Translator: CinderTL
"You mean..."
As Roland finished speaking, a glimmer of understanding flashed in Gloria's eyes.
"As far as I know..."
Roland rose from the bed and gestured for Gloria to sit down before continuing.
"The Golden Valley Kingdom currently has three dukes with real power: Duke Arno, who controls the Eastern Territory; Duke Enrique, who guards the Northern Border; and..."
He paused slightly to ensure Gloria fully grasped his meaning.
"...Duke, who rules the Western Territory."
After Roland's words hung in the air, Gloria pondered for a moment before tentatively asking,
"Are you suggesting we try to win over the two dukes besides Arno as allies? But as far as I know, Duke Enrique is currently leading the Northern Border Legion in battle against the orcs on the frontier, answering my royal father's call to arms. He can't possibly leave his post. As for Duke..."
She frowned slightly, recalling her brief encounter with the rock-solid, burly man at a royal banquet in the capital years ago.
"He... doesn't seem particularly fond of socializing. My impression of him was that he's quite reclusive."
"A man who has risen to the position of duke could never be a fool, Princess Gloria," Roland said calmly, his gaze revealing a keen understanding of human nature and political dynamics.
"I believe Duke Arno must realize that the mastermind behind such reckless acts—assassinating members of the Royal Family and unilaterally declaring war on the River Domain Nations—can only be Arno himself."
"His current inaction stems from two primary reasons. First, he fears His Majesty Monen's reaction. Without explicit royal orders, he's unwilling to embroil himself in this conflict. Second..."
Roland paused, his tone sharpening.
"...because conquering the River Domain Nations offers him no tangible benefits. As the ruler of the Western Territory, he stands to gain nothing substantial from a war in the east."
He leaned forward, his voice steady and persuasive.
"But if we initiate contact with him, the situation changes entirely."
"With you, Princess Gloria, a descendant of King Monen's bloodline and the rightful Imperial Princess, issuing the call to action, we gain legitimate authority. At that point, purging Arno would no longer be an unauthorized private feud, but a righteous act to eliminate a traitorous minister who threatens the nation."
"Given these circumstances, I believe Duke would seize the opportunity to 'protect the nation' and openly divide Arno's power and territorial vacuum, securing the immense benefits he desires. For him, this would be an exceptionally profitable transaction."
Gloria pondered for a moment, the last trace of hesitation vanishing from her eyes, replaced by the resolute determination of an Imperial Princess.
"An excellent strategy, Mr. Roland."
She rose with decisive, swift movements.
"I will immediately arrange for absolutely trustworthy personnel to travel to the west in utmost secrecy and attempt to establish contact with Duke."
With the plan settled, she wasted no time. After a brief nod, she turned and departed to make the necessary arrangements.
Meanwhile, Roland seized this rare period of calm before the storm to devote all his energy to self-cultivation.
The Corona Lands became his ideal training ground.
Time always seemed to fly by during focused practice. In what felt like a mere blink, a month had passed.
Western Golden Valley Kingdom, Sandstone Territory.
A spacious house stood silently against the dry wind, its thick walls built from locally quarried pale yellow sandstone.
Massive arched windows, fitted with fine metal grilles, opened to the outside. These grilles blocked wind, sand, and unwanted gazes while allowing warm, dry air to circulate slowly, carrying the scent of the wilderness and the taste of sunlight.
The interior space was vast, its high roof supported by dark hardwood beams to withstand the scorching sun.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the grilles, casting dappled shadows across the polished stone slab floor.
The furnishings were practical and exuded the ruggedness of the frontier.
A massive solid wood table dominated the center of the room, adorned with a glazed ceramic teapot and several earthenware cups.
Low, sturdy chairs were cushioned with woven grass mats for coolness.
The walls were decorated with vividly colored wool tapestries depicting galloping horses or hunting scenes, while a resilient longbow and a quiver of arrows hung nearby.
The air carried a blend of dry dust, warm stone, faint herbal aromas, and the subtle dampness from evaporating water in earthen jars.
At this moment, a burly middle-aged man with a face weathered by wind and sand sat in the main seat.
His bronze-skinned arm rested on the table, the thick knuckles and crisscrossing scars on the back of his hand revealing a strength honed through years of hardship.
Beside him stood a vigorous old man with sharp eyes, his worn but immaculate robe draped over his shoulders. He steadily held a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, nodding slightly as he awaited the man seated in the main seat's instructions.
"What scheme is that old fox Arno plotting now?" the burly man asked, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the table with a low, muffled thud.
"It's difficult to say for certain, Lord Duke," the old man replied, shaking his head gently.
"What we know so far is that the River Domain Nations' study party has been accused of assassinating Earl Auston and Knight Leonard, and is suspected of plotting against several of His Majesty King Monen's children. As a result, Duke Arno is preparing to wage war against the River Domain Nations, and..."
The old man smoothly unfurled the parchment scroll on the table, sliding it toward the burly man known as Duke.
"He has sent you a request for aid, hoping you will dispatch soldiers to join the war effort."
"Hmph..."
Duke glanced over the parchment, a cold laugh escaping his lips.
"How could the River Domain Nations provoke us with such foolishness? This rhetoric is as hypocritical as ever."
"Forgive my bluntness, Lord Duke," the old butler said, bowing slightly, his voice steady. "Duke Arno's actions may be a pretext to expand his influence and seize resources under the guise of war against the River Domain Nations. As for their alleged provocation, it's likely just..."
"A false accusation! I'm well aware of that, Old Morgan..."
Duke rose to his feet, his massive frame looming like a small mountain, nearly blocking the sunlight streaming through the window.
"Though my mind... has become somewhat sluggish as I refine the Blood Rage Secret Art..." He grinned, tapping his bald head with a finger. "Sometimes it feels like wading through mud... but that doesn't make me a fool."
"Of course," Old Butler Morgan nodded gently, then asked in a low voice, "So, Lord Duke, how shall we respond?"
"Ignore it." Duke waved his hand dismissively, his decision unwavering. "The war is raging far to the east. Even if Arno wins, the land, resources, and glory he seizes won't find their way into our western territory's coffers."
"Bloodshed and sacrifice bring no tangible benefits. I refuse to engage in such a losing proposition."
He paused, a flicker of shrewdness flashing in his eyes.
"Moreover, mobilizing the entire kingdom for war... that's not His Majesty Monen's usual style. Arno's actions likely lack the King's official sanction. Without royal orders, why should I risk my neck for him? He's dreaming if he thinks I'll play his game."
Duke's voice deepened, carrying an undeniable weight of authority.
"Old Morgan, warn all my vassals and knights: strictly forbid any response to Arno's summons, in any form. Any who send troops without my permission..."
His thick fingers clenched, knuckles cracking, a terrifying ferocity crossing his face.
"The moment I learn of any defiance, I'll personally snap their necks that very night."
"Yes, my lord. But there's one more matter, Lord Duke."
The steward, Morgan, didn't immediately leave. Instead, he produced a letter carefully sealed with beeswax from his inner pocket and presented it respectfully.
"This letter was sent through secret channels by Princess Gloria."
"Gloria?"
Hearing the familiar name, Duke raised an eyebrow. His massive fingers took the letter, tore open the fire lacquer seal, and his gaze swept swiftly across the elegant script.
As Duke read the letter, its clear, concise strategies and sharp insights into the situation caused a rare glint of keen intelligence to flash in his eyes, which were usually clouded by the Blood Rage Secret Art.
He raised his thick eyebrows, his admiration undisguised, and grinned widely.
"I never expected... that delicate, greenhouse-flower Imperial Princess could devise such a cunning and ruthless plan. She not only sees the situation clearly but also knows how to offer terms no one can refuse. Her courage and vision far surpass those of her short-lived brothers!"
"Excellent!"
After a moment's contemplation, Duke let out a low growl, his decision made, the earlier lethargy completely gone.
"I accept this proposal."
He turned to Morgan, his voice regaining the lordly authority and decisiveness.
"Issue my orders: immediately begin mobilizing the army. Publicly declare... that we are responding to Duke Arno's 'call' and heading east to 'support' his war against the River Domain Nations."
A meaningful, almost cruel smile curled the corners of Duke's lips.
"Let our 'kingdom-loyal' Duke Arno... truly experience the 'warm' support from the Western Territory. I'm sure he'll be 'overjoyed'."
(End of the Chapter)
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