Translator: CinderTL
The letter was sent, and Crystal Glare quickly replied.
Paul opened the envelope in his office. Rodney XVIII's handwriting was neat and precise, the ink bright and fresh, as if each stroke had been carefully considered.
As he read, his expression gradually darkened.
In the opening of the letter, the king lavished praise on Paul.
He lauded Paul's "far-sighted vision, deeply concerned for the long-term security of the kingdom," declaring his strategic plan "far beyond the duties of an ordinary lord." He even called his loyalty "deeply moving, a model for all subjects."
These words were written with genuine warmth and fervor, as if Paul were not the one whose request had been rejected, but a devoted servant to the nation's future.
But after the praise came the rejection.
As expected, the king's tone gradually grew somber:
"However, I must also face reality. Aldor has just endured Giles' rebellion in the south, where the flames of war destroyed three major counties, leaving countless people displaced, farmlands barren, and livestock dead. This was followed by an orc invasion in the north, where border towns were plundered, the populace fled, and the royal treasury was nearly depleted."
"The people of the kingdom have already suffered too much. They should not continue to pay the price for the grand ambitions of their rulers. They need to survive. They do not need more war, even if it is waged under the banner of eternal peace."
"What the kingdom needs most right now isn't territorial expansion, but rest and recovery. We need to let the land grow food again, restore vitality to our cities, and allow ordinary people to sleep peacefully without the constant sound of war drums and alarms."
"I cannot ask them to pay the price for a distant victory."
"The other regions of the kingdom are not like Northwest Bay. They lack the labor-saving machinery you possess. With so many young men conscripted into the army, agriculture will suffer from a labor shortage, and fields will fall fallow. Therefore, as an Aldorian, I humbly request you, Marquis Grayman, to hold our borders, protect our people, and let us discuss the next steps only after the nation has truly recovered its strength."
At the end of the letter, the king once again thanked Paul for his loyalty and promised continued support for the kingdom's northern defenses to ensure the fortress remained secure.
Paul fell silent after reading the letter.
He gently placed it on the table and gazed out the window at Wes Lake.
On the surface, the letter contained no anger, no suspicion, and even a hint of sincerity.
Yet it was equally resolute, leaving no room for compromise.
Rodney XVIII sought peace, stability, and a chance for the kingdom to breathe after the ravages of war.
What he truly wanted was to eliminate the threat entirely, to resolve the problem once and for all.
The next day, in the council hall of the Lord's Manor.
Morning light streamed through the tall, narrow stone windows, illuminating the floating dust motes in the air. The map on the wall still bore the dense markings of enemy and friendly positions.
But the atmosphere was no longer as tense as before.
Paul stood at the head of the long table, the king's reply spread before him. Old Ford, Schroeder, and several other core commanders sat on either side, their expressions solemn. They had already sensed the lord's recent silence and gravity.
"You have all read the king's reply," Paul began. "He understands our strategic intentions and appreciates our loyalty—but he will not approve conscription, nor will he support a military campaign deep into the Grassland."
Silence filled the hall. No one was surprised, but a heavy sense of reality settled over them.
"We cannot continue to exhaust our resources fighting the orcs alone," Paul continued. "Northwest Bay has already paid too high a price for this war. Alden Town has issued three rounds of war bonds. Factories work day and night, trade routes have shrunk, civilian industries have been squeezed, and even schools and hospitals have sacrificed resources. Can the people endure another full mobilization?"
He surveyed the crowd: "No! We cannot launch a campaign to conquer the Grassland without support from the rest of the kingdom. That would severely hinder social development in the Northwest Bay."
Bryce whispered, "So... we stop at Blackwater Lake? Wait... Lord Grayman, forgive my impertinence, but at least we'll continue to hold Blackwater Lake, right?"
"For now, yes," Paul nodded. "Our mission now is defense, not conquest. The fortress at Blackwater Lake is complete, gunboats control the lake, and our supply lines are secure. As long as Abal doesn't make any rash moves, we'll hold our current defensive line, consolidate our control zone, train our troops, and wait for the right moment."
Hansel spoke slowly, "What about the trade routes? What will happen to the trade routes outside Watchers Fortress?"
"Perhaps..." Paul's voice was hesitant. "We could negotiate with Abal, asking him to restrain his troops. I believe Abal understands that prosperous trade routes are more beneficial for wealth accumulation."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over each of his subordinates. "I know you're not satisfied, and neither am I. But we must not only win the war, we must also know when to advance and when to hold back."
Silence hung in the hall for a moment before his subordinates nodded in agreement.
Schroeder murmured, "We understand."
Hansel nodded as well. "Defending what we've already achieved is harder than blind expansion, but also more crucial."
Paul inclined his head slightly, gathering the letter from the table.
"Convey my decision to Stanford and Andrew," he said in a steady voice. "Transition to standard defensive operations. The Third Brother of the North is to restore civilian production ratios, but militia training must continue. Our intelligence system will maintain constant surveillance of the Grassland. We will not attack, but we cannot afford to relax."
The lengthy meeting finally concluded as dusk approached, and the attendees dispersed.
Paul walked through the stone corridors of the Lord's Manor toward his private quarters in the rear courtyard.
He had barely settled into his chair when he noticed Catherine already in the room. She stood by the window, wrapped in a deep blue velvet blanket. Hearing his footsteps, she turned, her eyes gentle but tinged with a subtle, barely perceptible worry.
"You've been too quiet these past few days," she said softly, approaching him. "Did Gerd's reply trouble you?"
Paul leaned back in his chair, tugged at his collar, and gave a gentle laugh. "It's not as serious as you think. Just a strategic disagreement. He wants to conserve our strength, while I want to settle things once and for all. We both have the kingdom's best interests at heart, just different paths."
She gazed at him without immediate response. Because of their shared soul space, they were practically an old married couple, and she knew him too well. Beneath his calm exterior lay depths of unfathomable thought.
"If..." Paul suddenly began, his tone playful yet probing, "if one day Gerd and I truly become enemies, which side would you take?"
Catherine didn't smile. She slowly walked before him, then gradually bent her knees until her pristine white knees rested on the soft carpet.
Without lifting her head, she gently pressed her cheek against Paul's leg, as if offering comfort and making a vow.
Her voice was soft, yet as clear as an oath:
"You are my husband, which means you are my king, the one sent by the Heavenly Father to rule over me.
Blood ties may break, loyalty may waver, and crowns may change hands... but you are my destined home.
No matter where you go, I will stand by your side."
The fire cast their intertwined shadows on the wall—one sitting, the other kneeling, yet they seemed to merge into a single form.
Paul stared blankly for a moment, then raised his hand to gently stroke his wife's hair, feeling his fingertips tremble.
"Thank you, my love."
(End of the Chapter)
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