Chapter 560: Chapter 30: The High-Spirited George

Marquis George did not stay in the Crystal Palace for long.

He needed to hurry and find out what was going on.

After leaving the Crystal Palace, Marquis George did not return to his residence. Instead, he went to the Barishik Magic Tower, hoping to use his connections to access the tower’s records.

He hadn’t expected Daniel Chancellor to be so thorough—the records had all been deleted.

Now, things were truly out of his control, and Marquis George felt a pang of anxiety.

Political intelligence, like news, is all about timeliness.

Receiving information an hour earlier versus an hour later could lead to completely different outcomes!

But at the moment, he had no channels to get information. With no other options, Marquis George could only return to his manor to wait.

....

That night, the major political factions of the Frank Kingdom were bound to be restless.

Louis III had fainted from rage after reading a mysterious letter, and speculation was running rampant.

Several key figures of the Northern Faction had also appeared at Marquis George’s manor.

Earl Harold, Count Feiman...

The men were chatting distractedly when, suddenly, the sound of galloping hoofbeats echoed through the air.

Marquis George was the first to react. The Wei Man Clan was one of the Frank Kingdom’s old and powerful clans; their manor was vast, but riding was generally forbidden at night.

Unless... it was a matter of extreme urgency...

"Patriarch, Patriarch!"

"A message from Earl Lu Wen!"

The butler appeared in the parlor, holding a letter.

"Earl Lu Wen!"

Hearing this, Marquis George’s eyes lit up.

Earl Lu Wen was very respectful toward Marquis Oscillate, but ultimately, he was a core member of the Northern Faction’s overseas clique—and one of Marquis George’s most capable men.

"Earl Lu Wen!"

The other core members of the Northern Faction also looked up, their eyes shining with interest.

Louis III fainting today had to be related to news from the central front. As a high-ranking officer in the army there, Earl Lu Wen would surely know something.

Marquis George took the letter. On it were the words: For Marquis George’s eyes only...

The letter was short, but every line was packed with major news.

Marshal Grantham had deployed over a hundred Magic Crystal Cannons.

Prince Noah was dead. Princess Yifulei had woken only to fall unconscious again. Marquis Oscillate had also lapsed into a coma after Prince Noah’s death and remained unresponsive...

Marquis George read the news, his heart filled with joy, but his face a mask of sorrow.

"His Highness the Prince... To think that His Highness the Prince..."

As if dealt a fatal blow, Marquis George slumped into his chair, his eyes vacant, and began to gasp for breath.

"Grantham... I should never have helped him rise in the first place!" Marquis George lamented in anguish.

The other three core members of the Northern Faction were baffled.

Marquis George wiped at his tear-filled eyes and, with trembling hands, passed the letter to the others.

The nobles passed the letter among themselves.

After reading it, every single one of them wore the exact same expression as Marquis George.

An unknown amount of time passed in this somber scene.

"George... George, this is not the time for tears.

George, His Majesty the King and Marquis Oscillate are both in a coma, Marshal Grantham was killed by a cult, and Prince Noah has returned to our Lord.

Right now, the entire kingdom is probably looking to you," Count Feiman choked out.

’He knows,’ Marquis George thought. ’Count Feiman is telling me to stop pretending, to not overdo the act. It’s time to get up and discuss what to do next.’

"Alright, alright..." Marquis George murmured.

In truth, what Count Feiman didn’t know was that Marquis George hadn’t been entirely acting just now.

At least, the difficulty breathing had been real, if only for a moment.

Of course, it wasn’t from grief over the Prince’s death that he found it hard to breathe, but from sheer excitement!

That’s right—excitement!

Marquis George could hardly believe it; he felt as if he were in a dream.

In the span of a single month, Kemal, the man who had killed his family, was dead. Grantham, who had encroached on his power, was dead. And Louis III and Oscillate, who had always suppressed him, probably wouldn’t last much longer either.

’I’m the top dog now!’

Marquis George remained slumped in his chair, savoring the moment.

He, Marquis George, might not have been a match for Louis and Oscillate in politics, or for Grantham in military matters, but he could at least hold his own against them, even if he was constantly at a disadvantage...

Now that they were all gone, wouldn’t that make him the most senior and established figure in the Frankish political arena?

Marquis George couldn’t help but recall a certain saying.

If you can’t kill your enemy, you can always choose to outlive them!

Marquis George was now experiencing this profound truth firsthand.

"Marquis?"

Count Feiman prompted again when Marquis George didn’t respond.

That title, "Marquis," struck a chord deep within him.

In the past, everyone had simply called him Marquis George; "Marquis" was a title of respect reserved exclusively for Marquis Oscillate.

Jolted by the title, Marquis George slowly came back to his senses, his face once again masked by a faint sorrow.

Even though he was among his own men, a truly excellent politician wears his mask even when he’s alone.

"For now, His Majesty the King must be mired in immense grief.

This news has likely not yet spread within the kingdom," Marquis George analyzed.

"Marquis, what should we do now?" Count Feiman asked.

Count Feiman, too, was feeling extremely excited.

The future was clear: under Marquis George’s leadership, the Northern Faction would gain an overwhelming advantage.

"His Majesty the King is in a coma. Perhaps we could act in His Majesty’s stead..."

Marquis George cut him off before he could finish.

"No!"

"His Majesty has not granted us the authority to manage the affairs of state...

Everyone is to lay low for the time being."

After all, Marquis George had spent many years dealing with a pack of old foxes.

Once the initial rush of excitement passed, reason quickly took over.

’Louis III has fainted. But has he really fainted?’

Marquis George didn’t know whether Louis III had actually fainted or not.

What he did know was that Louis III was certain to die soon. His health was already fragile, and now he had lost his son in his old age...

Since Louis III was on the verge of death, it was better to simply wait for him to die. There was no need for any unnecessary schemes.

Once they were all dead, everything he, George, was owed would eventually be his.

George had no desire to be on the receiving end of one of Louis III’s desperate, final moves right on the cusp of victory.

"Then, what do we do now?" Count Feiman asked.

"What do we do?"

"We do what we must. Feiman, didn’t Kroey, the speaker for the Haven Kingdom’s Grand Merchant Council, ask us for aid?" Marquis George asked suddenly.

Hearing this, the expression of the hitherto silent Earl Harold shifted slightly.

At the beginning of the year, war had broken out in the Haven Kingdom.

The King of the Haven Kingdom had repeatedly raised taxes on the merchant class. Unable to bear it any longer, the merchants had launched an uprising.

Ultimately, the Haven Kingdom’s forces gained the upper hand, and the merchants’ coalition suffered defeat after defeat. And so, they had turned to Marquis George for help.

Marquis George represented the Northern Faction’s overseas clique, which did business with these merchants. Since the merchants had provided many benefits, the nobles of the overseas clique wanted to help the Haven Kingdom’s merchant council after the war.

However, Earl Harold, representing the Northern Faction’s inland clique, was against it. He saw no benefit for his own people, who would be preoccupied with post-war reconstruction and have no energy to join Marquis George’s expedition to another kingdom.

The men discussed the details of supporting the Haven Kingdom’s merchant council for a time, the meeting concluding as Earl Harold’s face grew darker and darker.

After Earl Harold left, Count Feiman looked at Marquis George in confusion.

"My lord, didn’t we agree to be cautious when dealing with the Wilmand family?" Count Feiman asked, puzzled.

This was primarily because Robson was on the rise, and both Louis III and Oscillate had entertained the idea of propping up a Northern inland faction to dilute Marquis George’s power.

Though Marquis George didn’t know much about this rising upstart, he had also felt it was best to be cautious.

"The Willmand family?"

"For the next decade, our priority is not to maintain stability, but to expand aggressively."

"We are heavily indebted to the southerners. That money must be repaid eventually.

Over the next ten years, we will certainly gain a dominant position in politics. We must use this time to repay our debts at a low cost. And to do that, those merchants cannot be allowed to fail," Marquis George said.

That was the reason on the surface.

But Marquis George had a deeper, unspoken reason.

In Marquis George’s eyes, the political rivals who could have matched him had either already gone to meet the Lord of Dawn or were about to do so very soon.

Marquis George had previously wanted to prevent Earl Harold from siding with Robson because he genuinely felt threatened by Robson and was preparing to make a move against him.

But now...

Marquis George had a grander scheme in mind. Robson was a secondary concern; his primary political enemies were still the royal family and the southern faction.

Both of those factions were about to be thrown into chaos. When that happened, it would be his time—Marquis George’s time—to make his move.

"Then, what should we do about that Robson?"

"Robson..."

"You think I should avoid a confrontation with him?"

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