June 26th, Morning, outside the Laval Mansion.
Werner Kruger, Captain of the War Hound Mercenary Corps, stood once more before the familiar gates of the Laval House, his feelings far too complex to put into words.
In just a few days, the place had been completely transformed.
The scars left by the previous conflict had disappeared without a trace, even the old door, once steeped in the weight of the years, had been replaced.
The new doors were heavier and sturdier, reinforced with iron strips and gleaming bronze fittings, exuding the air of a nouveau riche desperate to flaunt his power.
Werner’s rugged brows creased ever so slightly.
What made him even more cautious was that, even at this early hour, the streets near the Laval House were far more “lively” than usual.
A few people dressed as ordinary citizens strolled back and forth, seemingly at leisure, but to a seasoned soldier like Werner, their gazes and synchronized steps were terribly unconvincing.
“Looks like there’s no shortage of eyes on this place…” Werner muttered in a low voice to several trusted aides by his side, “And by the look of it, they’re not from the same faction.”
These watchers kept their distance from each other, the mutual wariness between them even greater than their attention to the Laval House itself.
Rather than gathering information, most of their efforts were probably spent guessing “who sent the guy on the other side.”
Was it Young Master Laval himself who deliberately allowed these harmless eyes to remain?
Werner wondered silently.
At that moment, the brand new, rather ostentatious gate opened soundlessly.
The old Butler, impeccably dressed and calm, appeared at the door, a perfectly measured smile on his face.
“Welcome, esteemed guests,” the old Butler said, his voice warm and clear. “The Young Master has been waiting for some time. The cooperation contract is ready—please, come inside.”
Werner immediately felt a wave of embarrassment.
Recalling his last visit—when he’d barged in like a bandit, practically ready for a fight—he couldn’t help but reign in all his hostility, his tone now uncommonly respectful: “May I ask, how should I address you?”
“Jean Leclerc,” the old Butler replied cheerfully, as if the previous unpleasantness had never occurred.
“Mr. Leclerc,” Werner apologized with a slight bow, sincere in his manner,
“I offended you last time, but it was not my intent. We were under orders and had no choice but to show hostility to the Laval House. Please accept my apology.”
“It’s all right,” the old Butler waved away his concerns with an indulgent gesture, “The Young Master specifically instructed that you are friends this time. Good wine is prepared to greet you.”
His gaze swept over Werner and the few subordinates behind him, men who were trying their best to appear respectable, but whose bandit-like auras still leaked from their brows.
Stepping aside, he opened the way.
“Please come in. There are too many eyes and ears outside.”
Werner nodded and quickly led his men through the gates of the Laval House.
Last time, the high walls had blocked the view, but this time, stepping into the courtyard, Werner finally realized the true scale of this Viscount’s mansion.
A vast courtyard, meticulously tended flowerbeds, and in the distance, a grand main residence… It was practically a small estate!
In Capital Lucien, there were probably very few Nobles who owned mansions of such size.
A cold sweat broke out down Werner’s back.
When he’d first taken the commission, he’d only heard that the target was a bankrupt robe-wearing Viscount, thinking it was a simple but profitable job.
Not until now, seeing this immeasurable property with his own eyes, did he truly grasp the deep foundations the Laval House possessed.
A centipede does not die even after a hundred blows.
A Noble who could afford to amass such an estate—no matter how down on his luck—was no soft fruit to be casually squeezed!
The War Hound Mercenary Corps, just as that Young Master Laval had said, were unwittingly used as expendable pawns by a scheming employer!
As Werner shivered at the realization and gazed around curiously, a chorus of energetic shouts came from the side of the mansion:
“One, two! One, two, three, four!”
“One, two! One, two, three, four!”
Following the sound, Werner saw several dozen people, mostly boys though some older, marching in reasonably neat ranks as they jogged around the main building under the direction of several leaders.
Their movements might still be raw, but their spirits were high, their eyes shining with hope for the future.
“Are they… the servants of the house?” Werner asked, curious.
Could it be that the Laval House was following the Sword-Bearing Nobles in giving their servants military-style training?
“No,” Old Butler Jean Leclerc replied, with a trace of pride. “They are not servants. They are the future the Laval House is investing in.”
The old Butler’s words left Werner baffled, but his gaze was drawn to the youths in training.
There was something about them—a vitality and spirit—that set them apart from most people in this era.
“If you’re interested, why not take a closer look?” the old Butler suggested, in line with Allen’s plan—to showcase their strength and ideals to their future “partners.”
“Since we’re to cooperate, it’s only right the Laval House shows its sincerity.”
The old Butler led Werner’s group to a temporarily designated training ground.
As the youths finished their morning run and began other physical exercises, practicing a style of Fist Technique that Werner had never seen before—simple, sharp, and efficient—even his rough-looking subordinates could not help but whisper in awe:
“B-boss! That fist technique they’re practicing—it doesn’t look like some flashy show!”
“Seems like they’ve just started, but their stances are on point, disciplined, honestly more impressive than us!”
“Boss, just what kind of game is this Young Master Laval playing?”
His subordinates might only be watching for fun, but battle-hardened Werner instantly broke into a cold sweat!
How could he not see it? This was not training servants or Registered Retainers.
This was clearly the raising of death warriors, the training of elite private soldiers absolutely loyal to one man.
In the Empire, with its feuding lords, Nobles raising their own troops was normal.
But in the highly centralized Lorraine Kingdom, things were very different.
Only Sword-Bearing Nobles had the right to possess a certain number of Registered Retainers, and even these armed forces had to stay in designated barracks, supervised by the Royal Guard.
Yet Allen de Laval, a robe-wearing Noble, actually dared to brazenly train these clearly lower-class boys to become warriors, right in his own mansion!
What was he trying to do?!
The old Butler seemed to read the storm of thoughts inside Werner and smiled, suggesting, “You seem to have many questions? Perfect timing—they’re about to begin actual combat drills… Would you like to experience it yourself?”
……
After watching the Dawn’s Children’s basic training with enormous doubt and a hint of curiosity, and making up his mind to get to the bottom of this ambitious youth’s intentions, Allen had just finished handily defeating his twenty-fourth challenger.
“Your sword grip is wrong, your power delivery and footwork are completely ignoring what I taught you.”
Allen tapped the grimacing youth, who was rubbing his wrist, with a wooden sword. “What’s going on?”
The youth scratched his head, aggrieved: “After I started sparring with you, the pressure was just too much. I panicked, and my moves fell apart.”
Allen’s face grew stern: “I even gave you a sea’s worth of leeway—what’s there to panic about? We’re using wooden swords. It’s not like I’m going to actually kill you. Looks like you haven’t overcome your fear of death yet. Just die a few more times and you’ll be fine!”
“How can someone die several times!” the youth protested.
“Hahaha!” The crowd around them broke into friendly laughter.
Just then, a girl in Maid training—she was the challenger’s younger sister—brought over two cups of water, respectfully handing one to Allen first.
“Chief, you’ve worked hard.” The girl’s complexion was much improved from when she’d first arrived.
Though still thin, there was finally some color in her cheeks.
Allen accepted the cup, instinctively checking to see if the water was poisoned.
After confirming it was safe, Allen cautiously took a sip and asked gently, “Are you getting used to life here?”
The girl performed a standard and graceful curtsy to Allen: “Yes, thank you very much. I’ll work hard to become an excellent Maid and serve you well.”
Allen, however, shook his head, his sharp gaze sweeping over everyone before finally resting on the girl.
He said in a low voice, “That’s wrong. You’re receiving education and training not to become someone’s Maid. You’re learning through labor and practice, gaining knowledge and honing skills.”
At this, Allen decided to give the Dawn’s Children an impromptu political lesson.
Allen’s gaze swept across the group, his dark eyes seeming to pierce through time, glimpsing the distant future.
“If our dream of overthrowing the Old System is realized, perhaps you’ll gain far better status and lives than now, no longer needing to toil in manual labor. But that’s not necessarily a good thing.”
“You might end up as people who only sit in offices, talking big on paper. You’d gradually forget the hardships of your journey, forget your original ideals, and eventually… become the very Nobles and bureaucrats you now despise.”
“And when that day comes, what then? How will we resist this corruption that seems to be rooted deep in human nature?”
Allen’s words left the young people deep in thought.
Indeed, if they really began living easy lives, would they become the kind of people they once hated?
It seemed an unanswerable question.
Marianne, as the Torchbearer, had her own opinion: “Young Master, by then, we could maintain the purity of our ranks through regular Insider Review and Purge.”
“How can you guarantee that the institutions doing the purging won’t themselves become corrupt?” Allen shook his head, pondering further.
“We have to build a strong, effective Bureaucratic System and Violent Apparatus to resist our enemies and defend the fruits of Revolution. But maintaining such a powerful regime can in itself make us more and more like the enemies we overthrew…”
“This is very much like the Kingdom’s current dilemma. The Sword-Bearing Nobles are both oppressors and, to some extent, defenders of order. Until we find a better way to deal with those possessing Engraved Emblem Power, we can’t simply destroy them all.”
“Reality is complex. An imperfect, even unreasonable, order is still better than the most ‘free’ state of chaos. As long as people long for stability and safety, the ‘state’—that machine of class rule—will exist.”
“What we must do is not smash the machine entirely, but transform it, make it belong to us, to all those it once oppressed.”
“As for how we avoid our own corruption… I won’t give you a standard answer. ‘Labor practice’ and ‘reliance on the masses’—that’s my hint to you.”
“You must think for yourselves, search for solutions on your own.”
“If in the end I must solve this problem myself…” Allen’s tone became somewhat strange, “I might choose a solution that isn’t all that good for anyone.”
“This homework—I’m leaving for you to ponder, explore, and attempt to answer for the rest of your lives.”
Since Allen was determined to bury the Old World, he couldn’t avoid one ultimate question: after the New World is established, how can the vanguard organization itself avoid corruption?
Power leads to corruption, and absolute power leads to absolute corruption.
Any organization, once it monopolizes power, cannot completely avoid degeneration. This is not about ideology or the good or evil of human nature, but more like a structural dilemma.
As long as people design and implement systems, they can never reach theoretical perfection.
Allen believed he could play the role of a “philosopher king,” but he was well aware this was a second-best choice made out of necessity— the fundamental issue would remain.
Besides, he had little interest right now in solving this “future hidden danger.”
The main contradictions at present were clear: first, how to establish a Revolutionary Regime; second, how to defend it; third, how to liberate all mankind; fourth, ultimately, how to upend the “Observer’s” game board, defeat the apocalypse, and save humanity for good.
Even achieving these four goals would require humanity to advance at the highest speed.
Solving future hidden dangers? That was something to worry about only once humanity survived.
To save mankind, Allen would probably have to become an unprecedented dictator and tyrant.
By then, all he denounced could boomerang back at himself.
If, in the end, humanity was saved but Allen himself became the monster he once fought… then he needed to leave behind a backdoor, a failsafe capable of destroying himself.
That was the true mindset of a grand villain.
Those simple Protagonists often believed that defeating the main culprit would solve everything. Rarely did they see that the roots of the problem lay in structural predicaments.
Most literary works criticizing political issues never get beyond “breaking without building.”
They tell you the tyrant was overthrown, the people triumphed, but then what? How to rebuild the new country? How to defend it? No one provides the answer.
Allen hoped the Dawn’s Children could attempt to answer this question in the future. Maybe they’d never find the perfect answer, but that wasn’t important.
Allen’s sole historical mission was to save mankind. He never expected to live to a ripe old age.
Why should a villain worry about such distant matters? Let those headaches be left to the future “Protagonists.”
Werner Kruger clearly heard Allen’s words, and his heart was shaken to its core. His men might be illiterate, but he wasn’t……
He understood the deeper meaning in this Young Master Laval’s words—he not only wanted to overthrow the Old System, but at the very start, he was already thinking of the potential ills of the new one!
What kind of foresight must a person have to see so far into the future?
Werner was deeply impressed by Allen de Laval.
This was no slumbering lion, but a Leviathan lurking beneath the abyss! When it surfaced, its shadow would cover the world!
Or perhaps… that wasn’t shadow, but light—the very Lamp of Enlightenment bestowed by the Creator?
In those black eyes of his, there was no lion’s glare, only the insight and prophecy of a seer.
He… was no ordinary man!