Imperial Crown.

Chapter 613 A Letter from the Capital

The continent of Miders.

The Keynesian Empire.

Beihai Province, Shanlu County, Venice City.

On February 17th, 1210 of the Bright Calendar, over a hundred nobles, large and small, from the North Sea Province gathered in Venice. The one wielding such immense power and overwhelming tyranny was none other than the newly crowned ruler of the North Sea Province—Marquis Raven.

Of course, there were always some resentful nobles who refused to come. Now, the entire family has long since turned to ashes under the dragon's breath.

The remaining nobles, suddenly, became much more reasonable. One by one, they eagerly expressed their willingness to go to Venice to accompany Marquis Raven in paying respects to Marshal Ferdinand.

The image of Raven and Ferdinand clashing like gods is widely known; everyone knows that Raven personally killed Ferdinand. Now, however, he's putting on an act, portraying himself as a good man. He's started crocodile tears, lavishly commemorating Marshal Ferdinand.

How is this any different from the Walton family of Ironforge County, Snowmaple County, Nord Province? Who doesn't know that Judla murdered his father and persecuted his younger brother Mark? Yet, he cried more bitterly than anyone else in the mourning hall. Afterwards, he even had Mark sculpted as a kneeling figure. He shamelessly declared that Mark, the patricide, would kneel before his father's grave and kowtow in repentance for the rest of his life!

The reason this matter caused such a great uproar and became known throughout the entire empire was because of that horrific, bloody funeral.

It's common for noble sons to vie for titles. But most are like the Slater family of Tyrone, who determine their successor early on, and the remaining sons are simply granted minor noble titles. Even barons can be granted knighthoods. Those as ruthless as Judla, even sacrificing their own son's life, are indeed rare. His son Barney's death might have been an accident. But when Judla planned the entire bloody funeral, he clearly had the worst in mind. Otherwise, how could it be such a coincidence that all the Ironforge's superhuman subordinates and guards were waiting outside? First, patricide, then fratricide… followed by the loss of his son, and finally even his unborn nephew… and all for a mere baronial title.

buzzing-

The entire hall was a chaotic mess, resembling a bustling marketplace. Nearly 200 nobles stood in two rows according to their rank. Without Raven's arrival, none of them even had the right to sit. In the entire North Sea province, there was only one Marquis, Huber; three Earls; and nineteen Viscounts. The number of Viscounts was roughly the same as in the Nord province. The remaining 100-plus were all Barons.

At this moment, the nobles gathered in small groups of three or five, chatting and laughing. Although they had been forced to come here, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Normally, although they were all nobles from the North Sea, they rarely got together, let alone share a room with Marquis Hu. Occasionally, sounds of laughter and angry shouts could be heard, making it seem less like a memorial service and more like a noble banquet.

"Hmph!" "Doesn't he feel ashamed?" "A dignified Viscount of the North Sea actually grovels and fawns like a dog before Baron Eric!" "He has utterly disgraced the nobles of the North Sea!"

Baron Wellington, who was at the end of the list, couldn't help but scoff under his breath.

Following his gaze, Frederick saw Viscount Miller talking to Eric. He was slightly hunched over, leaning forward, and wearing an overly obsequious smile. He had completely lost any semblance of the bearing and demeanor of a viscount or nobleman; he looked more like a lowly serf. It was certainly an eyesore. However, Frederick didn't seem to care. "I heard Lord Eric has already broken through to the fifth rank!" "Do you believe it?" "If you had the chance to speak with Lord Eric, you'd probably talk non-stop day and night..."

"Bullshit!" "I'm not that kind of person at all."

Wellington immediately retorted.

"Wow!" Florentine exclaimed, looking at him with surprise. It was as if he had discovered something new, or as if he were seeing Wellington for the first time.

Fredin's reaction made Wellington a little embarrassed, so he immediately changed the subject, saying, "It's been almost three hours. Where did this little bee go gallivanting around last night? Why isn't she here yet?" They had been waiting here since 7 a.m., and it was almost 10 a.m. now.

“I wish he would never come,” Florentine said sincerely. “You say this little bee has already devoured the North Sea Province, so why offer sacrifices to Ferdinand?” “It doesn’t make sense.” “The empire is engulfed in war and teetering on the brink of collapse.” “And there’s no way to deal with him.” “What is his purpose in doing this?”

"hum"

Wellington couldn't help but smugly hum twice. "You little brat, don't you understand?" "First of all," Raven said, "he killed Ferdinand only in self-defense. Now, publicly mourning Ferdinand is simply an attempt to portray this war as an internal conflict!" "Secondly," the 63-year-old Wellington boasted to the 47-year-old Fredin, "Little Bee and His Majesty the King are sworn enemies. The main purpose of mourning Ferdinand is to gain the support of the eight Grand Dukes." "If he were to declare himself king," he continued, "not only the eight Grand Dukes, but even the other nobles would unite against him!" "Furthermore," he added, "without the support of the Holy See, what makes Little Bee think he can declare himself king?"

“To declare himself king…” Florentine muttered. Not long ago, the Little Bee was a baron just like him. Now, however, he had reached the point where he could declare himself king. Keep in mind, the Little Bee was actually much younger than him. He was only 37 years old this year, a full 10 years younger than him.

Seeing that Florentine was quite taken aback, Wellington immediately sneered and patted Florentine's chest with the back of his hand. "What are you afraid of?" "Don't be fooled by the fact that Raven and Ferdinand fought so fiercely that the world turned upside down, and Ferdinand died at Raven's hands." "And Raven seems to be unharmed." "That's not true." "I assure you." "This man has suffered extremely serious internal injuries." "He will surely die within hundreds of years."

Florentine: ...

"The Marquis has arrived."

Just as Florentine was speechless and could only lick his dry lips, a hyena's deep voice sounded from outside the door.

Immediately afterward, a gaunt man with black hair and black eyes, dressed in black and gold, entered the hall. Every nobleman from the North Sea who saw him was shaken to his core. Not for any other reason than that Raven was simply too young! Unbelievably young. His steps were slow but resolute, his face expressionless. Coupled with the memory of his ferocious act of personally slaying Ferdinand, his frail body exuded an unparalleled aura.

The instantaneous silence in the hall is the best proof of this.

"Thank you all for your hard work." "Let's not delay." "Let's set off."

Raven, standing in the center of the hall, swept his gaze around like a tiger surveying its territory. The North Sea nobles, on the other hand, resembled hyenas, their tails between their legs and heads drooping. They didn't even have the courage to meet Raven's eyes. Raven's stiff words, indifferent tone, and cold attitude... were like a king issuing a command.

As Raven left first, the rest of the group followed him out of the hall, boarded carriages, and left Venice, heading towards the Goddess Sea (North Sea Lake).

By noon, the group arrived at the Goddess Sea. A massive platform had already been built around it, along with a plaza paved with bluestone. However, due to the short construction period, it looked quite rough. The ground was covered with small, cobblestones, making it uncomfortable to walk on. Considering it had only been three months, the results were already quite impressive. The manpower involved was likely no less than 10. Behind the bluestone platform stood a colossal object, its true form concealed by a piece of sewn silk cloth.

As the nobles and their relatives from Beihai took their places below the platform, Raven was invited to ascend it. Looking down at the throng of people below, Raven glanced around and saw that, including the nobles' children and families, there were nearly a thousand people in the square.

"Uncover it."

With Raven's command, the massive curtain at the back was torn away, revealing the true form of the structure: a magnificent brown, ship-shaped stone sculpture. Its overall shape was crescent-shaped, and it was clearly crafted from the most common type of stone in the North Sea Province: Iron Gallstone. Iron Gallstone is a very common, dark brown stone used by cattle and sheep in the North Sea Province to lick salt. It is not a valuable mineral.

"Dear colleagues"

"Today, with heavy hearts, we stand here to mourn the passing of our Marshal Ferdinand."

"Marshal Ferdinand's family, the Vandorian family, is a noble family that has been passed down for thousands of years in our Keynes Empire! They are also the strongest fortress standing on the border against the evil Insa Empire, silently protecting our Keynesian land and benefiting our millions of people!"

"And Grand Marshal Ferdinand is the patriarch of this illustrious ducal family! He is the sharpest sword of our Keynes Empire!" "Thirteen years ago," "the barbarians of Insa invaded our city of Makik." "And it was Grand Marshal Ferdinand again," "who utterly thwarted the barbarians of Insa," "destroyed Insa's schemes," "struck a blow to the arrogance of the Insa Empire," and "won that glorious war!"

He is "a role model for our nobility!" "a hero of our empire!" "the backbone of our nation!"

"And now," "this mountain range that protected our safety has collapsed!"

"His passing is a source of deep regret and profound sorrow!" "It has caused countless swords to bow their heads and tens of thousands to weep..."

……

Just as Raven was giving a passionate speech on the platform, Eric suddenly ran up and handed Raven a letter.

Raven glanced at it with suspicion. Unless it was something extremely important, Eric would never act so rashly. The sealing wax on the letter depicted an upright lion, its claws outstretched and its expression fierce. Raven immediately recognized it as the emblem of the Keynes family.

In other words, this letter came from the capital. From Habsburg. From His Majesty the King.

Raven coughed lightly and unfolded the letter.

To my brother Raven Griffith:
Ferdinand Vanderoria, also known as Aman, was the grandson of Kedorf Vanderoria, who colluded with the Papacy and conspired with internal and external forces to frame Griffith's ancestor for betraying the Empire, leading to the downfall of the Griffith family, a founding hero. His father, Tautae Vanderoria, was a man of extravagance and greed, blinded by greed, and died in a life of indulgence, having accomplished nothing of note.

This has led to Pei Dinan becoming arrogant, domineering, cunning, and utterly immoral, corrupting the country and harming the people. Now, deceiving his superiors and subordinates, he has led his troops to attack you without the king's order. When I learned of this, I was heartbroken and wept several times. I hastily sent this letter.

My brother was a man of integrity, broad-mindedness, unparalleled wisdom, and extraordinary courage. He conquered Eivor to relieve Insa's invasion and subjugated the Orcish Empire to resolve the border crisis. His achievements were remarkable and worthy of being recorded in history. Years have passed, and time has flowed by. Unfortunately, we ended up fighting each other, a betrayal of our original intentions.

Now, the orcs are invading the south, Inzaghi is moving north, and the Papacy is expanding eastward... This has plunged Keynes into a state of near collapse, where the people are living in misery.

I hope that upon receiving this letter, my brother will come to the capital as soon as possible to discuss national affairs and overcome this difficult time together.

—Brother Habsburg Keynes.

After reading the letter, Raven couldn't suppress the smile playing on his lips. Finally, he had made it to this moment. The journey had been incredibly difficult.

He tucked the letter into his pocket, raised his right hand, clenched his fist, and roared hoarsely, "Down with the reactionary Ferdinand!!!"

Huber: ...

Novichau: ...

Miller: ...

Wellington: ...

Florentine: ...

The nobles of Beihai: ...

……

And so, completely bewildered, the group returned to Venice and was placed in a large hall. After all this commotion, it was nearly 3 PM, and the nobles were starving. They abandoned all pretense of decorum, slumped into chairs in the hall, chatting noisily among themselves. Fortunately, servants soon brought in plates of roasted lamb, their golden-brown, crispy surfaces still sizzling with hot oil, adorned with green scallions, red peppers, yellow sauce, and white scallion stems… a rich and enticing aroma that immediately caught the eye.

Without a second thought, Florentine hurriedly tore off a leg of lamb, took a big bite, then picked up a scallion, put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He muttered between bites, "Damn," "Clearly overcooked, a bit dry." Then, he picked up the Angel's Tears that had been brought along and gulped it down. "Ahhh!!!" Florentine hissed, "So refreshing!"

"That damned little bee!" "Let us go!" Wellington was old and ate and slept little anyway. He wasn't particularly hungry, just a little uncomfortable. He even had to ask for permission to relieve himself. It seemed they, a group of North Sea nobles, were being treated like prisoners.

"Who cares?" "Let's eat and drink our fill first." As a fellow baron, Frederick felt Wellington was worrying too much. After all, with Raven's current status, why would he make things difficult for them? The ones who should really be worried are Marquis Huber and those earls.

After a hearty meal, the nobles, including their families, were summoned out of the hall again. Wellington thought it was just a post-dinner stroll, but to his surprise, he was immediately ordered to form a long line. The nobles of the North Sea were to line up one by one to meet Raven on the second floor. "That damn Raven, what an airs!" Wellington cursed inwardly. He had long heard of Raven's peculiar habit—wherever he went, he would have a face-to-face conversation with each of the local nobles. He called it understanding the people's sentiments and restoring fairness. For this, he had earned honorary titles such as "Godfather" and "Priest." In reality, it was nothing more than a despicable tactic to eliminate dissidents and win over people's hearts.

"Thank you, Your Excellency Marquis!" "May the Lord of Light forever bless you, Godfather."...

However, Wellington soon noticed something amiss. Almost everyone who entered the room emerged with a beaming smile. Praises echoed throughout the house. The men's joy was like that of someone cured of 30 years of impotence, and the women's like that of someone whose breasts had been unblocked for 20 years. It didn't seem feigned.

However, occasionally a few nobles would emerge, pale-faced and unsteady on their feet. They looked utterly distraught, as if they had lost their parents. Some were even apprehended on the spot and taken away, emitting pig-like screams and pleas for mercy all the way.

"Humph"

Wellington remained unimpressed. He was going to see what tricks Raven was up to. His land had just been seized by Earl Deborah. Did Raven really think he, a mere baron, would offend an earl for his sake? If Raven truly had the guts and audacity, Wellington wouldn't mind being Raven's most loyal dog from now on.

Although the procession was long, it surged forward quickly. After all, these were all matters within the North Sea Province, and often two or three noble families were involved in each one.

So it took about an hour for Wellington to get her turn.

The room was small and simply furnished. Although it was a meeting hall, it housed at least seven or eight people, including a nobleman and his relatives. It felt quite crowded upon entering. Raven sat on a sofa, legs crossed, his gleaming pointed leather shoes giving him an air of extraordinary nobility. His thin, bony frame exuded a suffocatingly powerful aura of authority. He remained completely expressionless, neither warm nor cold. He toyed with a bright orange-red tangerine in his hand.

63-year-old Wellington swallowed hard, then saw Raven gesture for him to sit across from him.

"What can I do?"
Wellington had barely sat down when someone brought him a glass of Angel's Tears. He quickly took it and sipped it, effectively easing and concealing his nervousness. He desperately didn't want his family to see the usually dignified and imposing Wellington trembling and apprehensive in front of this young man, Raven.

At the same time, Raven's deep, calm, and magnetic voice slowly sounded from the other end. His language skills were poor, and his logic was illogical, much like the crooked and ugly handwriting on the parchment scattered on the blanket. But it was enough to make sense. He was saying—what help could he offer?

……

(End of this chapter)