Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 693: Chapter 392: Remonte and Calvin (3)

Salomon admitted briskly and then changed his tone: "So this is just an opening letter. The real invitation is yet to come afterward."

After finishing his statement, he extracted a second larger map from the leather tube he carried.

This time, the parchment spread out, occupying half the table.

A red line set off from the Southeast coast, heading north, encircling the Golden Wheat Plains, then turning west, incorporating the inland river port of Oakheaven Province.

The lamp on the table flickered across the parchment, as if the red line was truly expanding outward.

Salomon’s finger gently pressed at the end of that line: "If the plan succeeds, His Highness plans to support a guardian so that the eastern order will not collapse along."

He spoke calmly, yet each sentence hit at the Duke’s heart: "This encircled area will form a new political entity.

Nominally, it’s the Holy East Empire, acknowledging the spiritual symbol of the Royal Family’s bloodline. Practically, it needs a governor with sufficient prestige and resources."

Calvin’s gaze slowly returned from the red line to Salomon’s face.

"Have you already chosen a candidate?"

"Besides you," Salomon spoke as if stating a fact, "no other name can be written."

He did not mention anything like "Emperor," only advancing the dialogue bit by bit: "The spiritual authority rests with the Holy City and the Royal Family.

Southeast Province’s secular power, such as legislation, minting, convening the Noble Council, granting fiefs, all will concentrate on the governor."

"Put it another way, as long as the Holy East Empire is established." He added, "Within this encircled land, excluding religious ceremonies, all orders must be issued from your hand."

The secret room fell silent.

Only the fine sand in the hourglass was still falling, making a slight friction sound.

Calvin stared at the red line, silent for a long time.

This promise went far beyond his expectations for provincial integration, he even suspected this condition was randomly given.

Not only was it offering a larger fief, but it was proposing.

To tear away the granary and treasury of the Southeast Province along with the nominal rule, thrusting into his palm.

"His Highness is quite bold." The Duke finally spoke, his voice light, "But there is a problem."

Salomon gestured for him to continue.

"These lands," Calvin pointed at the Golden Wheat Plains with his fingertip, "do not currently belong to him. Promising me something not in his pocket, is this not a joke?"

Salomon’s mouth twitched slightly: "Therefore, my purpose today is not to make you believe in the result immediately, but to invite you to see the direction."

"Direction?"

"The Empire is sinking." Salomon looked at him, "His Highness and the Church do not wish to be dragged down with it. We need someone to hold up a piece of the eastern ground that won’t shatter at once."

He paused, lowering his voice: "If you are willing to stand on this ground, future profits can be discussed slowly. The red line on the map is not immutable."

At this stage, the real negotiation had just begun.

Salomon was not eager to continue expanding that red line, instead he slowly took out a letter from his pocket.

The letter bore no signature, a fire lacquer seal imprinted with pure gold, bearing the emblem of waves and the Golden Feather Flower.

The Duke’s fingertip had just touched the lacquer, and his heart tightened slightly.

He did not need to open it to know the contents.

Three days prior, he had already received the same seal from the most secret family channel.

It was a personal letter from his third son, Eduardo.

The confidential letter contained only a few lines but was enough to change the future of the entire continent.

Eduardo confirmed the Fifth Prince’s movements, the inclination within the Cardinal factions, and lastly wrote down a message he himself had deliberated over before penning.

The current Pope was gravely ill, and factions within the Church Court had begun to clear each other’s strengths.

Eduardo Calvin, in that perilous arena, ousted the two strongest opponents with divine miracles and immense family dark gold.

He has now entered the final list of three people and claims his odds are seventy percent.

The Duke, after reading the letter, felt no excitement, only closing his eyes and contemplating for a long time.

Eduardo was the calmest and most straightforward of his children.

If he says seventy percent, then it’s seventy percent.

Salomon seemed to have completely grasped the Duke’s thoughts, pushing the letter a bit closer, his tone still tranquil: "Land may have to be claimed by sword."

"But authority..." he looked up, "is already in your hands."

Calvin’s gaze darkened faintly.

The Divine Envoy leaned forward slightly, his voice lowered, like plotting a colossal secret: "Your Highness Duke, imagine if the future Pope were to bear the name Calvin."

The fire dances in the brazier, reflecting in his eyes like a fine line one dared not gaze at directly.

"That would mean, no matter how many countries rise on the continent, regardless of whether the Empire continues to exist... the Calvin Clan will stand above royal and divine power. That’s a height even the founding Emperor could not reach."

The air seemed suppressed by something.

The Duke did not immediately refute, nor did he display greed.

He merely glanced at the fire lacquer seal, his fingertip gently rubbing its edge.

This was an era handing the reins to him.

Seeing the Duke’s emotions perfectly played out, Salomon slowly drew back his hand: "Your Grace Duke, at this juncture, I must propose a necessary condition."

A crackling sound escaped the charcoal in the brazier.

"To ensure the stability of the eastern front," Salomon’s tone was warm, yet imbued with a sense of irrefusability, "we need the north to become chaotic."

The Duke’s finger halted.

The Divine Envoy continued: "Lord Louis from the Red Tide Territory is well-equipped and resourceful. If he simply cut off the supply of materials to the Empire, and then restrained the Imperial Northern Army... the northern line would immediately become unstable. Then His Highness could effortlessly advance the plan."

The secret chamber was so silent that one could virtually hear the sound of the tides crashing against the port.

The Duke did not immediately respond.

Since the last attempt to use trade routes to incorporate Red Tide failed, Louis was no longer a pup anyone could hold onto.

That child now... resembles more an Edmund than a Calvin Family member.

He seems to have grown out from the northern winds and snow, finding direction on his own, expanding on his own, and establishing order on his own.

Send such a person to instigate civil war in the Northern Territory?

Ha, he might even use the letter to clean his boots.

The key is not letting the Divine Envoy Salomon learn of this.

If the Church and the Fifth Prince realize "you cannot control the wolves of the Northern Territory," the entire negotiation would immediately depreciate.

Thus, the Duke composed himself, rewriting "uncontrollable" into "expensive" in a matter of seconds.

He frowned, pretending to sigh heavily: "Louis... that child listens to me."

He paused, as if weighing: "But he is now also a lord, feeding tens of thousands. Having him risk being consumed by the Empire to fight..."

The Duke raised his eyes, looking sharp as a blade: "That was not included in the original terms."

Salomon’s Holy Emblem tremored slightly.

"If you want the wolves of the Northern Territory to bite," the Duke’s tone remained calm, yet he applied pressure step by step, "you’ll need to offer more meat."

The air hung for half a breath.

Salomon eventually nodded: "Fine."

He took out another parchment from his pocket, pushing it before the Duke: "His Highness and the Council of Cardinals are willing to add three years of military funding to the existing terms, to support the Northern defense line in the Red Tide Territory."

He added: "Furthermore, the clergy will provide blessings, protection, and pre-battle sacred rituals for the Red Tide Army at no charge."

The Duke’s mind chuckled softly.

Louis would never permit the clergy to set foot in Red Tide.

However, this three-year military funding... he could pocket first, then consider how to relay it to the north if there’s an opportunity.

They wouldn’t know where the money went, and as for Louis, a simple letter asking if he needed help or not.

With this matter cemented, they went on in lowered voices to settle several crucial details, like the contact methods of the legion, routes for material transport, and the strategic pieces the Fifth Prince needed to place inside the Imperial Capital.

The atmosphere was as heavy as the rain outside the chamber; each decision seemed like wedging another stone into the Empire’s cracks.

Until the Divine Envoy left.

The Duke sat alone in the chair, tapping his fingers against the table, unmoving for a long time.

He was well aware that the Fifth Prince’s ambition was unrealistically large. But the direction offered by Salomon... did have some reasoning.

The Calvin Clan will eventually be forced to choose sides.

Choosing now would mean tossing the family’s fate into a storm.

Better to wait until the situation becomes clearer or if Eduardo truly ascends to the papal position, then he could effortlessly take the reins, after all, no oaths were signed nor had he pressed a handprint today.

If the Fifth Prince manages to control the situation, he would naturally position himself at the right juncture.

If he doesn’t? Well, he never agreed to anything.