Antonio left the manor clutching the small vial of poison. The moment his footsteps faded beyond the gate, Diana turned toward Brian, confusion written all over her face.
"Lord Brian," she said softly, "why entrust such a task to Antonio? I fear he might disappoint you."
Brian strolled slowly down the cobblestone path of the garden, hands behind his back, his voice calm and unhurried. "You're worried he'll fail?"
Diana nodded. "Not just that he might fail—I'm worried he won't even dare to act. He might even betray you and report everything to the king."
It wasn't a baseless concern. Diana's family had served the royal line for generations as trainers and handlers, their work always at the heart of palace intrigue. They had seen too many coups, too many blood-soaked power struggles.
She herself had lived through one—at the age of seven, she'd watched the former king seize power in a violent coup, personally slaughtering his elder brother and two nephews. Back then, the so-called "kind monarch" had been nothing short of a butcher.
So she felt Brian's move this time was far too risky.
Brian shook his head, chuckling softly. "Do you really know Antonio?"
"Of course," Diana said at once, reciting as if from a dossier. "Antonio, born September 14, 1462 of the Haiyuan Calendar. A noble of a fallen family. Orphaned young, raised by his uncle. Thanks to his intellect and birth, he secured a position as royal scribe. He's fond of painting, writes short fiction, and has served in the royal city for six years. Popular among the palace maids—"
"Enough." Brian waved a hand, interrupting. "That's data, not understanding. Too detailed, not focused, and you've missed the point."
Diana blinked, puzzled. "Then… what's the point?"
Brian smiled faintly. "First, a scribe only records trivial matters—no power, no perks. Second, Antonio's still young. And a young man—without power, without wealth, without background—is always a slave to desire. He has no connections, no influence, no money. A typical noble-born loser. Six years in that position, and not a single promotion—no wonder he's frustrated."
He sat down in the wicker chair beside the garden pond, plucked a flower from a nearby bush, sniffed it, then frowned and tossed it aside. "I don't like the scent. Dig these out and replant something else."
"Yes, Master. I'll have it done immediately," said little maid Rem, hurrying off to call the gardeners.
"But," Diana continued, "based on what I know of Antonio, he's always been timid and cautious. He'd never dare commit regicide. Especially now—with Duke Ogsger in the capital—he's been frightened half to death."
"Come here."
Brian crooked a finger at her. Diana stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and perching lightly on his lap.
Brian smiled. "Listen carefully. There are three kinds of people you should never judge by appearances."
"Which three?" Diana asked.
Brian's tone turned cool. "Politicians. Gamblers. And lechers. Those three will do anything—anything—to satisfy their desires. Never underestimate human desire, Diana."
She frowned slightly, lost in thought. Then, after a pause, she asked a delicate question: "And what about you, Lord Brian?"
Brian chuckled. "What do you think?"
Diana lowered her voice. "Lord Brian is the one who controls all others' desires…"
Gonavar Port.
Today, the city hall was packed. Not only were merchants, nobles, and officials gathered there, but over a hundred citizen representatives as well.
All of them had come to oppose Brian's so-called People's Support and Relief Fund.
"The Navy's duty is to protect us! Why should we pay them for that?"
"We already pay taxes to the king—and most of that goes straight to the World Government! The Navy has no right to demand more from us!"
"Exactly! The pirates have ravaged the seas for years, trade's gone down, and the economy's in decline! We can barely feed our families—how are we supposed to pay them?"
The hall erupted in indignation. The citizen representatives were furious at Brian's shameless extortion, denouncing his arbitrary levy as robbery in uniform.
Mayor Reiner sat silent. His daughter's relationship with Brian made things… complicated. But now that Brian was even extorting him, it was too much. That was why he had quietly allowed this public hearing—to let the city's elite unite against the demand.
"Good news, Mayor! Good news!"
Hurried footsteps echoed through the hall.
Reiner stood immediately, peering over the crowd to see Selma, the city's liaison officer. She handled communications with the World Government—and she had come straight from the governor's office with fresh news.
"Speak! What's the good news?" Reiner asked.
Selma caught her breath and said excitedly, "Brian's being reassigned back to Navy Headquarters!"
"What?!"
"Is that true?!"
"Say it clearly!"
Selma nodded vigorously. "Absolutely true! The notice reached the West Sea Governor's Office days ago. I confirmed it myself—Brian is being promoted to Vice Admiral and transferred to the Headquarters' Strategic Department!"
"Hmph. So that's it. He's trying to line his pockets before leaving."
"Right! Once he's back at Headquarters, he'll have no power at all. If he doesn't cash in now, he'll never get another chance."
"Then what do we do? Still pay him?"
"Pay him? Are you mad? He's leaving! If we give him the money, does that mean we'll have to keep paying his successor too?"
"Exactly! Enough is enough. I don't believe they'd dare to rob us outright."
The merchants, nobles, and officials quickly reached an agreement. As for the citizen representatives—they had no real voice here. They'd just been brought along as a show of "public support."
In a quiet corner of the hall, Shirley discreetly pulled out the Den Den Mushi Brian had given her. She relayed the city hall's entire decision word for word.
Moments after the call ended—
BOOM!
Gunfire and explosions erupted from the harbor.
Hundreds of pirates were storming Gonavar Port.
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