Chapter 332

Chapter 332. Reshuffle

The Minister of Finance’s wailing stopped abruptly.

His mouth fell open, and a clucking sound came from his throat, but he could not utter a single word in his defense.

He had forgotten.

Or rather, he had never taken that fifteen-year-old girl from seven years ago, isolated and helpless in the royal court and left at others’ mercy, seriously at all.

Who could have imagined that the young girl who had been forced into making a military pledge back then would today become the tyrant who held his life and death in her hands?

Sylvia straightened. The smile on her face vanished in an instant, and her silver-gray eyes turned as cold as the ice of deep winter.

There was no needless nonsense. She raised her right hand and waved casually.

“Drag him out and hang him. Confiscate all his property.”

Two fully armed Northern Territory soldiers immediately stepped forward, opened the cell door, and hauled up the limp Minister of Finance from either side.

“No! Sylvia! You tyrant! You will die a miserable death!” Knowing that he had no hope of survival, the Minister of Finance burst into vicious curses.

One soldier found him too noisy. Without the slightest hesitation, he raised the butt of his rifle and smashed it hard against the back of the man’s head.

“BANG!”

With a muffled impact, the curses stopped abruptly. The Minister of Finance was knocked unconscious on the spot and dragged toward the execution ground outside the dungeon like a dead dog.

A moment later, the creak of the gallows and the dull thud of a heavy object falling came from the square outside.

The rotten remnants of the old era were being thoroughly washed clean amid blood and screams.

Expressionless, Sylvia turned around and walked toward the next cell, as though she had merely crushed a buzzing fly in passing.

The display meant to make an example of him had ended. But this was only the first step.

Sylvia quickly demonstrated her outstanding skill as a politician.

After all, killing was only a means. Stabilizing royal authority was the goal.

She returned to the study in the Golden Rose Palace and signed more than a dozen decrees in succession.

The first step was to soothe the people.

A series of shocking upheavals had plunged the Royal Capital into extreme panic. The Prime Minister had defected, the old king had died, and the entire city had suddenly been placed under martial law.

On top of that, news of the bloody massacre at Redleaf Manor had just spread everywhere.

The common people at the bottom lived in constant fear, afraid that the flames of war would fall on their heads in the very next second.

Fortunately, thanks to the full support previously provided by Phoenix, heir to the Golden Griffon Merchant Guild, wagon after wagon loaded with affordable supplies continuously entered the major markets of the Royal Capital under the escort of Northern Territory heavy infantry. Large quantities of supplies were forcibly sold into the market.

The prices in the Royal Capital were firmly pinned to a safe line, preventing a fatal run on goods and a famine from breaking out during the vacuum of power transition.

But this was still not enough. Sylvia decisively mobilized the royal family’s propaganda apparatus.

At the first light of dawn, hundreds upon thousands of newspaper boys waved newspapers still fragrant with ink as they ran through the streets and alleys of the Royal Capital. Their clear voices tore through the morning mist.

“Extra! Extra! Her Majesty the Queen has spoken! All extra taxes on commoners for this year are abolished!”

Bards loudly sang of the new policies in taverns, while civil officers stood beside fountains in public squares, holding tin horns as they read the decrees aloud.

The promise was practical: the city’s grain supply would be absolutely guaranteed, and a dedicated fund would be drawn from the illicit assets confiscated from corrupt nobles to maintain infrastructure for the lower classes.

At the same time, she strictly ordered the newly reshuffled city defense army to cooperate with grassroots patrols. Anyone who dared to loot amid the chaos would be shot dead in the street without trial.

With visible bread, audible promises, and an iron fist of overwhelming strength to match, Sylvia forcibly pulled the basic operations of the Royal Capital back on track. The restless public sentiment was pressed firmly within the safety line.

The second step was a personnel reshuffle.

The old nobles had been wiped clean, leaving a massive vacuum of power in the court.

Military authority was the most important matter of all. That thing could never be left in another person’s hands.

The middle-ranking officers of the Royal Capital City Defense Army and the Royal Guard were all removed by her in one sweep.

The replacements were all from the core group that had crawled out of piles of corpses in the Northern Territory. Military power had to be held firmly in her own hands.

Deep into the night, the Council Chamber of the Golden Rose Palace was brightly lit.

Sylvia looked at the Cabinet list Esmeralda had compiled and frowned slightly.

Of the three great ministers who had once held power over the entire court, the Minister of Foreign Affairs had drunk Dorg’s blood wine at Redleaf Manor last night and died violently on the spot. Even his corpse had already gone cold.

The Minister of Finance had just been hung from the gallows in the square that morning, swaying in the wind.

Of the entire core of the Cabinet, only Conrad, the Minister of Military Affairs, remained.

“Go and summon Conrad.” Sylvia rubbed her brow and instructed Esmeralda, who stood beside her.

Half an hour later, Conrad, the Minister of Military Affairs, hurried into the Council Chamber.

This old minister, who held the authority to mobilize the nation’s troops, now had cold sweat covering his forehead.

There was no other reason. The old colleagues who had once stood on equal footing with him were basically all dead.

In particular, after personally witnessing the miserable state of the Minister of Finance today, his entire being had fallen into a state of extreme terror. As he walked through the empty corridors, he even felt as though ghosts were everywhere, coming to claim his life.

“Your subject, Conrad, pays respect to Her Majesty the Queen.” Conrad knelt on one knee, his attitude extremely respectful.

Sylvia did not tell him to rise.

She leaned back in her chair and scrutinized the old man.

“Lord Conrad, the Cabinet is very empty right now,” Sylvia said in a flat tone. “How do you think I should arrange your position?”

A chill ran down Conrad’s back. He knew this was a moment that concerned life and death.

“Your subject is old, muddleheaded, and incompetent. I am willing to resign from the post of Minister of Military Affairs and return to my hometown to spend my remaining years in retirement.” Conrad retreated in order to advance, attempting to preserve his old life.

Sylvia let out a soft laugh.

“You are rather clever. However, the kingdom is currently in need of people. If you leave, who will coordinate the garrisons across the regions?”

She stood and walked up to Conrad.

“When we were in the Royal Capital before, you took the initiative to provide intelligence regarding the king’s abnormal behavior, helping us catch Moran’s slip. I have remembered that merit.”

“You will continue to serve as Minister of Military Affairs. But I will be blunt. From this day onward, every transfer order from the military department must bear my personal signature.”

“If you dare play petty tricks behind my back, the fate of the Minister of Finance will serve as your lesson.”

Conrad felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted from him, and he nodded repeatedly.

“Your subject is willing to die ten thousand deaths! I swear to serve Her Majesty the Queen unto death!”

After dealing with the pile of messes in the Royal Capital, Sylvia rubbed her slightly swollen temples and leaned back in her chair.

The long rosewood table before her was piled high with account ledgers that had just been confiscated from the major families, transfer applications from the city defense army,

as well as the preliminary draft on various reforms that she had not yet had time to sign.

Two consecutive days of purges and high-intensity decision-making had left even a Sixth-Tier Knight feeling somewhat tired.

Just then, the heavy palace door was pushed open silently.

Esmeralda stepped in on her long legs, walking as casually as though she were taking an afternoon stroll. Her signature languid gait seemed out of place in this murderous atmosphere, yet it also brought a perfectly timed hint of breathing room.