PFC Chapter 109 : Chapter 109
Chapter 109 : Chapter 109
Chapter 109. “Conspiracy”
In the suburbs, inside an abandoned underground winery.
This had once been the property of some down-and-out merchant.
Its location was remote, and only a single secret passage connected it to the outside world.
At this moment, several candles were burning in the dim cellar.
The air was mixed with the smell of moldy wood and the sour stench of expensive perfume gone stale.
Dozens of nobles who normally strutted through the streets with their noses in the air were now huddled in this dark corner like a pack of frightened rats, holding a meeting.
At their head stood Baron Kyle.
He was a typical conservative.
He controlled two iron mines and loved to keep words like “tradition” and “bloodline” on his lips.
“Gentlemen!”
Baron Kyle stood on top of a broken table, waving his arms, with flecks of spit flying wildly in the candlelight.
“Have you all seen it? Have you all heard it? That eastern barbarian called Cicero did not come here to serve as an official. He came here to dig up our roots!”
“Abolishing enfeoffment! Establishing some damned prefecture-county system! What is this? This is tyranny! This is betrayal of our great ancestors!”
A chorus of agreement rose from below.
Every one of them was filled with righteous indignation, red-faced and thick-necked.
“That is right! That Cicero is a devil!”
“Exactly! It is all that treacherous minister’s fault!”
This group was rather interesting.
They did not dare curse Sylvia, who held military authority.
They dared even less provoke Logaris West.
So everyone focused their anger on Cicero, who looked like the easiest target.
After all, in their eyes, Cicero was just an outsider who wielded a pen.
Aside from a sharp tongue, he had no foundation at all.
As long as they removed this specific executor, the so-called “new policies” would naturally collapse without anyone to carry them out.
This was called “purging the ruler’s side.”
“As long as Cicero dies…” Baron Kyle lowered his voice, his eyes filled with malice. “There will be no one left to help Her Highness draft those damned laws. When that time comes, we will submit a joint petition. The law cannot punish everyone at once, so Her Highness will not be able to do anything to us!”
“But… Cicero has bodyguards around him too.” A timid viscount spoke weakly.
“Bodyguards are still human. They need смен shifts, and they need sleep too!”
Baron Kyle pulled a heavy pouch from his robes and slammed it onto the table.
Clatter!
The sound of gold coins colliding was especially pleasing in the cellar.
“These are the five thousand Golden Lion Coins I am contributing.” Kyle swept his gaze over the room. “For our families, for our land, so that our sons may still remain nobles! Everyone, bleed a little!”
“I will give three thousand!”
“I will give two thousand!”
“Damn it, I am all in! I will contribute this winery!”
Very quickly, a little mountain of gold piled up on the table.
Looking at that enormous sum, Baron Kyle revealed a savage grin.
“Very good. I have already contacted a gold-tier assassin from the Brotherhood of the Dark Night. I heard he is an expert with poison, the kind who kills without leaving a trace.”
“Tomorrow night, Cicero will inspect the construction site in the Lower City. That is our best chance.”
“As long as he dies, the sky over the Northern Territory will still belong to us!”
…
Meanwhile, on a tree outside the cellar.
The cold wind howled.
Esmeralda clung upside down in the shadow of a branch like a black gecko.
In her hand, she held a pale blue sound-recording stone.
Baron Kyle’s impassioned speech about “crowdfunding a murder” was being transmitted from it with perfect clarity.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Esmeralda shook her head, her eyes full of ridicule.
“The Brotherhood of the Dark Night? Was that not wiped out by Her Highness two years ago? The few that remain now are nothing but street thugs.”
“And a gold-tier assassin… just how outdated is the information these old lords have?”
From the darkness, a Shadow Guard emerged soundlessly.
“My lady, shall we move?”
As long as Esmeralda gave the order, the several dozen people inside that cellar would never live to see tomorrow’s sun.
Esmeralda tossed the sound-recording stone lightly in her hand, and a playful smile curved on her lips.
“What is the hurry?”
“Let us first see what Her Highness says.”
With that, Esmeralda took out Sylvia’s Communication Crystal and contacted Sylvia, who was still in the Duke’s Manor.
She briefly informed her of what was happening.
Esmeralda’s tone was lazy.
“These old relics have some nerve. They actually organized a public fundraiser for murder. That miser Baron Kyle even contributed five thousand Golden Lion Coins. Looks like Cicero really pushed him to the edge.”
There was a brief silence of two seconds on the other side of the crystal.
At that moment, inside the study of the lord’s residence, Sylvia was wearing a thin nightgown and holding a glass of red wine.
She gazed into the pitch-black night outside the window, lightly tapping the side of the glass with her slender fingers.
It was not as if she had never considered letting the line out longer to catch a bigger fish and uproot the whole thing at once.
But the Heart of Winter Industrial Park was not fully completed yet, and her military strength had not yet reached the level where she could crush everyone without risk.
So she could not allow the threat to expand.
“Some people really refuse to appreciate mercy.”
Sylvia took a sip of red wine.
The crimson liquid reflected in her pupils with the sheen of fresh blood.
“Since they refuse to behave with dignity, then I will help them achieve it.”
“I originally wanted to keep them around as whetstones for Cicero, but now it seems those stones are too brittle. They would only chip the blade.”
Sylvia set down her wineglass.
Her voice suddenly turned cold, and the pressure of a ruler passed straight through the Communication Crystal.
“Esmeralda.”
“I am here.”
“Arrest them all.” Sylvia spoke calmly, as if she were merely ordering the extermination of cockroaches in her home. “Anyone who resists, kill them on the spot. Those who surrender only need to be left breathing. We still need them tomorrow.”
“As you command.”
Esmeralda put away the crystal.
The carefree smile on her face vanished instantly.
She leapt down from the tree, her black skintight outfit melting into the night.
She landed without a sound.
Then she raised a hand and snapped her fingers at the darkness behind her.
“Boys, time to work.”
Dozens of black shadows emerged from the forest, their eyes gleaming with bloodthirsty light.
…
Inside the underground winery.
The atmosphere was at its height.
Baron Kyle stood atop the table, waving his arms with spit flying everywhere.
His flushed face, swollen with excitement, looked exactly like a blood-engorged pig’s head.
“As long as that damned Cicero turns into a corpse by tomorrow morning, we win!”
“In the end, this Northern Territory will still be ours!”
“That is right! What does that outsider know about law? Our rules are the real law!” The nobles below all joined in, each red-faced and thick-necked, as though they could already see the dawn of victory.
“I have already arranged the escape routes.” Baron Kyle patted his chest smugly. “Once the job is done, everyone should scatter and hide for a few days. Once the wind dies down—”
Boom!
A thunderous crash shattered his fantasy.
It was not a knock at the door.
The entire heavy oak door, together with half the wall, was blasted inward from outside.
Broken stones flew everywhere, and dust billowed through the room.
Several unlucky nobles did not even have time to react before the flying door panel smashed them against the wall.
They did not even get the chance to groan before passing out.
“Who is it?!”
Baron Kyle nearly fell off the table in fright, his shriek breaking on the last note.
“Where are my deathsworn men? Where are the people outside?!”
The dust gradually settled.
There were no deathsworn men returning to report.
Standing at the doorway was a line of fully armed black-armored warriors.
Emotionless masks covered their faces.
The daggers in their hands gleamed coldly in the candlelight, and the killing intent around them was so dense it was hard to breathe.
The Shadow Guard.
The sharpest blade in Sylvia’s hand.
“Oh my, it is quite lively in here.”
A teasing female voice rang out.
Esmeralda stepped into the musty cellar at an unhurried pace, treading on top of the unlucky man who had been knocked unconscious beneath the door panel.
She waved a hand in distaste to disperse the dust before her, then let her gaze sweep across the dozens of pale faces in the room.
“Go on. Do not stop.”
Esmeralda pulled over a chair and sat down, crossing her legs.
She even took a nail clipper from her pocket and began trimming her nails.