Free Web Novel"Your Majesty, regarding this disaster in the Northern Territory, I have a few points I'd like to make."
The speaker rose from a corner of the long table; he was a slender, middle-aged nobleman dressed in modest yet neat attire.
He bore neither the family crest of an old noble nor the dragon-patterned epaulets of a military general, only a newly minted golden rose emblem—a symbol shared by the batch of newly ennobled political nobles in the Imperial Capital over the past decade.
He was Marquis Collins, of unprominent birth, yet he frequently appeared in the affairs of various Imperial departments, known for his "harmony, compromise, and rationality," and was regarded as a harmless newcomer by many veteran council members.
Yet, at this most sensitive juncture, he stepped forward.
Eleanor, seated on the left side of the long table, slowly lowered her head.
This was, in fact, a hidden piece that the Calvin Family had been planning for several years; the words he was about to speak were drafts written by Duke Calvin.
Of course, if Collins failed to win the opening of this discourse, she would also lose most of her leverage.
The people in the Yuchen Hall looked at the slender Marquis, their gazes either probing, disdainful, or indifferent, as if they didn't much care what significant matters he might utter next.
But Collins bowed slightly, his voice not loud, yet exceptionally clear due to the Yuchen Hall's reverberating array:
"First, I believe the nature of this war has long since transcended the scope of normal warfare. Whether it's the mutation of the Red Tide or that so-called 'Doomsday Mother Nest,' these are not things mortals can predict or control."
Marquis Collins, word by word, pierced through the unspoken fears in many people's hearts.
"To attribute this disaster to a tactical error by a certain general would only miss the point. We are using human flesh to block an inhuman disaster; this is not a mistake, it is a sacrifice, the limit reached after doing our utmost."
He paused, then continued: "Second, although Duke Edmund failed to defend the entire Northern Territory, he used his private army to hold the Red Tide defense line, keeping the Mother Nest contained within the Northern Territory, thus preventing the disaster from surging into the interior.
He suffered heavy losses but withstood the pressure. If such a general is still to be held accountable and prosecuted, then who will dare to defend the borders in the future? Who will dare to fight for the Empire?"
As soon as these words were uttered, several nobles in the Yuchen Hall who had been flipping through documents involuntarily looked up.
Seeing this, Collins changed his tone:
"Therefore, I propose a third point—the establishment of the 'Northern Territory Post-Disaster Reconstruction General Office.'"
He glanced at Mace, then at General Brutus, and finally fixed his gaze on the elevated direction of the Imperial Throne.
"Let the remaining local nobles of the Northern Territory organize the reconstruction; they are familiar with the land, have people, resources, and also have relatives buried in that land.
They know where to begin.
Of course, the Imperial Capital can send supervisors down to jointly oversee the accounts and ensure fairness, but they should not interfere with their basic authority."
He lowered his voice, his tone steady:
"This way, it prevents anyone from taking advantage of the chaos to expand their power or act recklessly, and it also avoids treating the Northern Territory as a complete dead zone to start over. At least it allows the original Northern Territory nobles to maintain a bit of their foundation, leaving a path for reconstruction."
The Yuchen Hall fell silent for a moment, people lost in their own thoughts, considering how to refute or support this.
And the next instant: "Buzz."
Behind the Imperial Throne, a dull thud sounded.
It wasn't a deliberate knock, but the Radiant Throne itself, emitting a barely perceptible pulsation.
The Emperor moved.
Even a mere inch of shifting posture was enough to shake the entire atmosphere.
Everyone subconsciously held their breath.
Collins remained standing upright, his expression unchanged.
Eleanor, sitting beside him, her eyes trembled slightly, a hint of undetectable joy flashing in their depths.
That sound meant the Emperor was not displeased.
Perhaps even... interested.
And this was the beginning of the reversal of the situation.
Of course, the other nobles were not fools; representatives of several old families exchanged glances, realizing this might be the direction the Emperor was trying to guide them toward.
This meeting, like usual, saw the Emperor never directly state his position.
He merely threw out a hint, and the rest was up to them to contend, discuss, and test the limits.
And he always sat above, letting them speculate about each other in that shadow, finally approaching His Majesty's will with trepidation.
However, once a direction was set, things became easier to discuss.
On one side of the council table, some nobles who had remained silent began to waver.
Several great lords from the Western and Southern Territories nodded slightly, whispering among themselves, showing some support for the idea of "local nobles being responsible."
While they certainly didn't care about the fate of the Northern Territory, if all reconstruction power were controlled by the Imperial Capital, then today it was the Northern Territory, and tomorrow it could be their own homes.
But some also had a flicker of doubt in their eyes, clearly sensing that Collins was not simple behind the scenes.
"—How dare a newly promoted Marquis act so presumptuously at a Dragon Throne Council?"
"It's probably some old fox pulling strings from behind; could it be Edmund's people?" freewёbnoνel.com
"But since the Emperor has nodded, this direction cannot be opposed too overtly."
Just then, Mace stood up.
The chief envoy of the Surveillance Council remained calm, pushing up his glasses: "What Marquis Collins said indeed has its merits. Local cooperation is necessary for post-disaster recovery; this is common sense."
He paused, his tone shifting slightly: "But it must be stated that post-disaster financial allocation, reconstruction resource distribution, prioritization—"
These must be overseen by the Imperial Capital. The Auditing Department and the Ministry of Finance must have core seats in the 'Reconstruction General Office,' with the power of audit and veto."
Seemingly a supplement, it was actually another definition of power: the Northern Territory could participate, but the leadership still belonged to the three Imperial Capital departments.
No one in the Yuchen Hall uttered a sound.
No one wanted to directly confront the Surveillance Council, especially when the Emperor had not expressed any stance.
Collins coughed lightly but did not stand up; he had completed his mission and did not need to be too conspicuous.
General Judah, who had been mocked, spoke again. This time, his tone was much calmer, and his eyes held less arrogance: "The Imperial military is willing to cooperate with the Reconstruction General Office's scheduling."
As soon as these words came out, some nobles' expressions changed slightly, surprised that he had changed his tune so quickly.
"I suggest that certain Imperial Capital legions, in conjunction with the remaining Northern Territory defenders, form a 'Reconstruction Security Line.' Establish 'Temporary Security Zones' along the outer lines of Frost Halberd, Snowpeak, and Red Tide to deal with residual insect nest threats and ecological anomalies.
However, the military must retain 'command authority over the defense zones' and 'priority for frontline intelligence.' Security is the prerequisite for reconstruction."
This was already a signal of concession, and also a bit of power the military wanted to secure.
Several representatives from the military system nodded in agreement.
At the same time, the representative from the Northern Territory, the representative of the Edmund Family, finally spoke.
An old nobleman in a grey-silver cloak slowly rose, and after bowing his head, spoke in a deep voice: "We agree to the establishment of the General Office and are willing to cooperate with the Imperial Capital's scheduling.
But we request to retain the right of fief inheritance, the right to manage our people, and our civil traditions. Although the Northern Territory has suffered war, its culture must not be completely lost.
If even these are stripped away, the Northern Territory will no longer be a shield for the Empire, but a cold colony."
His words were not fierce; in fact, there was a sense of desolation in his tone.
Many nobles present were noncommittal.
After this disaster, the old nobles of the Northern Territory no longer had the right to speak, yet they could not be completely ignored either.
With everyone having spoken, the Yuchen Hall once again fell into dead silence.
No one spoke again; everyone knew that the true arbiter sat in that impenetrable shadow.
The Emperor remained still, but Lin Ze again slowly emerged from the shadows.
He still looked indifferent, walking to the foot of the Imperial steps, and unfurled a scroll of mithril parchment with gilded edges.
"Your Majesty has heard all your proposals."
He spoke softly, his tone steady, like cold water slowly pouring into the heated assembly.
"The Empire will establish the 'Northern Territory Post-Disaster Reconstruction General Office,' directly subordinate to the Iron-Blooded Emperor Asta August, led by Duke Edmund, to organize the local nobles of the Northern Territory to jointly participate in reconstruction affairs, with representatives from the Imperial Auditing, Finance, and Military departments overseeing."
A single stone stirred a thousand ripples.
The nobles exchanged glances, secretly alarmed: This was binding the Imperial Capital and Northern Territory nobles within a single structure.
Compared to completely marginalizing them, it instead granted the local nobility a very high status.
Some vaguely realized that this was protecting Edmund.
But Lin Ze did not stop; he lightly flipped the scroll in his hand, changing his tone:
"To encourage unity throughout the Empire, His Majesty has decreed: All major vassal families, princes, and esteemed nobles must dispatch core family members, with direct descendants leading knights, to the Northern Territory to participate in post-disaster restoration and development plans."
As these words fell, the atmosphere in the Yuchen Hall suddenly tightened, and the expressions of many nobles changed slightly.
But Lin Ze merely continued to read: "Participants will be subject to dual supervision by the Imperial Auditing Department and the Reconstruction General Office. Those who achieve meritorious service shall be granted new fiefs, titles of nobility, permission to expand their lineage, and allowed to settle, pass on their lineage, build castles, and issue decrees in the Northern Territory."
On the surface, this appeared to be the Emperor's grace, bestowing opportunities upon the nobles.
But the true old foxes present felt a chill in their hearts.
Wasn't this just a strengthened version of the "Imperial Northern Territory Development Order" from the past two years?
On the surface, it was a reward, but in reality, it was to “invite” the children of the great noble families to the distant North, removing them from their homeland and placing them within the controlled zone, thereby both depleting their influence and controlling their people.
Someone instinctively looked towards the throne, trying to read some attitude from that unmoving figure.
However, from the high seat, those eyes remained hidden in the shadows, revealing nothing.
Everyone could only swallow all their doubts.
Lin Ze paused again, as if to let this order linger in everyone’s minds for a moment longer, then slowly opened his mouth to announce the final decision:
“Furthermore, His Majesty has decided that the Sixth Prince of the Royal Family, Asta August, will be the first to go to the North, establish a territory, and lead the reconstruction as a demonstration.”
At this moment, every noble in the Yuchen Hall clearly held their breath.
On the surface, it appeared that the Royal Family was setting an example, personally dedicating themselves to the cold lands of the North, establishing authority for the common people, and providing a model for the feudal lords.
But the nobles who truly understood the politics of the Imperial Capital instantly perceived the deeper meaning.
The Emperor first sent his own Prince, and then, for the various great families, sending someone to the North was no longer an act of assistance, but a response to a call.
Not going? Do you dare to make your family appear more cowardly than the Prince?
Sending someone? Good, your legitimate son, heir, and core knights will all be incorporated into the Northern system, bound by the Reconstruction Department and detached from your family’s local power base.
The representatives of the great families subtly shifted their gazes, quietly clenching their fists under the table.
He knew that the Emperor was using the name of “reconstruction” to openly initiate a noble reshuffle.
The foundations of the old nobles and old vassals were to be dug up and replanted in the frozen soil under the control of the imperial power.
Lin Ze read aloud, slowly closed the document, and bowed his head: “Your Majesty, above is the draft proposal for post-disaster reconstruction.”
The Emperor remained silent.
He merely raised a finger and imperceptibly tapped the armrest of the Dragon Throne.
“Thump.”
The giant chair vibrated, the sound wave low and deep, like a prolonged and irreversible sealed judgment, settling upon the heart of every person.
Eleanor slowly walked out of the Yuchen Hall, the afternoon sun of the Imperial Capital pouring down, as if escaping from an ice cellar, the light making her squint slightly.
It was a long-lost warmth, carrying dust and the fragrance of flowers, yet unable to truly dispel the lingering chill within her body.
She stood on the steps for a moment, slowly took a deep breath, and then finally exhaled the suppression that had accumulated for a long time.
Her back relaxed slightly, a subtle loosening that could only be experienced after surviving a catastrophe.
Then she silently boarded her family’s carriage.
The carriage door gently closed, the curtains fell, and the wheels rolled over the white stone road of the Imperial City, entering the Imperial Street.
She slightly tilted her head, looking at the receding streetscape outside the window.
The Imperial Capital was still as prosperous as ever.
The streets and alleys were bustling with people, knights marched with flags, and vendors hawked hot soup and food.
Ladies in gold-embroidered dresses strolled and chatted with their small dogs in hand, while children bounced and chased kites.
Music, fragrance, and sunshine intertwined, forming a picture that almost made one forget the war.
Yet she merely watched, without a word, her mind replaying the schemes and gambits of the entire meeting.
“No one mentioned the Calvin Family, no one mentioned Louis’s name, and even that proposal wasn’t submitted by our own hands—yet a large piece of the cake on that table still fell into our hands.”
This was precisely the strategy Duke Edmund had written about in his letter.
No sharpness, no ostentation, not playing one’s hand proactively, yet at the most crucial junctures, gradually pushing the situation in a direction favorable to oneself.
Ultimately, letting others speak for us, and having the Emperor personally seal it.
The Emperor did not give Louis any overt titles, nor did he bestow honor and merit.
But he granted “resource allocation rights” and “North reconstruction leadership rights” to Duke Edmund.
And who was Louis?
He was ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the son-in-law of the Lord of the North, one of the largest surviving lords in the North, and the greatest hero after the war.
This meeting allowed him to naturally enter the Northern decision-making layer, firmly establishing a root for the Calvin Family in the North.
But the success of this plan was not solely due to the Duke’s individual scheme.
She knew very well in her heart that without the Emperor’s “cooperation,” these steps could not have been taken at all.
Thinking of this, she began to calmly analyze Emperor Ernst’s true intentions:
First, to protect Duke Edmund.
Although the North had collapsed, that Duke had held it with his private army, gaining buffer time for the Dragon Blood Legion.
Moreover, Duke Edmund had been diligently guarding the empire’s borders for years, and abandoning him would dishearten the border army.
Perhaps another reason was the rumor that the two had a good friendship despite their age difference.
Second, not to transfer the main force north.
The Emperor had been planning for the Southern nations for the past two years; his gaze had never truly lingered on this barren frozen land in the North.
He would not transfer elite legions for a land full of wilderness; what he needed was a self-healing North, not a resource-devouring abyss.
Third, to weaken the old noble system.
He did not explicitly state it, but all the great nobles knew that under the guise of “reconstruction,” he was sending the knights and direct descendants of the great families into the post-war order of the North, to re-establish roots in the frozen soil.
That was not expansion; it was pruning the flourishing branches of the aristocratic families, using the barren land of the North to wear down the strength of the great families.
At this point, Eleanor thought of the people at the meeting; there were intelligent individuals among them.
Some old nobles had already deduced the Emperor’s attitude before the meeting began.
Yet they did not say a word, neither seconding nor opposing.
Or, like her own family, they sent a “proxy” to speak.
This expressed their stance while maintaining distance, not exposing the family’s true calculations and positions.
She leaned against the carriage window and chuckled softly, a self-deprecating laugh mixed with a complex sense of relief: “Ultimately, it’s all because of the Emperor’s overwhelming pressure; they fear the Emperor, fear him to this extent.”
This was a rare sight in the history of the Empire.
Once, the great aristocratic families were as wild as wolves, but now everyone walked on thin ice.
It proved one thing: this Emperor was already powerful enough to swallow all the great nobles.
She leaned against the inner wall of the carriage, tapping her knee with her fingers, and softly instructed: “Don’t go back to the mansion, go to the Imperial Capital Hospital.”
The coachman responded and turned the direction.
Her nephew, Gaius Calvin, was there.
The former Vice Commander of the Dragon Blood Legion, he had exhausted his fighting qi and fainted during the Doomsday Mother Nest battle, and had been sent back to the Imperial Capital after the war, having been in a coma for over a month. freewebnøvel.com
She went almost every day, even if it was just to see him.
Firstly, they were blood relatives, and secondly, having been stationed together in the Imperial Capital for many years, their affection was genuinely close.
Before long, the carriage stopped, and she stepped into the familiar hospital room, which was quiet and tidy, with the curtains half-drawn, sunlight slanting across Gaius’s pale face.
Gaius lay quietly on the sickbed, without a trace of movement.
His wife sat by the bed, holding a baby only a few months old in her arms.
The woman’s face was thin, but her eyes were firm.
Seeing her enter, she immediately stood up and bowed.
Eleanor waved her hand, approached the bed, gazed for a moment, and sighed.
“He will wake up,” she whispered reassuringly.
The woman nodded, forcing a smile.
She sat down and talked with her for a few moments, briefly discussing recent changes in the Imperial Capital, deliberately avoiding the Dragon Throne Council.
Although Gaius was in the legion, he never liked politics, and his wife was an gentle woman devoted to caring for her family; discussing such matters was meaningless.
As they were talking, steady footsteps came from outside the door.
“Excuse me.”
Leading the way was Arthur, the one-armed Commander of the Dragon Blood Knights, and also Gaius’s close friend.
She was slightly surprised: “Why are you here?”
Arthur nodded to her, then looked at Gaius on the bed: “We’re here to pick him up.”
“Pick him up?” Gaius’s wife nervously stood up, clutching the infant in her arms.
“We received a special order,” Arthur’s tone was steady, “to transfer him to a place in the Empire where he can wake up.”
Gaius’s wife bit her lip, holding the child and stepping closer: “Then... can I go with him too?”
Arthur looked at her, his expression a little troubled: “No, that’s one of the Empire’s highest-level restricted areas—in fact, just by saying this, I’ve already violated regulations. But it’s fine, I’ll be staying there for a while too, for my hand’s treatment.”
The woman was silent for a moment, then looked down at her sleeping husband.
“...I trust you.” Her voice trembled slightly, but was very soft. “Take him.”
Arthur nodded and gestured to the knights behind him.
The men skillfully and carefully transferred Gaius onto a specialized stretcher, properly wrapped and secured him, then carried him away.
Before leaving, Arthur repeated: “I will protect him.”
Eleanor and Gaius’s wife watched their figures disappear down the corridor.
