Division

Derek understood the meaning in his eyes, but… this wasn't the capital. Could accusations alone take down a noble with real power? Derek smirked sarcastically—this marquis was clearly too accustomed to palace intrigues.

"Treason? Well then, I suppose I should first ask whether the Kingdom of St. Cross would be willing to pardon me."

Derek knew his position well. Today's Viscount Derek was no longer the same as yesterday's Knight Derek. From the moment the king delegated power, from the moment Augusta repelled the St. Cross Kingdom's invasion, Viscount Derek had become one of those enviable figures—a noble with real authority. Ask the king of St. Cross if he'd be willing to take Derek in should he defect now. Far from the capital, if things turned sour, he could always switch sides. If that happened, not only would St. Milian Province be lost, but the entire northern provinces might fall too. Let's see how the king of Lok would handle that.

The realization dawned late on Marquis Hussain, and for a moment, his face changed. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find any words. Derek had already turned away. "As for the assassin, I'll have him flogged to death right here today. I don't need evidence—that's the sheriff's job. I only deal with criminals, and if I believe someone tried to kill me, then they're guilty. No confessions necessary."

The knights of House Augusta didn't hesitate. Whips began cracking without mercy. The sound of the lashes silenced the soldiers of the First Legion of the North, who knelt nearby, as well as the grumbling nobles. But Derek wasn't done.

"Lately, the snow has been heavy, and the roads are slippery. A hundred soldiers from the First Legion of the North have tragically died from slipping and falling. For the next week, anyone who dares leave their camp will meet the same fate—whether they're soldiers… or the marquis himself."

The knights didn't hold back, forcing the heads of the First Legion's soldiers into the ground, bashing them until they all died of "slips and falls." Marquis Hussain's smile froze in place. He had never encountered anything like this before—his past experiences with palace power struggles were utterly useless here. And frankly, even the king would likely prefer to believe the soldiers had slipped and died rather than accuse this viscount of killing them.

The scene was deathly silent, save for the cracking whips. Even the assassin being flogged forgot to scream. The northern nobles who had earlier complained to Count Pereira were now nervously retreating, their legs trembling, terrified of drawing Viscount Derek's attention. Suddenly, having their shops ransacked didn't seem so bad after all. They'd even be willing to let Derek smash a few more—anything to appease his anger. Perhaps Derek's usual polished demeanor had made them forget he could be this ruthless.

Even the king and nobles weren't bound by unbreakable loyalty. For the lower nobility, loyalty was mandatory—betrayal would ensure their utter downfall. But for the upper echelons, loyalty was simply another bargaining chip, not a necessity. Conspiracy and treachery were the true currency of the higher nobility. If loyalty were truly universal, there wouldn't have been a civil war, nor would there be the Lok Kingdom today. What the first king had done, why couldn't Derek do the same?

To expect a transmigrator like Derek to fully buy into the so-called knightly virtues was asking for too much. Derek's loyalty was conditional, something to be weighed and measured. Seeing the true nature of the relationship between the king and the nobility, he acted accordingly, unbound by outdated rules. Meanwhile, Marquis Hussain, despite his higher rank, found himself constrained, unable to act freely. Plotting always fell short in the face of sheer audacity.

Unfortunately, this was a lesson many would never understand in their lifetimes.

Derek stepped over the corpses, the mix of brain matter and blood staining his boots. Unfazed, he continued walking, even wiping his boots clean on a nearby carpet. "My apologies, Count Pereira, Marquis Hussain—just a small accident that caused a delay." From his expression, you wouldn't have known anything had just happened, save for the still-wet blood underfoot. His tone was cordial, his manners impeccable, and his smile so perfect it was as if he'd just reunited with old friends rather than delivered a threat minutes ago.

Marquis Hussain's smile was stiff, despite his experience in handling tense situations. He struggled to adjust to Derek's brutal approach, unable to reconcile the sight of brain matter and blood with the smiling man before him. At that moment, Hussain finally understood—the political climate in the north was nothing like that of the capital. However, someone who had clawed his way out of the court's muck wouldn't be so easily defeated. He had paid a great price for this opportunity to wage war on the barbarians. Hussain quickly composed himself, reminding himself not to judge the north by the same standards he had used in the capital.

"At least until I fully adapt to the northern ways, I can't make any drastic moves."

Knowing when to advance and when to retreat was a virtue, after all. Of course, once he understood the rules here, he would pursue his goals just as aggressively as before. After all, not all nobles were fools—those who had survived the palace power struggles were always razor-sharp.

Having adjusted his mindset, Marquis Hussain's smile softened, no longer appearing as rigid. He even stepped aside to make way for Derek, offering a gesture of goodwill. This caught the attention of some onlookers. It was a clever move—being flexible and knowing when to retreat made him a far more dangerous opponent than most fools.

But Derek never relied on the stupidity of his enemies. In fact, he preferred that Marquis Hussain be smart. At least that way, the province of St. Milian wouldn't be plagued by constant internal conflict. While internal strife was inevitable, their biggest enemy was still the Kingdom of St. Cross, followed by the barbarian kingdoms, and only then, each other. Loyalty could be bought and sold, but without sufficient returns, no one would willingly discard such a valuable commodity.

Those who couldn't see that were better off gone before they dragged down their allies. Marquis Hussain may not have seen this before, but now… perhaps he had? Time would tell, depending on his next moves.

For now, the atmosphere was tense. Nobles and officers who had once glared at each other had no more appetite for confrontation. And as the three leaders took their seats, the room grew even quieter. No one dared make a sound, fearing the slightest noise might draw their attention.

Among the three, Earl Pereira held the highest rank. A feudal noble with real power could not be compared to a courtly marquis. However, everyone understood that one of Marquis Hussain's tasks was undoubtedly to restrain Earl Pereira. From the perspective of the royal capital, even if Derek grew stronger, it would at most mean that St. Milian Province gained one more earl. But if Earl Pereira continued to expand, he could potentially form a sovereign duchy within the kingdom or even become a separate state. The king's efforts would have been in vain.

Legalities aside, if the Pereira family had the strength, they could easily find a thousand reasons to justify inheriting a ducal title. However, the king's interests didn't necessarily align with Marquis Hussain's. From the outset, the three tacitly divided their spheres of influence. To Derek's surprise, this division went more smoothly than expected, and the territory he received was larger than he had initially anticipated. At first, he thought Marquis Hussain had simply conceded, but after seeing the gaps on the map, Derek realized: even enemies could be allies.

There were more than just three parties at the table. Earl Pereira represented the northern nobles, and while the territory he claimed was considerable, it was to be shared among dozens of northern families. During the war, they had all contributed, and excluding them from the spoils would trigger an uproar. Even as the northern nobles' representative, Earl Pereira could only make subtle decisions like giving one family a bit more and another a bit less, or perhaps excluding one or two altogether. But this did not mean he could defy the collective will of the northern nobility. His power and status came from both his personal holdings and the support of the northern nobility. Thus, he was bound by them as well.

Marquis Hussain, on the other hand, represented the interests of the central nobility from the royal capital. Their involvement in this northern campaign meant they were not going to leave empty-handed. Moreover, they would continue to provide material and manpower support. As for the king's interests, all lands not granted to the nobility would belong to the crown, which claimed the lion's share. Derek's interests were simpler; he represented his own interests and those of some northern noble heirs, as well as the new nobles who emerged from this war.

Who, then, was excluded? Naturally, the southern nobility, who traditionally held a lower political status in the kingdom. Though their strength had grown significantly over the past decade, they still lacked the battlefield achievements to back it up. Their political standing remained low, but they joined the northern expedition with their own ambitions in mind. The king may be happy to see the southern nobles rise to counterbalance the old nobility's power, but Marquis Hussain had different priorities. Although he had relied on the king for support in the past, his ultimate goal was to establish more autonomy. Now backed by the central nobility, his allegiance had subtly shifted.

Earl Pereira, ever the cunning strategist, was even quicker to realize the situation than Derek. In truth, he was more than happy to see the royal forces split. Marquis Hussain's maneuvering actually garnered his support. Though their recent conflict was real, so too were their shared interests.

"Viscount Derek, let's not push them too hard," Earl Pereira said, retreating slightly on the territorial boundaries they had previously agreed upon. Everyone had initially asked for more territory than they expected to get, knowing there would be bargaining involved. Now, with the previously unclaimed lands on the map, a moderate-sized but resource-poor area remained.

The southern nobles, though politically weak, had still brought significant resources and troops to this campaign. They couldn't be pushed too far or they might lash out. This compromise left them frustrated but not to the point of open conflict. After all, the southern nobles were accustomed to being overlooked. Derek took note and accepted the earl's well-considered suggestion.

As a reward for Marquis Hussain's cooperative attitude, his share would not be reduced further, though in truth it was already smaller than expected. Everyone left feeling satisfied. The tension hadn't decreased, it had merely been distributed among three people instead of one.

Afterward, they resumed their outward hostilities. Marquis Hussain left with the corpses of his soldiers, and Derek knew he would soon spread rumors of the brutal northern knights. He would likely use this opportunity to reorganize his forces and consolidate power. Derek, of course, would show no leniency and might even provoke a few minor skirmishes. To the outside world, they would appear as irreconcilable foes.

This suited the king, the central nobility, and even the southern lords, who would now be distracted by their own concerns. The rivalry was genuine, the bloodshed real, and the hatred between lower-ranked nobles palpable.

Once Marquis Hussain and the First Northern Legion had left, Derek and Earl Pereira both relaxed. Compared to outsiders, they preferred to cultivate an air of camaraderie. Though their partnership was rooted in mutual interests, the veneer of familial bonds made negotiations easier.

"Tiona will be arriving in St. Milian soon," Earl Pereira said, reclining comfortably in his chair. "You should meet her when she arrives."

Derek had already met the earl's granddaughter, Tiona, and knew a bit about her. It was common for nobles to meet before marriage—contrary to what many believed, arranged marriages weren't always between complete strangers. Though noble marriages were primarily alliances, a little personal connection could help smooth things over. Derek, satisfied with the arrangement, smiled appropriately. "I'm looking forward to Miss Tiona's arrival."

The old earl went on to mention that he intended to establish some businesses in St. Milian Province, and that Tiona's dowry would include a manor and an entire village. This was quite generous—none of his other granddaughters had received such lavish dowries upon marriage. Yet the Pereira family had just gained a fortune in St. Milian, partly thanks to Derek's efforts, and this was reflected in the decision.

The two men continued chatting, the conversation relaxed. Derek knew, however, that Earl Pereira wasn't the type to indulge in idle talk. Eventually, the real topic would surface. Sure enough, after a moment of silence, the earl nonchalantly asked, "I hear you have a very talented blacksmith under your command?"

Here it is, Derek thought. As his military supply trade expanded, it was inevitable that people would take notice. But now, Derek had the resources to protect his interests, which was why he had maintained a low profile and kept his business within a certain scale until now.

Smiling, Derek answered readily, "Yes, I was lucky enough to find a blacksmithing genius. If you'd like to purchase weapons or armor, Earl, I can offer them at cost."

Though 'cost' was a stretch, there would certainly be a discount. The old earl scrutinized Derek for a moment before finally relaxing. "Very well, I'll need one hundred full suits of heavy armor."

Derek inwardly cursed. What was the earl planning? Could it be… was rebellion really on the table?