In the temporary Council Hall of the Frost Halberd, the fire was burning brightly, casting flickers of light and shadow on the thick stone walls.

The thirteen seats were arranged according to protocol, but the atmosphere was as still as the snowstorm outside, with undercurrents surging beneath the silence.

The Sixth Prince Astha sat placidly on the left side of the main guest seat, his eyes quietly scanning the speakers in the hall.

Placed in the center of the room, he appeared somewhat uneasy. Compared to the seasoned foxes seated there, he was noticeably young, cautiously witnessing this silent blade confrontation.

The first to speak was Heluda, seated prominently on the right row. He represented the Imperial Capital's logistics bureau, exuding the "self-evident" arrogance of the nobility in his manner of speech.

He looked around and spoke in a gentle tone, "Everyone, the current state of the Northern Territory is surely clearer to all present here than to me.

Storage is inadequate, transport strained, and the frozen roads frequently break along the routes. If reconstruction in each area is left to independently manage, resource wastage is inevitable."

Speaking, Heluda inclined slightly toward Duke Edmund, "Our logistics bureau could assist in constructing a unified warehousing and distribution system across regions, but now... Without establishing a coordinating institution, I fear efficiency cannot be guaranteed.

Thus, I suggest establishing the Northern Territory United Logistics Coordination Department, temporarily led by our bureau for the execution of primary tasks. Of course, this is solely for the imperative of overall Empire coordination, without any ulterior motive."

He spoke with great precision, avoiding directly saying "deprive dispatch rights," yet subtly shifting Duke Edmund's power core quietly away.

Edmund did not respond immediately, instead looking at Heluda for a moment, his expression as steady as ever, but a subtle shadow crossed his eyes.

"I understand Heluda's concerns. However, the Northern Territory's situation is complex; storage, transportation, and distribution are closely tied to civil affairs. Establishing such an office could result in overlapping decisions..." The Duke's words were polite yet restrained.

Before he finished speaking, a dry voice interrupted at the end, "The Emperor once said at the imperial conference, 'The Northern Territory must not tread the path of disaster again,' a statement memorable to this day."

Mei Si, the representative of the Inspectorate, calmly supplemented, "Concentrating resources and unifying supervision is the best response to His Majesty's directive. If management is decentralized, any oversight… The Inspectorate could hardly be accountable."

The phrase "hardly be accountable" now subtly transitioned to an indirect warning to Edmund.

Financial Department representative Kant Kafir also smiled lazily, "The Inspectorate is quite right. If local governments act independently, the financial ledger won't look good. To avoid wasting Imperial Gold Coins, Heluda's proposal seems efficient."

All three maintained respect, with hardly a word offensive, yet each sentence sought to strip dispatching rights from Duke Edmund.

Edmund furrowed his brow slightly.

This was not an ordinary meeting but an ambush, a political negotiation cloaked as "imperial mandate."

They seemed to say little, yet nearly communicated the sentence "Even the Emperor wishes you to cede your powers" in an impeccably roundabout manner.

Duke Edmund's brow furrowed, his voice carrying a querying undertone, "Since everyone insists on the approach of resource coordination... could we perhaps invite the Royal Family's observation group, with the Sixth Prince as the core?"

As the words fell, the atmosphere in the hall paused slightly.

Astha, seated beside the main guest seat, remained motionless, his eyes lightly lowered as though choosing his words carefully.

Suddenly, the silver cup beside him was tapped lightly twice by someone's knuckle, the sound exceedingly faint, yet precisely reaching his ear.

Saif behind him withdrew his index finger, his expression still serene but his gaze secretly warning.

This was a reminder—not to respond, not to get trapped.

Astha nodded softly, unchanged in demeanor, more humble in tone, "Father ordered me to swiftly advance exploration tasks. As for the reconstruction details of the Northern Territory... I've just arrived and require counsel from various sources, hence dare not speak presumptively."

He neither supported nor opposed, bypassing the issue with understated subtlety.

Yet this vague response brought a sinking feeling to Edmund's heart.

Was it reluctance to speak or was the Emperor never intending to divulge the truth to him?

Edmund appeared composed on the surface but internally was a storm of emotions.

Though none of the trio mentioned "imperial mandate," every sentence revolved around "Empire's will" and "centralized allocation," their tone ambiguous, yet irrefutable.

In reality, their words had flaws, but he couldn't calmly discern them now.

Over the months, the intelligence reaching him was mostly severe bad news, leaving him mentally drained, unlike his once incisive self.

"...The Emperor surely isn't letting me go." He gazed down at his calloused palm, his heart tightened.

Perhaps since his family's influence was devastatingly struck by the Nest, he was seen by His Majesty as an old relic to be discarded.

Anxiety surged like a tide, making him almost certain they intended to actually strip his authority this time.

The hall's atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive, as if even the fire had dimmed from the chilling words exchanged.

The Northern Lords presented varied expressions, some bowed their heads, some glanced sideways, but none volunteered opinions.

To the four department representatives from the Imperial Capital, they felt both intimidation and suspicion.

Even their leader, Edmund, plunged into silence, leaving them equally tongue-tied.

Astha sat on the side seat, hands folded on his knees, seemingly courteous while silently observing every word.

He didn't speak but was already stirred inside—is this the clash of supreme power?

And as the atmosphere continued to intensify, a young yet steady voice suddenly emerged, breaking the silence.

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