Chapter 97. The Interview
The wind of Winter City felt as if it carried blades mixed within it.
When it struck the face, it stung painfully.
With a long and piercing whistle, the massive black magitech train spewed thick white steam like an exhausted steel beast before slowly collapsing beside the snow-covered platform.
The train doors opened.
A wave of hot air mixed with the sll of coal dust collided with the freezing wind and instantly turned into a cloud of white mist.
Cicero tightened his cashre overcoat and stepped onto the platform.
His carefully tailored dark gray suit was the latest style from the riga Federation.
His polished Oxford leather shoes glead brightly.
Compared with the locals of the Northern Territory wrapped in thick animal pelts and weather-beaten faces, he looked completely out of place.
“So cold.”
Cicero exhaled a puff of white breath and felt as though even the hairs inside his nose were freezing stiff.
He subconsciously reached up to adjust his expensive silk tie.
It was a professional habit.
Even if he froze to death, dignity could not be lost.
Before he could fully adapt to the temperature, a servant in a dark blue uniform appeared in front of him like a ghost.
Without wasting a word, the servant bowed slightly.
“Mr. Cicero?”
Cicero raised an eyebrow.
This level of efficiency ant the employer was clearly in a hurry.
“That is .”
“The carriage is outside. Please follow .”
The servant led him through the crowd to a black carriage without any family crest.
The windows were tightly covered with thick velvet curtains, and even the wheels were wrapped with shock-absorbing alchemical rubber.
Cicero climbed into the warm carriage.
Instead of feeling uneasy, he felt quite pleased.
No crest.
Private transport.
Avoiding the main entrance.
For soone like him, a forr civil officer of the Homomorphic Court, this mysterious behavior could only an one thing.
The matter could not see the light of day, and the money involved was enormous.
His mind quickly ran through possibilities.
A noble’s illegitimate inheritance dispute?
Or so sophisticated money laundering sche exploiting legal loopholes?
No matter which it was, as long as the paynt increased, it was acceptable.
The carriage did not head toward the magnificent Governor’s Residence.
Instead, it stopped in front of an inconspicuous courtyard on the western side of the city.
The snow in the yard had been swept clean.
The surroundings were unnaturally quiet.
“Sir, we have arrived.”
Cicero was led into a spacious study.
The room was warm, and red pine logs crackled in the fireplace.
However, when Cicero first stepped inside, he did not see a person.
He saw a mountain.
A mountain made of countless case files, parchnt scrolls, and docunts piled into a precarious “garbage hill.”
Behind that mountain sat a young man who looked as if he were about to die from overwork.
The man wore a black research robe with the collar open.
His hair was a ss like a bird’s nest, and a pair of rimless glasses rested on his nose.
At that mont, he buried his head in his hands and frantically rubbed his temples as if he were about to twist his head off and throw it away.
In the shadowed corner of the study, another person sat on a single sofa.
It was a woman.
The brim of her wide hat was pressed low, and a pair of oversized sunglasses covered most of her face.
She was wrapped in a bulky dark gray wool shawl, revealing only a delicate and pale jawline.
“Mr. Cicero, please sit.”
The young scholar lifted his head from the pile of docunts.
His voice was hoarse, and deep exhaustion lingered beneath his eyes.
“We are senior advisors to the Governor. We are responsible for selecting collaborators for a… damned project.”
The phrase “damned project” clearly ca straight from the heart.
Cicero sat down gracefully.
His gaze lingered on the mysterious woman for less than half a second before politely moving away.
Advisors?
So these must be the “big shots” Reynard ntioned in his letter.
He imdiately switched into his “top-tier legal expert” mode.
A flawless professional smile appeared on his face.
His hands folded neatly on his knees as he waited for the other side to make the next move.
“We do not have much ti. Let us be direct.”
Logaris pushed up his glasses.
His tone carried an impatient irritation, as if he were eager to throw a burning hot potato to soone else.
“The kingdom’s current laws are complete garbage. A pile of outdated clauses written hundreds of years ago allows nobles to lie around and drain the people’s blood, severely hindering productivity and the promotion of new technologies. What do you think about such a backward system?”
The air in the study froze for a mont.
Cicero’s smile stiffened slightly.
This was far too direct.
This was not legal consultation.
This sounded more like reciting a declaration of treason.
He quickly assessed the risk in his mind.
If his answer was too conservative, he would appear incompetent.
If it was too radical, he might be used as a pawn.
He cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly.
“Mr. Logaris, although your words are sharp, they strike directly at the core of the issue. Across the ocean in the riga Federation, they indeed carried out sweeping reforms and abolished many outdated laws. This is precisely what enabled their current advanced level of productivity.”
Seeing both Logaris and the mysterious woman nod slightly, Cicero shifted his tone and raised one finger.
“However, efficiency also cos at a cost. riga’s legal system is excessively biased toward capital and pioneers, leading to severe social division. Their conflict with the indigenous Golden Elves has not ceased to this day. Legal reform is never a simple arithtic problem. Cutting off old branches is easy, but ensuring the entire tree does not collapse—that is the art of balance.”
He had displayed his knowledge while also presenting a stable stance.
He studied foreign law, but he was not blindly praising it.
The irritation in Logaris’s eyes faded slightly.
He looked toward the silent woman.
The woman shifted slightly and adjusted into a more comfortable posture.
She spoke.
Her voice was deliberately lowered and sowhat hoarse, yet the authority of soone accustod to power flowed naturally through her tone.
“The theory is acceptable. Let us try sothing practical.”
She raised a gloved hand and lightly pointed at the desk.
“A certain baron in the Northern Territory who holds the title of ‘Pioneer rit’ has cited the two-hundred-year-old Pioneer Law and claims that a newly cultivated farmland is the ‘natural extension’ of his ancestral estate. He intends to forcibly expel dozens of commoner families who have fard that land for three generations.”
“The local judges do not dare to rule because they fear violating the Noble Law, and the citizens are beginning to cause unrest. If you were the presiding judge, what would you do?”
Cicero smiled.
For him, this kind of case was practically a free point.
The Pioneer Law was indeed a ss.
Legally speaking, the baron had the advantage.
If the court ruled directly against the baron, it would provoke backlash from the entire noble class.
“Madam, direct confrontation is the worst strategy. That is what knights do, not lawyers.”
Cicero picked up the hot tea on the table and gently blew away the floating foam.
His tone sounded as relaxed as if he were discussing dinner plans.
“We do not deny his ownership. On the contrary, we acknowledge that the land belongs to him.”
Logaris raised an eyebrow.
“And then?”
“If it is an extension of his ancestral property, why was this land never listed in the family asset registry before? That constitutes concealed assets.”
Cicero raised three fingers and slowly folded one down.
“First, according to the supplentary provisions of the Kingdom Tax Law, he must pay the ‘asset holding tax’ for the past three generations, plus late fees. That should amount to roughly three tis the value of the land.”
“Second, since he wants to expel the farrs, it ans he intends to change the land’s usage. According to the Ministry of Finance’s latest Northern Territory Special Economic Act, non-agricultural land is subject to a ‘comrcial conversion tax’ ten tis the normal rate. We can reasonably suspect that the baron intends to build an illegal factory.”
“Third, and most importantly.”
Cicero revealed a bright smile, looking like a fox that had just stolen a chicken.
“Considering that the baron may face enormous tax pressure, in order to uphold the Noble Dignity Act, the Governor’s Residence will dispatch tax officers to station themselves in his manor and ‘assist in asset liquidation’ until the tax debt is fully paid.”
“I believe no noble would want a group of tax officers living in their house and rummaging through every cabinet.”
Cicero took a sip of tea and spread his hands.
“Three asures applied simultaneously. Within half a month, that baron will be begging those commoners to take the land back. We uphold the dignity of the law, protect the commoners, and generate revenue at the sa ti. Perfect.”
Silence filled the study.
“Excellent.”
Logaris spoke, and his voice carried barely suppressed excitent.
“Professional and practical. You are very suitable.”
The woman wearing sunglasses and a hat also nodded slightly.
The corner of her lips seed to curl into a satisfied smile, clearly approving Logaris’s judgnt.
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