Fangzhou Xier, starting with failing the art exam

"I'm just cleaning up the mess left by my predecessors, and incidentally building a more stable order for this battered world."

“Order?” Theresis let out a low laugh. “Order as you define it?”

"Why not?" Lacey retorted.

“Your Excellency Theresis, we are all pragmatic people, so there’s no need for such empty pleasantries.”

"You've come here in person today, surely not to discuss philosophical issues with me."

Just then, the door was pushed open.

An elderly figure slowly walked in.

He wore a simple scholar's robe, and his pupils burned with a ghostly blue soul fire.

It was none other than Fremont, the long-absent ruler of the Lich King's Court.

The moment he saw Fremont, a flicker of emotion appeared on Tracy's perpetually icy face.

“Your Excellency Fremont…” he uttered the name slowly.

Fremont ignored him, his gaze fixed on Lacey, his expression complex.

He then walked over and sat down next to Lacey, as if he were born to sit there.

“Lord Theresis, let’s continue,” Lacey said with a smile, showing no surprise at Fremont’s arrival.

“I think you know Kazdel’s current situation better than I do.”

"We are surrounded by enemies on all sides."

“Ursus in the north sees you as a major threat, and although Gaul in the west has been destroyed, Victoria has inherited its hostility.”

“The Great Yan in the east is keeping a close watch on you. You are like a lion trapped in a cage, full of strength but unable to find a way out.”

"Your military strength is undoubtedly still the best in Terra, but no country can rely on its army alone."

Lacey stood up and began pacing around the sand table.

"Can your agriculture feed all the Sarkaz people?"

"Can your industry produce advanced weapons capable of rivaling Colombia?"

"Besides exporting mercenaries, what other pillar industries does your economy have?"

"In your diplomacy, besides me, who else is willing to sit down and talk with you?"

“You don’t even have a truly stable piece of land.”

"The idea of ​​the Tower of Babel was great, but it was ultimately just a dream."

"The future of a race cannot be pinned on a vague and unrealistic dream."

Therese remained silent.

The other party's barrage of questions left him speechless, unsure where to begin his rebuttal.

Because every word Lacey said hit his sore spot.

He can conquer all enemies, but he cannot conjure bread out of thin air.

“I admire your ambition, Theresis.” Lacey stopped and looked him straight in the eye.

"You want to find a way out for the Sarkaz, to win a place where your people can live and thrive."

"And I can give you that opportunity."

"What opportunity?" Therese finally asked.

"Victoria."

Lacey pointed to the fertile land on the map.

"Once I have dealt with those troublesome dukes, I will give you an entire duchy, along with its lands, cities, ports, and everything else, as the new home of the Sarkaz."

Upon hearing this, even Therese's pupils couldn't help but shrink.

An entire duchy!

That means at least tens of thousands of square kilometers of land, hundreds of thousands of people, and a complete industrial and agricultural base.

This is something the Sarkaz have dreamed of for thousands of years.

"What are the conditions?" Therese's voice was a little hoarse.

He never believed that a free lunch would fall from the sky.

“It’s simple.” Lacey held up two fingers.

"First, in the upcoming Victoria War, the Kazdel Military Council will need to send your most elite troops, under my unified command, as the spearhead of the offensive."

"Second, you need to utilize all your intelligence networks and military forces on Terra to cover my strategic operations, especially in the Ursus and Columbia directions. I need you to draw their attention to me."

"Use Sarkaz blood to buy you the Victoria Crown?" Theresis sneered.

"Your Majesty the Emperor's plan is truly shrewd."

“This isn’t a transaction, it’s an investment,” Lacey corrected.

"You invest in your present, I invest in your future."

"Do you really think that Kazdel alone can snatch a piece of meat from the mouths of those eight hungry wolves of Victoria?"

"Besides, don't you want to see with your own eyes the horrified expressions on the faces of the Terran nations when the Sarkaz's banner is planted atop the walls of Lentinium?" Lacey's tone shifted, becoming seductive.

"Don't you want those races that once despised, drove away, and hunted you to kneel before you and beg for your mercy?"

These words struck at the deepest desires in Theresis's heart.

He established a military council to consolidate the Sarkaz forces, not only for survival but also for revenge.

He wants all of Terra to pay the price for the crimes they committed against the Sarkaz.

The room fell silent again for a long time.

Therese closed his eyes, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of the deal.

After a long while, he opened his eyes again, his gaze now devoid of hesitation.

“How can I be sure that you will keep your promise after the war is won?” he asked.

"Instead of using us and then discarding us like others do?"

Lacey smiled.

He didn't answer, but instead looked at Fremont standing to the side.

The old lich spoke slowly, his voice seemingly coming from the ancient void: "The era of Helhunzoren has passed. A new era requires a new covenant."

"I will be a witness to this contract."

The weight of the Lord of the Witch King's Court is sufficient.

Therese slowly stood up and extended her hand to Lacey.

"I hope you will not disappoint me, Your Majesty."

Lacey reached out and shook his hand tightly.

"History will prove that this was the best choice you made for Sarkaz."

……

Holy Leitanian Empire: Chapter 124: Duke's Internal Strife

The fighting in Little Hill County is raging far more fiercely than you anticipated.

The bloody crackdown by Colonel Hamilton, the commander of Victoria's forces in Little Kewshire, became the final straw that broke the Tara people's back.

The military supplies you sent through Serafina came in handy at the most critical moment.

Without the slightest hesitation, Abrahana unleashed her fury of revenge upon the Victoria garrison.

[Late at night, a series of violent explosions ripped apart the garrison camp in Hillsshire.]

The Deeppool troops, equipped with Leitania-style mortars, delivered shells to the camp's command post, supply depot, and barracks.

The Victorian soldiers, accustomed to oppressing civilians, had never witnessed such intense firepower; many were blown to bits in their sleep.

Colonel Hamilton's command structure was paralyzed in the first wave of attacks. His adjutant, Hill, was killed when a crossbow bolt fired from 800 meters away by Deeppool cadre "The Accountant" pierced his head, his body still in a pleading posture.

Colonel Hamilton himself was thrown by the blast wave, crashing into a wall and breaking seven or eight ribs. The blood and foam gushing from his mouth prevented him from giving a complete command.

Shouts echoed from all directions from the deep pool. The indigenous people, whom they usually regarded as lambs, had now transformed into vengeful demons. The garrison completely collapsed, and the soldiers abandoned their weapons and fled in all directions.

The Deeppool forces swiftly seized control of the entire encampment and opened the dungeons imprisoning the Tara rebels.

The Tara rebels, who should have been hanged, were brought back to life. Looking at their ravaged camp and their jubilant comrades, tears welled in their eyes.

Abrahma stood on the ruins of the command post, the Tara battle flag behind her. She didn't give a speech, but simply raised her sword, pointing it in the direction of Lentinium.

The thunderous cheers heralded the first true victory for the Tara people in centuries.

The news spread through various channels throughout all Tara communities.

For the first time, a nation oppressed for centuries saw hope.

In Toronto, miners laid down their pickaxes and attacked their overseers with rusty tools; in Marchshire, farmers set fire to nobles' granaries and hanged their rent-collecting stewards from oak trees.

The flames of resistance, starting as a small spark, quickly ignited into a raging fire.

The name of the deep pool became a sacred song for the Tara people, and the image of Abrahana was depicted on walls and flags.

Wielding new Letanian weapons, Abrahana's tactics became increasingly flexible and daring. No longer content with guerrilla harassment, she began to actively encircle and annihilate small groups of Victorian regular troops.

Her troops appeared and disappeared like ghosts, striking and then vanishing. Victoria's army was constantly on the move, yet they couldn't even catch a glimpse of Deeppool.

Each victory inflated Abrahina's confidence to unprecedented heights; she could almost see Tara's banner flying high above Londinium.

Amidst the jubilation of victory, Raphsini, the shadow warrior, felt a chill run down her spine.

The ubiquitous Leitanian equipment in the camp, the constant mention of Leitanian advisors by the officers, and even the Leitanian tactical theories cited by Abrahina at military conferences—Letania's influence is everywhere.

Looking at the burning ambition in her sister's eyes, a fire both familiar and strange, she grew increasingly worried. Deeppool had only driven away the wolf, Victoria, but had attracted the even more terrifying tiger, Letania.

[Sister, are you truly working to restore Tara's kingdom, or are you simply adding another piece to the Letanian emperor's chessboard? This worry and self-doubt continued to fester within her.]

The news reached Victoria's upper echelons, sparking outrage.

The Dukes' Council was in complete disarray, with the Duke of Normandy's representative vehemently accusing the Duke of Wellington of lax military discipline, which had led to the devastation in the south.

[The Duke of Godottin subtly hinted that some colleagues "devoted to Tara" should perhaps recuse themselves.]

The Duke of Wellington himself remained silent, but everyone sensed the dangerous aura emanating from him.

On the surface, they were discussing how to suppress the rebellion, but in reality, they were all using the opportunity to test each other's limits and plot how to weaken their opponent in this chaos.

Effective military mobilization has become a joke amidst this endless internal strife.

In Londinium, Eleanor March, Count of March, acting as the Duke of Normandy's agent, keenly sensed a power reshuffling.

She frequented various salons and clubs, meticulously recording every secret meeting, every complaint, and every unusual financial transaction by the Duke's agents, and then submitted these records to the Duke of Normandy.

[At the same time, you instructed Serafina to continue increasing aid to the deep pool.]

A steady stream of more sophisticated weaponry, along with several experienced military advisors, arrived silently in the Tara region.

Meanwhile, Serafina begins to connect with Rafishini, who is struggling internally, subtly planting a seed in her heart with empathetic and seductive words.

The real killing blow was delivered by the Duke of Caesar's grey top hat.

[A ledger meticulously prepared by your intelligence chief, Gertrude, was intercepted in what appeared to be an accident and placed before all the grand dukes except Wellington.]

The ledgers contained irrefutable evidence of the Duke of Wellington's confidants providing funds and weapons to Deeppool. Although key details were handled ambiguously, it was enough to arouse suspicion in everyone.

A secret meeting was then convened, the atmosphere tense and all fingers pointing at the Duke of Wellington.

Faced with the outraged crowd of his colleagues, the Duke of Wellington was furious. He slammed his fist on the table and roared as he refuted the accusations as despicable slander.

He certainly knew what he had done, but that was by no means a reason for his trial.

His anger wasn't at being exposed, but at how these hypocritical people dared to attack him in this way.

The Dukes of Godottin and Windermere attempted to act as mediators, urging everyone to remain calm and prioritize the greater good. However, they knew better than anyone that the cracks in the Victorian ship were too deep to be repaired.

[Lentinium's decrees have fallen into complete chaos, with conflicting instructions received by the dukes' agents, bringing the entire bureaucratic system to the brink of paralysis.]