"At tis like these, we must not beco other people’s pawns. We need to integrate all the Nobility of the Northern Territory, all ard forces, and all productive power."
Bradley stared at him blankly.
Louis continued, "Not just to survive the upcoming storm, but to... go further."
Bradley suddenly looked up, and for a mont, it seed as if he saw the outline of a new Empire slowly forming in Louis’ eyes.
It wasn’t ambition, but rather the inevitability bestowed upon him by the era.
"By the way," Louis suddenly asked, "How are the preparations for the Northern Territory reconstruction eting?"
Bradley imdiately ca back to reality: "Everything is as you instructed. The location is set at Frost Halberd City, the ti is autumn."
Frost Halberd City, the old capital of the Northern Territory, the political center and spiritual symbol.
The city that had turned into scorched earth amid the fires of the Nest and Barbarian Race was quietly rebuilt by Louis.
A cold light flickered in Louis’ eyes: "The official reason for this eting remains reconstruction, but the real purpose is to unify military power."
I want to reorganize all ard forces in the Northern Territory and incorporate them into a unified command system."
He raised his hand, brushing over the power range of Raymond and the location of the Imperial Northern Army on the map, finally letting his fingertip fall on Red Tide City.
"Does Father want to restrain the Northern Army?" Louis sneered, "No, he underestimates ."
"A true player...never plays according to soone else’s board."
......
Gray Stone Fortress.
The cold wind slapped against the Iron Wall, the sound like a beast outside gnawing at the door.
Gray Stone Fortress stood between the north and south, like a black iron gate, tearing the whole Northern Territory into two halves.
Along the corridor, a torch was inserted every five ters, the flas danced in the cold wind, illuminating the dried heads of Magical Beasts on the wall with a ferocious exceptionality, like trophies, but also like warnings.
Inside the eting room, the firelight of the fireplace flickered.
Ackman Greer sat at the main seat, his robust figure resembling a standing brown bear.
He sat casually, yet it made the whole room feel like the air was compressed, a unique pressure from years of being the Legion commander.
Fernan, deputy commander of the Fourteenth Legion, and the leader of the Seventh Legion, Soros, sat on either side of him, both being trusted subordinates of their respective legion commanders, responsible for representing their commanders at such border high-level etings.
At the mont, both sat beside Ackman, their collars soaked in sweat, yet not daring to loosen their buttons.
When Fernan spoke, his voice was a bit tense: "Lord Greer, we already agreed, based on the agreent with the Second Prince’s Special Envoy, Sorel, we only need to maintain blurred vision and noble silence towards the Northern Territory.
Why suddenly summon us to discuss joint defense? This move... will be seen as overstepping."
Ackman did not answer imdiately.
He poured himself a cup of strong liquor, smuggled from the Jade border, outrageously expensive.
He took a sip, then let out a hoarse laugh.
"What the Second Prince promised was rely a winery in the Valencia Valley and a Viscount title." Ackman sneered, "He wants to be a well-fed guard lion, probably sothing similar promised to you?"
Fernan’s brow furrowed deeper, hesitating: "But..."
"Do you know? Now," Ackman slamd the cup on the table, splashing wine, "The Regent King is dying."
The two officers took a sharp breath.
Ackman continued: "Once chaos breaks out in the Imperial Capital, the Princes will tear each other apart like hungry wolves. If the Second Prince loses, we, the border legions, will be the first discarded pawns."
He lowered his voice, a flicker of ambition in his eyes: "But what if I stand on the other side of the storm? What if I could beco the Governor of the North, wielding the Empire’s hardest iron and most coal...?
No matter who becos the new Emperor, they will have to grant a hereditary Duke title, and of course, your benefits won’t be lacking then."
Soros licked his cracked lips: "Lord... do you really intend to swallow the Northern Territory?"
Ackman stood up, walked to the map, his finger fiercely landed on Frost Halberd City: "Open your eyes and see! Ever since the battle at the Nest and the Bone Burial Wasteland, the Edmund Clan is all but dead! Among the Northern Territory’s renowned Knight Orders, nine out of ten are gone!"
He showed a disdainful smile: "As for that Louis? Just a young lad. Don’t be fooled by his flashy tricks, the true strong ones of the Northern Territory died in the Nest and at the hands of the Barbarian Race."
Ackman unfolded a parchnt on the table, revealing a docunt titled "Draft of Northern Territory Joint Defense."
Yet inside was a ticulously terrifying division plan.
The Seventeenth Legion, controlling all passes and taxation in the Northern Territory, equivalent to chocking the entire Northern Territory’s throat.
The Fourteenth Legion, occupying the western black iron mining area, obtaining a stable source of weapons and equipnt.
The Seventh Legion, holding the eastern plains and trade routes, directly controlling the Northern Territory’s most fertile and affluent trade lifeline.
Soros’ breath beca rapid: "This is... to cut up and divide the Northern Territory?"
Ackman laughed like a blade: "Leave Louis with one main city, let him continue to be his tycoon. Don’t mind him, as long as he obediently makes money, we won’t touch him."
After a pause, he extended his hand and made a throat-cutting gesture: "If not obedient... then pick a more compliant one."
Fernan’s expression slightly changed: "I don’t have the authority to sign a military alliance, these must be decided by the legion commander personally."
Colonel Fernan and Leader Soros exchanged glances, both knowing why they were at this blizzard night’s secret eting.
They are the most trusted listeners of the legion commanders, must bring back every word of tonight intact, allowing the commanders to judge the direction of the situation.
Ackman was long prepared, handing over a new parchnt scroll: "No need for a treaty, just a eting morandum."
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