Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 321: Chapter Three Hundred And Twenty

The General looked around the room, making sure everyone understood the gravity of his next words.

"They pointed the pipes and attacked," the General continued, his voice shaking slightly.

He paused, lowering his head sadly.

"The attack resulted in three immediate casualties. Three of my best, heavily armored guards were killed instantly. We managed to kill the smugglers and capture this single weapon, but the others escaped."

The council chamber erupted into loud, shocked gasps. Nobles members hearing of the strange weapon looked at each other. The ones who were informed at the last meeting were silent.

Damon sat quietly, listening to the report. He already knew about the weapon from his previous private meeting with the King, but hearing that it was now being actively smuggled across the eastern border made his jaw clench tightly. The enemy was moving fast.

The General of the Eastern Border sat back down.

King Leonel raised his hand. The frightened whispering of the nobles stopped instantly.

The King turned his head. He looked toward the dark corner of the room.

"Spymaster," the King called out.

A tall man dressed in dark grey clothing stepped forward from the shadows. He was the Royal Spymaster. His face was sharp, and his eyes were cold and calculating. He held a small piece of paper in his hand.

The Spymaster took the floor. He stood near the King.

"Your Majesty. My Lords," the Spymaster began smoothly. "Following the King’s recent orders, the generals have heavily reinforced all the border checkpoints and the main roads entering the kingdom. We have placed extra guards, archers, and inspectors at every single public gate."

The Spymaster looked down at his paper.

"I can confirm," he reported clearly, "that all the main roads and public borders are clean. No unauthorized weapons are passing through the royal checkpoints. The kingdom’s forces are stopping everything."

The nobles looked relieved. If the borders were clean, they were safe.

But the Spymaster was not finished. He slowly lowered his paper. He looked at the wealthy lords sitting around the round table.

"However," the Spymaster said. His voice dropped into a very soft, very dangerous tone. "We have discovered blind spots in our kingdom’s security."

The Spymaster turned his eyes toward a fat richly dressed man sitting on the left side of the table. It was the Duke of Westbury.

"For example, we have the private, untaxed docks owned by the Duke of Westbury in the southern harbor," the Spymaster pointed out gently, but very firmly.

The Duke of Westbury froze. His face turned a bright, angry shade of red.

The Spymaster then turned his eyes to another wealthy man sitting on the right. It was the Earl of Dorchester.

"And we have the immune merchant caravans belonging to the Earl of Dorchester traveling from the east," the Spymaster added smoothly.

The Earl of Dorchester gasped, gripping the armrests of his chair tightly.

The Spymaster looked back at the King to deliver his final, damning conclusion.

"Our investigations show," the Spymaster explained clearly to the entire room, "that the enemy smugglers are not using the main roads. They are hiding these deadly iron weapons inside large shipments of fine silk, expensive spices, and barrels of wine."

The Spymaster looked at the fat Duke and the shocked Earl.

"Because these specific shipments belong to the high nobles," the Spymaster stated the truth, "their status made their goods to be exempted from royal inspection. Our royal guards and the generals soliders are not allowed to open their crates or check their ships. The enemies are using your immune, private trade routes to bring weapons of war into our kingdom."

The council chamber exploded.

The high nobles, both the ones mentioned and the ones not mentioned but are guilty, immediately bristled with offended outrage.

The Duke of Westbury slammed his hand hard against the wooden table.

BANG!

"This is an outrage!" the Duke of Westbury shouted at the top of his lungs. His double chin shook violently. He pointed a finger at the Spymaster. "How dare you suggest such a thing! You are accusing my ships of carrying these devilish weapons!"

The Earl of Dorchester stood up from his chair quickly. He looked deeply insulted.

"This is madness!" the Earl yelled, turning to look at the King. "Your Majesty, my family has been loyal to the crown for four generations! My caravans carry nothing but the finest spices and sweetest wine! We deny any involvement in this dirty smuggling!"

Other nobles began to shout in agreement. They felt their honor was being attacked.

"Are you accusing us of high treason?" another lord shouted angrily from across the table. "You think we are helping the enemy?"

The room was filled with loud voices, angry pointing, and chaos. They were feigning insult that the Crown would ever suspect them of such a terrible crime.

Prince Elio sat quietly, watching the angry lords with calm eyes. Prince Ivan frowned, looking highly annoyed by the loud shouting. Damon just sat still, watching the guilty men panic.

King Leonel did not shout nor did he bang his fist on the table.

The King simply remained in his chair. He waited patiently for ten seconds, letting the nobles scream and complain.

Then, the King spoke. His voice was calm, flat, and steady.

"I do not accuse you of smuggling these weapons, my lords."

The King’s quiet words easily cut through the loud noise. The nobles slowly stopped shouting. They sat back down in their chairs, breathing heavily, waiting for the King to explain.

King Leonel looked around the table. His eyes were cold and sharp.

"I do not think you are traitors," the King said smoothly. "I accuse you of being exploited. I accuse you of being blind. You are being used by enemies who hide in your shadows. Because you refuse to let your boxes be searched, the enemy simply puts their weapons into your boxes."

The King leaned forward slightly.

"To protect you," the King stated firmly, "and to protect the entire realm, those dark shadows must be illuminated."

The King sat back. He gave a small nod to the Lord Chancellor standing beside him.

The Lord Chancellor stepped forward. He opened his heavy leather folder. He pulled out a fresh, white piece of thick parchment paper. At the bottom of the paper was the massive red wax seal of the King.

The Lord Chancellor cleared his throat and began to read the new royal decree aloud to the room.

"By the order of His Majesty, King Leonel," the Lord Chancellor read loudly and clearly. "From this day forward, no cargo, no private estate, and no merchant vessel is exempt from Royal Search."

The nobles’ eyes widened.

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