Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 765 - 426: Turmoil on All Sides (Part 2)

Now, things are different. Gray Rock Province has fallen.

The centuries-old foundation of the Raymond family has been cut out inch by inch by that cold knife from the Northern Territory.

Kaelin knew very well what that meant.

Without the wealth of Gray Rock Province, without the continuous supply of private troops, Raymond would no longer be the true controller of the Empire.

He was merely a defeated man carrying a group of remnant soldiers, fleeing back to the Imperial Capital in panic.

"Grand Marshal..." Kaelin slowly savored this title in his heart, a hint of uncontrollable violent pleasure appearing at the corner of his mouth. "Do you still have the right to treat me as a pawn now?"

The feeling was peculiar.

Louis’s knife from the Northern Territory had not struck him but had precisely pierced through Raymond’s toughest armor.

So, he was somewhat grateful to Louis, this wild wolf.

Kaelin slowly withdrew his gaze; he knew Raymond’s nature better than anyone else. That old Duke had never been loyal.

Raymond simply chose him to be a puppet, and once the situation stabilized, Raymond would certainly act.

Replace his personal guards, or use drugs to control his will, or even fabricate an accident, then replace him with a more obedient puppet on this chair.

In the past, he was powerless to resist because Raymond possessed absolute power.

But now, the old wolf had lost its sharp claws and retreat.

Yet, a beast with no way out would become even more frantic, more eager to clutch its last chips tightly.

"So..." Kaelin muttered to himself, voice so low it was almost inaudible, "Raymond, you are my greatest enemy now."

Before breaking with the Northern Territory, before settling scores with the Fifth Prince and those fanatics.

In this cage of an Imperial Capital, he must personally devour this former benefactor.

Otherwise, the next one served on the table would be himself.

"Now, you’re nothing more than an old dog that lost its kennel." Kaelin’s mouth curled into a cold smile.

He would use the pretext of reclaiming the Southeast and defending the Southwest to repeatedly send Raymond’s remaining loyalists into the true grinder.

Once those knights perished, once Raymond could no longer produce Gold Coins or victories, those around him would naturally start to waver.

By then, he would, in the name of the Emperor, draw in the minor nobility and lower knights who had lost faith in Raymond.

A Duke who lost his territory and purse,

What can he use to buy loyalty?

Kaelin slowly exhaled, raised the wine glass on the table, and lightly toasted the empty study.

"Thank you, Louis." His eyes shone with madness and cunning under the dim light.

"You pulled out Raymond’s teeth for me. The remaining flesh, I will eat piece by piece myself."

......

In the prayer chamber, there was almost no light.

Only a slender candlestick stood at the edge of the altar, dragon’s breath incense slowly melting in the flame, releasing a sweet and heavy scent.

The candlelight flickered, casting two elongated shadows on the wall against the large Holy Emblem with the Golden Feather Flower.

The outline of the emblem twisted slightly in the light, as if a huge bird nailed to the wall, wings spread, yet ready to break at any moment.

Fifth Prince Lampard stood with his back to the door.

He was bowed, wiping a ceremonial longsword, the silvery blade flickering coldly in the candlelight.

A crumpled sheepskin parchment was slowly burning in the brazier, the flames devouring the text, turning the proclamation into ashes bit by bit.

"Duke." Lampard’s voice held no emotional fluctuations. "I sometimes think, the Calvin Clan really does produce talented people."

He continued to wipe the sword, not turning around.

"Your son curses me as a prostitute in the north, while you manage the purse strings for me in the south. Are you father and son planning to eat from both sides?"

Lampard suddenly halted his movements.

He turned around, the sword tip lowering, yet a moment later it lifted slightly, pointing virtually at the ground.

His eyes locked onto the Duke’s throat like a venomous snake.

"Give me a reason. A reason not to send you to the gallows. Don’t tell me that you can’t control him, that kind of nonsense."

In the chamber, the air solidified.

Duke Calvin stood there, he did not kneel, nor did he offer any defense.

He was silent for a moment, then spoke without mentioning Louis.

"Your Majesty." His voice was aged and calm. "The carrier pigeons from the Holy City have just arrived."

There was hardly any noticeable movement of Lampard’s brow.

"I heard that the old Golden Feather Flower blooming atop the Holy Mountain..." The Duke raised his eyes to the Holy Emblem on the wall, "The petals have already withered."

The sword tip trembled slightly, Lampard’s pupils shrank sharply.

He understood the meaning of the words, the old Pope was near death.

Duke Calvin stepped forward half a step, as if entering a sacred forbidden zone, yet also as if nearing the edge of the Abyss.

His voice lowered, both a prayer and a temptation: "Winter is coming, flowers fall and bloom, it is merely the course of nature. But who will the next blooming Golden Feather Flower crown upon..."

At this moment, the candle flame flickered intensely.

The Duke raised his head: "Your Majesty, my third son, Eduardo. He is currently standing on the second step of the Holy Stairs. Just one step away from that white throne representing the supreme divine power."

Upon hearing this, Lampard silently sat back onto the uncomfortable prayer chair, the backrest hard and straight, clearly not meant for prolonged rest.

He raised his hand to rub his brow, fingers pressing the temple, as if forcibly suppressing some surging emotion.