Ascension from Dual Professions

Chapter 207: Chapter 202: Ministry of Internal Affairs, Attention from the Imperial Prime Minister

The official start of the Rite of Royal Selection undoubtedly captivated the entire Harvia Empire. For the nobles of all ranks who truly governed the nation, at least, nothing was more important—not now, and not for the foreseeable future.

Though this rite was adorned with all manner of ancient and glorious titles, at its core, it was a crucible—a competition of controlled intensity designed to determine the most masterful emperor.

Within the sixty-six days following their oath, the Princes and Princesses were required to return to their respective fiefdoms to rally their supporters. Afterward, they would tour and campaign across the Empire, displaying their Power and talent to the entire nation.

After sixty-six days, they would return to Minsali Palace where, witnessed by the three Sword Dukes and many other powerful nobles, the final victor would be determined by a live vote of all nobles who could make it there.

A choice by popular vote, each relying on their own abilities. It sounded fair enough.

But in reality, for both the contenders and the voters, this was an exceedingly risky affair.

Although the royal heirs swore a public oath not to harm one another, by the time of the final vote, the number of contenders left standing beneath the dome of Minsali Palace was often less than a third of those who had originally sworn the oath.

And the nobles from various lands, eager to cast their vote, pick a side, and earn political capital, would inevitably encounter all sorts of "accidents" on their way to the Imperial Capital—after all, beyond winning supporters, protecting one’s own and striking at an opponent’s were also demonstrations of a sovereign’s craft.

As for the numerous nobles currently in Birch Town, they were concerned with more practical matters—whether a Prince or Princess of real consequence would come, and how they would react to the current turmoil in Heta County.

The assembly hall was filled with a clamor as everyone voiced their opinions. At last, the wise and steady Sir Clove spoke loudly, silencing the chaotic scene.

"Everyone, I believe it is best not to get our hopes up for the arrival of reinforcements.

The assembly hall immediately fell silent. Someone’s lips moved as if to say something, but after some consideration, they refrained from speaking and instead let out a long, disappointed sigh. Clove also sighed softly, then continued.

"We all know the situation in Heta County. The families of everyone present are new blood, having arrived in Heta County only after the Heta family was stripped of its authority as a Sword Duke ninety-four years ago. Very few of our families are truly qualified to vote.

"That fact alone is enough for the great figures in the Imperial Capital to choose to ignore us here."

"Furthermore, with Nerva Heta now madly pushing for independence and throwing the entirety of Heta County into turmoil, the Princes and Princesses are even less likely to throw their precious Power—meant to be used against one another—into a quagmire like Heta County."

Baron Morton, a stocky figure seated across from him, shook his head and said cautiously.

"But even so, we cannot abandon the hope of calling for aid. Otherwise, by the time spring arrives and the rebels have established substantive control over the various regions, it will be even more difficult to reclaim the lost lands."

Another noble chimed in.

"Yes, I have heard that His Highness Harvey Benest is renowned for his courage and resolution. Moreover, his fief, the Ador Fief, is also on the edge of Trulane."

"We should hasten to open a path through the Bolaya River Valley and send people to the Ador Fief to ask for aid. Even if he doesn’t come to quell the rebellion himself, he will send men and supplies. This is a good chance for him to make a name for himself!"

"Well said! It’s better than doing nothing!"

Seeing that the discussion was once again threatening to devolve into chaos, Clove frowned deeply and looked to Paris, seated in the lord’s chair.

The Lord of Birch had not spoken a word since announcing the news. ’What on earth is he thinking?’

’What is he waiting for?’

’Doesn’t he realize that remaining silent at a time like this will only damage his prestige?’

But soon, the old knight knew what Paris was waiting for.

Just as the crowd was arguing incessantly, Knight Locke, who managed the internal affairs of the Lord’s Mansion, walked in briskly. He leaned in to whisper something in Paris’s ear, then produced a letter.

A letter, pitch-black, adorned with dark patterns, and bearing a gold wax seal. The emblem on the seal was that of a dragon-eagle, wings spread as if to take flight.

Clove’s expression instantly turned grim.

’That’s—’

Baron Morton, noticing his expression, followed his gaze to Paris and also gaped in astonishment.

Then, like a chain reaction, the nobles in the assembly hall fell silent one by one after seeing the letter.

In the Harvia Empire, the golden dragon-eagle sigil was used by only one family—the Feldrens, one of the three Sword Dukes, who also served as the Imperial Prime Minister.

At that moment, everyone was plunged into a state of inexplicable shock.

When had Paris possibly made contact with the family of the Imperial Prime Minister?

And what was written in that letter?

Was it related to the current situation in Heta County?

And yet, Paris seemed unsurprised by the letter’s arrival.

Under the watchful eyes of all, he unhurriedly broke the wax seal with a letter opener, opened the envelope, and read silently in the hall, a space so quiet one could hear the firewood crackling in the hearth.

Time passed, second by second. No one dared make a sound to disturb him.

Sir Clove, Baron Morton, and everyone else had their hearts in their throats, their gazes locked on Paris’s cold, hard-featured face, trying to glean the slightest shred of information from it.

However, the Lord of Birch’s expression was like a frozen lake, deep and unreadable. Only the occasional, subtle flutter of his eyelids betrayed the churning of his thoughts.

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, Paris looked up.

He did not speak immediately. Instead, he first pressed the letter gently onto the hardwood table before him, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the edge of the paper as his gaze slowly swept over every face, each etched with tension and anticipation.

"Everyone, this is a letter from His Grace, Duke Victor Feldren. It brings a definitive response from the Empire’s central command."

His tone was not impassioned, but every word was like a stone tossed into a calm pond, sending out silent ripples and causing the nobles to unconsciously straighten their backs.

"His Excellency, the Prime Minister, is now fully aware of Nerva Heta’s crimes—colluding with the treacherous Blood Eye Association in an attempt to subvert Heta County and splinter the Empire!"

A suppressed gasp, a mixture of excitement and relief, went through the assembled nobles.

The highest authority in the Empire had finally taken notice of this war-torn land!

This meant they were no longer fighting alone; it meant the rebellion would ultimately be crushed by the Empire’s immense Power!

Paris raised a hand slightly, signaling for the excited crowd to be patient, and continued.

"Lord Victor has expressed his approval of Birch Town’s steadfast role as the core of the resistance."

"To effectively strike the rebels and dismantle their command structure, the Prime Minister has already made deployments—elite operatives from the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs will arrive in Birch Town in the coming days!"

"The Ministry of Internal Affairs?"

Sir Clove could not help but exclaim in a low voice, a sharp glint flashing in his aged eyes.

That name did not have a good reputation in the Empire’s noble circles, often being linked with words like "spy" and "assassin," but to their ears at this moment, it sounded wonderfully pleasant.

"Yes. Their mission is to assist us, go deep behind enemy lines, gather core intelligence on the rebels, and carry out key assassination operations against the rebel commanders!"

"Assassinate the commanders?"

Baron Morton repeated the phrase unconsciously, a flicker of barely perceptible disappointment flashing across his face.

The flame of hope that had just been ignited in his heart and in the hearts of some other nobles—the hope for the Imperial army to descend and crush the rebellion—was somewhat dampened by the two words "intelligence" and "assassination."

They longed for the overwhelming force of a direct confrontation, not a hidden dagger.

But soon, this small disappointment was suppressed by more practical considerations—the intervention of the Ministry of Internal Affairs was undoubtedly one of the most direct and threatening forms of support the Empire could provide in the current stalemate!

This at least proved that the Empire’s leadership had not forgotten them and was taking action.

"Excellent! The operatives of the Ministry of Internal Affairs! They will surely be able to deal a fatal blow to those traitors!"

"With the Ministry of Internal Affairs taking action, the rebel leaders will be terrified!"

After a brief silence, the assembly hall was instantly filled with the nobles’ rising and falling voices of praise and relief.

Whether born of sincerity or out of awe for the Empire’s Power, the praise at that moment seemed exceptionally heartfelt.

Sir Clove also stroked his beard, nodding slowly, the worry in his eyes lessening slightly.

Baron Morton and the several other nobles who had previously advocated so strongly for aid, though they knew full well this was not the large-scale military rescue they had hoped for, chimed in with their agreement as well.

After all, the arrival of the Ministry of Internal Affairs meant the Imperial Capital’s attention was now focused here, that Heta County was no longer a political island. This in itself was a major boon, enough to temporarily steady the people’s hearts and boost morale.

However, amidst the chorus of fervent praise, Paris showed little sign of pleasure.

Instead, a deeper, almost imperceptible thoughtfulness was gathering between his brows.

While the others were busy expressing their compliments, his gaze fell back to the letter he held pressed to the table.

The last part of the letter, a seemingly casual inquiry, now felt like an invisible thorn digging deep into his thoughts.

"...Furthermore, I am aware that within Birch Town there is an Adventurer named Jon. What is his background?"

Paris’s fingertips traced over those few lines, and a ripple disturbed the depths of his eyes.

’Why would the great Sword Duke, the Prime Minister of the Empire, notice a young man who had only just begun to distinguish himself?’

’What did this attention mean—for Jon, for him, Paris, for Birch Town, and indeed for the situation in all of Heta County?’

’Mr. Jon... could he really be, as those women said, connected to the Apollonia Duchy?’

Just as he was pondering this, the familiar clang of footsteps echoed from the corridor outside the assembly hall.

Paris looked up instinctively, just in time to meet the eyes of the young man pushing open the great doors to the hall.

The Lord Viscount of Birch instinctively stood up and went forward to greet him personally.

However, in those ice-blue eyes, he saw nothing but coldness and detachment.

"Viscount Paris, Jon has come for our appointment..."