Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

Wayne kept his eyes closed, making his thoughts impossible to discern. Was Kal'tsit's answer wrong? Strictly speaking, no. From her position—as the Prince of Wales, the most trusted advisor to the true ruler of the Victorian Empire—her advice was almost certainly the most appropriate for the current situation.

Why not do nothing and watch your opponent, a formidable challenger, crumble on his own? Victoria can simply sit back and reap the benefits, and perhaps even profit from it, just like she did with Colombia.

But Wayne knew that there was another possibility to all of this, all of this that Ursus was facing. This possibility did not come from one person, nor was it limited by the current environment of Terra, because it was an idea, a system that Wayne had been trying to reform, but had never truly put into practice.

At this moment, Wayne clearly realized what those five words, "historical limitations," in those profound history books he had read in his previous life truly meant. Even someone as intelligent and experienced as Kal'tsit could not escape the famous "Thucydides Trap," nor the vicious cycle called "historical limitations."

Should I help Ursus? Or should I do nothing? Is it possible for the Starfire to reignite in an ancient feudal empire, just like in my past life? Or is it impossible for such a miracle to happen again in Terra's unique environment? If a miracle does happen, what should I do?

The word "miracle" is both exhilarating and profoundly weighty.

Wayne took a deep breath, then exhaled. When he opened his eyes again, there was a hint of determination in them.

"help."

He spoke softly, but with an undeniable tone.

Gambling on mere probability isn't Wayne's style. Rather than letting a thousand coincidences create a miracle, he prefers to build the edifice step by step. Wayne Bruce is a staunch activist; isn't it more reliable to bet on himself than on Terra?

Why should I believe that hope can spring from a rotten land? I myself am hope; why should I give way to others?

Every generation has its own mission, and Wayne must first fulfill his own. To do so, the Victorian Empire's current position cannot be challenged by Ursus. Rather than having Ursus become an "alliance," Wayne would rather bully a bunch of backward-thinking feudal nobles. That way, he would have a significant advantage.

He stood up and straightened his clothes:

"I'll explain the reason to you at the ball tonight, Kal'tsit..."

He stretched out his hand, his white-gloved hand hovering in front of Kal'tsit.

"May I have this dance tonight?"

Chapter 148 The Ball and Bargaining

Ursus Empire, Saint-Horse Castle, a corner of the royal banquet hall.

Wayne held Kal'tsit's hand. Although one of them was wearing white gentleman's gloves and the other was wearing white silk glove, it did not prevent their hands from feeling each other's emotions as they held hands.

Following the rhythm of the music, Wayne raised her hand and hooked it around Kal'tsit's arm. Kal'tsit, dressed in a flowing white gown, lightly tiptoed and twirled in place, her slightly billowing dress making her look like a blooming white lotus. Wayne reached out and, as Kal'tsit stopped, firmly embraced her waist, gently straightening her from a slightly swaying position, following the rhythm. The entire movement was fluid and seamless, no less impressive than that of seasoned dance partners who had practiced countless times.

The Ursus nobles dancing in the Golden Hall watched the two dance, who would have thought that this was their first time partnering?

"Your dancing skills have improved considerably, Your Highness Wayne."

Kal'tsit praised him in a voice only the two of them could hear. Wayne nodded proudly.

"Because I've practiced before."

"I thought you were the type who had absolutely no interest in court etiquette," Kal'tsit chuckled. "You were the one watching the whole thing when Empress Vina was forced by those etiquette instructors to disguise herself and go out into the streets to find her Glasgow Gang friends. Who would have thought that Princess Wayne's court dancing was even inferior to Princess Theresa's?"

"What does it matter if you can't win a dance? What does it matter if you don't know etiquette?"

Wayne offered a somewhat awkward rebuttal, followed by some incomprehensible remarks such as "one should not be bothered by trifles when doing great things" and "court etiquette is all feudal dross." Kal'tsit then revealed a rare smile.

Seeing the usually stern-faced old lynx reveal a rare, genuinely relaxed smile, Wayne's embarrassment at being outmaneuvered vanished. He lightly stepped to the beat of the music, matching Kal'tsit's movements. Although the two were at the edge of the hall, they had become the center of attention.

As the music ended and the Ursus Royal Classical Orchestra laid down their strings and flutes in the banquet hall, His Majesty Emperor Fyodor of Ursus, dressed in his heavy ceremonial robes adorned with intricate patterns and elaborate ribbons, descended the steps, handing a swaying glass of red wine to Wayne.

"Your Highness, please."

"Thank you." Wayne took the wine glass and handed it to Kal'tsit beside him. Kal'tsit took the glass and skillfully placed it on the table next to her.

Drinking leads to trouble. Ursus people have a tradition of discussing important matters while drinking. When Fyodor offered him a drink, it wasn't because he genuinely wanted to have a drink with him, but rather because it signified that he was about to start talking about serious business.

If it were anyone else, Fyodor would probably have turned and left without drinking the drink, but Wayne was different. After all, he needed Victoria's help, and Wayne represented Victoria, so he naturally had the right to refuse the drink.

Fyodor smiled, stepped aside to make way, and followed the crescent-shaped staircase up to the second floor of the banquet hall. Deeper into the second floor, where afternoon tea tables and chairs were arranged, was an unnamed, exquisite room.

Wayne nodded knowingly, took Kal'tsit's hand, and walked down the red carpet to the second floor. Fyodor turned and waved to the Ursus nobles who had stopped dancing and were bowing their heads in response to the Emperor's questioning.

"Gentlemen, I will not forget what I promised you."

"After the talks, the ball will continue. At that time, whoever can persuade Mr. Wayne, whether by money or beauty, eloquence or benefits, whatever means are used, will be rewarded. Of course..." Fyodor's eyes narrowed, "No force is allowed, and no threats to my guests are permitted! Otherwise, you will face certain death."

After Fyodor finished speaking, he glanced at everyone's reactions, then turned around and, following the path Wayne had taken, walked heavily up to the second floor.

These words were not his to say; they were basic courtesy for diplomats. However, most of the nobles present were not diplomats at all, and some had never even been involved in diplomacy in their lives—they were local warlords with their own armies. Rather than waiting for problems to arise and then regretting it, Fyodor preferred to lower his standards for these nobles and give them a heads-up beforehand.

He stood at the door, and the guard respectfully opened it for him. Fyodor stepped inside, his gaze fixed on Wayne, who had already taken his seat. He then solemnly sat down on the sofa opposite him. With a slight bow, he pulled out two bottles of liquor, emanating a strong odor, and three glasses from under the table.

Vodka! A specialty of Ursus, a fine Ursus spirit that even Victoria, the self-proclaimed world factory that claims to have everything, cannot perfectly replicate! When he held the glass and smelled the aroma, Fyodor's tense nerves immediately relaxed a lot.

Negotiations over drinks are a specialty of Ursus, and you absolutely must try them! And as everyone knows, no one can beat an Ursus at the drinking table!

“Your Highness Wayne, Lady Kal'tsit, please.”

He poured half a glass of vodka for the two of them, and a glass for himself, saying confidently...

"You each have half a glass, and I'll have a full glass. Let's drink and talk."

Wayne and Kal'tsit exchanged a glance. A hint of worry flashed in Kal'tsit's eyes. She shook her head at Wayne without making a sound, then reached out, picked up her wine glass from the table, and downed it in one gulp.

His Highness Wayne may not be able to drink it, but I, his mother, can.

More than a decade ago, I was the director of the Ursus Royal Research Institute! Although I never held you when you were little, I did see you!

Leave it to me today.

"Excellent! As expected of Lady Kal'tsit." Fyodor clapped his hands in praise, then picked up his own glass and downed it in one gulp. After downing a glass of strong liquor, he said without batting an eye:

"I couldn't sleep at night after returning home because of His Highness Wayne's suggestion. I thought it over carefully and felt that it made some sense. But isn't it a bit unfair to me?"

Fairness? Who talks to you about fairness? We're already on unequal footing.

Wayne muttered a curse to himself, knowing exactly what Fyodor meant.

It's simply this: Duke Kosichelle is my beloved friend, brother, pillar of Ursus, and a key minister of the empire, so I should get extra pay.

No problem, Wayne's got plenty of money. After Saintess Michael returned to Laterano, she and Mostima worked together to completely whitewash Wayne's image in Laterano. Now, in the eyes of the Laterano people, Wayne is purer than a white lotus; he might even be canonized after he dies.

The latest wave of "missionary subsidies" is on its way. It seems to be really intended to subsidize Wayne and put his mind at ease. This time, the amount is so high that Wayne is almost embarrassed – a full 200 million Lateran gold coins.

This makes up for all the missed payments in one go. Even if Wayne increases the amount of Victoria gold coins he gives to Fyodor to fifty million, he'll still have over three hundred million Victoria gold coins left. A windfall!

Give me more money, give me more money! I, Wayne, have nothing but money. Anything related to money is not a problem.

A sense of relief and joy filled his heart, but a hesitant expression still appeared on Wayne's face as he said:

"Is it really that difficult? Maybe we should just give up..."

Fyodor Ercon immediately raised his hand: "No!"

Chapter 149 Spoilers

"I believe that His Highness Wayne would not harbor ill will toward a duke of Ursus without reason. May I ask if you could tell me a little about it?"

Fyodor lowered his hand and said with a smile.

Wayne looked at Kal'tsit, who immediately leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Tell me why you want to capture Kosichek. Make up a reason and give him a way out."

Wayne nodded knowingly: "Oh—" He then gave a bitter look and explained to Fyodor:

"Your Majesty Fyodor may not know this, but Kosiché is a great traitor. Your Majesty's Third Army now only knows Kosiché and not Ursus."

Vayne didn't speak Ursus, so Fyodor relied entirely on Kal'tsit, the Terran know-it-all who had lived in Ursus for many years, for translation. Hearing Vayne speak, Kal'tsit instinctively prepared to translate for Fyodor, but before she could finish, she suddenly realized what she was doing, looked at Vayne, her lips twitching, and said, "Are you serious?"

Wayne shrugged: "Made."

Kal'tsit's forehead throbbed with a vein, and she pinched Wayne's waist, causing Wayne to twist his back in pain and dodge away: "You could at least come up with something plausible! Do you think the Emperor of Ursus will believe something like this coming right off the bat?"

Wayne waved his hand, reassuring Kal'tsit: "Why don't you believe me? Just tell me. I have my own plans."

Kal'tsit frowned and looked at Wayne for a while. Wayne showed no intention of retracting his order and remained resolute. Only then did Kal'tsit turn her head helplessly to look at the somewhat puzzled Fyodor, carefully choosing her words and speaking as gently as possible:

“Your Majesty Fyodor, Prince Wayne says that, according to his intelligence, Kosiché has disregarded your orders and is colluding with Your Majesty’s Third Army, which is stationed in the East.”

Fyodor, who had just been wondering what Wayne and Kal'tsit were stammering about, suddenly changed his expression, his brows furrowed, and his hawk-like eyes locked onto Wayne, as if trying to read something from his face.

His point was simple: he was telling Wayne that things were negotiable, and it wasn't impossible for him not to pay more. But he needed to give Wayne a suitable reason to arrest Koschei, such as him embezzling money, intercepting a shipment from Victoria, or publicly insulting him or the young Queen Victoria—any diplomatic blunder, however minor.

This kind of mistake, at best, is a personal grudge, but at worst, it's a diplomatic incident, a disgrace to the nation. So I, Fyodor, won't risk offending the nobles by fabricating a charge myself. Besides, these kinds of things are exceptionally easy to fabricate, and practically impossible to verify. You fabricate one, and I'll verify it for you. The Ursus Emperor is currently short of money, food, and support, but he lacks other things; his reputation among the Ursus people is still quite good. My statement is tantamount to official approval. Whether Koschei insulted you or not is irrelevant; as long as everyone believes it, then even if he didn't insult you, it's as if he did.

But what do you mean by dropping this bombshell on me right at the start? Are you making this up, or did you actually learn about it from intelligence agencies, and is it true?

But Wayne maintained that ambiguous smile, and even when Fyodor displayed his imperial authority, Wayne remained unmoved.

You are an emperor, and I am half an emperor. You can't suppress me. If you want to know, just ask.

Fyodor's nose twitched, his expression shifting several times, but he couldn't ignore the weight of information in Wayne's words and finally asked:

"Your Highness Wayne, what makes you say that? Duke Kosiché's collusion with the Third Army is an internal affair of Ursus. Where did you get this information from?"

Kal'tsit reluctantly translated Fyodor's words to Wayne, who smiled and said without any politeness:

"You're not sincere. You still want to dig up my connections? Then I might as well not say anything. Let's eat and drink as usual, and go back to the music and dancing?"

As he spoke, he placed his hand on Kal'tsit's. Kal'tsit rolled her eyes at him and turned to translate his words verbatim. Fyodor gritted his teeth, watching Wayne's actions, unsure whether he was genuinely refusing or feigning coercion. He hadn't revealed why he wanted to capture Kosichek, instead shifting the question back to Fyodor. Being forced to ask him was not a good thing.

In his anxiety, he could only pour himself another glass of wine, show it to Wayne, and then down it in one gulp.

"Sincerity. I won't ask about your channels; just tell me why you say that."

Wayne nodded in satisfaction:

"You can summon your Minister of War, as well as that Islam Witt, a capable minister. I think he should have already noticed something amiss. Ask them about the movements of the Third Army over the past few years, and the whereabouts of these Ursus men."

Wayne paused, and after casting an anxious glance at Fyodor's furrowed brow, slowly uttered the names:

"Grand Prince Baikal, Sergei, deputy division commander of the Third Army and governor of Rosin, and Viscount Kerke."

A glint flashed in Fyodor's eyes. He stood up impatiently, pushed open the door, and stood on the second-floor balcony railing, scanning the nobles dancing below. He quickly spotted Witte and the Minister of War. Witte seemed to have a premonition of what was going to happen today, constantly looking up at the railing. He met Fyodor's gaze, which was filled with a sinister anger. Witte's heart tightened, and he released the hand of the Countess of Antioch, whom he was holding, and bowed to Fyodor.

Fyodor opened his mouth, and Witte frowned, read the name the emperor was reciting, and quickly and accurately walked to the military minister who was raising a glass and laughing with someone, grabbed his wrist, whispered something, and led him up to the second floor.

Fyodor silently observed the two for a few seconds, then nodded, led them into the room, and asked bluntly:

“I have a few questions for you. You two will answer them one by one, telling me everything you know. Do not lie or hide anything, for you know the consequences.”

Witte bowed calmly and said, "Yes, Your Majesty." The Minister of War was stunned for a moment, seemingly unaware of what had happened, but upon seeing Witte's action, he quickly followed suit and bowed, saying, "Understood, Your Majesty."

Fyodor glanced at Wayne, who nodded slightly. Then he turned back, his face icy, and questioned, word by word:

“Viter, tell me about the movements of Grand Duke Baikal and Viscount Kerke this year. Sanino, tell me about the Third Army and their deputy division commander, the Governor of Rosin.”