People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

"But in any case, it seems that we have no choice but to go to Kazimierz."

Ivignad pondered.

Kazimir and Letania are neighboring countries, relatively close to each other than Sherag, so even if something happens in her home country, she can get back immediately.

The only problem now is that she can go as a guest, but for the World Games, Letania needs at least one athlete, if not a whole delegation.

Otherwise, was she there to applaud foreigners?

"Logically, we should discuss this with Herlinmat. But she's never around."

With a somewhat helpless click of her tongue, Ivignad stood up and summoned the Golden Law Guard.

Since there's no one to choose for the time being, let's just use the power of the masses. It'll also be a good opportunity to boost her reputation and fame in China.

Perhaps we can even find one or two promising talents and cultivate them into trusted confidants.

"The World Games are about to begin, and there is an Originium Arts competition. Let's draft an imperial edict to organize a preliminary selection."

"Let me see where all the talented and extraordinary people in my great Letania are?"

.............

Meanwhile, at Ludwig University, in a tower.

Fremont, the oldest professor at Ludwig University, who was always praised for his eccentric temperament, couldn't help but chuckle as he read the letter in his hand.

Beside him, the little lich Emengard was manipulating silvery-white threads in her hands, trying to weave them into a neat cube. But just as she was about to wrap a thread around the shape that was already one-third complete, she was startled by Fremont's laughter, her fingers trembled, and the entire shape instantly crumbled.

"Aaaaaah! My little square, my little square!"

Emengard let out a terrifying scream and immediately collapsed to the ground, rolling around in agony.

"Chief! You owe me my little cube!"

However, Fremont remained unmoved, merely glancing at her before launching into a merciless tirade:

"Stop yelling, what's all the fuss about? You've been trying to shape a body for three years and you still can't get it right? And you still have the nerve to cry? You're the worst lich I've ever trained!"

Seeing that his coquettishness wasn't working, Emengard sat up straight, pouted, and muttered a complaint:

"Do you say this to every Lich King?"

To her surprise, Fremont slapped her on the head.

"Each generation is worse than the last, and you really have the nerve to say that?"

Emengard covered his head, looking at Fremont with a wronged expression. After thinking for a moment, he decided not to continue the topic.

There were only her and the clan leader in the room right now. If she really angered the clan leader, she didn't want to experience what it would feel like to have her fate knot hidden away for ten thousand years and never be found.

This is no joke. There was a lich who angered Fremont before, and as a result, his fate was hidden for a thousand years. Every day, he could feel his soul being smeared and washed away. The feeling was indescribable.

When it was finally found, it turned out that the knot had been used as a steel wool ball to wash dishes.

It's terrifying to even think about.

Emengard was very conscientious; she decisively changed the subject:

"Chieftain, what are you looking at? Why are you so happy?"

“Is that what you call happy? I’m laughing in anger!” Fremont spat irritably. “This is a letter from Theresis. That young man, good heavens, he’s not content with just taking over Londinium, he also wants to get his hands on Victoria’s superweapons.”

"As a result, they got tricked. There are no engineers or scholars left in the city, so now they're writing to me asking us liches to send someone over to help them figure out how to fix that thing."

Emengard asked, puzzled, "What is that thing? What kind of superweapon?"

"They say they can control natural disasters and hit wherever they want?" Fremont said.

Emengard paused, then instinctively said, "The Witch King?"

Then he was glared at fiercely by Fremont.

They've forgotten that their ancestor and the Witch King were good friends.

Emengard scratched his head: "So, are we going?"

“You want to go?” Fremont glanced at her.

Emengard pouted. "I'd like to go out and take a look, but unfortunately my little cube..."

"Then I won't go. Just watch!"

Emengard was somewhat discouraged: "Patriarch, can't you help me fix it?"

Fremont shook his head firmly: "No! Do your own homework!"

After saying that, he ignored Emengard's mournful gaze, raised his hand, and used the silk thread to draw a pen, writing a reply.

Something came up, so I can't come.

“Chief, do you think you can get rid of the Military Council like this?” Emengard leaned over for a look.

Fremont scoffed, "What, they managed to get Letania involved?"

After he finished speaking, he frowned again and guessed, "Hey, those bastards might actually be capable of it."

"Alright, let's come up with an excuse. Emengard, has anything been happening outside lately?"

"Hmm... the World Games?"

Emangard said, she was a lively lich who had been gathering intelligence from all sides. The delegation had been back in Letania for quite some time now, and news of the Universal Games had already spread throughout high society.

After all, in this country, the empress doesn't hold complete power. The influence of the nobles, especially the electoral princes, is no less than that of the empress.

Fremont nodded, picked up his pen, and added a few more words in a flourish.

[Something came up, I'm attending the World Games, don't mention it.]

After writing, he tossed the letter into the air, and the silk thread automatically wrapped it into an envelope. This kind of letter had one advantage: once Theresis finished reading it, he would naturally sense something, and when the silk thread dissipated, the letter would vanish without a trace, and no one could trace the connection between a Letanian professor and the Sarkaz regent.

Fremont whistled, summoning a feathered beast, handed it the letter, and whispered:

"To Theresis."

Watching the feathered beast fly away, Fremont yawned and turned back into the inner room.

Just before closing the door, he turned his head and cursed:

"Remember to hand in your homework. I'll give you two more years at most!"

Emengard's face fell: "Fine!"

Whose unlucky college student is being pressured to complete their graduation project?

Oh, it was me!

Chapter 363 Charne: I think Marna might also be a good fit.

Kazimir, the Grand Knights' Territory, headquarters of the Commercial Federation.

In the large conference hall, the speakers took their seats in turn.

Externally, they represent the Chamber of Commerce and hold the position of spokesperson, enjoying various privileges in Qazimir society. Even if they do not hold any official position, even the Supreme Court Justices must show them deference.

But within the business federation, they represent the interests of the various oligarchs who make up this vast alliance that covers all sectors of Kasimir.

With a clear division of labor and seamless cooperation, they compete with each other while maintaining a united front against external threats—this is their advantage. Compared to the inefficient and bureaucratic Control Council, the Business Federation truly possesses a vibrant spirit and seems more like an organization capable of leading the nation forward.

If they really intend to do that.

One of the oligarchs of the business federation, the chairman of Rose Newspaper, a man who calls himself a "journalist," focused all his efforts on Colombia. This man was a true money-grubber, hoping to make enough money to get to Colombia, where he would use pure capital to defeat the local elites and become the new president of Colombia.

All I can say is that their ambitions are lofty and their theories are rich, but the reality is rather harsh.

I wonder what Mark Max would think if he heard his whole "Columbia Conquest Plan".

Of course, that's all hindsight. At least for the current business federations, what they need to consider more is the issue of this Knights' Championship, or rather, the World Games that already encompass the Knights' Championship.

"Under the guise of promoting chivalry culture, they dare to openly and blatantly snatch the Major from us? The Supervisory Committee is simply too unruly!"

A spokesperson slammed his fist on the table and angrily cursed.

"I think we should join forces and boycott them decisively! Let the Supervisory Commission know how powerful we are!"

There's some truth to what he said.

The current Commercial Association is not the same as it used to be. These merchants have now infiltrated every corner of Kazimir. Electricity, transportation, running water, Originium mining, and the sale of daily necessities—they are no longer the servants of knights and nobles who could be easily manipulated and killed.

If they unite to resist, then Casimir will indeed suffer a heavy blow, and the Supervisory Council will certainly find it difficult to hold the Games of Nations.

However, his words did not elicit agreement from his colleagues; instead, they earned him a sneer.

"What's the point of saying such things? We used the same reason to start the Knights' Tournament. If you don't fight for the right to speak, someone else will."

Spokesperson Charnee said with a sinister sarcasm,

"Besides, boycott? Don't you know whose interests are actually harmed by a boycott?"

The Supervisory Council doesn't have many commercial interests. Their influence is deeply entrenched in the countryside, the army, and among the knights and nobles of Kazimir. These are either full-time soldiers who receive government stipends or traditional feudal landlords who live off the land.

How could the business association defeat them? It was precisely by leveraging the enormous profits generated by thriving commercial activities to tempt and dismantle their original small-scale farming production system.

If they really boycott, losing hundreds of millions in revenue every day could indeed cause trouble and losses for the Supervisory Commission, but could it damage their very foundation?

If this drags on, it will likely only result in a situation where the enemy suffers 800 damages while we suffer 1000.

"Moreover, this puts us at a moral disadvantage. Bringing knightly competitions to this land, to foreign lands, is just a business for us, but for the Supervisory Council, it is more than just a commercial activity; it is an opportunity to build cultural confidence."

“The people of Kazimierz do not lack a sense of honor, otherwise we would not have been able to use this sense of honor to manipulate public opinion and prevent the Supervisory Council from directly banning the knightly competition.”

"A boycott would prevent the Supervisory Council from holding this sports meet, which would be a disgrace to the entire Kazimierz region. The Supervisory Council only needs to guide public opinion slightly, and we won't even have a chance to explain!"

After Charné finished speaking, the other speakers nodded in agreement.

This made the speaker who spoke first lose face. He put his hands on the table, stood up, and glared at Charnet:

“Charne, we are all working for the Business Federation. What’s the point of you not thinking about reimbursing the organization, but instead mocking us?”

Charn gave a cold laugh and also stood up:

"I was just mocking you. You've only reversed the situation we faced back then, yet you're so cowardly! You're so panicked that you've come up with this mutually destructive plan!"

The spokesperson countered, "So what's your plan?"

“It’s simple.” Charné stood with his hands behind his back, his face full of confidence. “Just win.”

The spokesperson burst into laughter: "Hahaha, I thought you had some brilliant ideas, but you have the nerve to say something like that?"

"Win? How can we win? Don't you and I know the level of the competitive knights? Before, in the internal competitions in Kazimierz, everyone was a bunch of noobs, fighting back and forth, and we could even manipulate the matches. Now that the scope has expanded to this whole land, what do you think their chances of winning are?"

He glanced at the speakers present and said frankly,

"If the Black Knight were still alive, we might have a chance of winning against all the masters in the world. Now that the Black Knight is gone, where are we going to find such a strong competitive knight?"

Charné smiled, shook his head, and sighed softly:

"It's too small!"

The spokesperson frowned: "What's small?"

Charne shouted, "You've narrowed your vision!"

He gave a light hum, and first readily admitted the first half of the spokesperson's statement:

“You’re right, we all know very well that the strength of the competitive knights is indeed limited.”

"Even in this tournament, the Dicaipolis (Blood Knight) that I trained was just the best of the best, reaching the pinnacle of competitive knights. If this incident hadn't happened, he should have won this tournament without any surprises."

"But his strength is no match for the Black Knight and... the Radiant Knight. Not to mention, when facing the contestants from all over this land."

He paused slightly, then suddenly changed the subject.

"But who said we have to choose from the competitive knights?"

"Gentlemen, broaden your perspective. We don't want to lose, but does the Supervisory Council want to lose?"

"In the knightly competitions of the Games held in the Kingdom of Knights, the Kingdom of Knights is going to suffer a crushing defeat. Do you think they can afford such a price?"

"Impossible, gentlemen. They will also desperately want to win. The only difference is whether they need our help to win."

Charn laughed and said, "If we reverse our thinking, the initiative will still be in our hands."

"We are the rule-makers of the knightly arena, and no one knows the loopholes in the rules of the knightly arena better than us."

"If they want to guarantee victory, they must cooperate with us. That's our bargaining chip."