The number of nobles in Oak Grove County was gradually increasing, though the vast majority of them were barons—the lowest rank in the noble hierarchy. These barons had no lands of their own, and their only means of earning a living was to involve themselves in various projects initiated by the higher-ranking nobles, hoping to secure a share of the profits.

Even under such conditions, the barons and nobles of Tara were still required to pay a significant amount in taxes. This obligation was unrelated to the projects they joined or the success of their endeavors. Simply being Tara meant they had to pay. It was a rule imposed by the Victorian nobility—an expectation placed upon the defeated people of Tara, who were naturally burdened with such costs.

Felix noticed that these Tara nobles resided in the Victoria district, just a few blocks away from the hotel where he currently stayed. Yet, despite their origins, they showed no concern for the Tara people living in Oak Grove County. During their time there, not one of them paused even briefly at the entrance to the streets where the Tara commoners lived.

It was as if none of them were aware of the tragedy that had befallen Oak Grove County. Only Mandragora had made the effort to visit the graves. Day after day, she swept the fallen leaves with a broom, poured clean water before the tombstones from a watering can, and carefully wiped the weathered surfaces of the stones with a linen cloth, as if trying to erase the scars time had left behind.

The tombstones mirrored the current state of the Tara people—wounds that never healed, constantly weeping. These were wounds tended only by the common folk, licked and soothed in silence. The Tara nobles—supposedly of the same blood—had not offered a single word, nor even a glance. They couldn’t be bothered to look at their own people.

Instead, they buried themselves in pleasure, throwing their passion and joy into one dance and cocktail party after another, indulging in drink and debauchery. Their behavior was disgraceful, far removed from the grace expected at noble gatherings and negotiations. They twisted their bodies wildly at banquets, perhaps hoping such revelry might help them forget—if only for a moment—that they were Tara.

“How ironic, Teacher.”

Eblana stood beside Felix, holding a parasol. Loughshinny stood quietly nearby. The sight of the three together had become increasingly familiar.

After confirming that neither of the two sisters bore him any hostility, Felix had asked Degenbrecher to keep an eye on Mandragora. Over the past two days, Mandragora had been staying at the cemetery alone until late into the night. Though Felix was curious about what she was doing there, Mandragora was a mature girl. He didn’t want to constantly control her—he had to respect her independence.

It was better to leave such matters to Degenbrecher.

Rather than remaining in Oak Grove County, the group left town and headed for a nearby Victorian scenic spot favored by the locals for day trips. There, they spread out for a picnic.

“Are you referring to the Tara nobles?” Felix asked.

“They call themselves the pride and representation of Tara, yet they drown their disgrace in alcohol,” Eblana said quietly.

Felix leaned back against a tree stump, glancing over the blueprints he was working on. “For the Tara nobles, this is inevitable. They’ve grown used to being subjugated. They’ve knelt for so long that standing up now is practically impossible.”

“What about war?” Eblana murmured.

“A war with a legitimate cause? To help Tara reclaim its nation?”

Felix answered his own question. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with leading the Tara people in restoring their country. But Victoria’s military strength shouldn’t be underestimated. Sometimes, no matter how exceptional an individual is, there’s a limit to what one person can do. When outnumbered, how do we overcome the disparity in power? It’s too difficult.”

Eblana smiled faintly. “I’m just speaking hypothetically.”

Loughshinny glanced at her sister before turning her gaze back to Felix. She remained uncertain. Part of her didn’t understand what her sister was planning… or perhaps, deep down, she did understand—but simply didn’t want to believe it.

Although she too called Felix “teacher,” she was always the quiet one during lessons, the one who listened attentively. She left all the questions and interactions to her sister, Eblana. It had always been that way.

“Teacher,” Loughshinny said, “can we talk more about exploitation and counter-exploitation? I’m still really curious about how you manipulated the villains.”

“Sure,” Felix nodded, “but before that… it’s lunchtime.”

“Excuse me,” Eblana said with a gentle smile.

She took the picnic basket from the side and began placing its contents neatly on the picnic blanket. There were sandwiches, fresh salads, plates of fruit, and other dishes beloved by Victorians during outdoor outings.

“Loughshinny and I made these together,” she said, watching Felix’s expression closely. “I hope you’ll like them, Teacher.”

“Still calling me ‘Teacher’?” Felix raised an eyebrow. It felt a little strange to be addressed that way by a woman around his own age. After all, he hadn’t formally accepted that role.

In the fields of science, mechanics, and industrial design, he could accept Feist calling him “teacher” without feeling awkward. He had the qualifications. But when it came to discussing governance, the way of kings, and statecraft… well, anyone with a decent understanding of Crusader Kings or Stellaris could probably give a decent lecture on the subject.

“Of course. A teacher is a teacher,” Eblana said firmly.

She handed him one of the sandwiches. “Please try this one.”

Felix took a bite. The savory meat and fresh vegetables blended harmoniously in his mouth. It was genuinely delicious.

He quickly finished the sandwich and offered sincere praise. “That was really good. Eblana, you’re quite skilled at cooking.”

“Here,” Eblana said, “this tea was made by Loughshinny.”

“Thanks.”

Felix accepted the cup and took a sip. After savoring the subtle bitterness of the black tea and letting the taste fade from his mouth, he spoke again.

“To be honest, I’m not particularly fond of this topic. I prefer straightforward scheming and an open, righteous path to power—not tyranny.”

“Teacher,” Eblana asked with a quiet smile, “do you want to be a king?”

Felix shook his head. “I’ve never considered it. I’m just an ordinary person. Compared to becoming a ruler of a nation, I value freedom far more.”

What kind of king could he be as a Sankta? Laterano already had that candy-loving old man at the helm. Even if succession were on the table, it would never fall to him. With the Sankta’s long lifespans, there were still four or five generations above him. Leadership simply wasn’t in his path.

As for ruling other nations—he dismissed the thought entirely.

…Perhaps Sargon could be considered. According to what Carnelian had said, some of Sargon’s tribes elect their leaders solely based on strength. That meant, in theory, he could just bring his mecha and run for tribal chief… Honestly, he was still being too idealistic.

For now, simply being an ordinary company boss was more than enough.

The so-called “course” at this point had become more of a free-flowing conversation. Eblana chatted about anything and everything, while Loughshinny remained the most devoted listener. From time to time, she would quietly take out a small notebook and jot down Felix’s words.

That night—

Eblana and Loughshinny had just finished the “homework” assigned by Earl Warwick. As they walked together, Eblana let out a faint sigh.

She had learned so much from Felix in these past few days. If only he had been her real teacher. If he had raised her from childhood, then maybe—just maybe—she wouldn’t have become the person she was today.

But reality wasn’t so kind.

“Elder sister…”

“Loughshinny, do you like Teacher Felix?”

“I do.” Loughshinny nodded earnestly. “He explains things so clearly. Even though we’ve only had a few lessons, I’ve learned a lot.”

“If you like him so much… why don’t you go with him?”

“Huh?”

Eblana turned her head slightly, a smile playing on her lips. It wasn’t the kind of polite, calculated smile worn by the nobles at banquets, nor was it like the refined, practiced grin of Earl Warwick, someone they’d been forced to deal with since childhood.

“Sister… what are you trying to do?” Loughshinny bit her lower lip, as if sensing something beneath her sister’s words.

“Do you know what Lord Warwick is planning?”

Eblana’s voice remained soft, but a faint chill crept into her tone. “He’s on the king’s side. A villain, and a very influential one at that.”

“I’ve already contacted many of Earl Warwick’s close associates and convinced them to turn to my side. At first, I thought about striking him down in one clean blow… but now I realize killing him would be far too crude and wasteful.”

“Elder sister…”

“This is something Teacher Felix taught me,” Eblana said with a sigh. “There’s no need to kill someone like Warwick. He can still be used.”

“If we eliminate him, someone else just like him will take his place. Some other noble with status, hoping to invest in us for their own gain. They’ll come seeking to use our status for their benefit. So instead, I’ll turn the tables. I’ll use him, and make him my protector.”

Loughshinny nodded slightly. “…I understand, sister. So… what should I do?”

“Just follow Teacher Felix and leave.”

Loughshinny froze. She stopped in the corridor, staring in stunned silence at her sister’s back.

Eblana turned to look at her, her eyes filled with a mixture of gentle sorrow and something deeper—an ambition that ran so deep, Loughshinny couldn’t begin to comprehend it.

“Why did Earl Warwick adopt the two of us? It’s because our race and identity are too advantageous for him. As long as we grow up, he can use our status to accomplish everything he wants.”

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too—that’s what Teacher Felix said in class. To Earl Warwick, the two of us are indispensable pieces… But Loughshinny, you’re not meant to walk the same path as I do. Instead of staying here, I hope you can grow up safely in a place free from political intrigue. Someday, I’ll bring you and Teacher Felix back together again.”

Eblana took a few steps forward, gently rubbed Loughshinny’s cheek, then pinched it softly. She sighed, an affectionate glimmer in her eyes, but in the next moment, that warmth vanished—her gaze turned cold, composed.

“To make that happen, I need to give them a reason for your disappearance.”

Before Loughshinny could understand her sister’s words, in the blink of an eye, a violet flame shot out and pierced her shoulder. Blood splattered across the floor.

…

The dinner was abruptly interrupted by the sudden clash of swords and spears. Earl Warwick’s face was visibly displeased. He turned toward the attendant at his side and asked in a low voice, “What’s going on?”

“Milord! A group of unidentified men in black have broken into your estate. They didn’t kill anyone—they went straight for the treasure vault.”

Earl Warwick’s expression darkened. “How dare they.”

For someone to dare barge into his mansion knowing full well whose house it was—they couldn’t be ordinary thieves. This wasn’t some clueless bandit. It had to be someone with real connections. A noble from Victoria unhappy with him? Or perhaps a third party operating from the shadows?

The Earl leaned toward the former. He had claimed to be the spiritual leader of the Tara people—yet he was being attacked in the very territory of Tara. This was a blow to his standing.

Without prestige and reputation, a noble was no better than a street vendor selling roasted sweet potatoes. Just like officials in any Countries relied on reputation, a noble without influence had no authority. And if he lost that, how could he hope to command the scattered, thick-headed Tara lords in the future?

Thinking this through, Earl Warwick stood up. He gave a polite smile to the nobles still conversing with him, then quickly made his way toward the source of the commotion, leaning heavily on his cane.

From afar, he saw a ball of violet flame burning at the end of the corridor. His heart sank, and he quickened his pace.

There, he saw several masked figures in black besieging Eblana. They were short in stature, wielded sharp weapons, and had their faces entirely covered, making it impossible to distinguish race or gender.

“Capture all those cowards who hide their faces!” Earl Warwick roared.

The guards behind him surged forward with spears and machetes in hand, ready to cut down the intruders daring to run wild inside the Earl’s own estate.

Eblana appeared to breathe a sigh of relief—only for the leader of the assassins to lunge forward in the next instant. A blade pierced deeply into her arm.

However, the assassins soon found themselves caught in a pincer attack. After exchanging glances, they decisively leapt out of the shattered window.

“Pursue them! Don’t bother coming back if you can’t catch them!” the Earl of Warwick bellowed in rare fury, slamming his cane against the floor. “How did they even get in? What do you people do during patrols?!”

The guards didn’t dare linger, clearly afraid that his rage would fall squarely on their shoulders. Without a word, they quickly formed search teams and began combing through the city.

“Eblana, are you all right?” Earl Warwick stepped forward, concern on his face.

Eblana shook her head, a visible grimace of pain appearing. “Teacher… they took Loughshinny.”

“What?!”

It felt as though the sky had collapsed for the Earl. His eyes went red in an instant, and he gasped, stricken with heartache. Those two sisters had been his most valuable cards—now, one had been snatched away right under his nose. Who were these people? If they were truly Victorian nobles, then once exposed, he’d be utterly finished.

Years of careful planning and maneuvering… reduced to the laughable act of a clown.

“Eblana… go and rest for now. I swear to you—I will bring Loughshinny back.”

“Okay… Teacher.”

With that, Eblana was helped away by a servant to have her wounds treated.

Once he was alone, Earl Warwick’s expression slowly twisted into something far more savage. He struck the ground hard with his cane, the sound echoing like a curse through the corridor.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep