The Debt Of Fate-Chapter 297: Bring Benefits

The morning court had just convened.

Sunlight streamed through the high arched windows, illuminating the polished stone floor where ministers and nobles stood in orderly ranks. Murmured greetings and restrained exchanges filled the hall, but the sound died abruptly as a eunuch’s voice rang through the chamber.

"Your Majesty, a messenger from the Second Region has arrived," a eunuch announced.

"Let him in," King Edward gave permission gravely.

At the king’s command, the hall doors were pulled open, and a mud-stained messenger was ushered in under guard. From his appearance, it was clear he had journeyed all night to deliver his news.

He dropped to one knee at once.

"Your Majesty," the messenger said, his voice hoarse from travel, "I bring news from the Second Region waterways."

King Edward, seated upon the throne, leaned forward slightly. "Speak."

"The royal fleet engaged Lord Aureline’s forces at dawn three days ago," the messenger reported. "Though the rebels resisted fiercely, they were unable to hold the routes. Our forces pushed them back from the main channels and seized control of most river crossings and supply docks."

A stir swept through the court.

"We suffered losses," the messenger continued, "but the rebels’ supply lines have been disrupted. As of yesterday, the majority of the waterways are firmly under royal control."

Whispers broke out despite attempts at restraint. Relief, disbelief, and cautious satisfaction flickered across many faces. The first clear success since the rebellion began had finally arrived.

King Edward raised his hand, and the hall fell silent once more.

"You have done well," he said. "Return and receive your reward."

The messenger bowed deeply and was led away.

Edward rose slowly from the throne.

"Heaven has not turned its back on Nixel," he declared, his voice carrying clearly through the hall. "Nor has the crown lost its strength."

Many courtiers bowed at once.

"This victory," Edward continued, "is not absolute, but it is decisive. The rebels have been driven back, and the kingdom’s lifelines remain in royal hands."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle.

"However," he went on, "a kingdom cannot stand on military success alone. Unity within the royal house is equally vital."

The court grew still.

"By royal decree," Edward announced, "my brother, Prince Lucan, is hereby named Duke of the East."

Gasps could not be fully suppressed.

"He will depart the royal city to govern the Fourth Region," Edward continued. "The mines, the territories, and their defense will be placed under his authority."

The implication was unmistakable. To entrust the Fourth Region was to display faith before the entire kingdom.

"This appointment," Edward concluded, "is a sign to the court, the people, and those who dare rebel: royal blood does not war against itself."

The king smiled, and everyone present could tell he was in an excellent mood.

The decree was recorded at once.

As the morning court was dismissed, the news spread like wildfire through the palace corridors and beyond its walls—news of reclaimed waterways and of Prince Lucan’s new appointment.

Some sought to fault the king, claiming he merely used the decree as an excuse to send his brother away. Yet when one considered the resources that lay in the East, no one could openly question the king’s motive.

Within two days, gossip about the king attempting to kill his nephew was overturned. Instead, many began to speculate that someone had deliberately tried to cause a rift between the brothers.

Meanwhile, Walter focused his attention on investigating the poison, as instructed by the king.

He worked in silence, just as ordered—methodical and relentless, leaving no corner of the general’s former household untouched. Every servant who had passed through the estate over the past months was questioned. Records were pulled. Supply routes were retraced. Even the smallest deliveries of herbs, wine, and preserved foods were accounted for.

By the third night, a name surfaced.

A junior servant assigned to Ernest’s personal quarters.

At first glance, the man appeared unremarkable—quiet, diligent, with no known ties to the court. He had been placed in the estate shortly after Ernest’s promotion, approved through palace channels and bearing the royal seal itself.

If not for the king’s warning to trust no one, Walter would not have taken a second look at him.

This servant had not come from the general’s household.

He had come from the palace.

More precisely—from an appointment personally signed under King Edward’s authority.

Walter immediately ordered his arrest.

When Walter’s men arrived at the general’s former residence, the servant in question was already gone. His quarters had been stripped bare, his name scratched from the household roster as though he had never existed. No farewell was given, no wages collected, no explanation left behind.

That alone raised suspicion.

Walter ordered a quiet review of the household records. Among the names listed, one stood out—a man transferred from palace service months earlier, approved under the royal seal and assigned directly to General Ernest’s personal quarters.

Yet when palace registries were consulted, there was no trace of such a servant ever returning.

He had vanished.

Food deliveries were retraced. The preparation of Ernest’s meals was reconstructed day by day. One pattern became clear: during the periods when Ernest was poisoned, the person in charge of delivering his meals had been this servant.

Physician Nathan’s report confirmed it—the toxin had been administered gradually over time, in quantities too small to raise immediate alarm.

Walter followed the trail further.

Coin records revealed unexplained payments made to the servant through intermediaries. The markings on the silver matched those circulating in Lord Aureline’s territories. More damning still, a courier operating along the river routes confirmed that he had once delivered sealed instructions to a man matching the servant’s description on Aureline’s behalf.

The final confirmation came from a village on the border of the Second Region.

The servant had once lived there under a different name.

That village now flew Aureline’s banners.

By the time Walter stood before King Edward, there was no need for dramatic accusation.

"The man assigned to General Ernest was placed there through palace channels," Walter reported evenly. "But every trail he left behind leads to Lord Aureline."

Edward’s fingers tightened around the armrest.

"He used my authority," Edward said slowly. He could not help but wonder how many spies Lord Aureline had planted within the palace.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Walter replied. "The servant gained access through the crown’s seal, but the orders did not originate from the palace."

Edward closed his eyes briefly.

Lord Aureline had not acted impulsively. He had planned patiently—planting his agent close to Ernest long before the rebellion became public, using the palace itself as cover.

"He intended to remove Ernest before open war," Edward said. "If not by death, then by weakness." He believed he finally saw Aureline’s true intent.

After all, everyone knew Ernest was one of the most skilled and trustworthy generals under the crown.

Walter nodded. "Without General Ernest, the army would fracture. Morale would collapse. Suspicion would turn inward—especially since the act was carried out by someone from the palace."

Edward exhaled sharply.

"Go to General Ernest’s residence and report your findings truthfully," King Edward instructed after careful consideration.

"Your Majesty?" Walter hesitated, concerned that if Ernest learned the truth, he might suspect the king. "What if we sever all servant connections to the palace?" he suggested carefully.

Edward shook his head. He had fought side by side with Ernest and believed he understood his character.

"Do you think Ernest would not investigate his own poisoning?" Edward asked.

"But even if he does," Walter countered, "the reason we traced it so quickly was due to royal authority. We could cover this trail and deliberately let him discover only what we intend."

"No," Edward replied firmly. "Ernest is no fool. If we conceal the truth, he will sense it and investigate further. He places his loyalty in me. My doubt would plant unrest in his heart. Only sincerity will secure his loyalty."

Edward paused, sincerely regretting his decision to suspend Ernest. But there was no point dwelling on the past.

"Take Physician Nathan with you," Edward ordered. "Tell him it is a royal decree that he remain with Ernest until he is fully cured."

"Your Majesty," Walter said carefully, "Physician Nathan is not only the most skilled, but also deeply loyal to the crown. With Lord Aureline playing dirty, it may be wiser to keep him close to you."

"Do as I say," Edward replied. He felt no need to explain himself further.

He had learned from how his mother handled matters with his brother—first show sincerity through apology, then offer a gift of value. Her departure with Prince Lucan served two purposes: to show displeasure with Edward’s actions, and to keep watch over the Princess of Gube.

This was what Edward was doing now.

Physician Nathan was both a sign of goodwill and, by virtue of his loyalty, a safeguard.

Edward was pleased with his reasoning. This move would only bring him benefits and praise from the people.