You accept their decision; apparently this pleased the noblemen greatly, and some are already preemptively celebrating the 'glorious union' of the future.
6
In few days time, Cyl rises from the bed. His illness gave way to his youth and health and he is back on his feet.
Once you detail to him that even at his darkest hour, his noblemen were trying to destabilize the country, Cyl chuckles.
"You see, in the south, peoples of Methiant, and those from nations before it, were mostly concerned about procedural correctness and authority of the throne. Up here though, it's all about family ties, priviledges and traditions. Dogethe was first and only person to shook Cydwyl up a little, what with being woman that's leading from a throne as well as on batttlefield. They're still rooted in traditional ways of living and Pantheon worship. Did you know, that some noble families considered taking up arms against Methiant during that time when Yoe III fought against the Pantheon clergy in Methiant? My brother however, stopped them from doing so." Cyl shushed little Doge in his arms, who squealed aloud for no reason.
"Hopefully Doge will be able to integrate Cydwyllian traditionalism with Methiantese innovativeness quite well, otherwise blood will be spilled, over inheritance, or religion, or maybe even something trivial..."
"Are you certain of that?" You ask him, and he sighs.
"Everything's up to this little fella. We must be optimistic." He puts the babby into the craddle and embraces you.
"Sorry for putting you in all this stress, my dear." Cyl embraces you tightly, and you feel much better than anytime in past few days.
In the morning, as you two wake up Cyl's bed, disheveled and sore after tonight's revelry, your husband ponders aloud.
"Are you leaving for Methiant soon?"
A) "Yes, the Imperial throne cannot be vacant."
B) "I can stay a month or two, if you want."