"Those spineless cowards! Parasites!"
They argued in the study for two hours, yet still failed to reach an agreement.
In the end, Count Mori told everyone to rest first and continue the discussion in the council hall tomorrow.
As the nobles from the various territories departed, Count Mori, who had held back for half the day, finally could no longer suppress the anger in his heart.
He slammed his wine cup heavily onto the table, denting the silver cup on impact.
"Has the cold wind of the Northern Frontier blown all the fire out of their blood? Damn it.
"Especially those two. I seriously doubt they're even Old Tuck's and Old Jenirhan's biological sons. Could they be some fucking bastards?"
Count Havent, seated on the other side, was surprisingly calm. Even as he listened to his old friend curse the lords of Heridarans and Bankaza, he merely gave a helpless smile.
"Hadawei, people change. Don't you always say that nothing remains unchanged forever?"
Upon hearing Count Havent's words, Count Mori snorted heavily, leaned back in his chair, and fell silent.
"The truth is, old friend, you knew it would turn out this way. You simply refused to admit it. As our old comrades-in-arms passed away,
"the Northern Frontier was no longer the Northern Frontier it once was.
"No one liked the wind and sand here, and no one did not long for the splendor of the Imperial Capital—especially since the new generation of nobles had all gone to the Imperial Capital for further studies."
"Sigh..."
Count Mori let out a heavy sigh, grabbed the wine jug beside him, and began gulping it down.
"What do we do now, Hadawei? Drinking won't solve the problem."
Count Mori held the wine jug in silence for a moment.
"We need a great army. We need a great deal of money..."
At that, the two exchanged a glance. Under Havent's puzzled gaze, Count Mori slowly said,
"And a large-scale war."
"Um, although I don't want to interrupt the two of you, it looks like you have important matters to discuss. How about I take my leave first? Staying up late is bad for a teenager's growth."
Count Mori reached out and tossed him a bottle of potion.
"My apologies, little Havent, but you can't sleep yet. What comes next concerns you as well."
Looking at the stamina potion in his hand, Havent was so speechless he wanted to call the guards.
"This... me? I don't think I'm that useful."
"Hehehehe. Drink it if you're sleepy. Since you are one of the lords of the Northern Frontier, there are some things you must do, whether you're willing or not, whether you want to or not."
Seeing his own old man remain silent, Havent could only resign himself to his fate.
"Then tell me. I can't handle anything too difficult. I'm just a little mage, not a turtle in a wishing pond."
Clouds drifted overhead, covering more than half the bright moon. The guard standing outside the door felt the chill in the air and pulled his clothes tighter around himself.
"Am I really just going to the Imperial Capital to study? You didn't need to keep me behind specifically for that. You could've told me at any time."
Havent eyed the bald old man suspiciously. After dealing with him for some time, Havent had already labeled Count Mori as crafty.
"Hehehehe.
"You're not that young anymore. As the heir to a territory, there are many things you still don't understand, and the Royal Academy in the Imperial Capital is a very good place. There, you..."
"Why don't you just say it straight, sir? You're being so roundabout that it's making me nervous."
"Fine, then I'll be direct, child."
Seeing Havent nod, Count Mori put away his previous air of an old rascal.
"Before the banquet, we roughly discussed the matters concerning our Northern Frontier and the Church. I don't need to repeat it, do I?"
"No. We're the Royalist Faction..."
"Hahahahaha, it seems you were listening carefully."
But when he saw Havent was not laughing, Count Mori shrugged and continued.
"Earlier, we mentioned that the Church was developing very well in the south. That was because the Church and the local lords had formed a cooperative, symbiotic relationship.
"The Church's combat professionals even directly joined the local lords' armies. Some smaller lords retained only their personal guards and a small portion of their troops, handing public security, administration, and religious instruction within their territories over to the local churches established by the Church.
"And in return—or rather, as an exchange—the lords could receive military support, shares of military expenses, and even a substantial income in Redemption Gold."
"This? Hm? Wait?
"Then did those southern lords still have any autonomy?"
"Autonomy? Hmph. That really is a fine term."
Count Mori gave a cold laugh, his expression filled with disdain.
"Perhaps they did. The Empire was too vast, and the Northern Frontier was too far from the south. We could only catch glimpses of the situation through reports.
"But judging by the results, basically none.
"In recent years, His Majesty issued several decrees, but they were carried out very poorly. That included economic aid for the Northern Frontier.
"Under normal circumstances, the central lords were supposed to bear 30% of military expenses. The east faced the sea and had to withstand attacks from Naga and other sea races, so it provided no support.
"The west had to face harassment from the Gray Dwarves, the Kagra people, and the Shaman Tribe, while the southwest had to guard against the Lizardmen charging out of the Black Marsh at any time. They could barely manage to be self-sufficient.
"Only the south had no especially powerful enemies. Although it bordered the Eternal Night Forest, the elves living deep within the forest were not particularly willing to deal with humans.
"And such uniquely favorable conditions had made the economies of the southern provinces exceptionally prosperous.
"Originally, they were supposed to bear 50% of military expenses, but that percentage had declined year by year. Now it was probably less than 30%.
"And the reason for this was that a large number of southern lords refused to hand over military funds and instead demanded that the Armor Defense Line accept Church garrisons."
At that point, Count Mori spat fiercely.
"Those spineless bastards. How could they even say something like that? A bunch of fat pigs raised by the Church.
"I bet that with a wave of the Pope's hand, a whole line of nobles would queue up to lick Saint Calia's ass right after she took a shit."
Listening to such juicy historical gossip, second only to catching a mistress, Havent, who had been yawning nonstop, was no longer sleepy at all.
"What does that have to do with me going to the Imperial Capital to study?"
Count Mori took a sip of mead and continued.
"You heard it just now. The nobles of all sizes in our Northern Frontier went to study in the Imperial Capital when they were your age. Of course, studying was only the official reason. In truth, we were all kept there as hostages. It has been a rule since the founding of the Empire."
"What? I'm becoming collateral?"
Hearing that he was going to be a hostage, Havent shot to his feet.
"Calm down, calm down. I, your father, even your grandfather—we all went through it. It's a necessary procedure. Especially when doing something major, having you in the Imperial Capital will put His Majesty at ease."
Havent scrutinized the two men suspiciously. This plot, this purpose, this identity... Gasp!
"You aren't planning a rebellion, are you?"
Pfft—cough, cough, cough, cough!
Count Mori sprayed out the wine he had just swallowed.
Before you continue