Chapter 107. Then Do Not Divide It
“Le… let go…”
“Behave yourself.”
The old man inside the cockpit spoke with a cheerful smile.
“This thing only needs a little more force, and your head will burst like a waterlon. I am old, and my hands tend to shake. Do not frighten .”
On the other side, Viscount Gleiman had just tried to run when another “Night Owl” Magitech Armor pinched the back of his collar with two chanical fingers and lifted him into the air like a helpless chick.
His legs kicked wildly in the air, making the scene both ridiculous and laughable.
“So this is what you call noble dignity?”
Cicero watched the scene with open mockery in his eyes.
He picked up the docunt again and raised his voice slightly.
“Given that the defendant Viscount Gleiman assaulted a judicial officer, with clear facts and conclusive evidence.”
“Given that his father,Old Gleiman, as head of logistics, possesses enormous unexplained wealth and is suspected of long-term embezzlent of military supplies and illegal resale of strategic materials.”
“The verdict is as follows.”
“First, strip the Gleiman father and son of all noble titles and political rights.”
“Second, confiscate all movable and immovable property under the Gleiman family’s na. This includes but is not limited to real estate, land deeds, shops, bank deposits, antiques, paintings, and… even a single silver spoon in the kitchen.”
“Third, both father and son will be imdiately escorted to the ‘Despair Ice Cliff’ magic crystal mining zone south of the Dragon Mountain Range in the Northern Territory to perform twenty years of hard labor.”
“Fourth, there shall be no sentence reduction, no parole, and no bail.”
With every word that left his mouth, the faces of the nobles in the gallery grew a shade paler.
When the clause about “confiscating all property” was spoken, many of them broke out in cold sweat.
This was not a trial.
This was practically the extermination of an entire household.
“No! You cannot do this! That is my money! That is my money!”
Old Gleiman let out a miserable scream.
Twenty years of hard labor?
Mining in that cursed place where even magical beasts refused to live?
With his obese body, he might not survive even three months.
“Take them away.”
Cicero could not even be bothered to look at them again.
The gavel ca down heavily.
THUD!
The dull sound struck directly into the hearts of every old noble present.
They finally realized sothing.
This new Acting Governor was completely serious.
…
The trial ended quickly.
But the real storm had only just begun.
At the very mont the Gleiman father and son were dragged out of the court like dead dogs—
In the most prosperous noble district of Winter City.
The gate of the luxurious Gleiman family mansion was kicked open by a red-painted Fourth-Generation Heavy Magitech Armor.
“By order of the Chief Judicial Officer! Property seizure!”
Captain Akash’s cold voice echoed above the estate.
Imdiately afterward, hundreds of tax officials and ard guards wearing black uniforms flooded into the mansion.
They carried prepared inventory lists in their hands, moving like a swarm of perfectly organized locusts.
“This vase. Antique. Take it.”
“The oil painting on the wall. Tear it down. Take it.”
“The carpet? That is from Tyrenia. Roll it up. Take it!”
“Eh? The gold tooth in that butler’s mouth? That is Gleiman family property. Pull it out and confiscate it!”
The once magnificent mansion beca cleaner than an unfinished building within a single hour.
Even the grain hidden in the rat holes was dug out.
Outside the estate.
Carriages loaded with wealth ford a long convoy, continuously transporting the confiscated goods to the underground treasury of the Governor’s Residence.
On a distant clock tower.
Sylvia stood quietly, wearing a black cloak as she watched the scene below.
The cold wind lifted her long hair, revealing her silver-gray eyes.
“Your Highness.”
From the shadows behind her, Esralda stepped forward, holding a newly delivered financial report.
“A rough estimate shows that this confiscation alone will bring in at least one million five hundred thousand Golden Lion Coins. That does not even include the real estate.”
There was undisguised satisfaction in Esralda’s voice.
“Nothing brings in money faster than confiscating property.”
“One million five hundred thousand…”
Sylvia took a deep breath.
A re logistics chief had managed to embezzle that much.
And this was only one Gleiman.
How many Gleimans were still hiding in the Northern Territory?
How many parasites were clinging to the kingdom and sucking its blood?
Sylvia turned and looked toward the noble estates trembling in the cold wind.
“Tell Cicero.”
Her voice scattered with the wind.
“Let him act freely.”
“Since they refuse to behave with dignity, then we will help them achieve it.”
Esralda bowed slightly.
“It seems that Winter City will be very cold this year, even if it does not snow.”
Especially for those whose pockets were filled with ill-gotten wealth.
This winter would beco the most unbearable nightmare of their lives.
…
Recently, the First Court of Winter City had beco the hottest attraction in the entire city.
Its level of excitent rivaled that of a festival.
Ever since Chief Judicial Officer Cicero took office, the fire had not stopped burning.
The exile of the Gleiman father and son to the mines was only an appetizer.
After that, Cicero beca like a tireless excavator, digging through the old nobles’ long-buried scandals.
Kidnapped a common girl five years ago? Arrest him.
Tax evasion ten years ago? Arrest him.
There was even an unfortunate baron whose drunken public urination three years earlier had led him to kick a civilian crippled. The case was reopened, and he was sentenced directly to complete financial ruin.
In just three days, seven more noble families had their estates completely confiscated.
The once-arrogant lords of the Northern Territory no longer began their mornings with coffee.
Instead, they rushed to their windows to check whether armored guards were approaching their gates.
Fear spread through the noble circles like a contagious plague.
They were afraid.
Truly afraid.
…
Duke’s Manor, Winter City.
Council Chamber.
A massive sheepskin map covered the long table, filled with small flags representing different forces.
Logaris West held a teaching pointer in his hand, tapping the table lazily.
“We have a problem.”
Grayson’s old face wrinkled like dried orange peel. He pointed at the areas on the map that had just been confiscated, looking so worried that his beard seed ready to fall out.
“Cicero’s blade is sharp, and confiscating property feels great. The gold flowing into the treasury these days is almost blinding . But—”
Grayson sighed.
“What about the land?”
“These seven noble families, plus the ones we dealt with when we first arrived, add up to a huge territory. The lands they used to control, the farms, the mines, are now all ownerless. Tens of thousands of serfs suddenly have no lord, and public order has beco a complete ss. And…”
Grayson glanced cautiously at Sylvia, who sat at the head of the table playing with a dagger.
“The other nobles are now terrified. So have even begun secretly coordinating with each other. If we do not handle these vacant territories properly, we might push them into desperate rebellion.”
According to old tradition, these lands should be granted to ritorious officials or absorbed by powerful nobles.
But that was clearly not what Logaris wanted.
“Then do not divide them.”
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