Fangzhou Xier, starting with failing the art exam

This is his chance to prove that he is better than his father and his clever sister!

"150,000!" He practically shouted the number, which was the limit of the profits he could divert from the family mine.

The private room on the second floor fell silent.

A moment later, the "clerk" gave up.

For them, the value of this wine glass was not enough to make them reveal more.

"150,000 once! 150,000 twice! 150,000 three times! Sold!"

The auction hammer fell heavily.

Cole Strolow won this "rare treasure" amidst envious and jealous glances from the audience.

Like a triumphant general, he personally carried the exquisite wooden box and, surrounded by his guards, walked out of the auction house with a triumphant air.

Leo stood still, adjusted his glasses, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

In the second-floor private room, the "clerk" watched Cole's departing carriage and instructed his subordinates, "Send someone to follow him and make sure he returns safely to Viseheim."

"Also, investigate that antique dealer named Leo and find out his background."

He didn't suspect the glass itself, but out of the instinct of a spy chief, he remained wary of any coincidence.

On the road back to Viseheim from Salem, Cole sat in his magnificent carriage, stroking the silver cup again and again.

He couldn't wait to return to his castle and show off his spoils to everyone.

The captain of the guard sat opposite him, looking at his young master's infatuated expression, and shook his head helplessly.

When the carriage reached a narrow section of road, a sudden change occurred.

Without any warning, the silver cup in Cole's hand suddenly burst forth with a blinding white light.

"boom--!"

With a muffled, loud bang, the magnificent carriage was instantly engulfed in flames and torn to pieces.

The massive shockwave sent several guards flying, sending splinters of wood, metal fragments, and severed limbs flying in all directions.

The remnants of the Witch King's faction who were following behind were stunned by this sudden scene.

Before they could react, several crossbow bolts that had been lying in ambush on both sides whistled through the air and accurately pierced their throats.

Taylor emerged from the alley with a team of Workers' Party action members, who were expressionless and skillfully cleaning up the scene.

They placed a symbol representing the Witch King's power on a charred wooden plank of a wagon and stuffed a forged secret letter into the body of a guard who had been killed in the explosion.

After doing all this, they quickly disappeared into the street.

Half an hour later, when the city guards of Viseheim arrived, they found only a scene of utter chaos.

……

……

Breakfast milk.jpg

Holy Lytanian Empire: Chapter Twenty-Five: I've come to Viseheim to discuss only three things with you.

The death of Cole Strolo caused a minor stir in the noble circles of Viseheim, which then quickly subsided.

The Witch King's emblem left at the scene, and the several spies that the Queen's Voice later uncovered from the auction house, all pointed the finger at those rats in the gutter.

A detailed investigation report was sent by fast horse to the capital, Trinitylme.

The report states that Cole Strolo died from a miniature Originium bomb hidden in the Hunting Cup, and that remnants of the Witch King's faction were indeed present at the auction.

The conclusion is clear: this was a retaliatory attack targeting the heirs of the Stroolo family.

As for the truth, nobody cares.

A foolish spoiled brat, his death is no big deal.

His death, ironically, brought convenience to all parties involved.

……

Trinitylme, the Twin Towers.

Queen Lizard is pruning dead leaves from a pot of silver-edged agave.

The Black Queen Helena, meanwhile, paced restlessly back and forth in front of the long window.

Helena stopped and crossed her arms. "Lizelot, don't you think all of this is too much of a coincidence?"

"No sooner had Cole Strolow died than his ambitious sister submitted her application to inherit the title."

"I smell a conspiracy."

Liselotte put down the small silver scissors in her hand, wiped her fingers with a silk handkerchief, and then raised her eyes.

"Does it matter, Helena Matt?"

"What do you mean?" Herlinmat frowned.

“Viseheim is a haven for those scum and remnants. Count Strolo himself was a two-faced good-for-nothing who died under mysterious circumstances.”

“Now his even more useless son is dead, killed by the remnants of the Witch King’s faction,” Liselotte said calmly.

"This is not a bad thing for us."

"An easy-to-control puppet is certainly useful, but a fool like Cole Strolo will only allow the situation in Viseheim to continue to deteriorate."

“And his sister, Gertrude Strolo,” Lizzelot smiled slightly, “is an ambitious woman; she wants a title and wants to prove her worth to us.”

Why don't we grant her wish?

“A count who can actively eliminate the remnants of the Witch King’s faction and stabilize the territory is far more in line with our current interests than a puppet who requires us to be constantly on guard and appease him.”

Helena Mat fell silent.

It wasn't that she didn't understand the stakes involved; it was just that her innate, strict demand for order made her instinctively repulsed by such conspiracies that skirted the edges of the rules.

"Then... approve her application."

"But I always felt that the same person was behind both of these things: keeping an eye on her and Lacey, who was stirring up trouble in Salem."

“Of course.” Liselotte smiled like a cunning fox.

……

Gertrude's coronation ceremony was very simple.

Dressed in a sharply tailored black gown, she addressed the anxious populace of her territory and issued her first decree:

Gertrude arrived, and the blue sky of Viseheim was restored.

She will work with the Twin Queens to completely wipe out the remnants of the Witch King's faction within the territory, restoring peace and order to Vishheim.

The speech was written by Lacey.

The speech was powerful and resounding, but the audience reacted indifferently, even somewhat apathetically.

To them, it was just a matter of a different nobleman and a different set of excuses.

The sun rises as usual, the dust in the mine doesn't decrease, and the empty purse doesn't gain a single extra copper coin.

In the crowd, an old miner with gray hair and beard, and only one leg, leaned on a cane and spat at a young man next to him.

"Uncle Hans, what are you doing?" the young man asked, puzzled.

"Pah! Just listen to it."

The old miner Hans's cloudy eyes were full of sarcasm as he patted his empty trouser leg.

"See? This is what happens when you believe the former count's lies!"

"That old man said back then that he would give us miners the best protection, but what happened?"

"The mine collapsed, and my leg is only worth three silver coins!!"

"Easier said than done! If I could believe a single word of what this noble lord says, I, Hans, would change my name!"

The young man clenched his fists upon hearing this.

His father, a taciturn miner, died of pneumoconiosis last year, coughing up blood that stained half of his pillow before he died.

He didn't care about being a witch king, an empress, or a count; all he knew was that each day was getting harder to bear.

“But what if… what if it’s true?” he whispered, more as a prayer than a rebuttal.

"If it's true, my brother... might not have to follow in my father's footsteps."

Hans glanced at him, sighed, and said nothing more.

For those struggling at the bottom of society, hope is the greatest luxury.

……

A week later, an inconspicuous caravan drove through the south gate of Viseheim at dusk.

A man dressed in ordinary linen clothes opened the car door and got out.

Lacey has arrived.

Gertrude prepared a luxurious villa for Lacey in the Highgarden district, the kind with a garden and fountain.

But Lacey politely declined her offer.

Together with Serafina and Taylor, who arrived later, he rented an abandoned warehouse in the chaotic Sunset District.

The warehouse was piled with junk. Taylor kicked open a rotten wooden crate, and the dust that rose up made him sneeze several times.

"Boss, are we really going to live in this godforsaken place?" Taylor rubbed his nose and complained in a muffled voice.

"That countess is so stingy, couldn't she have arranged a proper place for us?"

“We don’t live here ourselves,” Serafina said, as she skillfully found a broom and rag and began cleaning.

Lacey completely ignored his surroundings. He took out a map of Viseheim from his luggage, spread it on a fairly clean wooden table, and began to study it intently.

“Our roots are among the workers, so our headquarters should naturally be located as close to them as possible,” Lacey said without looking up.

Taylor nodded as if she understood, stopped complaining, and rolled up her sleeves to join in the cleaning.

……

Over the next month, Viseheim underwent a silent transformation.

Under Gertrude's authorization, a joint task force composed of the Earl's Guard and the Workers' Party pickets began a precise strike against the remnants of the Witch King's party.

The picket line was responsible for providing intelligence and perimeter security, while Gertrude's guards were responsible for the frontal assault.

Before those remnants of the Witch King's faction who usually acted arrogantly could react, they were dragged out of their sleep and put in shackles.

Lacey would personally interrogate those lower-ranking members who were arrested.

"What's your name? Why did you join them?" Lacey's questions always started from this point.

At first, those people were very stubborn, arming themselves with a series of slogans and fanatical loyalty.

But with Serafina's help, Lacey always manages to pry open their shells.

He would chat with them about everyday things, about their fathers who died tragically in the mines, about their children who died because they couldn't afford medical treatment, gradually breaking down their defenses.

Finally, these people would all break down in tears and tell everything they knew.

Instead of handing these recruits over to Gertrude, Lacey absorbed them into the Workers' Party's peripheral organizations, allowing them to atone for their crimes through meritorious service and redeem themselves through practical actions.

In just one month, the security situation in Viseheim improved at a visible pace.

The street thugs disappeared, the gangs that had been entrenched in the Sunset District were eradicated, and even petty theft decreased significantly.

The public is watching and hesitant.

They didn't know what had happened; they only sensed that dawn was truly breaking.

The time has come.

Lacey decided to give his first public speech in Viseheim in the town hall square.

The news caused a sensation throughout Viseheim.

People flocked from all directions, curious to see what kind of person this so-called "workers' leader," who supposedly commanded the new earl's obedience, really was.

Old miner Hans was also helped to the square by his young neighbor.