Chapter 46
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Chapter 46: The Nobility’s Game
Deep within the castle’s luxurious bedroom, the aged Count Joseph lay motionless on a grand canopy bed, eyes shut tight. Were it not for the faint rise of his chest and barely audible breaths, he might have been mistaken for a corpse.
In truth, he was already an empty shell. His soul had been ripped out by Wiseman of the Hand of Nightmare, leaving behind nothing but lifeless flesh. Had this not happened, even if gravely ill, the Count would never have allowed his disliked son, Quinn, to rise to power so effortlessly.
Wiseman had chosen this method precisely because of the Count’s influence—a threat to revive him if Quinn rebelled. It was the Empire’s leverage to control Quinn.
Now, that leverage was about to be destroyed.
General Lanst Joseph knew Midi would never spare him, even if the garrison surrendered. And even if Midi showed mercy, where could a traitor with Joseph bloodline flee? Hunted by his family, death was inevitable.
With no escape, Lanst resolved to die loyal, protecting his kin.
So he came here.
He would kill the Count, robbing Midi of his bargaining chip and forcing Quinn’s promotion. All blame would fall on Lanst’s aged shoulders.
Even Fina Hamilton’s miracle Magic Beams couldn’t reach this place!
Drawing his gleaming longsword, Lanst stood by the bed. Hands trembling, he raised the blade high, ready to sever the Count’s head. One strike would end it.
Then the Count’s eyes snapped open—lifeless voids that seemed to devour souls.
Lanst staggered as if struck. Prepared to bear the sin of regicide, he hadn’t braced for facing his lord. The frozen sword refused to fall.
The Count didn’t hesitate.
The frail old man lunged with unnatural strength, toppling Lanst. Dropping to all fours, he scuttled like a beast across the carpet, snatched a hidden blade, and attacked.
Though a level 28 Knight, Lanst stood no chance against the Count’s grotesque fury.
In an instant, the blade slashed his wrists. Sword and hands thudded to the floor, blood gushing.
“My Lord, wait—” Lanst choked.
The Count pounced, burying the knife in the general’s chest.
Silence reclaimed the room.
The Count stood motionless, emotionless, like a magic automaton awaiting orders.
Half an hour later, footsteps echoed outside. The door swung open.
“What…?” Lanst’s deputy—the knight who’d surrendered with the white flag—gasped. He’d expected Lanst’s suicide mission, not this: his commander dead, the Count revived.
“Treachery stains the Joseph family,” Midi declared, stepping forward. “I raged at your declaration of war, but clearly Quinn’s lackey Lanst acted alone. Was this all Quinn’s doing?”
“Yes,” the Count droned.
Midi smirked at the wooden reply. “Then let me manage your family’s affairs and eliminate Quinn’s mess.”
The proposal was absurd—an enemy solving familial strife. Yet the Count’s face remained blank.
“Good,” he monotoned.
“We’ll issue a joint statement then,” Midi said, glancing at the Joseph family’s head Knight.
The great knight felt utterly bewildered by the sudden turn of events.
"You heard Count Joseph’s words?" Midi asked coldly.
"Yes…" The knight could only nod. Though filled with doubts, what could he question before this victor?
"Then report everything you witnessed truthfully to all in Joseph Castle." Midi patted his shoulder. Two elven Great Swordsmen immediately stepped forward, escorting the knight out without awaiting response.
Only then did Midi exhale deeply, glancing at the silent Mist Sorceress beside him. "No strain maintaining control?"
"A dying old man can’t challenge me," Alice retorted coldly, annoyed by the unnecessary concern. "His soul’s already gone – just an empty shell. Easier than handling marionette strings."
"Delos Empire’s handiwork?" Midi’s brow furrowed before relaxing into a smirk. "Though they never planned this outcome. Their trickery backfired beautifully."
As he spoke, a translucent snake emerged from Count Joseph’s forehead, hissing proudly.
The Mist Sorceress’s Summoned Beast – the Spirit Snake.
Though physically weak and lacking combat strength, its soul-manipulating abilities made it terrifying. It could infiltrate dreams, control bodies, steal memories…
Having lived through political intrigues in his past life, Midi knew Joseph Castle’s true prize. He’d prepared multiple plans against potential scorched-earth tactics – Alice’s spirit snake being just one contingency.
The enemies’ misfortune became his advantage. Caught red-handed in rebellion, their connection to Quinn through Lanst became undeniable. Now came the simplest part – unveiling their prewritten script.
The morning after capturing Joseph Castle, formal documents reached Hertonmar’s Noble Council. Count Joseph’s declaration condemned Quinn Joseph as immoral traitor, stripping his inheritance while praising Midi Asreks’ righteousness. The document transferred all territorial authority to Midi in exchange for eliminating Quinn.
None believed the claims. The Sais family decried it as farce, Joseph representatives nearly tore the papers. Yet Count Joseph’s verified signature and public appearance declaring "Quinn must die" forced the council’s hand.
"Enforce the lord’s decision," declared the council’s frequent opponent – Iron-Blooded Duke Haidrich Hamilton. Opposition crumbled. Who could remove Midi from Joseph Castle now?
Nobility’s game required only rule compliance, not logic. Capturing the castle in a day and securing the Count’s signature sufficed.
Queen’s faction bureaucrats worked miracles – yearlong procedures completed overnight. Before dawn, urgent documents flew. By noon, Queen-signed papers reached Quinn at Asreks Castle, stripping his title effective immediately.
Would Quinn accept? Never. Would Sais family tolerate losing vassals and territory? Impossible.
Yet Devil’s Vine shielded Asreks Castle. Bartran and Count Ingman patrolled walls daily. Ten thousand soldiers found no breach. How long could besiegers wait?
Only one path remained for General Red Fox and disgraced Quinn – return to Joseph Castle.
"Final confrontation approaches," Midi murmured, surveying the castle from high ground. Winter air carried metallic sharpness – scent of impending battle.
"About time!" The red-haired girl grinned, radiating effortless confidence. Her mere presence promised victory.
"Don’t complicate things," sighed the black-haired girl, as if facing messy chores rather than armies.
Winter winds whipped their hair – crimson and ebony strands dancing against tense skies, creating surreal beauty amidst war preparations.
Midi smiled. How could he doubt?
The Mist Sorceress. The Queen of Magic. Himself with twenty years’ reincarnation advantage. The Hawk Brigade’s Iron Triangle – stronger than ever.
Victory was certain against any foe – fivefold legions or Delos Empire itself.
"Come at us," Midi challenged the distant horizon.
Facing destiny’s winds, he stood ready.
