As Erza entered the throne room, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet the emperor's eyes. She dreaded the disappointment she might see reflected there.

"Good day, my lord," she said respectfully.

"Good day, Erza," Makarov replied warmly. "I trust your morning has been pleasant?"

"It has indeed. I took a stroll through the royal gardens this morning. The blossoms are particularly beautiful this year, though one is a late bloomer."

"Oh?"

"It remains just a bud on the branch. But I believe that when it finally blooms, it will be the most stunning of all."

Erza looked up at the emperor, and upon seeing his warm smile, she couldn't help but smile back. She understood he was speaking about her, suggesting that one day she would bring great honor. Yet, she couldn't fathom why; she felt like a disgrace.

"I suppose you heard how the interview went," she said, her voice tinged with regret.

"I did."

"I'm sorry." Erza removed the ornate comb from her hair and placed it at the emperor's feet. "I know I disappointed you."

Makarov picked up the comb, his expression gentle.

"You could never disappoint me, Erza," he assured her. "Do you know why I gave you this comb?"

"Because it's pretty?" she replied with a hint of humor.

"This comb belonged to my wife. I wanted you to have it because you remind me so much of her."

"You must be joking. She was poised, prim, and proper."

"Not when she was young," he chuckled. "At your age, she was daring, courageous, and headstrong, though she had a shy and insecure side. That insecurity deepened when we fell in love; she worried about meeting the expectations of an empress. Initially, she struggled to fulfill the role of a royal consort, and many doubted our betrothal would last. But I knew better. I knew she wouldn't disappoint me, and in the end, she didn't."

He gently pinned the comb back into her hair.

"But that doesn't mean I won't," Erza sighed. "The headmistress called me a disgrace."

"Don't let that pompous old biddy get to you. She knows a lot, but she doesn't know everything, and she hates being reminded of that."

"Correcting her may have been disrespectful, and I truly didn't mean to offend her, but... forgive me, I know I didn't answer her question incorrectly."

"What exactly was the question?"

"She asked how the Great War started, and I said it was due to rumors. I know that's true."

"Erza, I've read all the history books in the empire, and they all say it was threats from outside our domain."

"But long ago, I read ancient texts that claimed those threats were based on a lie. I don't know where those texts are, but if I could just find them, I could—"

Suddenly, the beating of a drum interrupted them—a signal that the council was arriving for an important meeting with the emperor.

"We'll discuss this later," Makarov said. "Please excuse me; I have something very important to attend to."

As Erza left the throne room, she hid behind the large door to the hallway, listening intently. She knew eavesdropping was wrong, but she believed that a meeting between the council and the emperor would be incredibly educational.

"I've heard rumors of a union between Lazan City and the Verdenshav Kingdom," said Jose, the emperor's aide. "I suspect they may be planning an invasion."

"Jose, why would Lazan and Verdenshav attack us?" Makarov replied. "After all the bloodshed of years past, would they really risk repeating that? And for what purpose?"

"For our land," Jose answered. "Our resources. Our people. They know your army outnumbers theirs, which is why they're joining forces. If the princess of Lazan City marries the prince of Verdenshav, they will command the strongest military alliance. They could easily conquer the empire, just as they attempted to do before."

"Why not send an ambassador to negotiate a treaty?" Makarov suggested. "Surely, we can't resort to war again."

"Believe me, sire, it pains me to think of innocent men being sent to fight and die once more," Jose replied. "But we must prioritize the safety of our people. If outside forces invade again, well..."

"Yes, Jose, I understand the consequences," Makarov sighed. "I will consider the matter carefully."

Erza, who had been listening, felt a surge of fear. Another war? Another decade of death? Homes destroyed, families torn apart, fathers burying their sons? If Lazan and Verdenshav truly were uniting, would Tiānkōng stand a chance? Could the empire survive another conflict?

"No! You can't do this!"

Without thinking, Erza rushed into the center of the throne room.

"Please, your highness, don't declare war! Not after what happened last time! Not against united realms! It would be suicide!"

"Silence!" Jose snapped. "Young lady, you would do well to hold your tongue in a man's presence!"

"I meant no disrespect, but war would be a grave mistake."

"Erza, please leave," Makarov said.

"But this is wrong! We shouldn't even consider—"

"Now! I command you!" he said sharply. "You had no right to eavesdrop on this conversation, nor to barge in here uninvited and speak out of turn! Leave at once!"

Erza was taken aback by Makarov's tone. In all the years she had known him, he had never addressed her that way. Despite her shock, she obeyed his command and left the throne room, her head bowed in shame. While her words may have been justified, she recognized it was not her place to speak out, and she had embarrassed the emperor by entering without permission.

Makarov, wise and patient, was understanding and forgiving of Erza's outburst. However, his grandson, young and arrogant, was furious. That night, the future emperor raged, contemplating whether Erza should face punishment for her mistake.

"After everything my grandfather has done for her, how could she dishonor him like that?!" he roared. "A peasant woman questioning his choices in front of the council—it's probably the most humiliating moment of his life!"

"Laxus, please, calm down," Mirajane said gently, trying to defend her friend. "Erza meant no disrespect."

"That doesn't change the fact that she disrespected him! I'm surprised Grandfather hasn't banished her for this!"

"Enough," Mirajane replied, her tone firm yet gentle. "While I agree she may have expressed herself poorly, you of all people should understand her perspective."

"What do you mean?"

"You know as well as I do that she spoke out because she fears what another war would do to the empire and our people. You were there, on that battlefield, as a child. Erza just doesn't want anyone else to endure that horror—and honestly, neither do I."

"This isn't about what's easier or more comfortable for our people. It's about doing whatever it takes to keep them safe."

Erza could hear the argument echoing from the library as she searched the shelves for the ancient scrolls she had once read. It pained her to know that she was the cause of their discord, and even more so to realize she had shamed the emperor. She understood that her actions were reckless, driven by panic when Makarov mentioned the possibility of war. Desperate to change his mind, she had acted without thinking.

Later, she attempted a more rational approach: to find evidence that the other realms had never truly threatened the empire. She hoped to locate those elusive scrolls, but they seemed to have vanished without a trace. Now, she was left with no solid proof. The only other option was to seek someone who had lived before the war, but those individuals were either long dead or so old that their memories had faded. Who could she find that possessed the knowledge, was still alive, and retained their wits?

Then it struck her: "The Sylphs!" They had inhabited the empire longer than any other beings and were bound to know the truth. If she could find them and speak to them...

With determination, she donned her cloak and rushed outside to her horse. She mounted quickly and rode toward the sacred temple of the Sylphs, praying they would be willing to help her and that their pride wouldn't stand in the way. Though she had never met a Sylph, her readings suggested that many viewed humans as inferior. If they were all like that, she might have to resort to begging and groveling to earn their cooperation—a prospect she hoped to avoid.