Chapter 134: Plots upon plots of the Helmsley regime
In Brawlmanica, within a majestic royal suite at the heart of the capital, a private meeting was underway. Seated at the head of the long table, Prince Hunter maintained an unreadable expression. Flanking him were his most trusted advisors and a gathering of influential nobles. Among them sat Viscount Carlos Leon Sr., bearing the calm and proud air of a man whose household had only risen in power.
One man, however, seemed out of place despite his fine noble attire. His expression was blank, and he appeared entirely disinterested in the discussion at hand. Closer inspection would reveal several Soloman clan emblems stitched into his robes and jewelry—marking him unmistakably as one of their high-ranking members. If Erica were present, she would no doubt recoil with irritation; this was her so-called "annoying uncle", her father's uncle to be precise, and the one responsible for taking in John Soloman from another distant branch of the family.
The meeting fluctuated between tension and calm as the state of the kingdom was laid bare.
"It's always one thing after another… the wars never cease, no matter what efforts are made," sighed a weary noble, his frustration barely masked.
"Hahaha! Don't worry too much," Carlos Sr. replied with a good-natured chuckle. "Compared to before, this is practically a time of peace. And let's not forget—our Prince here has reached Golden Lord status already."
"That's true enough… But we can't ignore the looming threat of Duke Michaels. He won't sit still for long. It's disgraceful how far our great nation has fallen!" another noble growled, his voice brimming with indignation.
"I wouldn't put it past Duke Helmsley to stir the pot either… Though I must admit, that branch of the Helmsley line shows more decorum than some of the other fools running around," another added with a wry smile.
Prince Hunter, who had until now simply listened, finally addressed the topic.
"Let's not forget that Duke Jabok—despite his snake-like ways—acts in the interests of the kingdom and the dignity of the Helmsley name. We may not like their methods, but the outcomes tend to benefit us."
A brief silence followed his statement. Then, sensing the atmosphere shift, a new topic was introduced.
"Word has it that a faction of the White Star Radiance has recently become active in Brassaint. The Black Reaper Corps, to be exact," one noble said grimly.
The mere mention of the White Star Radiance brought about a reverent air. But when Black Reaper Corps was uttered, their expressions darkened. Among those in power, it was an open secret that this corps largely consisted of defectors from the Night's Light Devouring Church—infamous assassins and killers who had turned against their former sect.
The legendary Daoist Black Devil Blades was both feared and revered, a man whose notoriety stirred unease even among allies.
To Prince Hunter, however, such fears were laughable. As a member of White Star Radiance himself, and having known Zoro personally, he regarded these anxieties as foolish paranoia. Those who spoke too freely against Zoro in his presence were swiftly silenced with stern warnings.
Only then did the Soloman elder stir, his dull eyes gaining a spark of interest as the conversation shifted toward the White Star Radiance.
"Your Excellency," ventured a curious noble, "if I may ask… when was the last time you heard from Lady Helga?"
"It's been a few months," Prince Hunter answered without hesitation. "She's focused on her cultivation, as expected."
"Then… regarding her engagement to Sir Ramiro… Forgive me if I overstep, Your Excellency—and you, Sir Carlos."
Carlos Sr. laughed heartily before answering for both of them.
"A fair question! But I'd say arranging that marriage now would be difficult. My son's been in deep seclusion for over a year."
Prince Hunter nodded in agreement.
"Indeed. Such is the life of cultivators at their level."
He then glanced subtly at the Soloman clan expert, as if addressing him indirectly through his next words.
"I suppose the same can be said about Sir Elton, Lady Christy, and of course… Lady Erica."
The Soloman clan expert furrowed his brow ever so slightly, a rare flicker of awareness, but said nothing. He merely gave a subtle shake of his head before slipping back into his dazed, indifferent state.
"Putting that aside," Prince Hunter continued in a neutral tone, "I received word from an expert calling himself the White Star Guardian. He claims he can mobilize a faction of the White Star Radiance without requiring Daoist Blue Heavens Sword, Black Devil Blades, or Heaven's Star Eyes to take command. I'd prefer to avoid involving them unless it's absolutely necessary… but I have a feeling such a moment might arrive sooner than we'd like."
His statement hung in the air for a moment before the conversation smoothly shifted to the next matter of business.
Elsewhere in Brawlmanica…
In a vast borderland estate, surrounded by towering walls and a small castle at its center, lay the heart of the Helmsley Duchy—a branch of the Helmsley bloodline not fully aligned with the royal family. Within a grand study, a young man wearing glasses sat immersed in a thick tome, flipping through its detailed pages.
The book chronicled key events from the past five years, both domestic and international, all of which pertained to Brawlmanica's shifting tides. His expression shifted continuously—blank, intrigued, serious, astonished—before settling back to calm detachment.
A knock at the door preceded the entrance of a tall man dressed in a crisp butler's uniform. With practiced grace, he bowed before speaking in a slow, respectful tone.
"Young Lord, His Grace has summoned you. You are expected in his quarters shortly."
The young man didn't look up. He finished reading a few more lines, closed the book, and exhaled in annoyance.
"Hmph. What could our father want this time… Whatever. I'll be there shortly."
The butler bowed once more and exited the study.
This young man was none other than Jacob Helmsley, fourth son of Duke Jabok Helmsley, and the first child of one of the duke's three concubines. His mother through her mother, notably, was a descendant of the royal Helmsley line—an uncomfortable contradiction for a family now opposing that very lineage.
In truth, the Helmsley Duchy was far from united. Bitter rivalries stretched across generations. Even the current Duke Jabok's own generation remained divided—some still loyal to the royal family, others now leading the anti-crown movement, and there are those with their own self-interest even targeting Duke Jabok's seat. Jacob's position was precarious, as his maternal lineage tied him directly to the very bloodline his father now sought to distance from.
Even so, he complied, making his way to the duke's private chamber.
Inside the grand chamber, a large meeting table was surrounded by many familiar faces. Seated already were nine of the duke's children, ranging widely in age and disposition. Duke Jabok Helmsley himself sat at the head, radiating cold majesty, his sharp eyes sweeping the room.
"Jacob. Welcome," the duke said, motioning to empty chairs. "Take a seat. Two more are yet to arrive."
Jacob offered only a nod in response. As he made his way to the seats, a soft voice called out with warmth.
"Big brother Jacob! Over here, this seat is empty!"
The cheerful speaker was his full-blooded younger sister naturally sharing the same mother, one of the few family members he genuinely trusted. He offered a rare smile and sat beside her.
Not long after, another figure entered the room. His dark, grimacing expression sent a cold ripple through the chamber. Without a word, he kneeled respectfully before the duke, then found a spot and sat apart from the others.
This man was Jumanga Helmsley, the second son of Duke Jabok, born from an early affair. Known for his extreme views and brutal methods, Jumanga had long been a subject of caution—particularly for Jacob, who viewed him as dangerous and unstable. Jumanga's deep-seated rivalry with the first son was known by all.
And just then, that very first son entered the chamber.
Jerome Helmsley.
Sharp, unreadable, and coldly regal, Jerome carried a quiet, terrifying authority. Jacob regarded him warily, but not for the same reasons he feared Jumanga. Jerome was a mystery—unreadable, calculating, and difficult to understand.
"Father's decision to put him forward as a contender to challenge Prince Hunter… It makes sense. But I can't help but feel…"
Jacob couldn't shake the sense that Jerome and Prince Hunter were strangely alike. Both exuded a calm yet imposing presence, both had a natural air of leadership—and both were enigmas, even to their closest advisors. Jacob wondered if anyone else in the room sensed that eerie similarity. Likely not.
As his thoughts trailed off, Duke Jabok Helmsley stood, his voice heavy with intention, ready to finally begin the meeting.