Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 720 - 403: The Death of the Regent King?

The study emanated a warmth akin to early spring, the fireplace casting a bright blaze that filled the entire space with a comfortable heat.

Conversely, outside the window, a torrential downpour raged, accompanied by relentless thunder, as if the entirety of the Imperial Capital had been plunged into darkness.

Seated by the window was the Fourth Prince, Rhine, a pot of exquisite and unfamiliar flowers cradled in one hand, while a pair of silver pruning shears rested in the other.

The rhythmic patter of rain against the glass wove a backdrop to the delicate snipping of the shears, yet neither sound seemed to disturb his serene focus.

His movements, as he attended to the leaves, were characterized by an elegant slowness, each deliberate cut imbued with both patience and a distinct air of detachment.

Standing nearby, the Minister of Finance, Belial, clutched a substantial financial report, its edges slightly creased from his grip.

Clearing his throat, his voice carried a respectful yet palpable urgency: "Your Highness, a secret dispatch has just arrived from the commander of the Twenty-second Legion, conveyed through a most trusted aide... He indicates his willingness to pledge allegiance to you."

Rhine responded with a simple "hmm," the sound suggesting it was of little consequence.

He then lifted a slender branch, deftly snipped away a yellowing leaf, and offered a subtle smile: "The Iron Guard, so highly valued by the Second Prince... proves to be no different."

With a light flick of his fingertips, he sent the withered leaf tumbling onto the gleaming silver tray.

"Loyalty?" he mused aloud, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Heh, as ephemeral as this very leaf."

Belial inclined his body in agreement, perhaps seeking to flatter: "Initially, the legion commander even considered drawing his blade against our envoy. However, his family's warehouses are so depleted, they haven't enough hay to sustain their horses through the spring. We conveniently overlooked the smuggling charges against his nephew and advanced him three months' pay. He submitted faster than anyone. These military officers are invariably predictable."

Rhine emitted a soft chuckle, as if acknowledging a simple, undeniable truth.

He resumed his meticulous pruning: "My second brother has always held the belief that by sharing their trials and tribulations, the knights would remain steadfastly loyal, as the legends describe. Yet, he failed to grasp..."

The scissors produced another quiet snip.

"...that when glory cannot be readily exchanged for tangible benefits, even a knight's devotion falters, becoming less reliable than that of a mere stablehand tending to the hay."

With his statement concluded, he finally set down the shears and reached for the gold-tipped quill resting upon the table.

He then proceeded to the grand Imperial map adorning the wall, his hand gently overlaying the insignias of the Twenty-first and Eighteenth Legions with the colored marker signifying his own burgeoning authority.

"Your Highness," Belial's voice dropped to a near whisper, "there remain five legions indecisive. Should they persist in their hesitation... all the Empire's military officers are observing your next strategic maneuver."

Rhine paused his writing, his gaze shifting back to his minister.

His eyes held the cunning assessment of an old fox contemplating a chessboard, rather than the impetuousness of a young prince.

"Attitude?" he softly echoed the word. "My stance has invariably been straightforward; it hinges entirely upon their own actions."

Returning to his desk, he retrieved the severed, withered leaf, rubbing it between his fingers: "Inform them precisely... their window of opportunity is rapidly closing."

The desiccated leaf disintegrated into fine powder within his palm, its gray fragments sifting through his fingers like ancient ashes being scattered to the winds.

A clap of thunder boomed outside, a dramatic echo to the unvoiced pronouncements he left hanging in the air.

Rhine observed the fine gray dust in his hand, his expression utterly impassive.

This profound composure did not arise from youthful recklessness, but from a deeply rooted, earned confidence. The military officers, initially indifferent to his cause, had long since been swayed, cultivated one by one.

Moreover, several key legions previously under the Second Prince's command had begun to shift their allegiance towards him, influenced by the pressures of famine and reduced provisions.

Those who had once proclaimed their loyalty with voices louder than the gale, swiftly altered their allegiance once their pay was assured and their family's assets were secured.

Now, the military might under his command far surpassed that of any other faction within the Empire.

He possessed no shortage of knights, nor of individuals willing to imperil their lives for his ambition.

At this juncture, a soft rap sounded at the chamber door. A guard entered, hesitating briefly upon noticing Belial's presence, as if on the verge of speaking before reconsidering.

Rhine looked up, discerning the guard's unspoken dilemma: "News from the palace?"

The guard offered a solemn nod.

"Proceed," Rhine commanded, his tone as casual as inquiring about the weather. "Belial is privy to our affairs."

Belial stood momentarily stunned by the affirmation, a jolt seeming to strike his chest, eliciting a flicker of genuine gratitude across his features.

Emboldened, the guard straightened his posture and delivered his report: "Your Highness... intelligence from the palace indicates the Regent King may not survive more than two additional days."

As he concluded his statement, the rainstorm unleashed its fury upon the windowpane with a resonant, sharp crash.

Rhine lowered his head, a soft chuckle escaping him, a sound that teetered between involuntary amusement and a sardonic commentary on the machinations of fate: "Ah... it has finally reached this point."

Belial kept his head bowed, uncertain whether to display a smile, meticulously preserving his quietude.

Rhine had already turned, his gaze fixed on the guard. "Go inform the steward that I intend to host a banquet this evening. Ensure all representatives from the Eight Great Clans are invited, along with high-ranking officials of the Empire."

He paused, his voice carrying a casual air, as if discussing a minor affair. "Make a note of precisely who attends and who does not."

As the guard accepted the command and prepared to depart, Rhine added, "Ah, and… make sure to extend an invitation to Second Brother and Fifth Brother as well."

His tone remained impeccably polite and gentle.

......

The rain lashed against the palace eaves with a fury that seemed poised to shatter the entire Imperial Capital.

Deep thunder rumbled through the heavens, casting a fleeting illumination upon the gilded stone pillars outside the royal sleeping chambers.

Within Regent King Arlens' chambers, the candlelight flickered precariously in the damp, frigid atmosphere, the flame drawn into a slender line by the wind, mirroring the profound silence of the room.

A cloying, sweet aroma of decay permeated the air, the unmistakable scent of approaching demise.

Arlens lay upon his bed, his gaunt frame reduced to a mere wisp of skin stretched over bone.

In his agonizing torment, he briefly stirred, his gaze struggling to move as he gestured towards the door of his chambers.

From the depths of the shadows, an elder emerged deliberately.