Chapter 25

Let You Be Dressed in Pure White

The Albion Empire upheld a core principle.

One might call it a deeply ingrained gentleness.

If something—or someone—was useful, they would be used to the very end.

Count Raxem had taken up the position of Imperial Prime Minister five years ago. At the time, it had been more a matter of being pushed into the role to take the blame. This position, much like that of the Chief of General Staff, was by no means easy to fill.

Otherwise, it would never have fallen to Count Raxem to begin with.

The result was self-evident.

Count Raxem had withstood the pressure. He had stabilized the war, all the way up until the Brittany Campaign. One could say that, had the Brittany Campaign failed, whether the Empire itself would have collapsed was debatable—but Count Raxem would have certainly been finished.

Likewise—

Ning Luo had provided Count Raxem with a far more efficient solution.

If the problem couldn’t be solved—

Then solve the person who raised the problem.

Since the Empire’s great nobles refused to support war bonds, then why not just get rid of the Empire’s great nobles altogether?

The one most suited for such a task, naturally, was Ning Luo.

Even now, Ning Luo still held no formal place within the Empire’s power structure. His current rank remained that of a second lieutenant directly under the Army General Staff.

As for whether these great nobles dared to reckon with Ning Luo—

Before the Brittany Campaign ended, saying so wouldn’t even make Count Raxem bat an eye.

After the Brittany Campaign ended, you’d better have the courage to say it in front of hundreds of thousands of Imperial troops.

……

That said—

Count Raxem couldn’t exactly expect Ning Luo to go door-to-door and personally slaughter all the ancient great noble families. Count Raxem’s plan had been to host a banquet in the capital, inviting all the Empire’s landed nobles to gather and discuss war matters.

To see if anyone would oppose the system of war bonds. If no one opposed it, that would be ideal. But if anyone did oppose it, then even better.

However, Ning Luo refused.

Or rather—it couldn’t exactly be called a refusal. He merely changed the location from the capital to Brittany. During wartime, there was no way Ning Luo would return to the capital.

February 15th, 1064.

The Empire.

City of Brittany.

Brittany Administrative Palace.

Count Raxem had invited hundreds of nobles to Brittany. They had wanted to stay away, of course. But at a time like this, failing to show up would only mean Count Raxem would have every reason to trouble them personally.

Ning Luo had requested a day’s leave from Marshal Asfled.

Just one day—Ning Luo didn’t have the time to play power games with the Empire’s great nobles.

He was still in full military uniform.

For a man, after all, the finest formalwear was naturally the uniform. Even among the nobility, many chose to wear full dress uniforms to display their own military service in the past.

It was different for women.

Priscilla had finally changed out of her black military uniform.

She now wore a white evening gown. Her long, silvery-white hair was pinned up behind her head, adorned with sapphire earrings. Below that was a swanlike neck and delicately defined collarbones. Draped over her was a white, backless gown, her snow-white skin as smooth as silk. Beneath the long hem of her skirt, her slender feet were wrapped in crystal high heels. If she lifted her arms, one could even glimpse underarm and the side curve of her breast.

Perhaps it was because she always wore a uniform, or perhaps the war had grown too vast, or maybe Ning Luo simply burned too brightly—so much so that people had overlooked Priscilla’s beauty.

Priscilla walked up beside Ning Luo, her slender fingers sheathed in white silk gloves, and lightly linked her arm around his.

Strictly speaking, this spot was meant to be Isabella’s.

But due to the war, Isabella couldn’t appear by Ning Luo’s side as his companion.

Now—

A middle-aged man stood glaring at Ning Luo and Priscilla, his face brimming with fury.

Count Beaufort.

Priscilla’s father.

He stormed over to confront the pair.

“Second Lieutenant Ning Luo! You are a man already engaged to the Princess. I ask that you maintain proper distance from unmarried women in public!”

On the surface, it looked like a rebuke pointed squarely at Ning Luo.

Which it was.

But the scolding wasn’t directed at Ning Luo alone—it also implicated Priscilla. He simply couldn’t say as much openly in front of a crowd. After all, Priscilla was an unmarried woman, and in this conservative era, social norms were strict. If Ning Luo and Priscilla had been seen together in Brittany before, one might’ve explained it away as a camaraderie between comrades-in-arms.

But for them to appear together in such a setting now—especially when nearly everyone knew that Second Lieutenant Ning Luo of Brittany was already engaged to Princess Isabella—was tantamount to publicly declaring Priscilla to be Ning Luo’s mistress.

If Count Beaufort could tolerate that, that* would’ve been the real surprise.

Ning Luo opened his mouth and said:

“Once the war ends, I shall go to House Beaufort to offer a formal apology with bare back and thorned branch.”

The meaning behind Ning Luo’s words was equally clear.

Once the war ended, Ning Luo would indeed go to apologize to Count Beaufort for this matter—but changing his behavior? That was out of the question. Nor would he ever obey Count Beaufort’s demands.

"You had better think carefully about what you're doing!"

With that—

Count Beaufort turned away in fury and stormed off.

"I'm sorry. My father embarrassed you," Priscilla said softly, still holding Ning Luo's arm. Her head lowered as she apologized, making it clear to anyone watching that the House of Beaufort harbored internal conflict.

Ning Luo, however, didn’t ask about any of it.

His words remained as unquestionable as ever.

"You may do whatever you wish. I will take full responsibility for it."

……

…

Count Raxem stood nearby, watching Ning Luo.

He could only admit—this boy really was a bit handsome. That Isabella would fall for Ning Luo wasn’t strange in the least. No wonder she had the nerve to leave a stunning beauty like Priscilla at Ning Luo's side. The only thing Count Raxem couldn’t quite tell… was whether Priscilla had fallen for Ning Luo.

Expecting Count Raxem to understand the heart of a young woman was probably asking too much from an old man like him.

When Ning Luo entered the banquet hall with Priscilla on his arm—

Every noble present immediately turned their gaze toward him, eyes sharp as mountain foxes eyeing a piece of meat. They represented a portion of this ancient and mighty empire—but to them, Ning Luo wasn’t a piece of meat.

He was death incarnate.

In theory—

These great nobles weren’t fools. They were certainly aware that this banquet was a trap deliberately laid by the Prime Minister, Count Raxem. And anyone who dared oppose the war bond system… Ning Luo really would kill them.

Which only meant—

You didn’t understand Albionians well enough.

Even if it meant harming themselves, Albionians would still scramble to spite others.

Count Raxem's plan had never been to use Ning Luo as a butcher to slay the great nobles. If it were just that simple, he would’ve never risen from a scapegoat to a legitimate Prime Minister of the Empire.

The reason the plan could succeed was because Prime Minister Raxem understood Albionians far too well.

You might not believe in Albionians’ sense of etiquette and refinement.

You might not believe in Albionians’ pursuit of liberty.

But you must believe—

Albionians were deeply, fundamentally, and brilliantly vicious.