Allen had guessed the enemy would come to surrender, but even he hadn’t expected things to reach this point.
The Minister of Finance’s office was now more chaotic than the busiest market.
The heads of the eight major guilds, who had conspired against the Mutual Aid Association, all crammed in within an hour like they were rushing to a fair, putting on the year’s best comedy.
“Your Excellency the Minister! My Goldsmith Guild is willing to offer half its assets! Just give me one chance!”
Guild Master Goldie was weeping tears and snot, as if he wanted to tear out his own heart.
“Half? My Brewing Guild will offer two-thirds!”
A fat guild master with a face full of flesh kicked aside the leather guild master next to him and squeezed to the front.
“Those branch guilds under me have been hoping to join the Mutual Aid Association family for ages!”
“Get out of my way, all of you!” A scrawny old man lunged forward, looking like a madman.
“I’ll give everything! I don’t want anything anymore! I still have a daughter, just sixteen, a peerless beauty, willing to serve you—”
Before he could finish, Baptiste slapped him back.
“Shameless old thing! Do you even have any idea what your daughter looks like!”
To survive, they had completely torn off their masks, exposing each other’s faults, attacking and cursing, laying bare the ugliest side of human nature.
Just as the farce was about to escalate into a full-on brawl, the guard’s announcement brought everything to a dead stop.
“Her Highness the Princess arrives!”
The office door was pushed open, and Princess Charlotte walked in with regal grace.
In that instant, the eight guild masters who had been tearing at each other like mad dogs fell silent, all prostrating themselves on the ground, trembling like autumn leaves in the wind.
Charlotte’s voice was cold, her brow slightly furrowed, her gaze sweeping over the mess before settling on Bernard.
“Lord Bernard, what is the meaning of this?”
Her tone revealed neither anger nor pleasure, yet carried an innate majesty.
“Whatever their faults, they are still subjects of the Kingdom. As Minister of Finance, coercing them like this may compromise your dignity as a minister.”
Bernard laughed inwardly, but his face immediately showed a look of panic as he hurriedly bowed.
“Your Highness’s lesson is well taken. It is I who was too eager to push the new policies, and my methods were… indeed somewhat harsh.”
Seeing that the Princess was so merciful, even willing to speak for them, these “sinners,” the eight guild masters felt like they had grabbed a lifeline.
One by one they wept bitterly, vying to accuse how they had been coerced by the Sword-Bearing Nobles, and how they had come to their senses, determined to abandon darkness for light and contribute to His Majesty’s reform cause.
Charlotte listened patiently, her face always wearing that compassionate gentleness befitting a princess.
Only when they had cried themselves nearly unconscious did she let out a soft sigh and say in a gentle tone, “Since you all are willing to repent, and Lord Bernard is willing to give you a chance, I am pleased to see it.”
“The future of the Kingdom requires everyone to work together. I can forgive your crimes, but your contributions will not go unnoticed by Father and the Kingdom.”
These words, like a divine oracle, shattered the last vestiges of worry in the guild masters’ hearts.
Bernard waved his hand, mercifully “pardoning” them.
Of course, the death penalty could be waived, but suffering was unavoidable.
The eight major guilds practically handed over the wealth and resources accumulated over a century with both hands, all merged into the Mutual Aid Association, just to exchange for a chance at “starting anew.”
Compared to the crime of treason, the whole family going to the guillotine, and the guilds being forcibly dissolved, this price was something they had to swallow even with blood in their mouths.
As for whether these eight old foxes had colluded in advance and staged this whole passion play together, that no longer mattered.
As the saying went, one thought of surrender, and in an instant the sky widens.
The Sword-Bearing Nobles never treated others as human beings.
They always managed, through their own arrogance and stupidity, to personally push every potential ally into rebellion.
This was practically the consensus of everyone.
With the backbone of the enemy camp collectively “defecting,” Allen’s first-phase objective had been achieved.
The traditional guilds of the Capital would soon become history.
And the Mutual Aid Association, through this “corporate merger,” would rapidly extend its tentacles into every corner of the Kingdom.
The revolutionary spark of the “Dawn’s Children” would thus be scattered across the vast lands beyond the Capital.
Now, the only remaining threat was those self-important Sword-Bearing Nobles hiding behind the scenes.
To avoid alerting the snake in the grass, the guilds’ plan to attack the Mutual Aid Association proceeded as scheduled.
The guild masters were the Sword-Bearing Nobles’ cannon fodder, and the thugs they sent out were the cannon fodder of cannon fodder.
Most of these people were criminals and bandits hired temporarily from out of town. Not a single elite guard from the guilds themselves was deployed.
The rural areas around the Capital had no shortage of such desperadoes, every one of them deserving death, perfect for use as scapegoats.
When the eight guild masters left the Ministry of Finance, they were not so much crestfallen as they were ecstatic.
First, the Princess had forgiven them even after learning of their treasonous actions.
This was royal endorsement. Now they needn’t worry about being settled with later.
Second, since Allen had anticipated their surrender, he had naturally offered generous terms.
At the end, Bernard painted them a brand-new blueprint.
The Rabel Family, the Mutual Aid Association, and the United Bank would evaluate and price the core assets of each guild—including brands, secret recipes, workshops, and distribution channels—and establish a “Joint-Stock Company.”
This massive pool of assets would be divided into standard “shares.”
Guild masters and core masters would receive “Golden Hand Shares,” which could not be sold for several years but carried full dividend rights.
This move deeply bound the guilds’ personal interests to the company’s long-term development, preventing them from cashing out and leaving, ensuring stable operations.
At the same time, the Mutual Aid Association would set aside a portion of shares to sell at preferential prices to the backbone members within the guilds.
These were the “Employee Shares.”
“Employee Shares” allowed the backbone members of traditional guilds to share in the company’s growth dividends, greatly stimulating enthusiasm and cultivating a class of “worker aristocracy” loyal to the new system.
The remaining shares would be publicly traded on the soon-to-appear “Lorraine United Exchange,” allowing the Robe Nobility to participate as well, thoroughly binding the interests of all reformists together.
They lost their old private property, but boarded a great ship called “Capital.”
Of course, the Rabel Family’s core industries did not participate in the restructuring.
This was Allen’s trump card for future rebellion, and naturally he wouldn’t expose it.
The office finally quieted down, though a lingering absurdity from the farce still hung in the air.
“Charlotte” picked up the black tea and took a gentle sip.
The dignity and majesty belonging to a princess quietly faded.
She slumped into the sofa without any grace, let out a long breath, and a mischievous smile she couldn’t hide curved at the corner of her lips.
“Lord Viscount, how was my princess act?”
Charlotte—or rather, “Deep Sea” Olivia—blinked playfully.
“More than just ‘was it okay.'” Bernard looked at her, his tired eyes full of warmth and admiration.
“The way those old foxes looked at you, it was like seeing a god descend to earth. If you hadn’t secretly winked your left eye at me earlier, I’d have almost believed Her Highness had truly arrived and prepared to beg forgiveness.”
“Only here with you can I breathe easy.” Olivia set down the teacup, her whole body relaxing.
“Only by your side can I be Olivia—not the ‘Deep Sea’ of the ‘Dawn’s Children,’ not the Princess’s stand-in…”
She gazed out the window, her eyes somewhat distant.
“The longer I play Her Highness the Princess, the easier it is to forget who I am. Sometimes when I see that face in the mirror, I have to pause before remembering it’s not me. I haven’t… dreamed of being Olivia in a long time. I’ve almost forgotten what my brother’s face looks like.”
Hearing this, Bernard’s heart softened.
He poured hot tea for Olivia, his voice gentle. “Silly child, that means you’ve walked out of your past pain. The past was too bitter; forgetting is fine. How are you adjusting to life in the royal palace?”
“Mm.” Olivia nodded, a slight smile appearing on her face. “As you said, the royal palace’s rules are strict enough to drive a person mad. But… compared to the sunless life of slavery, this is already an unimaginable paradise.”
Bernard looked at her. The Olivia of today was indeed a completely different person from the silent, hate-filled girl she once was.
Her Highness the Princess truly treated her like a sister.
Olivia noticed the dark circles under Bernard’s eyes and couldn’t help asking with concern, “Lord Viscount, you haven’t been resting well again, have you? You and Her Highness the Princess both look far too exhausted.”
This ordinary greeting sent a warm current through Bernard’s heart, as if a daughter long away from home were worrying about him.
“I’m managing, it’s just endless meetings.” Bernard shook his head with a bitter smile. “Speaking of which, what did Her Highness send you here for today?”
“On one hand, Her Highness is nearly worn out by your reform proposals and specifically sent me to protest against you, the Minister of Finance who keeps piling on more work.”
Olivia playfully stuck out her tongue, then her expression turned serious, and even her posture straightened.
She deliberately lowered her voice, imitating the Princess’s tone.
“On the other hand, she’s here to sound you out. ‘Lord Bernard is a pure idealist, but his enemies are not.’ Those are Her Highness’s exact words. She has already noticed you are secretly recruiting the Robe Nobility. She acquiesces to your plan, but also warns you—those people eat people without spitting out bones. Use them, but never let them bite you back.”
“As expected of Her Highness the Princess.” Bernard couldn’t help but sigh.
The Princess’s intelligence and keenness always filled him with admiration. “She is an ally and not an enemy—thank goodness for that.”
In truth, the reforms could not have been pushed through so quickly without Charlotte coordinating the massive bureaucratic system behind the scenes.
The two chatted for a while, then Olivia rose to take her leave.
“Here, take this.” Bernard took out two exquisitely bound little books from a drawer and handed them to Olivia.
“A new story Allen wrote, called . One is for you, and the other, pass it on to Her Highness for me.”
“The Leader wrote ?” Olivia took the book in delighted surprise, cradling it carefully as if it were a peerless treasure, her face blooming with genuine joy.
“Please give the Leader my regards. And… if the chance comes, can I still chat with you like today?”
“Of course,” Bernard agreed readily. “You’re welcome anytime. We all fight for Allen’s ideals, so… you are my child too. We are all family.”
“Family…”
Those three words left Olivia frozen for a moment. Then she smiled with relief.
“Thank you. I think I no longer need to dream of Olivia anymore. Because everything Olivia could never have—I have it all now.”
After Olivia left, the office returned to silence.
She had gone back to her battlefield, and Bernard looked at the mountain of reform documents on his desk, took a deep breath.
He was no longer the viscount who only wanted his son to survive.
Now, the expectations and lives of too many people rested on his shoulders.
He picked up his pen and signed his name on the appointment document for “Rural Affairs Officer.”
…
On the afternoon of July 16th, Allen had just confirmed the guilds were completely taken when his spy and believer “Firebird” presented him with a great gift.
A thin sheet of paper, scrawled in quill ink with the deployment and detailed plans of the Sword-Bearing Nobles’ private soldiers, Crestbearers, and cultists.
Allen held this intelligence and truly could not imagine how he could possibly lose.
That night, the armed forces of the Dawn’s Children, the Lily Guard, and the Workers’ Patrol silently moved into their pre-set positions, lying in wait.
The Inquisition also joined this hunt. Guillaume personally led the team, vowing to root out the heretics completely.
As for how the Judgement Court could intervene in the Kingdom’s internal struggles, the key lay in Livia’s new position—Royal Special Investigator.
This title granted her an extremely terrifying authority: without trial, she could directly designate any enemy threatening the Kingdom’s stability as a “heretic.”
Strike first, report later—by royal warrant.
With this “imperial edict,” the Judgement Court could move against the Sword-Bearing Nobles who consorted with heretics without any scruples, with no need to worry about violating any ancient Holy Covenant.
An invisible net had been spread, and the prey, completely unaware, were stepping one by one into the trap of death.
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