The nobles have signed.
In just one minute, the last vestige of influence of the southern borders’ aristocratic system on this land has vanished.
Gawain sat solemnly at the head of the long table, while the thirty-one surviving leaders of the southern borders sat along its sides. The heirs to noble and ancient surnas bowed their heads here, silently signing their nas on the docunts in front of them, and in the corner of the hall, an elderly man in a scholar’s robe was directing his apprentices to turn a sowhat bulky ancient magical device towards the long table.
It was actually a Magic Web Communicator, although it was so bulky that a young and strong man was required to lift it, it already represented Cecil’s most advanced technology.
As the crystal of the Magic Web Communicator reflected the scene beside the long table, Godwin Orlando decisively pressed a button on the device.
In another room not far away, the projection crystal atop an Arcane Printing Machine lit up, displaying the scene within the grand conference hall in a holographic projection. Accompanied by a sequence of chanical noises within the machine, the surface of the Arcane Transcription Cylinder glowed with magical energy, quickly printing the transmitted image onto the paper that had long been prepared.
Aunt Heidi took the paper from the side of the printing machine, carefully rolling it up and sealing it in an envelope, handing it to an assistant who had been waiting by: "Take it to the newspaper, and tell them to use the whole page."
The assistant carried that "template" as if it were a treasure, while Aunt Heidi looked at the holographic projection atop the machine, filled with emotion, unable to refrain from softly exclaiming: "It’s truly unimaginable..."
Kal hovered nearby, and upon hearing Aunt Heidi’s words, asked: "Are you talking about the events in the conference hall or this device?"
"Both," Aunt Heidi turned her head, stating seriously, "The scene of the old nobles signing the contract will be recorded in this manner and spread throughout the southern borders at an astonishing speed, surpassing any announcent, any proclamation, any rumor, with undeniable proof pervading this land in an irrefutable manner... I always believed that those Giant Cannons capable of shattering mountains and splitting rocks were the most powerful weapons, but now I finally understand... why our ancestors said the printing press as a weapon is equally formidable."
She then looked down, observing Rebecca who was crouched by the side and rear of the Arcane Printing Machine, taking apart its cover to inspect the internal operation: "...And this child actually thought of combining the Magic Web Communicator and the Arcane Printing Machine so quickly, which also surprises ."
"I’ve said it long ago, Rebecca is a genius, she upholds the glory of the Cecil Clan," Gawain’s voice ca from the direction of the door, interjecting into Aunt Heidi and Kal’s conversation, "As for what you said earlier... I’m glad you finally realized the power of combining printing presses and ’dia.’"
Rebecca, who was researching the machine situation below the printing machine, heard Gawain’s voice and delightedly shouted while getting up: "Ah! Ancestor, you’ve co! You were just too..."
"Bang!!"
Rebecca’s head solidly hit against a tal rail under the machine, producing a bang that echoed through the entire room, making the whole machine even tremble visibly, followed by Rebecca clutching her head as she crawled out while painfully exclaiming: "Ouch... it hurts, hurts, hurts..."
Aunt Heidi was startled by the commotion, montarily forgetting to admonish her, quickly crouching down to check her niece’s head, and Gawain was equally taken aback, stepping quickly to his many-layered great-granddaughter: "Are you alright?"
Rebecca, holding her head, staggered and got up, raising her teary face towards Gawain: "I’m fine..."
Only then did Gawain sigh in relief, promptly instructing the nearby chanical Scholar: "Then check the machine..."
No one at the scene thought there was anything wrong with what Gawain said...
Aunt Heidi, looking resigned, glared at Rebecca but recalled she had praised the girl just monts ago, thus withholding her words of rebuke, reluctantly changing the topic towards Gawain: "Ancestor, did you dismiss those nobles?"
"The eting ended as soon as they signed," Gawain said indifferently, "I’ve already explained all the subsequent arrangents to them, which won’t take much ti. Of course, to celebrate their gaining freedom and becoming part of Cecil, I arranged a small banquet for them... but what mood they’ll have when attending, I won’t concern myself with."
After saying this, Gawain waved his hand: "Let’s put these aside for now—have the ’photos’ been printed out? How’s the effect?"
"Ah, sorry ancestor, I’ve already sent it off," Aunt Heidi exclaid slightly, then reported, "The effect is excellent, the effect of printing illusion magic on paper is quite different from traditional ’shorthand’ spells but is more realistic."
"That’s good, as long as you’ve vetted it," Gawain nodded with satisfaction, then glanced at Rebecca who was still wiping tears and sniffing: "Silly child, does it still hurt?"
"It doesn’t hurt," Rebecca said, her neck stiffened and face flushed, but then shook her head, "Just my brain still feels a bit buzzing..."
Looking at the young lady’s forced calm deanor, Gawain could only laugh and sigh, "Ah—make sure to protect your head. If such a good brain gets damaged, it would be a great loss."
Aunt Heidi also wore a wry smile and quietly sighed, turning to Gawain, "Ancestor, do you think those signing aristocrats will settle down properly?"
"To be honest, I never trusted them, whether before or after they signed," Gawain spoke very directly, with no outsiders around, "But I don’t need their heartfelt support or opposition; that doesn’t matter. We must remain vigilant towards them, maintain surveillance, at least until they and their first-generation descendants are all dead. Even then, we must continue to monitor their future generations, albeit more gently."
Gawain raised his head, looking towards the direction of the conference hall. His gaze seed to penetrate the walls and doors, directly seeing those southern aristocrats hesitantly leaving.
"Rember: The aristocrats signing here today and their first-generation direct descendants may not participate in politics, any positions within the Administrative Office, or enter the education and news dissemination systems, not even as entry-level clerks, substitute teachers, or assistant editors. If any of them really prove to be capable and stable people, they may engage in comrce, beco investors, or even open factories. As long as they have the brains, they can live a far more comfortable and prosperous life than when they were land nobility, but within the Administrative Office and schools, newspapers... there is no place for them."
"Yes," Aunt Heidi responded seriously, but with so concern, "However, this way... we might miss so talent. The aristocrats’ direct descendants are currently the most outstanding intellectuals in this land. Perhaps most of them are destabilizing factors, but among them, there are still so worth cultivating and educating..."
Gawain sighed, fully understanding Aunt Heidi’s words, "I allow them to do business and set up factories after passing examinations; this already avoids wasting potential as much as possible. There is still considerable risk inherent in this, but considering the risk and expected return, this line cannot be crossed. Additionally, I haven’t completely restricted this—second, third-generation old aristocratic descendants, and non-primary lineage branches, after assessnt and observation, may enjoy the sa rights as ordinary citizens."
At this point, he paused and continued, "Of course, talent will still be missed, and this is not fair to them, but that’s a necessary price—we can easily eliminate the old aristocrats’ armies on the battlefield, but if they beco a part of the Cecil system, it becos a huge problem to remove them."
Aunt Heidi lowered her head deeply, "Yes, I understand."
Gawain pondered for a mont and added, "How about this: If you really find exceptional talent among the southern aristocrats and their direct descendants, you may report it to , and I will personally organize an assessnt and consider it carefully."
He then exhaled, "Next, let us go see our real guests."
Not far from the eting area, in a small but tidy and comfortable parlor, Andrew Leslie and Ropeni Gran were quietly waiting for the Duke’s arrival.
"This day ca quickly, didn’t it?" Viscount Andrew raised the cup of tea in his hand, smiling at the Lady beside him, "It seems like just yesterday—Cecil was a dying family na last year, and today they reign over the southern borders."
Ropeni Gran gave a smile, lacking much warmth, "I have waited for more than just a year or two, Viscount."
"...You are a lady worthy of admiration, with conviction, and more steadfast than I am," Viscount Andrew said after a mont of silence, his tone genuine, then sowhat self-deprecatingly continued, "Unlike , who initially was just investing in a business deal."
"Investnt?" Ropeni curiously looked at this pale man, reputedly physically weak due to excessive consumption of Magic Potions; she didn’t know much about this past, "What kind of investnt?"
"An investnt in Duke Cecil," Andrew Leslie gazed forward as he spoke softly, "It was the boldest business I made in my life..."
"Now Gawain is our sovereign," Ropeni Gran quietly watched Viscount Andrew, "Do you consider that investnt to have been profitable?"
"Profit or loss..." Andrew Leslie muttered softly, images of the rapidly developing territory from the past year filled his mind—that land had completely transford into an industrial raw material base for Cecil. He recalled the staggering wealth he accumulated over the previous year, each Gold Coin and silver coin bearing Cecil’s mark. He was regarded as the Leslie Clan’s most outstanding, benevolent, and enlightened leader in history, praised by his people for steadfastly implenting Cecil’s laws...
He was about to beco the Governor of Tanzan City as proof of his achievents, with a permanent seat in the Administrative Office there reserved for the Leslie Clan.
He believed that as long as the Leslie Clan did not defy, as long as they were not overly foolish, his descendants would enjoy imnse wealth in perpetuity, wealth incomparably greater than when they were land leaders.
But they would forever lose the power of life and death over the territory, and even... they must obey the Administrative Office’s administration.
Was this investnt profit or loss?
"Of course it was profit," Andrew Leslie raised his head, smiling with no hesitation in his tone, "I definitely profited, and it could only be a profit."
The voice of the attendant resounded outside the door, "Duke Gawain Cecil arrives—"
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