The Military Princess Won’t Fall in Love with a Magic Scientist

Chapter 302. Valeria’s Movements

The ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍study door was pushed open again. Dorg’s personal attendant practically stumbled and crawled as he rushed inside.

“Your ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Highness! His Highness the First Prince asks you to go to the Golden Rose Palace at once! The Cabinet Office’s decree-signing channels... have all been paralyzed!”

Sylvia ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍and Logaris exchanged a look, then stood up at the same time.

The ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍paralysis of the decree-signing channels was even more complete than Sylvia had expected.

The ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍kingdom’s bureaucratic system had operated for centuries, and at its core was a “Three-Lock Mechanism” in which every link interlocked like precision gears.

Any ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍decree involving the entire nation had to pass through three procedures: approval by the Cabinet Chief, which was the prime minister; the stamping of the king’s royal seal; and countersignature by the Chief Justice. Not one of the three could be missing.

Now, the prime minister had fled.

The king was dead, and the Chief Justice was one of Moran’s men. He had already been arrested by the Royal Guard last night.

All three locks had broken.

No one had the authority to issue any nationwide decree.

The only reason last night’s wanted notice had been released was that it used the special channel for “Emergency Military Decrees,” bypassing the normal administrative process.

But that channel could only be used for military orders. It could not be used to allocate supplies, appoint or dismiss officials, or maintain day-to-day governance.

In other words, the administrative heart of the Astrelia Kingdom had stopped beating overnight.

After the news spread, magitech communication requests from nobles across the land flooded toward the Royal Capital like mad.

Should the Autumn Grain Requisition Order still be carried out?

Who would approve the military pay allocation for the border garrisons?

The trade agreement with the Elven Royal Court was about to expire. Should it be renewed?

No one could answer, because no one had the authority to answer.

By afternoon, the situation deteriorated further.

Bad news had grown wings.

With the Magitech Communication Towers as its nerves, the trade routes extending in all directions as its meridians, and the ocean-going merchant fleets as its feelers, it spread to every corner of the known world in just twelve hours.

Their neighbors had smelled blood.

...

The first to react was the Valeria Empire on the Western Continent.

The Imperial General Staff Headquarters.

There was not a single unnecessary sound here. There was only the low hum of a giant magitech sand table in operation, like ice blocks grinding against each other.

A cold, precise ghostly-blue light projected the complete terrain of the Astrelia Kingdom into the air in three dimensions.

The Imperial Marshal, Theodore von Rabenhorst, stood silently before the sand table.

This old man, whose face bore three vicious saber scars, was completely different from the irritable, fanatical war maniac described in outside rumors.

At this moment, he was as quiet as a statue. Only his precise steel prosthetic arm, gleaming with a metallic luster, was moving at a constant, emotionless rhythm, sorting several pieces of top-secret intelligence sealed with encrypted wax seals of different colors across the table by category.

“In the early hours of last night, a hidden agent lurking in the Royal Capital of Astrelia sent back an urgent telegram of the highest secrecy level.”

Theodore’s voice was so steady that it carried not the slightest fluctuation. “An aether reaction involving at least four Seventh-Tier powerhouses erupted in the Black Iron District of the Royal Capital.”

“Combine that with the two pieces of news that spread across the entire continent this morning—the fact that a corpse sat on Astrelia’s throne, and the defection of their Prime Minister Moran, who once held power over the entire court.”

Beside the sand table, several generals wearing senior staff epaulettes quickly exchanged looks, and even their breathing grew slightly rapid.

“The Intelligence Bureau has already carried out multiple cross-comparisons. The news has been confirmed as accurate!” a Chief Intelligence Staff Officer wearing a monocle spoke first, his tone filled with uncontrollable excitement.

“Astrelia’s decree-signing channels have been completely paralyzed! Their king is indeed dead!”

“According to the Intelligence Bureau’s deductions, the two heirs in the line of succession—First Prince Dorg and Princess Sylvia—are highly likely to break into a fierce conflict in the coming power vacuum!”

Another Operations Staff Officer immediately used a command baton to draw a red line across the sand table.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Whether or not their situation evolves into a full-scale civil war, the administrative and troop-mobilization efficiency of their state machine has already fallen to freezing point. I suggest that we immediately tear open their Western Territory defensive line and seize the Ironwall Corridor amid the chaos!”

“Charging in blindly would only make those siblings temporarily set aside their dispute and unite against an external enemy.”

Theodore lifted his eyelids. A suffocating, absolutely rational cruelty seeped from his gray-blue eyes.

“But pressure must still be applied.”

He slowly raised his steel prosthetic arm and lightly tapped the table with his fingertip.

“Transmit my order.” The old man’s tone was calm, but every word carried an unquestionable scent of blood.

“The First, Second, and Third Western Territory Combat Mage Corps will end their winter rest immediately.”

“The Quartermaster Department will activate the ‘Anvil’ Contingency Plan. All magitech trains are to be preheated across the entire line. All combat personnel at the border are to enter level-one combat readiness duty.”

“I want Astrelia’s border defense forces to sleep with one eye open!”

The staff officers rapidly recorded his orders on magitech recorders.

“As for Moran, who defected from their side...” The Intelligence Staff Officer looked troubled and added cautiously, “Supplementary information from the hidden agent shows that Moran displayed fluctuations of Seventh-Tier necromantic spells in last night’s battle.”

“Although his mind contains Astrelia’s core secrets from the past thirty years, its border defenses, and its strategic reserves, given his current level of danger, ordinary infiltration units will probably be unable to get close to him at all.”

“Then do not use ordinary units.” Theodore’s gaze shifted to the shadowed region at the edge of the sand table.

“Activate the ‘Dark Hunt’ Special Task Force. Have the ‘Dragon Hunter’ lead the team, and inform the Imperial Astrology Academy to conduct uninterrupted divination. No matter what kind of monster he has become or where he has fled, find him!”

The knuckles of his steel prosthetic arm lightly rapped against the tabletop, producing a cold, bone-chilling click.

“If he has value, recruit him and bring him back. If he cannot be used by the empire...” He paused, and the corner of his mouth curved into a smile without the slightest warmth. “Then have the ‘Dragon Hunter’ cut off his head and bring it back.”

“The necromancers of the Intelligence Bureau will know how to squeeze everything we need from that brain.”

His cold words echoed through the operations room, and several staff officers all revealed excited expressions at the same time.

Marshal Theodore, however, seemed as if he had merely arranged some trivial matter. His precise steel prosthetic arm slowly slid across the enormous magitech sand table and finally landed on the vast sea to the east of Astrelia.

Astrelia’s chaos was like a massive stone thrown into a lake. The ripples it stirred would certainly not be limited to a single ring.

As if to confirm his prediction, a communications staff officer in charge of rear stabilization hurried into the operations room, a fine layer of cold sweat hanging on his forehead.

“Marshal! Urgent military report! The natives of the occupied zone in the Tidelan Kingdom seem to have heard of Astrelia’s great turmoil and believe that the empire’s attention will be tied down.”

“Several coastal cities broke out in large-scale armed rebellions at the same time half an hour ago! The rebels attacked our Magic Crystal mines and shouted... shouted slogans for the restoration of their kingdom!”

Several staff officers frowned and were about to propose transferring second-line garrison troops to suppress the rebellion. In their eyes, such a small matter was nothing more than a minor irritation.

Theodore did not even lift his eyelids much. He only stared at the map of Astrelia on the sand table and spat out a single word.

“Kill.”

The communications staff officer froze. “You mean... the suppression quota is...”

“I mean it literally.” Theodore’s voice carried not the slightest warmth. “The empire does not need restless slaves, and it has no extra food to feed traitors.”

He finally turned his head. His gray-blue eyes were like two pieces of ancient ice that would never melt, stabbing straight into the depths of the communications staff officer’s soul.

“Notify the stationed Knights of Punishment. No prisoners. No trials. Cut off the heads of everyone who participated in the rebellion, regardless of age! Line them up along the coastline!”

“I want every fool who thinks of profiting from another’s misfortune to see the consequences of provoking Valeria.”

“Yes!” The communications staff officer shuddered, immediately saluted, and withdrew.

This was Valeria. It was a vast war machine—precise, cold, eternally calculating the maximization of its interests, and permitting no grain of sand to enter its gears.

After handling this small interlude, Theodore paused. His precise steel prosthetic arm traced a cold arc across the table and finally fixed on the vast sea east of Astrelia on the sand table.

“Since the Tidelan Kingdom has been mentioned...” A cryptic cold light flashed through the old marshal’s gray-blue eyes. “Activate the encrypted ‘Sea Abyss’ frequency and send a secret telegram to those pirates in Tyrenia.”

“As part of the transaction, the empire paid all of the Tidelan Kingdom’s islands before. Now, it is time for them to move those unspeakable toys of theirs.”

“Tell them the empire needs absolute control over the waters near Astrelia. If they encounter the fleeing Moran, or any valuable ‘cargo’...”

His voice dropped even lower, carrying a chilling sense of amusement.

“...intercept it.”

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