Duke Calvin unfolded the letter and, after a quick glance, his eyes stopped on two words.

"Marriage alliance?!"

"Huh?" He almost spat out his tea.

"Who? Who's getting married to whom?"

His eyes quickly scanned downwards, reading ten lines at a glance, until they landed on that line.

"Emily Edmund, the third daughter, is to be betrothed to Louis Calvin."

His whole body seemed to stiffen.

He remembered this eighth son, Louis.

His initial impression of him was that he lacked talent, ambition, and drive, a typical noble kid who idled away his time.

So he was sent to the Northern Territory as a way to make use of a waste, with no intention of letting him inherit anything.

Later, the old butler Bradley mentioned a few times in his letters that Louis had managed the messy corner of the Northern Territory with great order.

He even found a Demon Marrow Ore in the Northern Territory, and every month engaged in trade with the family, providing a substantial and stable income.

He was satisfied with this, casually approved some resources for Louis to establish himself in the Northern Territory.

"Worth nurturing," he thought at the time, but nothing more.

After that, he became too busy to pay attention.

In his mind, Louis was always someone useful but not central.

Just a spare pawn.

Unexpectedly now, Duke Edmund had singled him out for a marriage proposal, wanting to marry his precious daughter to him. This was no ordinary action.

"There must be something happening that I don't know about."

He immediately called for the butler, "Is there any letter about Louis?"

"Yes, Sir." The butler, unhurried, accurately picked out a letter from the thick pile, and handed it over with both hands.

"It just arrived today," he added.

Duke Calvin took the letter, opened it, and unfolded the paper, frowning as he read.

This letter mostly reported on what Louis had recently been doing; the first sentence made his eyelids twitch:

"Ordered to scout Qingyu Ridge, night raid fifty miles, led 130 knights to capture an important enemy stronghold."

Each subsequent line shocked him even more.

"Set up an ambush, annihilated 800 elite Wolf Riders of the enemy, with zero casualties on our side."

"..."

The information kept pouring in, nearly making his eyeballs pop out of their sockets.

"What? Night raiding fifty miles? With 130 knights taking down 800 elite troops and having them all survive? What kind of military genius is this?!"

"Also, awarded the Shield of the North Medal, granted 1,000 square kilometers of land, and promoted to Prefect of Snow Peak County!?"

A 19-year-old Prefect!

The Duke gently folded the letter, leaned back in his chair, and lowered his head in contemplation.

This could no longer be described as just "noteworthy" or "worth attention."

"Could this be fabricated?" he questioned softly, as if doubting the letter's content.

But he quickly calmed down; even if Louis dared to lie, Duke Edmund wouldn't be backing him up.

These military achievements could easily be verified.

"At just 19, with so few resources from the family... and yet he turned the Northern Territory on its head, earning the title of Prefect."

Duke Calvin admitted he had indeed misjudged.

Suddenly, he remembered that Louis had always been a bit too quiet since childhood.

Unlike other children who competed fiercely, he was always a step behind, very obedient, as if he had no desires at all.

Back then, he thought this child lacked ambition, but looking back now...

"Could it be he was pretending? Feeling there was no chance to inherit the title, he purposely appeared mediocre, early on wanting to escape the Southeast Province, avoid sibling conflict, and fled to the Northern Territory to rise?"

"Although still not as good as his two brothers, he can no longer be considered a fringe figure."

He glanced at the letter from Duke Edmund on the table, his expression gradually becoming more serious.

He began assessing the pros and cons of this marriage alliance.

The Edmunds, known as the Lords of the North, were practically emperors among the Northern Lords, the unshakeable core of the Northern Lands.

Louis, though previously a fringe member of the Calvin Family, now held legitimate land and a Shield of the North Medal due to his battlefield achievements in the Northern Territory.

More crucially, he was now the Prefect of Snow Peak County.

In the North, this represented considerable influence, serving as the family's representative in the Northern Territory.

"If this marriage succeeds," Duke Calvin narrowed his eyes, "it could be the Calvin family's retreat in the Northern Territory."

The Calvin Clan of the Southeast Province, though affluent, faced grim prospects in recent years.

The Royal Family's reach had extended too far.

Favoring close allies, promoting new nobility, continually inserting war-credited nobles and bureaucratic factions into the Southeast frontier, not to mention rounds of audits, increased taxes...

Officially, it was to balance power, but in reality, it was to seize land, people, and profits.

The goal was simple: to pull the teeth of the noble families.

"Over at the port, for the past few years, we've had to give up thirty percent of the profits to support the new nobility of the Imperial Capital." Duke Calvin sneered.

As the local powerhouse of the Southeast, he had to yield a portion every year.

If he could connect with the Northern Territory's fresh force, he might secure more escapes before the situation changed.

As for the Edmund Family, though they intended to extend their influence southward, they didn't want to get thoroughly involved in the Imperial center's power struggle. The marriage alliance was a fitting method.

Moreover, both their families were among the Eight Great Clans, well-suited for each other.

Duke Calvin nodded slightly.

The only downside was that the Emperor wouldn't approve; he didn't like any connections among the Eight Great Clans.

With the present Emperor's high prestige and swift methods, he had cut the Eight Great Clans to the point they were without complaints.

Even if they joined forces, they couldn't shake him in the slightest.

So they waited patiently.

Waiting for this aging Emperor to naturally fade, hoping for a more manageable, more willing-to-compromise successor to ascend the throne.

And that day seemed not too far off.

He closed his eyes, recalling the last time he had an audience with the Emperor in the Imperial Capital.

It was an old, frail figure sitting on the golden throne.

He was eighty-seven years old then and couldn't hold on much longer.

As for successors? Each one worse than the last.

The only well-regarded Third Prince, renowned since youth, excellent in command, held high public esteem.

Yet half a year ago, he "accidentally" fell into a cesspit and drowned during his territorial inspection.

Duke Calvin let out a light snort, his expression tremendously indifferent.

"A Peak Knight would 'accidentally' fall into a cesspool?"

What a joke, it was an assassination, an insult.

Blatantly, in front of everyone, an insult to the Royal Family and the Emperor.

Most likely a certain old noble family did it to retaliate against the Emperor.

Of course, it wasn't without consequences; in the past six months, the Emperor had been governing more frequently, promoting only those loyal to himself, the new nobility, and civil servant families around him.

His distrust of the old noble families had reached its zenith.

So even a routine marriage proposal could spark suspicion.

"This matter must be handled with extreme caution." He sat back down, took out a sheet of paper, and dipped it in ink.

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