Chapter 333

Chapter 333. Simov: I Won the Gamble!

“Your Highness, a letter has arrived from the Western Territory.”

With her usual lazy, teasing smile, Esmeralda gently placed a confidential letter sealed with special wax on the desk piled high with documents.

“General Valen was very cautious with his wording in the letter, but between the lines, it is full of undisguised ‘astonishment.’”

“He said that the boy Simov is a rare ‘talent.’ Decisive in killing, ruthless in his methods, and far more pleasing to the eye than those nobles who only know how to dance the tango at balls.”

Sylvia took the letter. Her fingertips slid over Valen’s rough, powerful handwriting. The letter described in detail the recent changes in the Western Territory.

She did not immediately comment. Instead, she slowly stood and walked to the huge kingdom map hanging by the wall.

Her gaze slowly moved across the Western Territory before finally stopping at the position of the ducal manor, the symbol of power.

“Valen’s assessment is very fair.” Sylvia’s fingertip tapped lightly on the Western Territory’s position.

“However, although old Duke Grahaed is dead, he managed the Western Territory for many years. Those deeply entrenched old forces and the diehard faction loyal to the Grahaed Family will never immediately bow their heads and submit just because his son betrayed him.”

“If we rashly send troops from the Royal Capital to take over directly at this moment, it will easily provoke the local nobles into united resistance. If the problem is not resolved within half a year, it will become a major disaster.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, rapidly calculating the chessboard in her mind.

“Since we have a blade like Simov, it would be a waste not to use him.”

“He needs our legitimacy to stabilize his rule, while we need him to consume and integrate those remaining resistance forces. As long as we push him into power, those old forces in the Western Territory will have no choice but to attach themselves to him in order to protect themselves.”

“Pass down my order.” Sylvia issued the final command. “Tell Valen to fully cooperate with Simov and assist him in taking over the remaining forces in the Western Territory. Also, make it clear to all the great lords of the Western Territory that Simov is the only heir to the Western Territory recognized by the royal family.”

She paused, her tone cold and firm. “Draft an edict. Formally enfeoff Simov as the Duke of the Western Territory.”

...

The scene shifted to the Western Territory, a thousand miles away.

In the rear garden of the Duke’s Manor in the Western Territory, the scenery was pleasant.

Sunlight filtered through the lush branches and fell across a round white-painted table. Simov was leisurely enjoying afternoon tea, as if this place were not a bloody whirlpool of power but a noble tea party on some countryside outing.

In name, he had been placed under house arrest here by several reclusive family elders because of the “crimes” of killing his elder brother and imprisoning his mother, awaiting judgment.

But in reality, his days were quite comfortable.

Around the outer perimeter of the garden stood dense ranks of Royal Guards, and beyond them, the Northern Territory’s magitech heavy artillery arrays were ready to fire at any moment.

News of the shocking upheaval in the Royal Capital had already reached the Western Territory. Old Duke Grahaed had died at Redleaf Manor, and his eldest son Kashido had been personally slain by Simov.

In the entire Grahaed Family, he, Simov, was now the only direct-bloodline descendant with a legitimate right of inheritance.

No matter how furious those reclusive elders were, they did not dare truly kill him. If they killed him, the Western Territory would be left utterly leaderless.

Sitting across from Simov was Valen, commander of the Northern Territory Third Legion.

Valen wore a crisp military uniform and held a cup of black tea as he chatted idly with Simov.

“Young Master Simov, this tea is not bad.” Valen put down his teacup. “But you had better restrain yourself a little over the next few days. Those old men do not have the best tempers.”

Simov picked up a piece of pastry and put it into his mouth, then smiled without a care.

“No matter how bad their tempers are, can they be worse than the magitech cannons outside?” Simov looked at Valen.

“General Valen, I forged a military order and blew up Thunder Gorge. That is a capital offense.”

Valen grinned.

“Please rest assured. I have already written your ‘great achievements’ into the battle report without missing a single word and sent it to the Royal Capital through the expedited channel.”

Valen leaned a little closer and lowered his voice.

“Her Majesty the Queen has always been clear in rewards and punishments. Since you have rendered such a great service, she certainly will not treat you unfairly.”

When Simov heard the words “Her Majesty the Queen,” a sharp gleam flashed through his eyes.

He knew that Dorg was already out of the game. The one at Astrelia’s helm now was that iron-blooded princess who had carved out her fearsome name in the Northern Territory.

As the two were speaking, a sudden commotion came from outside the garden.

A Royal Guard officer hurried in and knelt on one knee.

“Young Master Simov, a special envoy from the Royal Capital has arrived. Please proceed to the front hall at once to receive the decree.”

Simov abruptly stood. He straightened his clothes, took a deep breath, and strode toward the front hall.

In the front hall, several of the family’s reclusive elders stood to one side with ashen faces. They did not dare obstruct the royal envoy, and could only watch helplessly as Simov walked in.

The envoy was a Northern Territory civil official dressed in a black uniform. He unfolded the decree in his hand, stamped with the royal great seal, and read it aloud in a resonant voice.

“Her Majesty the Queen has given an order!”

“Simov, the second son of the Grahaed Family of the Western Territory, decisively dealt with the traitorous rebel Kashido at a time of national crisis and successfully intercepted the Valeria Empire’s army, preserving the territory of the Western Territory. This is truly a great merit!”

“He is hereby pardoned of all crimes. From this day onward, Simov Grahaed is formally enfeoffed as the new Duke of the Western Territory, with the title to be hereditary in perpetuity, and shall command all military and political affairs of the Western Territory!”

“The newly appointed duke is ordered to depart immediately and enter the capital to receive his investiture!”

The decree finished being read.

The front hall was deathly silent.

The reclusive elders looked at one another, but no one dared speak up to refute it.

Simov stepped forward and received the decree with both hands.

He lowered his head and looked at the bright red royal mark on the decree.

He knew that he had completely won this desperate gamble that he had staked his life on.

Not only had he survived, he had also obtained the power he had dreamed of.

Simov raised his head and looked in the direction of the Royal Capital.

“Your subject, Simov, thanks Her Majesty the Queen for her grace. I will depart for the capital immediately.”

He turned and looked at those family elders who had once stood high above him and disdained him.

Now, he was the master of the Western Territory.

The rain over the Royal Capital had stopped.

But the entire power structure of Astrelia had only just begun to be reshaped.

The lines entering and leaving the city gates had changed in appearance.

The luxurious carriages of the old nobles, once hung with intricate family crests and inlaid with gold and silver, had vanished. In their place, teams of carriages and horses from various emerging forces were now rushing into this thousand-year-old capital under all kinds of banners.

The delegation from the Tressely Family, the grand ducal house of the Eastern Territory, was at the very front.

Three hundred fully armed Eastern Territory Iron Cavalry escorted the wide carriage in the center.

Following closely behind the Eastern Territory delegation was the enormous convoy of the Golden Griffon Merchant Guild, stretching for several miles.

Phoenix sat inside the luxurious carriage at the very front, which had been carved from a whole piece of purple goldwood. He swirled the stemmed glass in his hand, and the red wine left a mellow trail along the wall of the glass.

Outside the window, a squad of Northern Territory infantry wearing Second-Generation Magitech Armor patrolled past with orderly steps.

Phoenix tilted his head back and drained the red wine in his glass. He casually tossed the stemmed glass to the maid beside him and burst into loud laughter.

He had won this great gamble beyond measure.