The night was deep and dark, a gentle breeze tapping against the window, yet inside the study, only the candlelight glimmered faintly.
Duke Calvin sat alone in a high-backed chair, his fingertips flipping through a thick stack of urgent battle reports from the Imperial Secretariat.
The edges of the parchment still bore the scorch marks peculiar to rapid delivery, indicative of their urgent transmission.
His gaze swept calmly over the post-battle summaries, but his fingers paused slightly upon seeing a particular piece of information.
"Gaius Calvin, severely injured in the Battle of Doomsday Nest, Fighting Energy depleted, nervous system disintegrated, now in a long-term coma... currently in a vegetative state, unable to awaken."
For a long time, only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard.
Duke Calvin lowered his head, his long fingers gently rubbing over the words "deep coma" and "consciousness sealed"...
His brows twitched slightly, yet he showed no sign of losing composure.
He was not a man who would cry his heart out in the study; he was one of the Empire's eight pillars and the patriarch of the Calvin Clan.
But his fingertips unconsciously tightened, folding a distinct crease into the edge of the letter.
He closed his eyes, murmuring softly, "...Gaius."
His eldest son—Gaius, the family's stalwart sent to the Imperial Capital as a youth, who made steady progress on the battlefield.
Gentle, steady, neither arrogant nor impatient.
And also a Peak Knight, the Deputy Corps Commander of the Imperial Dragon Blood Legion.
He had thought this person would be the most reliable successor for the Calvin Clan.
Yet now he had fallen in the Northern Territory.
The lamplight flickered gently, as if stirred by the wind.
He remained silent for a long while, then suddenly spoke in a low voice as if to himself, "Still alive... might yet awaken... perhaps it's only temporary..."
His voice was soft, carrying a kind of barely maintained calmness.
Of course, he knew such words were merely excuses for himself.
Duke Calvin sighed, slowly leaning back into the high-backed chair, his thumb stroking the edge of the letter's wax seal, his thoughts like a tide.
"A family's top combat strength, gone just like that."
A momentary shadow crossed his eyes, but it quickly returned to a stern demeanor, not devoid of emotion, but never allowing emotions to dictate judgment.
Gaius was too straightforward...
Lacking any sense of self-preservation, perhaps he was never suited to be the leader of the Calvin Clan.
This was related to his early departure for the Imperial Capital as a hostage. If he had known he would become a Peak Knight, he would have kept him by his side to raise personally.
But now, thinking about such matters was pointless.
The Duke let out a slow breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and continued to unfold the next page of the secret letter.
"Viscount Louis Calvin of the Red Tide Territory organized local military and civilians to hold Snow Peak Line; led a breakthrough of the Insect Swarm blockade to aid Frost Halberd City;
Near the end of the battle, detonated the outer defenses of the Doomsday Nest, assisting in destroying the Nest core, with remarkable battle achievements, reported to the Imperial Capital by Duke Edmund."
He was stunned.
At first, he even thought some clerk had mistaken the name.
"Louis?"
That... eighth son?
Until last year, he didn't even remember the child's name, nor had he ever intended to.
It wasn't until last year that the child began to accomplish things step by step.
He established a foothold in the Northern Territory, sheltered refugees, built bases, and even won the trust of the Governor.
To what extent?—Edmond even married his daughter to him.
That was the first time he truly regarded that "overlooked eighth son."
But even then, he had never pinned high hopes on him.
Just gradually expanding the family's influence in the Northern Territory was considered a significant achievement.
As for turning the tide in large-scale campaigns like the "Doomsday Nest"? He hadn't even considered it, but—
"Near the end of the battle, detonated the outer defenses of the Doomsday Nest, assisting in destroying the Nest core... one of the key contributors to this battle's success."
Duke Calvin slowly furrowed his brow, "How did he do it? The Knights he commands shouldn't have been enough to participate in a battle of such a scale."
Louis unknowingly was no longer that child to be ignored, or casually sent to the Northern Territory to die.
He was now one of the largest Lords in the Northern Territory, a pillar of the Northern defensive line, recognized as a "meritorious figure" in the Empire's battle reports.
Duke Calvin slowly leaned back into the high-backed chair, remaining silent for a long time.
The candlelight flickered gently in his eyes, revealing no emotion.
But his mind was already racing.
He must secure the best rewards for Louis.
This is the iron law of an ancient noble family—if you are a waste, they can discard you anytime.
But if you demonstrate value, capable of winning glory and profit for the family, they will spare no effort to support you, paving your path with strategies, and offering all resources.
That is how cruel it is, and that is how realistic it is.
And this opportunity is also a gamble.
The Imperial Northern Territory is at the beginning of reconstruction, with every major Northern family full of scars, dozens of noble lineages extinct, the old powers collapsed, and the new order yet to be established.
And he, Duke Calvin, happens to have a son there, one recognized as a crucial contributor in the most critical battle.
Only this contributor is exactly the type the Emperor dislikes:
Hailing from one of the Eight Great Clans, with battle accomplishments, popular appeal, territory, and married to Duke Edmund's daughter.
It can be said, Louis gathers every label the Emperor disapproves of.
Emperor Ernst August, that man as cold as Cold Iron, never trusts nobles, nor birthrights.
He personally stripped dozens of hereditary vassals of their titles, just to break the noble hereditary system.
He can reward a mere foot soldier with honor, yet he is extremely wary of aristocratic offspring with battle achievements.
He detests any descendant of deep-rooted families standing outside the realm of imperial power, forming their own climate.
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