A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

The Southlands, the most prosperous region of the Empire.

Verdant forests, tranquil lakes, fertile lands… it can be said that the territories nestled in the Southlands rarely face any resource scarcity. The imperial citizens living here are the fortunate ones, envied by the common folk from other regions of the empire.

Although the age-old problems persist, at least the majority here can lead a relatively peaceful and harmonious life.

However, today, among these fortunate ones… some unfortunate souls are about to emerge.

Within the grand hall of the palace, Ephesande, seated high on her throne, is resting her cheek on her hand, watching with interest the massive holographic screen that displays a three-dimensional scene before her and her ministers.

A meaningless war, initiated solely to chastise Evora and without any justifiable reason, is about to commence.

At this moment, the tyrannical empress seems to have developed some interest. She, who has been dormant in the source flame for many years, hasn’t indulged herself for a long time. Therefore, she temporarily shifts her attention from her daughter and focuses on this war.

“Ansel.”

The elderly woman on the throne chuckles, “Tell me, what’s so special about these two territories that they were chosen by you, fortunate enough to present this performance to me?”

Ansel, standing below the throne, nods with a smile. He waves his hand lightly, and the holographic screen moves to the left, revealing a massive army clad in black armor.

“This is the Spirity Lake territory, supported by the Etheric Academy.”

As Ansel speaks, he zooms the holographic screen into the camp at the rear of the army. Soon, a handsome middle-aged man with a serious and weathered expression appears on the screen.

“Ferdinand of Spirity Lake. He has been the Count of Spirity Lake for twenty-three years. Most of the nobles in the Southlands have a good opinion of him. He is an excellent lord who thinks highly of his subjects.”

“And on the other side…”

The scene on the holographic screen changes rapidly, and another young man, equally handsome but much younger and seemingly nervous, appears.

“Cedric of Watson. The newly appointed Count of Watson after his father’s sudden death. Young, capable, ambitious, and tactful, he also hopes to make a difference and benefit his subjects. He has a promising future.”

After briefly introducing these two lords, Ansel turns to Ephesande and bows slightly, “If Your Majesty desires a thrilling war, then I believe, merely selecting two territories that meet your requirements is far from enough.”

Ansel snaps his fingers, and the scene on the massive holographic screen changes again, revealing an area shrouded in a strange pale blue mist.

“This is the core area of the Spirity Lake territory, where the etheric ley lines are most concentrated.”

The young Hydral shifts his gaze to an old man at the forefront of the noble procession, “About a month ago, our Grand Duke of Arboros conducted a small experiment in the Spirity Lake territory, but this experiment was, um… out of control.”

“It failed.”

The old man, leaning on his cane and slightly hunched, smiles. But when the smile appears on his wrinkled old face, it looks more terrifying than not smiling, “Ansel, you don’t have to save my face… As soon as you mentioned the Spirity Lake territory, I remembered that incident.”

He strokes his chin, seemingly lost in thought, “That experiment contaminated the etheric ley lines of the Spirity Lake territory, causing various abnormal life forms or monsters to appear. And currently, there’s no way to eradicate them. However, I promised Ferdinand that I would station people in the Spirity Lake territory to deal with the monster problem for him.”

Ansel nods, “That’s the current predicament of the Spirity Lake territory. As for the Count of Watson, things are much simpler.”

The screen displays a very imposing castle, and Ansel’s voice rings out again:

“His father died due to a conspiracy not worth mentioning here. Naturally, our Count of Watson faced great pressure when he took over. His enemies tried every means to create difficulties for him, and the internal situation in the Watson territory is now very chaotic. He is suffering from this and needs an opportunity to solve all problems at once. So… I gave it to him on your behalf.”

The young Hydral turns around, bows to the empress on the throne whose eyes are becoming brighter, and smiles warmly:

“If a war is purely out of compulsion, then it’s filled with detestable confusion and boredom. If you are to be satisfied, at least… both sides of the war should have a clear reason to spur them into fighting each other.”

“And coincidentally… both sides of this war have reasons worth fighting to the death for. I believe you should find it entertaining, Your Majesty.”

His actions and words, if stripped of their performance, are clearly those of a court jester trying to please the empress.

But apart from that increasingly senile empress on the throne, whose sanity is being eroded by chaos and madness, all the nobles and ministers standing here do not regard the young man below the throne as some laughable jester or clown.

They have an incredibly keen sense of smell, and this sense is telling them that Ansel of Hydral in this game is certainly not someone forced to act on the empress’s orders.

—He definitely did not make such a meticulous arrangement just to please the empress.

These two territories, these two lords, seem to perfectly meet the empress’s viewing needs, but the old monsters who can mingle in the highest political circles of the empire will never believe that Ansel’s arrangement is just that… he must have his own considerations and goals.

What is he plotting in secret, and what is he pursuing? Everyone wants to understand, but of course, it’s not to pose a threat, but to hope to understand and, as much as possible, align with this young Hydral, or at the very least… not to stand against him.

Of course, this is just the consideration of the ministers and nobles. The empress, who just wants to quell her daughter’s arrogance and enjoy a good show, doesn’t think so much, nor does she need to. She just laughs heartily:

“Good, very good! Ansel, I knew you would never disappoint me. Indeed… only when both sides’ need to fight is heartfelt, can this war be interesting enough.”

Ephesande, with a smile on her lips, waves her hand, “Then, let them begin. Let me see…”

She glances at the gloomy Evora, her smile filled with undisguised contempt:

“What my daughter has accomplished.”

*