Steeling himself, Grigori began the meeting. "Kovalevska family, I am deeply grateful for your presence, especially on such short notice."
"No, it is our deepest honor to be invited, Your Majesty," Valeslina replied, bowing her head slightly with composed grace, a master of imperial etiquette.
Grigori then turned to Sophia, who was seated across from him. "And to you in particular, Sophia Kovalevska, I am grateful for the time you have given."
"No, it is my honor, Your Majesty," Sophia replied, her voice quivering softly despite her best efforts to steady it.
Noting her visible nervousness, Grigori offered a warm smile. "It has been some time since we last met. You have grown into a graceful woman."
"Y-your words are too kind, Your Majesty."
"There is no need to be so nervous, Sophia," Grigori reassured her. "I have always regarded you as family, and I thank you as well for keeping Calyxianov company."
"No, it's Cal who always—ah, I mean, Calyx—Caliv—no, I mean—"
Grigori lifted a hand with a quiet chuckle, trying to steady her. "It's all right. Knowing the two of you share such closeness is reassuring."
***
Sophia's face flushed a deep red, utterly embarrassed that she had let slip the private nickname she had made for Calyxianov, the imperial prince, right in front of his father, the Emperor. It was a nickname she had come up with because she consistently struggled to pronounce Calyxianov correctly.
Grigori let the awkward moment pass, his expression gradually shifting to one of seriousness. "Sophia, I've heard the news. Is the 'cat' on the table truly the nine-stroke beast you tamed?"
The moment he mentioned a nine-stroke beast, the room fell into a tense, immediate silence. The guards stiffened, their faces etched with blatant disbelief at what they had just heard. Grigori had not shared this monumental information with them beforehand, making the revelation all the more striking.
Sophia also felt tense, though for a different reason.
'Sophia, calm down. You can do this.' She still felt a bit uneasy about revealing Seraphix's stroke, recalling the skepticism she had faced from her father during breakfast.
Sophia's eyes then drifted to the table, where Seraphix sat serenely, observing the room as if nothing unusual were happening. As she watched him, a sudden surge of courage filled her. 'That's right, I have Sir Seraphix with me now. It'll be alright.'
Drawing a steadying breath, she answered, her voice tinged with fear but resolute. "Yes."
All eyes in the room fixed instantly on the small black cat. For many present, some of whom had never even encountered a five-stroke beast, the prospect of witnessing a nine-stroke was overwhelming.
"May I see the contract pattern?" Grigori asked amid the palpable tension.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Sophia removed her black gloves, revealing the symbol etched into the back of her right hand: a pattern of moons and stars.
Grigori studied the mark carefully, focusing on the number of strokes. After a moment, he spoke with certainty, "There is no doubt; this is a nine-stroke pattern."
He paused, his expression thoughtful. "Normally, this would be a cause for celebration. However, Sophia, beings like the nine-stroke beast are regarded as myths, meaning none truly exist in common knowledge. Some tribes from the northern continent even consider them equal to the gods, treating them with a reverence bordering on worship."
Sophia swallowed hard. She hadn't realized her situation carried such heavy political and spiritual significance.
Grigori continued, his voice steady. "So, to ensure its authenticity, we must conduct an inspection. This may result in your beast being classified as a seven-stroke or an eight-stroke. Although uncommon, there have been historical cases where a tamer mistakenly believed their beast was higher stroke than it actually is due to powerful illusion magic. Is that okay with you?"
Sophia clenched her other hand beneath the table, resolving herself to face whatever came next. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Good. You should know from reading the letter I sent," Grigori said, gesturing his hand toward a figure seated on his right: a hooded girl cloaked in deep violet. "This is Shira. She is one of the Grand Title holders, much like your father. Her title is Grand Tamer, making her the pinnacle of Beast Taming in this world. She will be the one who will oversee the inspection process."
Grigori then nodded to Shira, who rose gracefully and offered a polite bow.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Shira said before walking toward Sophia. As she came to stand beside the nervous girl, she offered a warm, professional smile. "May I?"
Sophia nodded and extended her right hand, offering it to Shira.
Shira gently touched the beast contract mark. The pattern briefly glowed with soft, inner light before fading. Shira stared at the intricate design for only a few seconds in silence. "Thank you. It is done," Shira finally said, offering a reassuring smile.
'That's it?' Sophia thought, confused. The inspection had lasted less than a minute.
Shira returned to her seat, leaving Sophia momentarily bewildered as she also got back to her own chair.
"The contract pattern is authentic. Sophia Kovalevska has successfully tamed a nine-stroke beast," Shira announced to everyone present in a clear, resonant voice.
The declaration stunned everyone, including Sophia herself. Though she believed in Seraphix's immense power, doubts had lingered after her father's disbelief. Now, with the Grand Tamer confirming its authenticity, a wave of relief and vindication washed over her.
All of a sudden, Sophia's eyes welled with sudden heat, emotion threatening to spill over. 'No, Sophia. Not now.'
***
After the earth-shattering declaration, Grigori nodded and fell into thoughtful silence. 'To think it was truly a nine-stroke.'
He had anticipated that Sophia might have tamed a formidable beast, perhaps an eight-stroke like Shira, but an actual nine-stroke beast was far beyond his expectations. But then, a sudden, chilling thought crossed his mind.
'Wait a second.'
For a long time, Grigori had considered Sophia as nothing more than a late bloomer, given that she carried the formidable blood of the Kovalevska and Naphael. So when he heard about Sophia showcasing a 'talent', his first instinct was to celebrate. He did not stop to question the underlying issue.
'Is it even possible for a human to withstand a contract with a nine-stroke beast?'
Much like a contract between two humans, a contract with a beast follows the same principle: each must bear the weight of the other's mana. Even Shira, with her greater mana density, 'innate barriers', and specialized training, struggled immensely just to endure her eight-stroke beast contract.
'She is still a novice.'
And that wasn't all. Of all the methods to gain talent, beast taming was notorious for almost always leading to tragedy. The dangers were numerous: the inherently destructive nature of the beasts themselves, and the 'corruption' they inevitably inflicted on their tamers. There's a reason why most successful high-stroke tamers were either criminals or became so in time, with only a few highly disciplined exceptions like Shira.
'Is this why Naphael was so concerned about this development?'
But then, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an abrupt, foreign sensation. 'What was that?'
His eyes instinctively shifted to the source of the sensation: the small black cat in front of him, who stared back with deep, unnervingly dark eyes. It was a strange, foreign sensation, as if his mind were being violated and information forcibly planted within it. But the meaning was unmistakable.
'...it called me.'
Suddenly, the cat raised its paw and pointed toward one of the standing guards stationed near the far wall. The same mental sensation immediately followed, informing him about something specific. "That's a spy."