industrial lord

Chapter 817 Let's Exit the Stage of History
A few pieces of firewood were thrown into the fireplace, and the flames rose a little higher, enveloping the spacious living room in a warm and flickering orange-red glow. The firewood occasionally made a soft "crackling" sound, scattering a few fleeting golden sparks.

Frederick had been standing by the window for a long time, as the winter twilight rapidly swallowed the distant mountains.

The Grand Master of Mainz was poking at a few Elizabethan potatoes in the ashes of the fireplace with a fire poker, his face solemn, his gaze fixed on the infinite distance.

Since the morning, he had been thinking about an action plan proposed by Frederick that concerned the future of the entire Rhine Union.

At that time, Frederick began by analyzing the actions of the Queen of the Confederation of the Rhine.

“It is only Antonia herself,” he said slowly, his voice as calm as a frozen lake, without a ripple, “who would dare to interfere so brazenly in politics within the Rhine Alliance.”

He turned around, and the light from the sky shone from behind him, his face hidden in shadow, only his ice-blue eyes shining brightly, like the coldest lake under a clear winter sky.

“The Queen may be fond of pleasure and treasures,” Frederick said with a slight smile, “but she is certainly not foolish enough to cross the line in politics.”

"She might make demands on the king for her own enjoyment, such as the palace for which she has yet to finalize the design of the stair railings, but she will not interfere in matters of state and the military."

The Archduke of Mainz held his wine glass to his lips and took one last sip.

“You mean…” he asked slowly.

“There must be someone backing you up,” Frederick replied decisively, with a hint of murderous intent. “Or rather, someone is directing you.”

“Antonia was nothing but a puppet, a hand in velvet gloves that was pushed to the forefront.”

"The one who truly wants to seize power within the Rhine Alliance is hiding in the shadow of her magnificent skirts."

The living room fell silent, save for the faint sound of burning wood in the fireplace.

The Archduke of Mainz slowly put down his wine glass, leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa, and looked up at the intricate plaster reliefs on the ceiling.

The intertwined grapevines and laurel leaf patterns seem to come alive in the flickering firelight, the shadows of the branches and leaves swaying gently with the flames, like a group of silent onlookers.

“That’s true.” He nodded. “Antonia’s consistent behavior is nothing more than indulging in pleasure.”

"Jewelry, fine clothes, endless banquets, and flatterers from all directions with all sorts of ulterior motives—these are nothing to a queen."

“Even…” He paused, looking intently at Frederick, “even during the Battle of Redwaterwheel Village, it was understandable that she was the first to flee Hamma with her servants.”

"After all, she was a woman who had never been to the battlefield."

The Archduke of Mainz lowered his voice.

He was initially furious when he heard that Antonia had fled Hamma, but the news that Maria had personally led troops into the Redwaterwheel fortress and led the charge terrified him. He felt that the Queen was right to stay away from war, and Maria should learn from her.

The Archduke of Mainz then spoke almost as if to himself: "But now, now she dares to openly interfere in politics, dares to place foreign nobles in the heart of the kingdom, and dares to extend her reach into the army. This can no longer be explained by mere pleasure-seeking."

"There must be a bigger scheme and a stronger reliance behind this."

Frederick didn't reply, but waited quietly, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace.

Now, the Mainz Grand Prix is ​​sorting out its thoughts and piecing together the scattered clues.

The Archduke of Mainz may be old, and his body may not be as agile as before, but his eyes, which have seen decades of political upheavals, can see many details that young people overlook and can smell the most subtle abnormalities in the power arena.

A piece of firewood crackled loudly, and a small cluster of sparks leaped up, tracing a brief golden arc in the air before extinguishing in the shadows, leaving only a wisp of almost invisible smoke.

“King of Gaul,” Archduke of Mainz uttered the name slowly, as if squeezed from the depths of his chest, “Old Louis.”

When he uttered the name, his tone was a mixture of complex emotions—fear, disgust, and a hint of instinctive dread that he couldn't completely conceal.

He was a monarch who ruled Gaul for decades, known in the eyes of the Archduke of Mainz as cunning, ruthless, and insatiable in his ambition.

In the war in the Low Countries, the Rhine Alliance suffered a devastating military defeat, and even the Archduke of Mainz harbored disloyal thoughts, which were only changed by the rise of Frederick.

Frederick nodded, his gaze sharpening.

“It’s a very reasonable guess,” he said, his voice still steady. “Antonia comes from a distant branch of the Gallic royal family. Although her bloodline is as diluted as watered-down wine, she still bears that surname.”

"If old Louis wanted to turn the Rhine Union into a de facto vassal of Gaul, the most covert and effective means was indeed through the Queen's infiltration and gradual encroachment."

"Cheaper than war, easier than diplomacy."

Archduke of Mainz nodded.

“Old Louis…” He carefully chose his words, each one as if weighing a knife’s edge, “He’s not easy to deal with, very, very difficult to deal with.”

"You're too young to understand, but before you were born, during his reign, he dealt with the rebellious factions within the country and ensured that no neighboring nation dared to covet the Kingdom of Gaul." "The capture of Leman, the western gateway to the Helvetii Federation, was Louis the Elder's first act of distinguishing himself. At that time, some areas on the southern shore of the Strait of Hormuz were occupied by nobles close to the Kingdom of Anglo-Saxon, and those areas were later completely lost. If the Kingdom of Lisenberg hadn't had our assistance, it would probably be half its original territory now. If you hadn't intervened in the struggle for the throne of the Kingdom of Taragoza, he would have won long ago, not to mention that your father died in battle in the Low Countries."

“I know very well how terrible he is.”

"If he really is supporting Antonia from behind, then he must have a backup plan."

"The overreach of authority we are seeing now may only be the tip of the iceberg."

"Beneath the surface, how many hidden agents, how many schemes, how many traps are we yet to discover?"

"do not know."

Archduke of Mainz took a sip of wine, raised his head, and stared directly at Frederick, his gaze sharp as a sword, as if to say that he couldn't deal with old Louis, only he could.

“Fortunately,” he said, his voice carrying a strange, almost relaxed tone, “Old Louis suffered a stroke and became paralyzed on one side recently.”

After saying that, he took another sip of wine.

Frederick said, "Although half of his body is paralyzed, he still holds power and has not handed it over to the crown prince at all."

"Moreover, I've heard that there are precedents of his illness being cured."

"When His Majesty William suffered from the same illness, the Holy City only prayed for a few days."

"As soon as news of old Louis's illness reached the Holy City, someone immediately said that there were records of a cure in the books, and it seemed to be true."

He finished speaking and sighed helplessly, feeling frustrated by the differential treatment he received from the cardinals of the Church of Light.

He then leaned back, closed his eyes, and his wrinkled face looked particularly old in the firelight.

After all, they were all elderly people of similar age, and none of them knew whether death or tomorrow's sun would come first.

After a while, he composed himself and said, "That's why he's in such a hurry, so eager to control the Rhine Alliance through Antonia, and to complete this plan before he completely loses his power."

“I can understand what he was thinking. His reputation after death was the most important thing. This was a kind of madness before his death.”

Frederick nodded.

Silence fell over the living room once again.

But this silence was different from the previous one; it was a quietude where some kind of power was gathering strength, as if two powerful bows had been drawn to their fullest extent, with poisoned arrows nocked on the strings, and the archers held their breath, waiting for the moment they released their fingers to unleash the piercing whistle of the arrows tearing through the air.

The Archduke of Mainz picked up his glass again and found that the wine had gone cold. The amber liquid swirled slightly in the glass, having lost the mellow aroma brought by the heat, leaving only a harsh, throat-stinging taste.

He frowned, but ultimately drank the remaining liquid in the glass in one gulp.

The burning sensation of the strong liquor sliding down his throat brought a touch of color back to his pale cheeks and made his eyes brighten slightly.

“Even so,” Archduke Mainz put down his empty cup, his voice regaining its usual composure, “Old Louis is still not easy to deal with.”

Even though he is paralyzed and bedridden, and even though he cannot speak, the influence and connections he has built up over decades still exist.

“The Gallic military leaders remained loyal to him, the vast intelligence network continued to operate in the shadows, and the nobles, generals, and bureaucrats he promoted continued to carry out his will—or rather, the will of the king in their minds.”

Trevor listened quietly, his face expressionless, showing neither agreement nor disagreement, nor even the slightest emotional fluctuation.

He simply stood there, like a marble statue, with something burning deep within his blue eyes, calm yet intense.

“He’s not easy to deal with,” Frederick said slowly, his voice very soft. “Then let him exit the stage of history.”

The Archduke of Mainz's hand trembled slightly.

Despite having anticipated it, despite knowing that this young man was never one to follow the rules, and despite having witnessed his rise to power, hearing those words still made the old man's heart clench, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

The words "to remove a king from the stage of history" may sound light, but they carry immense weight.

This is not exile, not deposition, not forced abdication, but the most thorough and irreversible solution.

This means blood, it means fire, it means the forced end of an era, and it means the beginning of countless chain reactions.

The fire in the fireplace continued to burn, the temperature in the study seemed to drop a few degrees suddenly, and the sound of the wind outside the window became clearer.

(End of this chapter)