirates being legion remnants are true, this would only anger them and appear as a call to a greater war. On the other hand, mobilizing the army would damage your prestige and spread gossip in the court that 'Demetrius is too weak to protect his own lands.'"

I took a breath and moved a little closer. "My proposal is this: Let's find out who these pirates are, which ports they are supplied from, and who supports them. Rogue legion remnants don't organize so easily; either one of them is a former officer, or there is another power behind them. If we try to crush them blindly, we risk turning the shadow behind them into our enemy as well."

The young advisor grumbled, clearly wanting to oppose my ideas. But he didn't dare interrupt. I continued:

"A special convoy, disguised as a 'trade fleet,' could be dispatched. You secretly place hand-picked soldiers and loyal guards inside. They would appear to be bait for the pirates, but they are actually a trap. In the initial attack, we learn the pirates methods, their discipline, and their leadership structure. If this is truly a legion remnant, we will understand what we are up against before acting. And I suspect this move would expose a powerful enemy early on. Then, when you mobilize, no one will see you as rash or weak; on the contrary, the problem will be solved at the root."

When I finished speaking, the atmosphere in the room changed. The accountant gave me a look of astonishment from behind his spectacles; the advisor was biting his lip. The clerk had a tense curiosity on his face as he fidgeted with his pen.

Demetrius, meanwhile, did not move. He only watched me. Then he slowly leaned back, a faint curl forming at the corner of his lips. I wasn't sure if it was approval or just the beginning of another test.

"A decoy fleet…" the Duke repeated in a low voice. "It draws the fish to the hook and shows who is holding the line."

None of those at the table dared to speak.

Demetrius turned his gaze back to me, his eyes now holding a carefully measured gleam.

"An interesting approach. Bold… and cunning."

Then he fell silent. The stillness descended upon the room like a heavy blanket. In that silence, one could hear the faint sound of a pen tapping paper, the accountant's ragged breathing, and the young advisor's impatient foot tapping the floor. The Duke waited, as if weighing even these small noises.

Finally, he slowly raised his head. "Begin the preparations immediately," he said. His voice was soft, but everyone understood the decision was final. "Find trustworthy merchant names for the convoy. The ships will appear to be on a routine trade voyage. The soldiers placed within… must be chosen from the most disciplined. They must know they are protecting the Duchy's honor, not just their own lives."

With Demetrius's order, everyone in the room sprang into action for a moment, quickly dividing their tasks; the accountant was assigned port registers, the clerk ship documents, and the advisor the list of security and covert personnel. I was taking occasional notes, trying to close any logical gaps. The Duke had tested me; now the outcome of the test would be proved in practice.

"Get in touch with the ship captains," Demetrius added, his voice containing both command and advice. "They should be outwardly ordinary but of solid reputation."

While the clerk hastily jotted notes in his ledger, Demetrius leaned back in his chair, appearing to have closed his eyes. But I knew closing his eyes was not relaxation; it was him weighing the positions of the pieces on the internal chessboard. Everyone in the room breathed, moved their pens, or shifted in their seats according to his silence.

After a while, the young advisor could not restrain himself and spoke up: "Your Grace… such careful preparation will take time. If the pirates escalate their next move, we could completely lose the merchants' trust. The repercussions of that in the Empire could be even more dangerous."

Demetrius opened his eyes, giving him a piercing look. "The sword does not win trust; it is built brick by brick. Merchants may lose courage overnight, but it is regained just as quickly. The actual issue is understanding who is powering the pirates. If we find the hand behind them, we solidify the trust of everyone, not just the merchants."

Another silence followed his words. This time the silence was not threatening; it was more a void in which everyone was calculating in their minds.

I saw my opportunity. "Your Grace," I said, "if the power behind the pirates has ties to the court, this plan will also act as a litmus test. Whoever receives word of our trap fleet preparations, and from where… we can track that information leak. That way, we can expose not only the pirates but also any internal traitors, if they exist."

Demetrius's eyes suddenly locked onto mine. For a few heartbeats, he looked only at me; the expression on his face was unreadable, but the spark in his eyes made me feel validated.

"That," he finally said, his voice almost a whisper, yet everyone in the room strained to hear, "could be an opportunity to find and punish someone guilty of treason against the Empire. Well done, young Count. You've impressed me."

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