Chapter 74: The Conspiracy

  At the duke's residence, the duke—who had just returned from handling affairs—was receiving Chancellor.

  "Chancellor, this is absolutely out of the question," Duke Mrak said with a troubled expression, shaking his head in refusal. "The timber from Aery, the mineral deposits in Kalendor, the trade in Western art—these have long been your family's holdings. How could they possibly be transferred to my name? Besides, with military power in my hands, such a move seems rather inappropriate, wouldn't you agree?"

  "Not 'your family's,' but 'our family's,'" corrected the Chancellor, his face, a mass of jowls, wearing an expression both warm and cordial. If the Duke resembled a benevolent merchant, then he was a philanthropist with a heart of gold. "Your Grace, do not forget we are one family. We have always been well aware of and confident in your abilities. Having you handle these matters was inevitable sooner or later. Moreover, we are currently short-handed, so we request you to oversee the situation. These are merely our family affairs. His Majesty is wise and will certainly not take offense." When he mentioned "family affairs," his voice unconsciously carried greater emphasis, his tone utterly natural and deeply affectionate, as if this were indeed a matter of course, leaving no room for refusal or hesitation.

  "Chancellor, I truly feel this is inconvenient," the Duke persisted in his awkward stance.

  "Why must you remain so formal? It is settled then." Chancellor Mrak wore a slightly reproachful look. Yet this was not outward displeasure, but rather the unguarded display of affection born of deep familiarity, like playful banter. "So be it. Clovis will come to my quarters shortly to retrieve the documents for you."

  After the Chancellor departed, Duke Mrak smiled. It was a relaxed, satisfied grin, a stark contrast to his earlier earnest, troubled expression. Turning to Clovis, he remarked, "Your uncle has lost a lot of weight."

  "He must have been terribly troubled these past days," Clovis remarked with a rare, almost schadenfreude-tinged smile. The duke's good mood was contagious, lifting Clovis's spirits as well. "Several family members have died, including key ministers holding significant power. He's been overwhelmed with the aftermath. And that good-for-nothing son of his, Modo, caused another disaster. He conspired with a guard captain to lead a squad of guards to kill that priest—and did it while His Majesty was under attack by that vampire. Had he not risked his own life to protect his son, that fool would have been beheaded long ago. But under these circumstances, His Majesty’s trust in him has plummeted to its lowest point. Another misstep, and he might not even retain his position as Chancellor."

  "The Chancellor's seat..." The duke's narrow eyes narrowed further, gleaming with relish. Like a gourmet who must first gaze upon and inhale the aroma of an exquisite dish before savoring its imagined flavors in his mind. "It's only a matter of time before someone else takes that seat. Your uncle, who once held me in such low regard, now seeks temporary shelter under my name. It shows he truly recognizes his own desperate plight. He likely thinks I'm a convenient umbrella to exploit, believing this a clever maneuver." The duke nodded with satisfaction, nearly laughing aloud. "I too find it a clever maneuver."

  "The Necromancer Guild has done us an immense favor. A single vampire has sent the Erney family's influence tumbling down a thousand miles. They'll likely never recover." Clovis spoke with a smile, utterly unconcerned, having seemingly forgotten his own surname. The Duke was his idol, his spiritual mentor, the very embodiment of the power, tactics, and status he worshipped. Deep down, he saw himself as the Duke's dog—no, not even a dog, merely the Duke's shadow.

  Clovis inquired, "But this incident has dramatically boosted the Church's political clout. With the situation now chaotic, what should we do?"

  "Do nothing rashly—at least not publicly," the Duke shook his head. "As you said, the situation remains unclear. Bishop Ronis, who never meddled in politics, has suddenly become active. And our dangerous friend has also made a significant appearance. Together with the Church, they have gained the attention of His Majesty and even other nations. Though their focus seems not yet on politics, how will they develop in the future? What will their relationship with military forces be? Until these circumstances are fully clear, we absolutely must not expose ourselves with great fanfare."

  "Yes, I understand." Clovis nodded. Even if the duke later forgot the exact wording of these words, he could repeat them verbatim.

  The duke continued, "Yet we cannot truly do nothing. For our circumstances are largely favorable. My capable daughter—your wife—demonstrated remarkable composure during that perilous hunt. It was an unexpected blessing. His Majesty even granted her a title and a position in the treasury. Though I refrained from interfering to preserve the appearance of integrity, this will undoubtedly prove advantageous to us in the future. Moreover, with military power firmly in my grasp and my position as solid as a rock, opportunities abound amidst this chaos and realignment of forces. We must not squander such favorable conditions. In our actions, we must spare no effort to steer events toward our desired outcome." He wore a rather smug, enigmatic expression. "To put it plainly, we'll simply orchestrate some behind-the-scenes scheming. No need to thrust ourselves into the limelight—we must never reveal our hand."

  The duke sighed, as if an artist signing and annotating a satisfying work. "Cunning is the privilege of the wise, the tool of the victorious. Use it freely when possible. Yet noble virtues like integrity and honesty are equally precious—they must not be neglected. Balancing both yields what we call 'scheming.'"

  "I understand," Clovis nodded in admiration. He wished he could engrave these profound words and explanations onto his very soul. The generous gift his uncle had just offered was the perfect outcome of such clever tactics. It proved far more effective than the exhausting, violent methods of direct confrontation.

  During the military council meeting two days prior, Duke Mrak had casually mentioned how the Erney family had long exploited their political influence to monopolize commerce and amass wealth. Such matters were typically hidden from outsiders, but Clovis was no outsider. He had long been attentive to these affairs, so though the duke spoke sparingly, every word struck at the heart of the matter.

  With the duke's eloquence and cunning, these words were naturally delivered at the perfect moment, seemingly spoken offhand with little concern.　　Yet,　　when they reached the ears of ministers who had　　long harbored hostility toward the Erney family and were waiting for an opportunity to strike a fallen foe, they naturally took great interest. Thus, matters progressed smoothly. These assets quietly and seamlessly transferred into the hands of the Duke, a man always above reproach, never engaging in petty schemes.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Now the Duke could finally breathe easy and steel himself for the grand maneuvers ahead. Not only would this scheme vastly increase his wealth, laying the groundwork for future bold ventures, but it also plugged a massive, long-standing vulnerability—a gaping hole that had robbed him of sleep and peace of mind.

  For a long time, the Duke had devoted all his energy to this patchwork operation, leaving him no room for action elsewhere. Since he could no longer take action against the one who knew too much, he had no choice but to erase all evidence and traces of his　　past concealment of information and financial support for Oufu. This was an absolutely troublesome task, bordering on impossible for anyone else. Fortunately, thanks to the Duke's exceptional abilities, he accomplished it flawlessly after investing considerable effort and time.

  Moreover, Oufu was now diligently cultivating relations with various nations. Since the Duke had gained no significant advantage from Oufu's establishment, without concrete evidence, no one would believe any claim that the Duke had colluded with Oufu.

  Everything was now neatly arranged. The Erney family's assets would significantly bolster the Duke's power. For a master strategist of such exceptional skill, even the smallest advantage could yield immense results.

  Clovis arrived at Chancellor's residence at dusk, finding the Chancellor dining alone.

  "You're here. Come, let us speak." Though savoring exquisite cuisine, Chancellor appeared visibly weary, dispensing with formalities as he beckoned his nephew. Recent events had evidently drained his energy, leaving little reserve for superficial courtesies.

  Before the conversation began, the Chancellor first dismissed the astonishing number of servants surrounding him. The vast dining hall housed several chefs, pastry chefs, and grill masters, ever-ready to cater to the Chancellor's ever-changing whims. Three servants stood by the table carving meat, two poured wine, four others, specially trained, swiftly selected dishes from the astonishing array on the table, arranging them most aesthetically on individual plates. Finally, two attendants, their garments nearly more ornate than Clovis's own, wearing uniform wigs and powdered faces, served the Chancellor by guiding these delicacies into his mouth. Were it not for the pleasure of savoring how these exquisite creations would become tender and flavorful through his own effort, the Chancellor would likely require servants to chew for him as well.

  This was no grand spectacle, merely a daily affair. His appetite had diminished considerably, hence only forty dishes per meal. Even this minimal retinue of servants represented a bare necessity; any further reduction would be an outright disgrace.

  His Excellency's longstanding disdain for Duke Mrak stemmed largely from the duke's lack of his own grandeur. To a man who ate without servants, cared little for fine cuisine, and even fetched his own bread, no amount of high office or lavish banquets in gilded halls with silverware could mask the fact that, at his core, he remained nothing more than a provincial upstart.

  But now circumstances have forced us to bow to this country bumpkin. Chancellor, looking rather listless, handed over the ledgers, documents, and the family seal—all prepared long ago—to Clovis. With a hint of resignation, he said: "Truth be told, it's rather shameful. You were once the most talented and promising young member of our family. But because of your father, everyone grew distant from you, and I too harbored some prejudice against you."

  Clovis remained silent and expressionless—an aloofness toward family members cultivated since childhood. Yet he could see his uncle had truly reached a dead end. For it is only when one is utterly disheartened that they speak candidly without reservation.

  "If we can endure this most difficult period, our family still has a chance to turn things around. After all, we retain considerable latent influence both within and outside the court. So you must pay close attention and diligently manage these estates while serving Duke Mrak. I am growing old. The future of this family now rests upon you." " His Excellency the Chancellor spoke with solemn earnestness, hoping to motivate his nephew to dedicate himself to the family cause from a personal perspective.

  For the first time in his life, Clovis smiled at his uncle: "Rest assured, I'll handle this."

  "Very well. You have my gratitude." For the first time, Chancellor felt that despite having a profligate father, this nephew was indeed capable.

  Turning to leave, Clovis walked down the Chancellor's mansion's wide, deep corridors and let out a cold laugh. He understood his uncle's intentions perfectly well. Yet now, clutching the very symbols of the family's power in his hands, he felt not the slightest sense of accomplishment or satisfaction. He didn't even dare to hope for anything. He knew it wouldn't take him and the Duke much time or effort to transform these documents and seals into things utterly unrelated to the Erney family. His heart was filled only with the triumph and satisfaction of vengeance.

  According to family tradition, these items should have belonged to his father, then passed down to him. But because his father had been a complete wastrel, the family had no choice but to hand them over to his uncle, intending to establish a new head of the household. And because of his father, he himself had endured the family's ostracism and cold stares.

  He harbored no expectations regarding his uncle's promises of the family legacy passing to him. Not even in his subconscious did he entertain the slightest thought of defying the Duke. For one thing, the disparity in power was stark—as obvious as a rabbit never dreaming it could devour a lion. More crucially, he was already mentally subjugated, a complete subordinate to the Duke.

  The sound of a woman's cries and the thud of blows from the next room interrupted his thoughts. Clovis frowned, listened, then walked over.

  The weather was not hot, yet everyone in this room stood utterly naked. Several women huddled together on the enormous bed, trembling as they watched a man in the corner beating a woman.

  The man's limbs were thin and frail, suggesting little strength, yet he lashed out like a rabid dog—biting, clawing, tearing, kicking, and punching the woman's snow-white body. Between blows, he screamed, "You dare refuse my orders! You dare block my blows!" The woman dared not resist, barely managing to shield her face as she wailed and screamed.

  "What are you doing in my house?" Lord Chancellor glared at Clovis, who had suddenly appeared at the doorway. This time, his father had barely saved his life, but he had also given him a thorough scolding and even struck him with his own hands. It was the first lesson he had ever received since his birth, and it made him furious beyond measure. His only outlet for this rage was to vent it on these women.

  Clovis didn't bother answering, merely waving the object in his hand as if to taunt. This good-for-nothing had always flaunted his father's possessions to show off.

  The good-for-nothing was aware of recent developments and showed no hostility toward this display. After a moment's thought, he suddenly said, "Come in. We need to discuss something. I need your help."

  Clovis stepped inside. While he certainly had no intention of helping, he was curious to hear what this was about. After all, this was the first time the good-for-nothing had ever asked him for anything.

  "Get out. All of you, get out." Modo kicked the beaten woman in the face, driving all the women out before turning to Clovis. "Lend me those dozens of men from your Paladin Order. I need to kill someone." His voice and expression twisted with viciousness. "I have to kill that bastard, no matter what. You know why my dad beat me? He beat me for this!"

  Clovis couldn't help but sneer coldly. A piece of trash remained a piece of trash, apparently still learning nothing from this. And what kind of organization was the Paladin Order? How could they possibly be used for a personal vendetta?

  But what bothered him most was the loser's tone—still so arrogant, as if he owed him a favor. He sneered, "Why should I help you?"

  Modo's tone didn't soften at all, growing even more condescending, as if offering this favor was some kind of honor he was bestowing. A true spoiled brat would throw a tantrum and act like a big shot no matter what. "Don't think our family's current troubles mean anything. Mark my words—when we rise again, my father will still be the head of the household. Do you really think your good-for-nothing father has the qualifications? In the end, the family estate will pass to me anyway. So siding with me now is absolutely the right move."

  Clovis chuckled coldly with delight. His mocking laughter derided the fool before him, while his joy stemmed from finally standing atop the pinnacle of victory, looking down on these now laughable displays of bravado.

  "You wouldn't dare!" the Chancellor's son screamed. "Do you think I don't know? That woman of yours was his old lover! Compared to him, you're not even a man! He's got the Bishop protecting him, so you don't dare touch him, you useless coward!"

  Clovis's two sword-like eyebrows shot together in a fierce frown, sparks flashing in his eyes. But he immediately closed them and fell silent.

  After a moment, Clovis opened his eyes, the fire hidden deep within. His expression was blank as he replied, "No. I won't take the fall for you." He turned and walked out.

  "Stop right there!" Modo rushed out after him, but Clovis vanished in a few long strides. Modo could only storm back inside, seething. "Mark my words. You'll pay for this." Suddenly, his bare foot caught on a small object on the floor. Picking it up, he saw it was a tiny, exquisitely carved seal bearing Clovis's name and the sacred cross emblem of the Paladin Order.

  "Smart move," Modo muttered under his breath, glaring in the direction Clovis had vanished.