The God of Wealth's Gaze and the Chess Game Beneath the Deep Pool

Deep within the Duke Windsor's manor, in a private study not open to the public, the security was far more stringent, and the furnishings far more understatedly luxurious, than anywhere else in the residence. There were no dazzling gold or silver decorations; the walls were lined with sound-absorbing dark velvet, and the floor was covered with a thick, expensive hand-woven Merric carpet that muffled all footsteps. The air was filled with a blend of aged books, premium tobacco, and a unique preservative spice, creating a quiet and profound atmosphere. This was the true center of power for the Windsor family, the domain of Duke Albert von Windsor, the Empire's financial god.

Unlike the faint sounds of busyness from outside the window, preparing for his granddaughter's Coming-of-Age Ceremony, the study was deathly silent. Only the faint crackling of the fine white oak burning in the fireplace and the rustling of a quill pen across specially made parchment broke the near-stagnant tranquility.

Duke Albert sat behind a massive desk carved from a single piece of obsidian. He was nearly seventy, his hair completely white but meticulously combed. His face was gaunt, his skin somewhat pale from spending so much time indoors, and deeply lined like the cracked bed of a dried river. But most unsettling were his eyes—a rare pale gray, like a lake covered in a layer of winter fog, appearing calm yet unfathomably deep, as if they could see through all pretense and lies. At this moment, these eyes, through a delicate pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez, were intently reviewing an assessment report, magically encrypted, on the impact of grain crop failure in the Empire's southeastern provinces on next year's tax revenue.

He wore a perfectly tailored dark gray casual suit, without any superfluous ornaments, save for a small Windsor family crest—a scale and a key—carved from colorless Magic Crystals, pinned at his collar. It refracted a cold gleam under the light. His fingers were long and steady, his nails neatly trimmed. The way he turned the pages of the document was slow and precise, imbued with a calm control over everything.

"Creak—" With a soft sound, the heavy study door, inlaid with sound-insulating steel plates and protective magic patterns on the inside, was silently pushed open. Old butler Morrison, like a shadow, moved noiselessly into the room, bowed, and said in a low voice, "My Lord Duke, Her Highness the Eldest Princess and young Master William have arrived."

Duke Albert did not look up, merely emitting an almost inaudible "Mm" from his throat to acknowledge. He finished reading the last page of the report, signed it with a calligraphic abbreviation using his quill pen inlaid with sapphire, and then slowly put down the pen, removed his pince-nez, and gently polished them with a piece of suede.

Almost as soon as he put down his glasses, Eldest Princess Elinor and William Windsor entered. Elinor maintained her royal grace and composure, but in this study, her aura seemed somewhat subdued. William appeared more deferential, even with a hint of imperceptible tension.

"Father," William bowed first to greet him.

"My Lord Duke," Elinor gave a slight nod, her etiquette impeccable, but her address maintained a distance, indicating her adherence to her royal status in formal settings.

Duke Albert raised his pale gray eyes, his gaze calmly sweeping over his son and daughter-in-law, finally resting on Elinor for a moment. There was no warmth in his gaze, as if he were merely assessing two objects. He gestured to the two high-backed armchairs opposite his desk: "Sit."

They sat as instructed, their backs straight, like students facing a teacher.

"How are the preparations for Elisa's Coming-of-Age Ceremony?" Duke Albert's voice was deep and hoarse, his speech slow, each word carrying a heavy weight.

"Replying to Father, everything has been prepared to the highest standard. Guests have all confirmed, and security is foolproof," William answered respectfully, concisely.

Duke Albert nodded slightly, turning his gaze to Elinor. "What is the Hohenzollern family's response?"

Elinor had her reply ready and answered calmly, "Marquis Otto has expressed his congratulations through official channels and confirmed that Karl Hohenzollern will represent the family at the event. Young Master Leon... it is understood he has prepared a valuable gift." She deliberately omitted the gift's specific origin and any potential "watered-down" aspects.

Duke Albert listened without any expression on his face. Only in the depths of his pale gray eyes did a faint flicker of light seem to flash, too quickly to be caught. He was silent for a few seconds, his fingers unconsciously tapping rhythmically on the smooth obsidian tabletop, a sound that tightened the chest.

"Mm," he uttered another monosyllable, then abruptly changed the subject, asking casually, "I heard that a few days ago, that boy Leon caused quite a scene at the entrance of the Knight Academy?"

William's heart sank. As expected! Although his father rarely left his residence, not a whisper in the Imperial Capital, especially concerning future in-laws, could escape his ears! He subconsciously glanced at his wife.

Elinor's expression remained unchanged, as if she had anticipated this question. She replied calmly, "It was merely a minor spat between young people, exaggerated by some bored individuals. It has no impact on the grand scheme."

"No impact on the grand scheme?" Duke Albert repeated, his tone flat, yet the temperature in the study seemed to drop a few degrees. "The future matriarch of the Windsor family, her fiancé, in full view of everyone, because... he recalled some unsavory past events and got a nosebleed. This is called having no impact on the grand scheme?"

His gaze, like a cold probe, pierced Elinor. "Elinor, you tell me, is this the marriage alliance you chose for the Windsor family? A... good-for-nothing who cannot even control his basic emotions and physiological reactions, enough to bring shame upon the family?"

Pressure descended suddenly. William felt cold sweat break out on his back. Elinor's fingertips curled slightly, but her face remained composed.

"My Lord Duke," Elinor met her father-in-law's gaze, her voice clear and calm, "Leon Hohenzollern has flaws in his character, that is a fact. However, the object of the alliance is the name Hohenzollern, the military power of the Northern Territory, and Marquis Otto's stance, not him personally. His disgrace, in a sense, is not entirely a bad thing for us."

She reiterated the theory she had previously told William—"an incompetent husband is easier to control"—in more concise, colder language, concluding, "As long as the engagement exists, the Hohenzollern family's bond with us is a fact. The more unbearable Leon is, the greater Elisa's influence within the Hohenzollern family may be in the future, and the deeper our influence can extend. The pros and cons of this need to be viewed in the long term."

Duke Albert listened quietly, his face still unreadable. Only when Elinor finished did the study fall silent again. Only the firelight in the fireplace flickered in his pale gray pupils.

After a long while, he slowly spoke, his voice still deep and hoarse, but carrying a sense of worldly wisdom and vicissitude. "Elinor, you always manage to... make sacrifice sound so natural, and see through calculations so clearly."

The words sounded like praise, yet carried a hint of indescribable... mockery?

Duke Albert's gaze shifted from Elinor's face to the flickering flames in the fireplace. He seemed to be talking to himself, or perhaps to the two before him. "The Hohenzollerns are the sword of the Northern Territory. As long as the sword is sharp, it doesn't matter who wields it. What matters is that the direction the sword points must align with the interests of the one holding it. Otto is a sensible man, but he is old. The winds and snow of the Northern Territory are too harsh. Whether this sword will rust in the future, or be grasped by someone else, no one knows."

He paused, then continued, "We are using Elisa as a thread to tie down this sword. It's a risky move, but it's a necessary one given the current situation. Leon... is indeed the biggest variable in this move, a terrible, yet irreplaceable piece."

His gaze returned to Elinor, with an unprecedented sharpness. "However, Elinor, you must remember. The foundation of the Windsor family's standing in the Empire is 'trust' and 'stability'. Excessive calculation and sacrifice may yield short-term gains, but in the long run, they could shake the foundation. Elisa, after all, carries Windsor blood. Her value is not merely as a chain to bind a beast."

These words were profound, acknowledging the necessity of Elinor's strategy while implicitly warning against her overly cold calculations, and even... perhaps revealing a hint of extremely subtle concern for her granddaughter Elisa's predicament.

Elinor felt a chill in her heart and lowered her eyes. "I understand, My Lord Duke. I will maintain the proper balance."

William also quickly nodded.

Duke Albert said no more, waving his hand to signal they could leave. It was as if the heavy conversation concerning the family's future direction had merely been a routine inquiry.

The two stood up, bowed respectfully, and exited.

The study door closed silently again, isolating the interior from the outside. Duke Albert sat alone behind the massive desk, put on his pince-nez again, and picked up another document, seemingly having cast the recent conversation aside instantly.

But if one could observe closely, they would notice that deep within his pale gray eyes, beneath the frozen lake surface, unseen undercurrents were surging. He picked up a red quill pen and slowly wrote a few words on a blank slip of paper:

"The scabbard must be firm, the thread is fragile, prepare a backup early."

After finishing, a faint wisp of magical flame emerged from his fingertip, burning the paper to ashes without leaving a trace.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he immersed himself once more in the vast sea of Imperial financial reports and secret dispatches. The Empire's financial god would never place all his chips on one table. Elisa's Coming-of-Age Ceremony was merely a move on the surface; the real game had long since unfolded on a deeper level.