Chapter 36: Myrain Viscounty [3]

The brief period between Ser Hughway’s arrival through the transportation circle and Craig’s landing had been more than enough time for the veteran knight to exert absolute control over Heaven’s Net Castle.

By ancient, unwritten tradition across the Western Continent, the primary Guardian Knight of a newly appointed lord automatically assumed the role of Supreme Commander over that territory’s armed forces.

A ruling lord required an absolute, unquestionable proxy to command the local garrison, and Hughway had moved with terrifying efficiency.

The moment his boots touched the transit circle’s floor, he produced the Seventh Successor’s personal seal, assumed command of the castle guard, and mobilized every prominent figure within the Myrain Viscounty to prepare for their new ruler’s arrival.

While the local barons, civil administrators, and high-ranking military commanders waited anxiously inside the grand throne room, Ser Hughway had stepped outside to personally greet his lord.

Now, at the top of the entrance stairs, Ser Hughway dropped cleanly onto one knee, bowing his head in deep reverence before the crimson-cloaked youth.

"You may rise, Hughway," Craig spoke smoothly, pulling off one of his black leather riding gloves as he approached his knight.

Ser Hughway stood up, offering a sharp, professional smile. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Has everyone assembled as instructed?" Craig asked, his golden eyes scanning the castle gates.

"Yes, Lord Viscount," Hughway replied, stepping into stride beside Craig as they began walking toward the castle interior.

"All key personnel have been gathered in the main throne room. Furthermore..." Hughway leaned in slightly, his voice dropping.

"I brought Arya along, just as she requested. She is currently settling into the inner servant quarters."

Hughway braced himself for a mild reprimand, but Craig merely shrugged, a faint, cold smirk touching his lips.

"That is perfect," Craig murmured, his eyes reflecting a distant, calculating light. "Keeping the rat close where we can watch her spin her web is far better than letting her loose in the capital."

With those words, the two moved past the massive iron-reinforced doors.

Armed soldiers and armored knights lined the wide marble corridors every ten paces, snapping their right fists over their chest plates in crisp, synchronized bows as the Seventh Successor passed them.

It did not take long for Craig and Ser Hughway to reach the towering double doors of the Grand Throne Room.

As the guards pulled the heavy doors back, the hum of nervous whispers inside the hall died instantly.

Within the hierarchy of the Duchy, a Viscounty was a massive feudal enterprise, traditionally encompassing eight distinct baronies beneath its administration.

The same rule of eight applied upward, with a County overseeing eight viscounties.

As Craig’s boots clicked against the polished black marble floor, every noble, commander, and official standing along the red carpet bowed their heads as one, their voices echoing in powerful unison:

"We greet our Lord Viscount!"

Craig paid little attention to the bow, moving with effortless, predatory grace up the elevated dais.

He sat down comfortably upon the high, obsidian-carved throne of Myrain, resting his elbows on the carved armrests.

Ser Hughway moved up to take his place immediately at Craig’s right hand, his gloved palm resting on the pommel of his longsword.

From his elevated seat, Craig quietly swept his gaze over the gathered crowd below.

The military standing of the Myrain Viscounty was surprisingly solid.

Looking down at the formation of thirty garrison commanders, Craig’s sharp mana perception instantly dissected their power classes.

Every single one of them was a confirmed Superhuman.

Among them stood seventeen Sword Apprentices, ten Sword Runners, and three powerful Sword Sages.

Crucially, one of those three Sword Sages was a true Ranker—a warrior who possessed an awakened talent.

Prior to Ser Hughway’s arrival an hour ago, this Ranker Sword Sage had served as the Viscounty’s Supreme Military Commander.

’Not bad,’ Craig analyzed internally, offering a subtle, approving nod. ’The garrison force is decent. But as for these civil administrators...’

Of the eight baronies under Myrain’s banner, only seven Barons were currently present, as the Lucerion Barony remained vacant following Craig’s own promotion.

Standing opposite the knights, however, were over twenty high-ranking civil officials and government ministers dressed in lavish silk robes.

Craig’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at them.

Twenty was far too bloated.

A lean, effective territory required no more than ten core ministers; anything beyond that was an breeding ground for corruption, unnecessary taxes, and political inefficiency.

Craig fully intended to cull their numbers down to ten in due time, but for the moment, he chose to remain silent, observing their body language and mana signatures.

After a long, heavy silence, the Seventh Successor finally decided to speak.

His voice was calm, refined, and echoed clearly across the cavernous throne room.

"I offer my gratitude to the Barons for their dedicated service to the prosperity of this domain," Craig began, his golden eyes resting briefly on the seven nobles.

"I extend my thanks to the civil administrators for maintaining order, and I honor the knights for their unbending loyalty to the Darkstar bloodline."

The court breathed a minor sigh of relief, believing the young lord was about to give a standard, predictable opening speech.

However, just as Craig was about to deliver his concluding remarks, a heavy step broke the quiet of the hall.

One of the senior civil officials pushed his way to the front of the red carpet.

Dressed in elaborate, gold-embroidered velvet robes, the middle-aged man bowed his head just low enough to satisfy technical court etiquette, though the arrogant grin playing across his lips was impossible to miss.

"Forgive the interruption, Lord Viscount," the official spoke up, his voice loud, theatrical, and utterly uninvited.

"Who are you?" Craig eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"I am Sebas, Master of State Affairs for the Myrain Viscounty."

Sebas straightened his back, looking up at the fifteen-year-old boy seated on the obsidian throne with a patronizing, subtle smile.

"Given your extreme youth, your recent ascension, and your lack of experience in complex territorial management, I humbly request that your Lordship refrain from interfering with the established administrative policies of this realm," Sebas declared, his tone dripping with fake deference.

"Rest assured, my fellow official masters and I shall handle the heavy burden of governance. It would be best for you to simply relax, enjoy your new title, and let us do our work uninterrupted."

The atmosphere in the throne room instantly froze. Several minor officials exchanged quick, triumphant glances.

Sebas’s maneuver was an ancient, crude political play: establish dominance over the green, fifteen-year-old successor on his very first day, rendering him a mere figurehead while the senior bureaucrats retained the real power and treasury control.

Had Craig been a normal fifteen-year-old boy, he might have been flustered, hesitant, or pressured into agreeing to avoid a confrontation.

But sitting upon that throne was a man who possessed the memories of a forty-year-old apocalyptic survivor.

A veteran who had lived through the bloodiest, most ruthless political purges of the Succession War in his past life.

Craig understood Sebas’s shallow game completely.

He also knew that every baron, commander, and rat in this room was watching his reaction.

In the brutal world of the Darkstar Lineage, showing a single second of hesitation or weakness was equivalent to signing one’s own death warrant.

A faint, cold smile curled Craig’s lips. He didn’t argue.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even address Sebas directly.

Instead, Craig shifted his eyes toward the military lineup, locking onto the imposing, heavily armored figure standing at the front of the knights.

"Ser Gunther," Craig called out softly.

The Ranker Sword Sage stepped out of line immediately, slamming his fist over his armor as he bowed.

"My Lord!"

Craig turned his gaze back to Master Sebas, his golden eyes completely devoid of warmth.

"Execute Master Sebas."