Free Web NovelSoon after, Lambert's search knights returned, presenting several letters found in the noble residences.
The letters clearly stated: Holmes, Cran, Bolton, Harlov, Hyman.
The letters meticulously recorded the seating arrangements for meetings, the order of speeches, the deployment of knights, and the public opinion guidance against Red Tide.
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Finally, a sentence was attached: "If Red Tide is attacked, it is the will of heaven. Seize power while the iron is hot."
Everyone present fell into deeper shock.
The faces of the four nobles turned pale, their legs went weak, and they almost collapsed to the ground.
"This isn't my letter!" Holmes's voice trembled, and his mouth still twitched.
"That was just a meeting draft!" Cran nearly roared in desperation, veins bulging on his forehead.
"Someone forged my seal!" Harlov was drenched in sweat, his voice shaking.
"You're trying to frame us!"
As they spoke, they became more and more flustered, even kneeling directly, holding up the letters with trembling hands, frantically explaining that they were wronged.
"We never thought of betraying!"
"The Sixth Prince was the instigator!"
A few panicked excuses echoed in the empty ruins, torn apart by the cold wind, appearing exceptionally powerless.
Harlov lowered his head, clenching his palms tightly, his fingernails digging into his flesh.
Hyman's eyes darted around, looking at Louis but not daring to meet his gaze.
Their fear and regret spread in their hearts. They regretted getting so close to Asta, that madman.
If they were found guilty of colluding with barbarians, their families, fiefs, and surnames might all be erased after tonight.
Moreover, they were indeed wronged; they had never colluded with barbarians, only wanting to cause some trouble for Red Tide.
Lambert responded coldly, "Every letter bears a seal and signature. If not handwritten, how could they have been obtained?"
Their breathing became rapid, almost pleading, as they murmured in defense, "Please investigate more thoroughly... Perhaps someone framed us..."
Their voices grew softer and softer, eventually fading into silence.
The other nobles looked at them with disbelief, as the evidence aligned perfectly with the barbarian side.
Now, the incriminating evidence was increasingly complete, and all signs pointed to Asta's foolishness as the cause of this bloody attack.
The air was thick with the smell of char and blood, and the firelight illuminated everyone's faces.
The accused nobles breathed rapidly, their lips pale. They wanted to defend themselves but couldn't utter a word.
The surrounding nobles exchanged glances, their expressions complex.
Some were angry, some were relieved, and others secretly bowed their heads, fearing being drawn into this judgment.
In the corner, the injured Seifer had not spoken throughout.
He already understood what Asta had done behind his back. Sometimes, he handled territorial affairs and knew Asta was gathering barbarians, but he never expected it to reach this extent.
His heart was dead, and he took responsibility upon himself, feeling that he had taught him wrongly.
Seifer's gaze shifted to the side, where Asta's wife and two children were shivering.
He knew that this burden could not be placed on Asta, otherwise, the Prince's reputation would be ruined, and his descendants would not survive.
He had no children and had always raised Asta as his own son... Bloodline, reputation, the dignity of the Empire, all mingled at this moment into a heavy burden on his heart.
After understanding everything, Seifer slowly stood up, his voice hoarse but resolute: "It was I! I acted behind His Highness's back, colluding with Holmes, Cran, Bolton, Harlov, and Hyman. His Highness is innocent."
Louis was slightly stunned. He knew through the Daily Intelligence System that Asta had done all of this behind his back.
He hadn't expected this old man to go to such lengths for the Sixth Prince, even sacrificing his posthumous reputation.
A complex emotion flashed in his heart, a hint of surprise, and an indescribable admiration.
The surrounding nobles were also stunned into silence.
Now that the evidence was so complete, everyone understood that only Asta could truly mobilize the barbarians and plot this matter, yet this old general was willing to take all the blame.
People murmured in awe, some shaking their heads in disbelief, while more secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
If a Prince had truly colluded with barbarians to attack nobles, the situation would be too terrifying, only further destabilizing the already volatile northern shield political landscape.
But now, having an old general willing to bear all the blame was not necessarily a bad thing for them.
Everyone turned their gaze to Louis.
After all, only Louis could make the next decision, determining who would live.
After a moment of deadly silence, Louis finally stood up and said calmly, "His Highness, the Sixth Prince, died for the country and is a martyr of the Empire. However, traitors and conspiracies must be purged."
He announced, "General Seifer, incited by barbarians and misjudging the situation, caused unrest at the meeting. He has now surrendered and confessed his guilt. However, due to his contributions to the Empire, he will be sent to the Imperial Capital for trial."
Asta's wife and children will ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) be escorted back to the Imperial Capital for resettlement.
The four families of Holmes, Cran, Harlov, and Hyman, for their instigation and assistance, are listed as jointly responsible parties and will be executed immediately."
Seifer breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Louis's judgment.
He knew Louis had shown mercy. Back in the Imperial Capital, with his family's influence, he had a chance to survive, and Asta's wife and children would also be more secure in the Imperial Capital.
On the other hand, upon hearing the word "execution," the four initially didn't react, frozen in place.
Holmes murmured, "Execution...?" His voice was weak, as if he was still waiting for someone to intercede for them.
It wasn't until the Red Tide Knights stepped forward and pressed down on their shoulders that the cold clang of armor completely jolted them awake.
Holmes was the first to react, falling to his knees and repeatedly kowtowing, "No, my lord! I'm innocent! I didn't do anything!"
Cran's face flushed crimson, his eyes bloodshot: "Please give me a chance to explain, I was just following orders! His Highness was the one..."
But before he could finish, a Red Tide Knight kicked him heavily to the ground.
Harlov struggled and roared, "You little brat have no right to judge a northern shield honorable noble! My grandfather took an arrow for the Duke!"
His voice was high-pitched, filled with a desperate will to live.
The last person, Hyman, looked numb, trembling as he closed his eyes, murmuring softly as if resigned to his fate: "I just..."
The four were forced to their knees, one after another.
Begging, cursing, silent, emotions intertwined in layers.
Until the first clang of a blade sliced through the air, and blood splattered before everyone's eyes.
Lambert's movements were clean and swift, each strike as fast as lightning.
When the second blade fell, Cran's angry cursing abruptly ceased.
The third blade was accompanied by a frightened wail.
By the fourth blade, Hyman was left with only a soft sigh.
Blood flowed in winding lines along the cracks in the floor tiles, and the scent of blood in the air grew heavier.
Among the observing nobles, some watched with interest, gloating, while others trembled and bowed their heads, daring not to look again.
The nobles near the front row whispered to each other, a mix of "They deserved to die" and "The punishment is too severe."
Lambert sheathed his sword and silently stepped back.
The entire venue was so quiet that only the wind and the sound of dripping blood could be heard.
Everyone understood that Louis's strike was not just punishment, but a declaration of the beginning of a new rule in the northern shield.
Louis merely looked at the bloodstains, his eyes cold, his expression unchanged. Flames danced behind him, casting a golden-red silhouette.
From this moment on, he was no longer the Red Tide Lord, but the true ruler of the northern shield.
A new King of the North, following Duke Edmund, was born... Four days had passed since the night of the barbarian attack. The northern shield Reconstruction Conference was still postponed.
The burned manor was temporarily repaired, new wooden beams supported the roof, and fire marks still lingered on the charred stone pillars.
Through the broken skylight, wind and snow poured in, fluttering the Iron-Blood Empire's dragon banner.
The nobles looked tense, some even taking their seats with bandages.
Every footstep echoed on the stone tiles, heavy and oppressive.
Seated at the head of the table was the young lord, Louis Calvin.
He wore a black and red military robe, and the northern shield emblem glittered on his chest.
Although nominally still only an Earl, and without any official position in the northern shield Reconstruction Conference, he sat at the head of the table, and no one dared to speak out.
Because everyone knew that the seat, which should have belonged to the Sixth Prince, could now only be occupied by Louis.
Asta's body, along with the convoy escorting Seifer, had already departed south for the Imperial Capital.
The hall was silent, with only the gentle crackling of fire in the fireplace.
Louis slowly rose, his gaze sweeping across everyone as he began, "The situation of the Empire, as you all know, is dire."
The Regent is isolated, imperial power is waning, the southern provinces are in turmoil, the western border has cut off grain supplies, and the northern shield is the Empire's last barrier."
Louis paused, his tone softening, "His Highness, the Sixth Prince, has passed away, but we must take up his responsibility and protect the northern shield."
If we continue to act independently, the northern shield could become ruins at any moment. Therefore, I propose that we should work together to protect this land."
"Earl Calvin is right, the northern shield must unite!" Yoen slammed his hand on the table, nodding in approval.
However, Marquis Corey, from the old northern shield nobility, merely gave a vague "hmm."
Viscount Har, next to him, swallowed the wine in his throat and forced a smile, saying, "Yes, yes, protecting the northern shield..."
The Red Tide vassal lords from the Southeast were the first to respond loudly, their expressions sincere and excited.
They had long experienced the benefits of the Red Tide System and praised Louis as the one who could truly lead the northern shield out of winter.
Meanwhile, those from the old noble faction had complex expressions, their mouths barely twitching, murmuring in agreement, not daring to express their true feelings.
The air was a mix of awe and hesitation, yet no one dared to openly oppose this statement, be it by reason or emotion.
Someone sighed softly, others pursed their lips, their gazes shifting between the tabletop and Louis.
The firelight illuminated each person's face, blurring their expressions.
Then Louis announced the official start of the meeting.
The lords from all sides successively presented reconstruction proposals, and the air immediately became tense.
The representative of Holmes's remaining faction was the first to rise, cupping his hands and saying, "The various northern shield territories should restore autonomy, with each family independently recruiting and maintaining troops. The Empire can supervise, but there is no need to re-establish new administrative bodies."
No sooner had he finished speaking than several old nobles nodded in agreement, echoing, "That's right, the northern shield has always been self-sufficient!" and "This is our tradition!"
Yoen frowned slightly, leaning back in his chair and murmuring, "The result of self-sufficiency is not being able to afford food. Don't you have any idea of your own strength? Do you dare say you won't buy cheap grain from Red Tide?"
His two questions created an awkward silence in the room.
Immediately after, a middle-aged Earl from the Southern Expansionist faction stood up, his voice trembling: "I believe that the Imperial Capital should dispatch an oversight committee to retake control of finance and defense, to highlight Imperial authority!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than the entire hall fell silent for a moment, then erupted into whispers.
"The Imperial Capital? They can't even take care of themselves."
"Sending people to the northern shield now would only add more freeloaders."
Someone scoffed contemptuously, more simply shook their heads and sighed, clearly finding the suggestion too detached from reality.
Amidst the clamor, Louis slowly rose, placing his palm on the table, and calmly stated, "Each territory is invited to voluntarily join the northern shield Reconstruction Alliance."
Share resources, coordinate defense, unify trade routes. We will not strip away your rights, but only link the fate of the northern shield together." freewёbnoνel.com
He scanned the room: "This is not a command, but an invitation. Today's terms are the most favorable. Everyone should consider carefully."
"Alliance... that doesn't sound bad."
"The Red Tide System might truly allow people to survive."
After a moment of silence, several nobles conversed in low voices.
Louis surveyed the crowd, nodded slightly, then gestured to Bradley.
Bradley rose, unrolled a parchment, and spoke with great conviction, "Gentlemen, the Earl's alliance concept is not mere talk, but has a concrete implementation plan."
All territories willing to join will immediately enjoy trade priority and material aid. This is not charity, but cooperation."
Looking at the scroll in his hand, he eloquently explained, "The northern shield Material Council Hall will be responsible for settling material flows."
You can receive grain, timber, and iron ore according to your share, and enjoy low-cost trade brought by the Red Tide transportation network. Members of the alliance will also be exempt from some taxes and receive priority for winter supplies."
Low murmurs spread through the crowd. Some nobles showed expressions of interest, while others frowned, calculating.
Those nobles skilled in business were already calculating profits in their minds, as they knew Red Tide's industries were complete, convenient, and most importantly, cheap.
However, the cautious ones wondered: if the Council Hall controlled grain and iron, how much autonomy would they have left in the future?
"Furthermore," Bradley's tone shifted, "the military defense system will implement coordinated dispatch. Your armies will still be commanded by your respective leaders, but you will receive military equipment, potions, and training support provided by Red Tide."
We will jointly establish military academies and share military supplies. Simply put, the nobles' soldiers will no longer fight alone."
Several weaker lords from the border exchanged glances, clearly moved by the words "military supply support."
But an old noble snorted, "Coordinated defense? That's just Red Tide controlling our knights."
Bradley continued, "In addition, a Commercial Alliance and the Northward Entertainment Hall will be established. The former guarantees trade security, while the latter ensures the flow of information and daily entertainment activities, as well as festival order."
Your names, achievements, and stories will be sung by bards throughout the entire northern shield."
A vain noble laughed and whispered, "It sounds... quite beneficial."
Bradley rolled up the scroll and bowed slightly: "This is the plan proposed by Red Tide: cooperation, mutual assistance, coexistence."
Louis smiled faintly: "Gentlemen, I will not force you. This is voluntary."
But as Bradley said, the doors of the northern shield Alliance are always open to you, but the terms will not always be so generous. If you miss today's opportunity, it will not come again."
As his voice fell, the hall once again plunged into silence.
The agenda drew to a close in a tense atmosphere. The Red Tide scribe stepped forward, unrolling a parchment oath, which gleamed in the candlelight.
Yoen was the first to step forward, signing his name without hesitation.
The interested lords also signed successively, over a dozen of them stamping their family seals, their expressions either resolute or anxious.
The rest bowed their heads in silence, their fingers rubbing their knees, unwilling to pick up the pen. Some shook their heads slightly, others bit their lips, observing.
When the last pen was put down, the meeting hall fell into a deathly silence.
Among all the prominent nobles in the northern shield, half had signed.
