Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 644: The Third Option

The Third Option

"...you will need to choose sides far more carefully than you ever have."

A hush dropped through the space. Stillness took hold without warning.

Robert said nothing.

Smiled faintly.

He whispered it low, so just William would catch the words

"You’re enjoying this."

William didn’t answer.

A quiet grin came across his face instead.

Heavy silence pressed down on the room, damp and close like soaked fabric. Light from the ceiling fixture stuttered, causing shapes to squirm across the walls, as if eavesdropping. Each small noise - a floorboard groaning, a pane rattling - now rang out sharp and clear.

A few lords fidgeted. Staring down, some fixed their eyes on the wood grain. William stood under glances sharp like tension before a storm. Silence held the room tight. Speaking first felt dangerous.

Voices vanish when fear takes hold.

Renn broke.

"My Lord..." His voice wavered as he swallowed, fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "You speak of choosing sides as if this were a game board. But this is our homeland. Our blood. Our lands."

Stillness followed his voice, shaky, uncovered. It stayed in the air like something breathing.

Another noble, older, with shaking hands wrapped around his goblet, added quietly, "Leon’s soldiers are already sleeping inside our capital. Their boots still smell of ash. We hear them at night."

A shaky laugh came out near the back of the room. Someone down where the light barely reached let it escape, half sound, half breath.

A gasp, maybe. Could have been tears catching in the throat. A breath gone jagged. Like something breaking quietly. Not loud. Never loud.

A small shift backward in his seat, William pressed palms to fingers, body loose but not quite soft. Kindness seemed near, yet stayed just out of reach. Those eyes though - they cut through each person standing before him, quiet and exact.

"And that," he said calmly, "is exactly why you have no luxury for foolish hope."

A hush trembled, soft but off-kilter, much like water nudging stone without rhythm. Then came whispers - uneven, close to the ground - prodding the air as if unsure. They crawled forward, not loud, yet never quite still, each one tugging at silence like roots pulling soil.

"King Gary is at war with Moonstone," William went on smoothly. "King Aurelian stands against him. Two beasts locked in a fight to the death."

One knock hit the wood.

Soft.

Precise.

A hush slipped into the space, sharp as a whisper. Quiet settled without warning.

A hush followed. William didn’t finish right away. His eyes drifted across the room, resting on each person in turn. Not fast. Never rushed. Then he said it again, softer: one would still be standing when the smoke cleared

Tension pulled at Renn’s jaw, a flicker beneath his skin like restraint held too long. Not quite whispering, he added the rest - "the other one..." trailed off before landing hard: "...is finished."

A small nod came from William. "That’s right."

A chair creaked as a lord shifted closer to the table’s rim, knuckles whitening against the smooth surface. From his throat came words stretched tight by worry. Northward movement hinges on Aurelian’s victory, someone wonders aloud

"At the very least," William replied softly, almost kindly, "he will test us." A pause. "Or befriend Leon." Another breath. "Or crush us for being weak."

A hush came down, heavy as stone. Quiet filled the space between them, thick and slow.

Should Gary win? another voice came, hesitant, like the words could burn.

His eyes turned hard, every hint of gentleness vanished. William stared without blinking, the warmth drained completely.

"Then he marches with a victorious army," he said, each word cold and precise. "And asks why his own capital fell... and what you did to stop it."

Mockery soaked every syllable of the word "asks.".

Renn swallowed. "He won’t ask."

William spoke soft. Not a shout. Just words that landed like stones. The man won’t stop, he meant. Harm follows him close

Wind moved between them, soft at first. Then every chest rose together. A hush passed like frost across glass.

Eyes fell.

Shoulders drew tight.

Facing Gary’s anger felt heavier than dealing with Leon ever did.

Fear stuck to the air, heavy and sharp, clinging without warning. A damp chill crawled where breath should warm.

"Then..." Renn’s voice cracked slightly. "What do we do?"

He waited. Silence came back. Not a single voice broke the stillness.

William caught everyone’s eyes at once. Then silence settled in around him.

Some were pleading.

Some were wary.

Some - unsettlingly - seemed close to bowing down.

One by one, William saw each face. A grin crept across his mouth, unhurried yet certain - much like steel slipping free from its cover.

"I chose a third option."

The air shifted.

Fingers tightening on the cup, Robert sat up slightly, the lazy slump slipping away as his gaze turned alert beneath the edge of the vessel.

"A third path," William continued. "One you would never walk on your own... because it requires a spine you were never forced to grow."

Folks among the highborn shifted, stirred by something unseen. A hush followed, then murmurs passed like wind through trees.

Faces flushed, some stiffened at once.

Something in his voice made everyone freeze. Not a sound followed, just held breaths and lowered eyes. The air felt heavier now. A quiet truth had landed. Stillness spread like cold across skin.

Forward he went, hands spreading wide on the shiny surface. A soft groan rose from the wood beneath his weight.

"We ally with Skyfall."

Robert pulled every gaze his way.

A hush fell across everyone. Then a sharp silence cut through the air.

Disbelief followed.

Then anger.

Something about Robert stayed steady. A quiet move - he raised the goblet, sipped at it like time had stopped - his eyes never left the scene, calm, almost amused, as though every step ahead had already been written. The moment bent around him, yet he did not shift.

Still staring, William held his gaze without a blink.

"Skyfall helps us seize back the capital while Leon is distracted."

A whisper slipped from the noble’s lips, "Impossible - "

A single lifted finger stopped him mid-sentence.

Silence dropped instantly.

"After Leon falls... we take full control of Vellore."

Heavy breaths pulled at his ribs, one after another. The realness of things pressed close. Renn gulped air like he’d been under too long.

His words dropped softer, near a whisper.

Foot by foot, his look crept along the tabletop, pausing on every face it passed. Then came stillness - each person held a breath he never took.

"...we strike."

The sound didn’t shout. It stayed soft, almost quiet, hanging in the air without force.

Falling hard out of nowhere, it struck without warning.

"Then... while Gary and Aurelian are still bleeding each other dry..."

Down the stretch of the table his look crept, pausing on one face after another. His attention moved like a weight too heavy to lift quickly. Each person felt it land, then pass. Eyes held theirs without rush. A pause for every seat filled. Stillness followed where he had been.

"...we strike."

It did not shout. Silence carried it instead.

Falling heavy, it struck without warning.

A rustle moved through the lords, restless. The sound of metal meeting wood slipped into the air - someone had set down their cup.

Renn swallowed. "You’re saying... we attack both?"

Not rushing it, William answered without a pause. His words held firm like something carved into rock. We take them out was what he meant. A quiet certainty shaped each syllable. Removal stood at the center of his thought. What mattered came through clear despite the stillness. The plan did not need force to be heard

A hush fell hard. Stillness arrived without warning.

No one spoke.

Fingers curled tighter on the cups.

Knuckles whitened.

A whisper of disbelief curled through the air when a lord spoke up. His laughter slipped out, brittle and sharp. He moved his head slowly from side to side. Madness - that was the only word he trusted

His eyes landed on the man. William looked his way.

Madness lived there.

"I’m being practical."

Folded arms. Leaned back. The air tight around him, yet he sat loose, untouched by it all.

"Two exhausted kingdoms. One distracted capital. A divided north. A foreign ally with skies under their control."

A few lords looked at one another without speaking. Their breathing was light, almost too quiet. Then silence took hold.

Robert’s lips twitched.

For a second, William glanced his way.

"You think Leon is your biggest problem?" William said quietly. "He’s just the spark."

Back he glanced toward the nobles, eyes sharp like broken glass. Their faces met his gaze - unblinking, cold. Stillness hung between them, heavy as stone.

"I’m offering you the fire."

A hush ran through the hall when one lord, close to the back, let out a question so soft it almost faded before anyone caught it. What made him say that? The words slipped into the air like mist - why had Skyfall accepted such terms?

William smiled.

A slow.

Quiet.

Sly smile.

A clink sounded as Robert placed the cup on the table, the noise stretching through the quiet space. His words came next - steady, calm, measured in their timing.

"Because," he said calmly, "Skyfall doesn’t like borders."

The room stilled.

Frozen blue eyes scanned the room, Robert taking note of each face. Stillness held his gaze while he weighed responses one by one.

"We like influence."

William nodded once.

Firm ground," he said next.

Stillness settled between them. The quiet stretched on without break.

Quiet held the room where lords sat without words.

Couldn’t.

Fury twisted their thoughts. A sudden storm rose behind their eyes.

Fingers of dread tightened around clear thought.

A dream murmured wild promises. Chance leaned close with risky deals. Night spoke of daring trades.

Fear pressed down harder than hope ever could.

Fingers gripped goblets tighter, some fidgeting where they sat, hands tense like anchors in a room that felt unsteady. Knuckles turned white, clinging as though balance depended on it.

Only then did Renn let out a breath, uneven and slow.

A whisper, almost breaking - as though a single stare could shatter it.

"...And if we refuse?"

William’s voice softened.

Sharpness matters more than warmth. Exactness cuts deeper than goodwill.

"You’ll die in someone else’s war."

Forward he leaned, arms propped on the tabletop, gaze locked without flicker.

"And your children will inherit nothing."

That did it.

A hush came through the space. It did not crash down hard. There was no sudden snap or shout. Still, it moved - this slow breaking - passing between people like breath held too long.

Fragments of defiance gave way, each collapse arriving alone.

A whisper came from the lord, eyes fixed on his palms like they were foreign things. Not again would he fall victim to a monarch’s fury

Another swallowed hard. "I don’t want Leon deciding our bloodlines."

"I will not kneel," a voice offered - though it slipped through fingers like smoke, thin, crumbling before it landed.

Leaning close, Robert let his words slip soft to William. A hush carried them, meant for one ear only

"They’re breaking."

William whispered back:

"They were never strong."

Back he swung toward their direction.

"So it begins," William spoke into the quiet, rising to his feet, strength settling back into his stance like an old coat. Time to start figuring things out

A chair grinds on stone, sharp in the quiet. Eyes follow his steps, all of them.

Turning past the chair, he moved slow, fingers locked at his spine. Behind him, silence sat heavy in the air.

"A perfect plan."

Two footsteps.

"A perfect moment."

Three.

"A perfect alliance."

Footsteps slowed as he reached the top of the table. He paused there, standing still.

"And a perfect side."

Each one caught his eye. He studied their faces slowly.

"Choose."

Later came their reply.

Didn’t need to.

Their faces did.

Hunger now sat where fear once lived.

Uncertainty by calculation.

Silence by acceptance.

William smiled.

Not wide.

Not warm.

Perfectly.

In that shaky glow from the flame, Robert began to smile.

Smaller seemed the room. It pressed in without warning.

Tighter.

Just like when a snare shuts tight.

Wind moved them once more.

Fires crackled beyond where Leon had left them smoldering. Smoke curled into the dark above scorched earth.

The ground remained blackened by fire.

Faint traces of marching boots bounced off the walls. Stone carried their rhythm like a secret passed between shadows.

A whisper in the corner shifted how empires would fall. Inside those walls, balance slipped without sound.

Back at his chair, William took a few steps.

He reached for the cup.

Water slipped down the throat, quiet. A pause held everything together.

And said quietly:

"Now..."

Leaning closer, the nobles didn’t notice their own movement.

"...we begin."