Chapter 344: Chapter 242: Meeting in the Imperial Capital (Part 2)

It was a long-lost warmth, carrying dust and the scent of flowers, yet it could not truly dispel the lingering chill within her.

She stood on the steps for a moment, took a deep breath slowly, and finally exhaled the long-pent-up oppression.

Her back slightly relaxed, a subtle easing that one could only feel after surviving a catastrophe.

Then she silently boarded her family’s carriage.

The door gently closed, the curtains fell, and the wheels rolled over the white stone road of the Imperial City, entering the Imperial Street.

She slightly tilted her head, watching the streetscape recede outside the window.

The Imperial Capital remained as prosperous as ever.

Streets and alleys were bustling with people, knights marched forward bearing flags, and vendors shouted about steaming hot soups.

Noblewomen in brocade dresses strolled and chatted with small dogs in tow, while children jumped and chased kites.

The music, aromas, and sunlight interwove into a scene that almost made one forget the war.

Yet she only watched, without saying a word, her mind replaying the strategy and maneuvers of the entire meeting.

“No one mentioned the Calvin Clan, no one mentioned Louis’s name, and even that proposal was not submitted by us… yet a large piece of the pie on that table ended up in our hands.”

This was precisely the strategy that Duke Edmund wrote in his letter.

No sharpness, no flamboyance, no proactive moves, but at the most critical juncture, steadily nudging the situation in a beneficial direction.

Ultimately, having others speak for us, with the Emperor personally stamping it.

The Emperor did not give Louis any overt title, nor did he bestow any honor or merit.

But he granted Duke Edmund the “resource allocation rights” and “Northern Territory reconstruction leadership rights.”

And who is Louis?

He is the son-in-law of the Lord of the North, one of the greatest surviving lords in the Northern Territory, the biggest hero of the post-war period.

This meeting naturally brought him into the decision-making circle of the Northern Territory, firmly planting the Calvin Clan’s roots there.

But this strategy’s success did not rely solely on the Duke’s scheme.

She knew very well that without the Emperor’s “cooperation,” these steps would not have been possible.

Thinking of this, she calmly analyzed Emperor Ernst’s true intentions:

First, to protect Duke Edmund.

Though the Northern Territory fell, that Duke used his private army to stubbornly defend, winning buffer time for the Dragon Blood Legion.

Moreover, Duke Edmund had diligently defended the Empire’s borders over the years; abandoning him would dishearten the border troops.

Perhaps another reason is the rumored good friendship between the two despite their age difference.

Second, not to redeploy the main forces to the North.

For the past two years, the Emperor has been scheming among the southern countries, his gaze never truly settled on the barren permafrost of the North.

He wouldn’t redeploy elite legions for a wasteland; he needs a Northern Territory capable of self-recovery, not one that devours resources like an abyss.

Third, to weaken the old noble system.

Without explicit words, yet all major nobility knows, he uses the name of “reconstruction” to send knights and heirs of noble families into the North’s post-war order, to re-root in the permafrost.

This is not expansion; it is pruning the flourishing branches of noble families, using the North’s barren land to erode their strength.

At this moment, Eleanor thought of the people at the meeting; there were no fools among them.

Some old nobles deduced the Emperor’s stance even before the meeting began.

Yet they said nothing, neither supporting nor opposing.

Or, like my family, they had an “agent” to speak for them.

Stating their position while maintaining their distance, not exposing the family’s true calculations and stance.

She leaned against the carriage window and chuckled softly, a bit of self-mockery mingled with a complex sense of relief: “This is all because the Emperor’s pressure is too immense, making everyone afraid to such an extent.”

It is a rare sight in the history of the Empire.

Once, major noble families were as fierce as wolves, but now everyone treads on thin ice.

This illustrates one thing: this Emperor has grown strong enough to swallow all major nobility.

She leaned against the inner wall of the carriage, lightly tapping her knees with her fingers, and spoke in a low voice: “Don’t go back home, head to the Capital Hospital.”

The driver obediently turned the direction.

There was her nephew—Gaius Calvin.

The former deputy commander of the Dragon Blood Legion, who exerted all his Fighting Energy during the Nest campaign, collapsed in exhaustion and was sent back to the Imperial Capital after the war, already in a coma for over a month.

She visited almost every day, even if just to take a look.

Firstly out of kinship, secondly because the two had long been stationed in the Imperial Capital together, sharing a genuinely close relationship.

Soon, the carriage stopped, and she stepped into the familiar ward where the room was serene and tidy, with curtains drawn halfway, sunlight slanting over Gaius’s pale face.

Gaius lay quietly in the hospital bed, motionless.

His wife sat by the bedside, holding a newborn baby a few months old in her arms.

The woman looked thin yet had resolute eyes.

Seeing her enter, she immediately stood and greeted her.

Eleanor waved her hand, approached the bed, stared for a moment, and sighed.

“He will wake up.” She comforted in a low voice.

The woman nodded, forcing a faint smile.

She sat down and exchanged a few words with her, briefly chatting about recent changes in the Imperial Capital, purposefully avoiding the topic of the Dragon Throne meeting.

Though Gaius was in the Legion, he never liked politics, and his wife was a gentle woman dedicated to caring for her family, so talking about such matters was meaningless.

As they spoke, steady footsteps sounded from outside the door.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Leading the way was Arthur—the one-armed captain of the Dragon Blood Knight Order and Gaius’s dear friend.

She was slightly surprised: “Why are you here?”

Arthur nodded to her, then looked at Gaius on the bed: “We’ve come to take him.”

“Take him?” Gaius’s wife anxiously stood, clutching the child in her arms tightly.

“We received a special order.” Arthur’s tone was steady, “To transfer him to a place in the Empire… a place where he can awaken.”

Gaius’s wife bit her lip, moved closer with the child: “Then… can I go with him?”

Arthur glanced at her, slightly hesitant: “That’s not possible; it’s one of the Empire’s highest-level confidentiality areas… actually, mentioning it already violates the regulations. But it’s fine; I’ll be over there for a while as well, for my hand’s treatment.”

The woman remained silent for a moment, then looked down at her sleeping husband.

“…I trust you.” Her voice trembled slightly, barely audible, “Take him.”

Arthur nodded and gestured to the knights behind him.

They skillfully and cautiously moved Gaius onto a specially-made stretcher, securely wrapped and fastened him, then carried him away.

Before leaving, Arthur repeated: “I will protect him.”

Eleanor and Gaius’s wife watched their figures fade down the corridor.

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