Chapter 114 : Chapter 114
Chapter 114. The Storm Approaches
The three men quickly moved to the council study.
The moment Marquess Marcus closed the door and turned around, he saw Eli following behind Lucius, and his thick brows immediately drew together.
“Boy, why did you come along? This has nothing to do with you anymore.”
At the side, Sir Lucius waved a hand. “It is fine. Let him listen.”
A trace of doubt flashed across Marquess Marcus’s face, but out of trust in Lucius, he did not press the matter further.
His expression turned solemn again as he reported in a deep voice, “Sir, an urgent dispatch has arrived from the royal capital, Orlandia. Something enormous has happened!”
He deliberately paused, his gaze sweeping over Lucius and Eli.
“His Majesty the King... Augustus Aurora... has been confirmed dead!”
Although he had already sensed what was coming, Lucius’s eyes still shook violently.
He raised a hand and pressed hard against his brow.
Why did it have to be now of all times?
Lynn had only just been found again, and now the throne was changing hands?
At the side, Eli was even more shocked.
The King was dead?!
Was a secret of this magnitude, a matter concerning the succession of the highest power in the Kingdom, really something a minor frontier baron like him was allowed to overhear?
Marquess Marcus continued his report. “At present, His Highness Prince Aiden has already ascended the throne in the royal capital as Aiden I.
“His Grace the Duke, called upon in the hour of crisis, has assumed the position of Regent and now oversees the affairs of state.
“At the same time, Marquess Graham has been appointed Prime Minister of the Kingdom, to assist both the Regent and the new King.”
Hearing that his elder brother had taken control of the situation, some of the tension in Lucius’s face eased.
But Marcus was not finished.
“In addition, the Regent has issued urgent orders to the dukes of each frontier and to the principal nobles.
“He requires every frontier to send representatives of sufficient standing to Orlandia within half a month, in order to attend the Great Council.
“They are to witness the formal coronation ceremony of His Majesty King Aiden I and swear their loyalty to the King.
“On the other hand... after that, His Grace the Duke will engage in a public trial by combat with the former Prime Minister, Marquess Cons Montauban.
“In the name of the gods, the duel will determine who is truly the kingslayer who poisoned the late King...”
“The kingslayer? A trial by combat?” Hearing this, Lucius could not help letting out a puzzled sigh.
“My brother... why would he choose to make things so troublesome?”
Marquess Marcus sighed as well and spread his hands. “The exact details are unknown.
“Perhaps the situation in the royal capital is complicated, and there are still many constraints in place. Perhaps His Grace needs this trial to silence the endless voices of the world.
“But with Bos there, there should... be no problem at all.
“Haha, that old thing has no other choice. In the Royal Domain, there is only one titled knight—old Marquess Graham himself.
“No matter what, I fear His Grace’s position as Regent is already a settled fact. Hahaha!”
Lucius, however, slowly shook his head.
“No, Marcus. I know Cons Montauban.
“He is by no means an easy man to deal with. His ruthlessness and patience far exceed those of ordinary people. He will never sit still and wait for death, nor will he ever let matters end so simply.
“I have a feeling this trial by combat will not be that straightforward.”
Marquess Marcus was not at all surprised by Lucius’s judgment. Then he shifted the subject.
“Sir Lucius, since representatives must be sent to the royal capital to attend the Great Council, let me be the one to go.
“You should remain here in the Western Frontier, holding the line, coordinating the bigger picture, and preparing for whatever changes may come.”
Lucius nodded, agreeing to the arrangement.
But then he lifted his head, his gaze passing beyond Marcus, as though looking toward some farther western horizon.
“After you return from the royal capital, Marcus, I fear we will no longer be able to wait.”
Marquess Marcus was taken aback at first. Then wild joy and battle lust burst into his eyes.
“You mean—?!”
“To retake Storm City and rebuild the Storm Defense Line,” Lucius said, one word at a time.
“Hahahaha! Good! Wonderful!”
Marquess Marcus laughed in excitement.
“Sir! I have been waiting for you to say those words! I have waited far too long!”
Eli, who had been quietly listening the entire time, had already regained his composure.
He had fully cast himself into the role of a loyal servant of the Western Frontier and was listening carefully to the decisions of these two great men.
When he heard talk of reclaiming lost territory, his heart stirred as well.
Once the two men paused, he stepped forward at the right moment and spoke respectfully.
“My lords, aside from the grand undertaking of recovering lost lands, there may be one more matter that we can begin preparing right now.”
“Oh?” Marquess Marcus turned his head, a trace of displeasure and doubt in his voice.
“Boy, if you speak carelessly and interrupt without cause, I will punish you.”
Although his impression of Eli had improved somewhat, he still retained the habitual condescension of an old-line noble toward a newly risen young man.
Eli did not mind his attitude. He smiled faintly.
“Since such a great upheaval has taken place in the Kingdom, we cannot allow those Frontier Knights sent to the Western Frontier by the great families to leave unchecked.
“We may use ‘strengthening the frontier defenses of the Western Frontier and preparing for future war’ as grounds to petition the Regent for an order.
“All Frontier Knights dispatched to the Western Frontier, together with the forces under their command,
“must not leave the Western Frontier without the approval of the Governor of the Western Frontier. Any violator shall be treated as a deserter or a traitor.”
When Marquess Marcus heard this, confusion first appeared on his rugged face, then contemplation.
The earlier Frontier Knights had indeed mostly been abandoned sons, collateral branches, or expendable castoffs discarded by their families.
But recently—especially under the operations of Lucius and Federico, and after the appearance of several successful examples—
all the great families had begun increasing their investment in pioneering the Western Frontier.
Those people...
If they could truly be kept in the Western Frontier under such a pretext, then at critical moments they might actually be of some use.
At the very least, it would make the families behind them exercise a little more caution in matters concerning the Western Frontier.
He could not help glancing at Lucius, inwardly thinking:
Could it be that even this move had already been part of Sir Lucius’s calculations?
Had he even considered such details in advance?
Truly... terrifying beyond measure.
Sir Lucius looked at Eli with approval.
“Indeed, not bad. It seems like an idle move, but if used properly, it could be quite effective.
“I will include it as well in the recommendations I send to my brother. In your name...”
“All right.” Lucius waved a hand.
“Marquess Marcus, draft a list of representatives to attend the Great Council in the royal capital as quickly as possible and bring it for my review.
“It must clearly reflect the sincerity of the Western Frontier and our respect for the new King.”
“Understood!” Marcus accepted the order.
At last, Lucius turned his gaze to Eli.
“As for you, Eli... go... look after Constantine for a while.
“That boy has been slacking somewhat in his training lately. Go urge him on in my stead.”
When Eli heard that, the corner of his mouth could not help twitching.
Look after a child?
Marquess Marcus, on the other hand, let out a booming laugh without the slightest restraint and slapped Eli on the shoulder.
“Hahaha! Boy, do your job well! This is a great responsibility!”
With that, he strode out of the study to draw up the list.
Only Lucius and Eli remained inside the room.
Lucius said nothing more and merely waved a hand, indicating that Eli could leave as well.
Eli bowed and took his leave, walking out of the study in a complicated mood.
...
Meanwhile, in the royal capital of Orlandia, in the deepest level of the dark and damp dungeon—
Marquess Cons Montauban sat alone inside a comparatively tidy cell.
Federico had at least left him the final scraps of noble dignity.
There was a bed and a simple table and chairs in the room, unlike the other cells, which held nothing but straw and cockroaches.
There was no expression at all on his face—neither despair nor rage. He simply sat there in silence.
His hollow gaze rested on the cold stone wall, as though he were still replaying that game of chess he had already lost in its entirety.
At that moment, a light and measured set of footsteps approached from far away, interrupting his thoughts.
Those steps were nothing like the usual heavy, disorderly tread of common jailers.
Cons lifted his head and looked toward the barred door.
A figure cloaked in a heavy hood stopped before the cell.
The figure slowly removed the hood, revealing the face of a middle-aged man with a somewhat soft and refined air.
“Bernard?” A trace of surprise flashed through Cons’s eyes, only to fade back into calm. “How did you get in here?”
The newcomer was none other than Bernard, the Minister of Intelligence of the Kingdom.
He wore his usual smile and said softly, “Lord Cons... there are always ways.
“People, after all, all have weaknesses, do they not?”
Cons’s expression remained placid as water. He had already replayed the course of his defeat countless times in the dungeon.
Then, without warning, he spoke.
“Bernard, tell me... was it you?”
A perfectly measured look of surprise and confusion appeared on Bernard’s face.
“My lord, what do you mean? What do you mean, ‘was it me’?”
Cons stared fixedly into Bernard’s eyes, trying to find even the slightest flaw within that deep gaze.
But Bernard’s control of his expression was flawless. There was only sincere confusion, not the least trace of anything strange.
Cons looked at him for a long while. In the end, he let out a weary sigh and turned his eyes away.
Forget it.
At this point, what meaning was there in pursuing that question any further?
Whether it had been him or not no longer mattered.
“Bernard,” Cons said, his voice carrying a trace of fatigue, “do one last thing for me.”
Bernard immediately bowed, his tone respectful. “Please speak, my lord. So long as it lies within my power...”
“Help me take care of... Kane and the Montauban Family... for the sake of the teacher-student bond we have shared for more than ten years...”
At those words, Bernard’s face showed difficulty, and he gave a bitter smile.
“My lord... it is not that I am unwilling.
“But I am only a mere Minister of Intelligence. In the deep waters of the royal capital, even I can barely protect myself. I fear... ah.”
Cons shot him a cold glance.
“Do not play such games with me. Give me paper and a pen.”
Bernard seemed to have prepared for this long ago. At once, he drew a tiny scroll and a quill pen from his sleeve and passed them in.
Cons stared blankly at the paper and pen that had already been prepared. A bitterly mocking smile appeared on his face.
Heh. Fine.
Things had already come this far. What choice did he still have?
What a fine student you turned out to be...
He quickly wrote down a series of names and brief remarks on the paper, then rolled it up.
“What is written here are some people... who may still be of use, as well as some who owe the Montauban Family a debt of gratitude.
“How many you can win over, and to what extent you can use them, will depend on your own ability.”
Cons’s voice was exceptionally calm.
“Remember your promise. You are to look after the Montauban Family!
“At the very least... preserve its continuation.”
“Yes! My lord! Rest assured!”
Bernard struggled to suppress his expression.
He eagerly reached out, trying to take the scroll.
But Cons drew his hand back slightly, his eyes sharp as he fixed Bernard with a stare.
“I want you to swear in the name of the gods!
“Swear that you will protect Kane and preserve the bloodline of the Montauban Family.”
Some of the expression on Bernard’s face vanished. Meeting Cons’s gaze, his expression turned solemn.
He raised his right hand and made the oath with full gravity.
“I, Bernard, swear in the name of the gods above!
“That I will do everything in my power to safeguard the safety of Kane Montauban and preserve, to the utmost of my ability, the continuation of the bloodline of the Montauban Family.
“If I break this oath, may my family bloodline be severed, and may I, Bernard, fall forever into hell.”
Hearing such a vicious oath, Cons finally seemed to set his mind at ease.
Slowly, he extended that scroll—the final political legacy of both himself and the Montauban Family—through the bars of the cell.
Bernard seized it with restrained force, swiftly tucked it into his robes, and the corner of his mouth curved with suppressed delight.
Yet just as Cons believed their transaction was complete and prepared to sit quietly and await his end—
Bernard suddenly leaned closer and lowered his voice.
“My dear teacher... are you truly willing to walk so shamefully toward your end?
“Do you not wish... to take revenge on Federico?
“I... may still have one more way...”