Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 506 - 312: The Dragon Throne Council Without the Emperor
Chapter 506: Chapter 312: The Dragon Throne Council Without the Emperor
The morning mist had not yet fully dissipated, casting shadowy reflections on the windowsill of the Kite Tower residence.
Eleanor Calvin sat quietly before the mirror, allowing her maid to comb her hair, her ceremonial dress layered and neat, with the gold buttons under the blue satin perfectly aligned.
Her gaze settled on the thin pages of intelligence reports spread open at the corner of the dressing table, and with a light blink, she recited the seventeen secret reports delivered the previous night back to her mind.
“The Ministry of Finance is holding a closed-door meeting this morning, with the agenda unknown.”
“The Regent King has established a new reception procedure within the palace, even his personal knights must seek approval at every level to approach him.”
“The Inspectorate has suddenly detained a knight from the original Helan family in the ninth hall of the inner city, identity unknown.”
…
Eleanor did not frown, maintaining her usual calm composure.
She only sat a bit more upright than usual.
Half a year, not a short period, and the situation began to change.
Some people were getting restless, starting to make small moves.
But these probes were still done in private, subtle, cautious, and not crossing the line, like a tentative first step on an icy river.
It seemed the nobles of the Imperial Capital still retained basic patience.
After dressing, Eleanor headed to the dining room escorted by guards, looking out the window.
A flock of Gale Birds was passing over the Imperial Capital, flying in various directions, a sight that had persisted for half a year.
In the dining room, light green tea was steaming, and the maid gently placed a piece of toast spread with apricot jam in front of her.
Eleanor held the silver spoon, stirred it twice, but did not take a sip.
Her thoughts continued to flow, like a slow yet never-ceasing undercurrent, silently interwoven in her mind.
Today, the Dragon Throne meeting convenes again.
The theme was announced a week ago: the death of the Governor of the North, Duke Edmund.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Not out of shock, but mourning for an old rival, an old ally.
How many nobles now are still utterly loyal to the Empire?
Edmund was one, deserving the title of the Empire’s Shield.
He defended the Empire’s northernmost fortress with unwavering resolve until death, a pity.
However, what surprised her was the young man succeeding Edmund as the “de facto ruler of the North”—Louis Calvin.
This nephew, of whom Eleanor had almost no impression before he went to the Northern Territory.
Yet now, in his early twenties, he became the most powerful figure at the Empire’s northern margin.
After Edmund’s death, the power of the Northern Territory was almost seamlessly transferred to him.
Eleanor rarely praised others, but this time, she couldn’t help but muse: truly, later generations surpass the previous ones.
The rewards from the last great battle were still undecided.
And her duty today was precisely to secure his deserved share.
Not just the confirmation of Red Tide Territory’s status, at least a promotion in peerage worth vying for.
This was a task personally assigned to her by her brother, the current Patriarch of the Calvin Family.
It was both a maneuver for the family’s future and a bid for a crown in the Calvin-led Northern strategy.
Her brother’s casual remark in the letter still echoed in her mind.
“If there’s a chance, bring up the matter of the peerage… but don’t try too hard.”
Eleanor pondered the nuance of that thought.
Her brother’s stance was becoming increasingly intriguing.
He wanted to reap some benefits from this Northern game, yet he dared not take any risks and even avoided truly binding himself with Louis.
The undertone was all too familiar: “If we can gain some advantage, great; if not, no matter. We can’t spend real money on that frozen land.”
Was it to prevent Louis from breaking free of control?
Or did he never consider the Northern Territory worthy of long-term investment?
Her brother’s intentions were always hard to guess, and she didn’t really need to know.
Eleanor donned her gloves and walked lightly out of the residence.
The morning wind remained cold, the corners of her cloak lifting slightly.
The carriage moved through the morning mist of the Imperial Capital, entering the grand avenue lined with Bronze Knight Statues.
Outside the carriage window, the imposing dome of the Imperial Hall was faintly visible, like the spine of a sleeping giant beast, silent and solemn.
Eleanor sat quietly in the carriage, expressionless, but a barely perceptible emotion flickered in her eyes.
Half a year ago, she similarly donned the cloak symbolizing the Calvin Clan, heading to the Imperial Hall.
Then, it was His Majesty the Emperor himself presiding over the meeting, the fragrance of dragon blood permeating the hall, under such overwhelming imperial pressure, no one dared to speak more than ten sentences.
Back then, Eleanor was merely a “mouthpiece,” conveying her brother’s views, regardless of the outcome?
That was naturally for that Emperor to decide.
Eleanor adjusted her gloves, a faint, weary smile touched her lips.
Now, she not only could speak but also influence the direction of the meeting.
Truly as a representative of the Eight Great Clans, she engaged in fierce exchanges with the other representatives.
With the Emperor gone, the old order loosened…
This is the stage for politicians.
The carriage stopped, and she slowly alighted, passing through layers of gold guards and banners, stepping into the Imperial Hall amid the resonating morning bells.
The Imperial Hall, still as solemn and eternal as the rumors.
This cathedral-like chamber, built with a colossal stone dome, overhead was a giant alchemy chandelier.
The blue flames still flickered from the central hoop, having burned continuously for 373 years, never extinguished, symbolizing the perpetual will of the Empire.
The walls of the hall were inlaid with twelve relic emblems symbolizing the ancient glory of the Empire, from the broken dragon shield of Dragonbreath City to the crescent spear of Whispering Ridge, all fossilized commemoration of millennia-old bloodlines.
