"Take it back to them, let them decide for themselves if they want a piece of the feast."
"Nevertheless," Ackman said in a low voice, "I’m in no hurry to make a move."
The firelight reflected on his face, as if casting a shadow over his blazing ambition.
The storm lashed at the windows, as though the entire Northern Territory was plumting into the Abyss.
Ackman sat at the head, outwardly calm, but inside it felt as if he were scorched by fire.
He had a vague feeling that this might be the only chance in his life to leap into the true circle of Nobility.
The glory of the Seventeenth Legion was rely a line on the list of military achievents.
True noble status required land, inheritance, and resources that made the Royal Family apprehensive.
And now, with the imminent collapse of the Empire, this seemingly barren land of the Northern Territory held the most critical mining veins, grain routes, and the erging industry of the Red Tide Territory.
If he could just step on this, he could engrave the na Ackman into the new history of the Empire.
Ackman’s fists clenched quietly under the table: "I absolutely cannot let that Calvin family discard monopolize the Northern Territory. This is the only step for the Ackman family to ascend to the upper echelons of the Empire."
Ackman leaned back in his chair, as if he had just laid out the chessboard of his heart.
"The next step, no need to tear the mask yet." He raised his chin slightly, signaling his trusted officer to step forward.
He slowly traced his finger across the map, bypassing the Red Tide Territory, Frost Halberd City... finally stopping at an inconspicuous little territory—Morkan Territory.
Its location wasn’t even clearly drawn on the map of the Northern Territory and was rely marked as a gray area.
It wasn’t part of the Red Tide system, but due to its terrain and mineral resources, it had its own caravan, considerable financial resources, and was close to the Gray Stone Fortress.
Ackman tapped his finger on that gray area: "Start with him."
The trusted officer frowned: "...Baron of Morkan?"
"That’s right." Ackman displayed a disdainful smile.
"Wait for his next caravan to co." He waved a hand at his adjutant: "Send two squads of cavalry there. Directly invoke the additional clause of the ’Empire Warti Ergency Requisition Act’ and say that to guard against the Barbarian Race, this batch of goods is to be requisitioned temporarily."
The trusted officer furrowed his brow: "What if the Baron resists?"
Ackman’s voice was as indifferent as discussing the weather: "Break the leader’s limbs and throw him into the snow."
The room fell silent.
It turned out Ackman really intended to swallow the Northern Territory.
The trusted officer couldn’t help but lower his voice: "But... if the Red Tide Territory intervenes..."
"Red Tide?" Ackman sneered as if he heard a joke.
"I am giving him face by not touching his caravan or his bunch of fanatical supporters."
He drew his hand in the air, "But Morkan is different. He’s not a vassal of Louis, not in the Red Tide system. If Louis dares to intervene..."
Ackman lowered his hand, flicking the corner of the table lightly: "Then I can imdiately pin a heavy hat of interfering with military affairs and retaining private armies on him."
The trusted officer drew a sharp breath, feeling a chill down his spine.
Ackman had prepared excuses for every step, and no matter how Louis reacted, he could find reasons to continue expanding.
Ackman leaned forward, pounding his fist on the Morkan Territory: "If he stays silent, it would show the Red Tide is just a paper tiger.
The Nobility watching from the Northern Territory would imdiately lean towards , and this land would beco like a buffet, where I can claim any part I want.
If he steps up, I will seize the opportunity to push him to the opposition of the Empire, giving him a treacherous na."
The firelight danced on his face, casting a dangerous arc.
"In any case, this blade will fall."
Ackman pulled out a small knife he carried with him, firmly stabbing the tip onto the Morkan Territory, the board making a faint cracking sound.
He stared at that knife, his smile slow and dangerous: "Let this sheep bleat for a couple of days.
I want to see whether that young master sitting in the warm room truly has the ambition to be the Northern Guardian... or just the skill to crunch numbers in his castle."
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