booktalesy Chapter 107 The Prince's Real Plan
Chapter 107 The Prince's Real Plan
Chapter 106 The Prince's Real Plan
After the Countess was imprisoned in the dungeon inside the Frostwolf Castle.
Lorraine pushed open the oak door to the lord's hall.
The dome here is twenty meters high and is inlaid with hundreds of magic crystal lamps. Although most of them have been extinguished, the remaining light still envelops the entire hall in a layer of warm, pale golden light.
The walls on both sides are covered with portraits of the Frostwolf Earls throughout history, from pioneers to maintainers, their faces either majestic or sinister, looking down on everyone who steps into this place.
The floor was paved with solid gray-white marble, the veins of which resembled frozen snow waves. A deep red carpet stretched from the entrance to the far end of the hall, where the throne of Earl Frostwolf stood.
The throne was cast from a single piece of cold iron, with two howling frost wolves carved on the armrests, and a fist-sized blue magic crystal inlaid at the top of the backrest, emitting a cold, eerie glow.
On the stone platform to the right of the throne lay a thick leather book, its cover bearing the emblem of the Frostwolf family.
The Book of Demons was conferred.
This thing represents the core power of a territory—it records the contractual relationships of all the witches within the territory, the boundary coordinates of the territory, and the lord's authority to bestow titles upon his subordinates.
Whoever possesses the Book of Conferment is the rightful master of this land.
Lorraine walked up the steps and stood before the throne.
He didn't sit down immediately, but instead reached out and picked up the book of seals of demons, turning to the first page.
On the title page, an ancient magical rune reads: "The Seventeenth Lord of Frostwolf Territory—Lorraine."
The handwriting is new.
The investiture of the magic book is certified by the magic fire of the territory. When the soul fire of the former master is extinguished or covered by the magic fire of the new lord, the name on the title page will be automatically replaced.
The old count has been missing for a long time, and the countess has never been formally ennobled. There is currently no count in this land who can be recognized by the magic book.
So when Lorraine stepped into Frostwolf City and crushed all resistance as the Lord of Babel, the decision to confer the title upon the Book of the Dead had already been made.
Lorraine closed the magic book and finally sat down.
The iron throne was icy cold, but he leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.
He traveled for three months from the drafty, dilapidated wooden hut at White Wolf Outpost to the steel fortress of Babel, and finally to the Lord's Hall in Frostwolf City.
Three months ago, he was still struggling to find a hot meal.
Three months later, he sat on the throne of the lord of the largest city in the North.
"It was worth it."
Lorraine whispered two words, a slight smile playing on her lips.
Anna stood to the left of the throne, her hands clasped in front of her, and a smile played on her lips.
Olivia stood slightly to the right, her emerald hair gleaming softly under the magic crystal lights. Her gaze swept across the hall before finally settling on Lorraine, her eyes filled with emotion.
Just as Lorraine was about to convene everyone to discuss the reorganization of the power structure, a series of hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the hall.
Victor pushed open the door and entered.
This fourth-tier Grand Knight was clad in fine gold armor and had the Fimbul Wolf King Greatsword at his waist; he was like a mobile steel fortress.
But at this moment his expression was somewhat subtle—not nervous, but rather a kind of uncertain caution.
"My lord," Victor knelt on one knee, "there is someone requesting an audience outside the castle gates."
"Who is it?"
"A witch, fourth rank," Victor paused, "wearing a nun's habit."
Anna frowned slightly.
Fourth-order witches are extremely rare in the entire Northern Territory, and the description of a fourth-order witch wearing a nun's habit is so unique that it almost confirms her identity.
Lorraine leaned back on the throne, tapping her fingers lightly on the armrest.
"What's her name?"
Victor looked up: "She introduced herself as—Catherine."
The hall fell silent for a moment.
Lorraine's fingers stopped.
Catherine.
The fourth-tier Storm Witch who witnessed him directing Anna to detonate the eye of the storm and annihilate the insect swarm during the first bizarre event at White Wolf Outpost.
"Let her in," Lorraine said.
Victor accepted the order and left.
Anna glanced at Lorraine and whispered, "My lord, should we be on guard?"
"There's no need to be overly cautious," Lorraine shook her head. "If she wanted to make a move, she wouldn't be standing at the door announcing her name."
After about half a cup of tea's time, the hall door was pushed open again.
A tall, slender figure walked in.
Catherine was wearing a white nun's robe and a matching hood, with a few strands of purple hair peeking out from under the brim.
Her pace was neither fast nor slow; the sound of her boots clicking on the marble floor echoed in the empty hall, her rhythm steady and composed.
But when she reached the center of the hall and looked up to see Lorraine on the throne and the witches around him, she stopped in her tracks.
Catherine's gaze swept over Anna, then moved to Olivia, Lyra, and Ohm, before finally returning to Lorraine's face.
Her pupils contracted slightly.
The last time we met, the boy was barely surviving on the desolate snowfield of the White Wolf Outpost, with only a newly awakened first-tier witch by his side, and not even a witch's tower.
Although she was amazed by his commanding skills and Anna's perfect spirit origin, it was only "amazing." As an illegitimate child exiled by his family, it was a miracle that he could survive the snow season.
But now?
The young man sat on the throne of the Frostwolf Territory, with a book of investiture beside him, and behind him was a mobile city that had crushed the entire defenses of Frostwolf City.
Standing beside him were four witches, each possessing a terrifyingly powerful aura of magic.
He is both the master of the Tower of Babel.
He is also the new Earl of Frostwolf City.
Catherine took a deep breath and suppressed all her emotions.
She lifted the hem of her robe and knelt on one knee.
"Catherine, greetings to the new lord of Frostwolf City."
Her voice was calm and steady, without the slightest hint of flattery, but her kneeling was crisp and decisive, a true gesture of submission.
At the same time, she took out a fist-sized space bag from her bosom and held it high above her head.
"This is a small gift from Catherine to congratulate Lord on the conquest of Frostwolf City. Please take a look, Lord."
Lorraine did not get up.
He leaned back on his throne, looking down at Catherine kneeling in the center of the hall, and remained silent for two seconds.
"Anna, go and get it."
"Yes."
Anna descended the steps from the throne and walked along the red carpet toward Catherine.
Catherine remained kneeling on one knee, holding the space bag in both hands without moving.
But when Anna was within three steps of her, Catherine's body suddenly froze.
That magic—
As a fourth-tier Storm Witch, Catherine has an extremely keen sense of magic.
The concentration and purity of the magic emanating from Anna far exceeded her expectations—no, it wasn't just beyond expectations, it was downright outrageous.
The texture of this magic is so full and perfect, without any impurities or flaws, that it is like a work of art meticulously sculpted by some incredible means.
Catherine looked up abruptly, her gaze fixed on Anna.
"You—" Her voice was strained, "the quality of your magic, its purity—"
Anna stopped and looked down at Catherine, who was kneeling on the ground.
"What's wrong?"
"Impossible." Catherine's tone changed, from calm to disbelief. "This level of magical purity... unless—unless you've had a perfect advancement every time you've advanced since awakening."
Her words stopped abruptly.
Because the answer was already written on Anna's face.
Anna puffed out her chest, though not much, but her smugness was undeniable.
"That's right." Anna reached out and took the space bag, her tone calm but filled with undisguised pride. "From the first rank to the fourth rank, every advancement has been a perfect plan tailored to your needs, Lord."
Catherine's pupils contracted sharply.
Is every promotion a perfect promotion?
From first order to fourth order?
This was unprecedented in the entire history of the continent.
The promotion of a witch is a high-stakes gamble with a slim chance of survival. Successfully promoting is already difficult, let alone a "perfect promotion".
Even the most prestigious witch academy in the capital, after decades of research, cannot guarantee that it can design even one perfect advancement plan for a witch.
And this young man designed four perfect promotions for the same witch?
"And it's not just me."
Anna added, glancing sideways at the throne, "Olivia's promotion, Lyra's promotion, and Ohm's awakening—all of these were personally designed by the Lord."
Catherine slowly turned her head, her gaze sweeping over the witches on either side of the throne.
Olivia nodded slightly. Her emerald-colored magic was as gentle and profound as a spring breeze. It was a perfect quality, at the third tier.
Lyra held the staff, and the power of destiny faintly flowed within her black and gold heterochromatic eyes, reaching the first or second tier, perfect quality.
Ohm tilted his head to look at her, the silver data stream jumping at his fingertips, reaching the third level, perfect quality.
Each one was a perfect promotion.
Catherine knelt on the spot and remained silent for a long time.
Having lived for so many years, she had seen countless lords, some cruel, some shrewd, some cowardly, and some with clever methods.
But no lord has ever been able to do this.
"My lord," Catherine looked up again at Lorraine on the throne, her tone much more solemn than before, "Catherine has a request."
Lorraine took the spatial bag from Anna, casually placed it on the armrest, and looked calmly at Catherine.
"explain."
Catherine took a deep breath.
"I would like to ask my lord to devise a plan to heal my soul's wounds."
Olivia's gaze towards Catherine subtly shifted.
Soul trauma is one of the most troublesome injuries among witches.
Unlike physical injuries that can be repaired with potions and magic, trauma to the soul is almost irreversible once it occurs.
It will continuously erode the witch's magical foundation, weaken her perception, and even affect her advancement potential.
But now, this fourth-tier great witch has come to ask the lord to help her heal her soul wounds.
Doesn't she know that even if the lord has a way, the cost of repairing the soul's wounds is extremely high?
"Okay." But Lorraine still agreed, "but you have to offer enough leverage."
Catherine nodded.
"I know." She took a deep breath. "So, besides that gift, I also want to tell you two secrets."
She paused for a moment, then met Lorraine's gaze.
"Two secrets that determine the fate of Frostwolf Lands."
Catherine nodded, her gaze sweeping over the surrounding witches: "My lord, this secret has considerable influence, and those around you—"
Lorraine waved her hand and said, "No need to worry, they are all people I have followed through thick and thin with, and can be trusted."
"Okay," Catherine straightened up, her tone becoming heavy.
"The first secret—Lord Lorraine, do you know Prince Thursmir?"
Lorraine narrowed her eyes slightly.
Prince Sermyrth.
He certainly knew the name. The royal family to which the Frostwolf family nominally served, and the young prince now sitting in the capital. But beyond that, he knew little about the man.
"I know the name," Lorraine said. "Continue."
Catherine lowered her voice slightly.
"The prince has a plan. A crazy plan that concerns the fate of the entire kingdom and all of humanity."
"A plan to completely free humanity from the ravages of the Moment of Turmoil."
"Completely escaping the moment of upheaval? That should be a good thing, how can it be considered a crisis concerning the survival of Frostwolf City?"
"Yes, on the surface, it is indeed a good thing," Catherine's voice was low but still clear in the empty hall, "but His Highness's method of putting this plan into practice is to turn all humans into monsters."
The hall was deathly silent.
All the witches' eyes were focused on Catherine.
"Turn all humans into monsters?" Victor stood at the hall's entrance, his voice so deep it seemed to be forced from his chest. "What kind of madness is that?"
Catherine ignored Victor, her gaze fixed on Lorraine.
"The prince's logic is simple," she said. "Monsters don't attack monsters. If all humans become monsters, then all the calamities that threaten human survival—the Moment of Upheaval, the Demon Tide, the Beast Tide—will cease to exist. Humanity will gain eternal safety in another form."
Lorraine leaned back on her throne, saying nothing.
His expression was calm, but the frequency of his fingers tapping on the armrest increased.
"It sounds like the delusions of a madman," Anna said coldly.
"If it were just wishful thinking, I wouldn't have traveled all this way to tell the Lord," Catherine shook her head. "The Prince has already found a way to make this plan happen. And one..."
She paused for a moment.
"This plan has a fatal flaw."
"What defect?" Lorraine asked.
Catherine looked up, her purple hair falling from under her hood, her eyes filled with a deep sorrow.
"During the transformation process, only humans of level three and above can maintain the integrity of their self-awareness."
As soon as those words were spoken, the temperature in the hall seemed to drop even further.
"What will happen to those below the third rank—" Olivia's voice trembled slightly.
"They'll become mindless monsters." Catherine's tone was almost cruelly calm. "No thoughts, no memories, no emotions. Only instinctive hunger and a bloodlust remain. No different from the low-level monsters you saw on the snowfields."
silence.
A long silence.
Lorraine's fingers stopped tapping.
Only those at the third level or above can maintain consciousness.
What does this mean?
Throughout the entire Northern Territory, and even the entire continent, the proportion of experts at or above the third rank is less than one ten-thousandth of the total population.
In the prince's plan, ordinary farmers, craftsmen, merchants, soldiers, women, and children—the vast majority of the population—were all considered disposable resources.
This is not about saving humanity.
This is the slaughter of humanity.
It's just that they've changed to a more covert and respectable method.
"What a wonderful concept of 'eternal security.'"
Lorraine's voice was soft, but each word seemed to be squeezed out from between her teeth, "Sacrificing ninety-nine percent of the population, allowing the remaining one percent to survive as monsters. Is this Your Highness's grand plan?"
Catherine did not answer.
She doesn't need to answer.
"The second secret." Lorraine raised her hand, gesturing for her to continue.
Catherine took a deep breath.
"The prince's means of achieving this plan is, firstly, to use a double."
"substitute?"
"The prince trained a group of chess pieces with special shapeshifting abilities."
"These chess pieces can perfectly replicate the target's appearance, voice, and even some of their memories. The prince sends them to various territories to secretly replace the original lords."
"And once all the earls in the land have been replaced by princes," Catherine continued.
"The prince will then be able to legally implement his 'Purification Act' through a parliamentary vote. At that time, all the humans in the kingdom will be forcibly converted within the framework of the act."
Lorraine remained silent for a moment.
"What about Frostwolf Territory?"
Catherine looked at him.
"My lord should have already guessed it."
Lorraine did not speak.
"The old count has disappeared."
Catherine lowered her voice even further, "Judging from the current situation, Frostwolf Territory has likely been infiltrated using the same methods. The prince's double is already in place, but—"
She paused for a moment.
"It's simply because the lord is not dead yet."