With over a hundred energetic new servants—young boys and girls full of vitality—the castle quickly became lively and bustling.
Of these, the fourteen girls selected—six by Wei Wei, four by Dolores, and four by Caroline—were chosen to be future female bodyguards. Because of their special status, they were not sent directly to serve their future mistresses. Instead, they were placed in the same training program as the boys selected for the knight corps. Their training was expected to take several years, especially since someone had come up with a spontaneous idea to broaden their curriculum. Aside from swordsmanship and defense, they now had to learn assassination, reconnaissance, tracking, and a series of related skills.
These were secret courses known only to a few trusted insiders.
Felix had even given them a name—Shadow Guards.
"I plan to build a secret force, and these girls are the first experiment."
He had already dispatched people to other regions to purchase young slaves for the Shadow Guard training. In his opinion, slaves—especially those without personal freedom and of a younger age—were more suitable for this kind of work than serfs, as they could be shaped from a young age.
Because this idea had only recently taken form, there had been no preparations. They had yet to find suitable trainers, and proper operations would still take some time to refine.
When Wei Wei heard Felix talk about this, she reflected on herself—perhaps she shouldn't have shared so many stories with him, retelling dramatic plotlines from history, gossip, and films as if they were tales. She knew those were fictional, but Felix believed them.
She wanted to talk him out of it, but seeing how full of enthusiasm Felix was, she found herself unable to say no.
In the end, she could only firmly remind him to keep things within bounds and not to take it too far.
"And absolutely no weird or disgusting courses for those girls."
Felix looked utterly wronged. He hadn't intended anything inappropriate! Sure, he wanted to train Shadow Guards, but he never planned to do it with life-or-death competitions or brutal eliminations like in the stories. He had always thought that kind of method was wasteful. Why invest years of careful training just to eliminate most of the candidates and keep only a few? Those who weren't cut out for combat could still serve in other useful positions. Felix couldn't understand what kind of logic those fictional leaders operated under.
Having gone through over a decade of knight training himself, Felix knew how hard it was to cultivate capable personnel. He wouldn't waste talent like that.
As for those "weird courses"—he knew exactly what Wei Wei meant: seduction and other indecent tactics. Felix would never allow his subordinates to learn or use such things. These Shadow Guards were meant to protect their masters. Learning assassination techniques were intended to enhance their ability to defend, not to become tools of manipulation.
Besides, the mere thought of someone using such tactics on Wei Wei made Felix burn with jealousy. No way. Not!
He solemnly swore that he would follow all of Wei Wei's expectations and ensure none of the girls would be subjected to anything inappropriate. Only then did Wei Wei feel slightly reassured.
Not long after the training arrangements were made and the collective dormitory vacated, news finally arrived from the royal capital.
—Just a few days ago, King Pradi had publicly reprimanded his Keeper of the Seal, Baron Clifft, before the entire court, removed him from office, and ordered him to return to his territory.
Not only was he dismissed, but he was also expelled from the capital—an unmistakable sign that the king had completely fallen out with him. Once one of the King's most trusted ministers, Baron Clifft was now reduced to being just a regular baron. This drastic shift in status delivered a heavy psychological blow and gave his former enemies a long-awaited chance to strike back. It was said that shortly after the news broke, the once-proud baron fell seriously ill—so ill that many doubted he would survive the winter.
His enemies, of course, would only seize this moment to finish him off. And his heir lacked the strength to salvage the situation. The Clifft family's estates and influence would likely be torn apart and swallowed whole even before the baron passed away—leaving nothing behind.
The Clifft family was destined to fall into decline.
Though Felix had long suspected this outcome, the timing still caught him off guard—it was much sooner than he had expected.
"I thought Baron Clifft would at least hold out until summer. I didn't think he'd be dismissed so quickly. What happened?"
The messenger replied, "Yes, Baron Clifft was removed because he tried to interfere with Prince Andrew's marriage. The King was furious and dismissed him on the spot."
"Prince Andrew's marriage?" Both Wei Wei and Felix perked up at once. "Oh? How did he interfere? Tell us more."
"Baron Clifft suggested to His Majesty that Prince Andrew marry the daughter of Duke Romanov."
Wei Wei and Felix looked at each other, both surprised.
Duke Romanov was only about ten years younger than the King. Naturally, he had children—and many of them. He and his wife were famously fertile. They already had seven children, and the Duchess was reportedly pregnant again with their eighth.
Of the Duke's children, the most age-appropriate for Prince Andrew was likely his third daughter, Miss Romanov, who was currently eight years old.
Her age wasn't incompatible with the twelve-year-old prince. They could be engaged now and married later when she came of age—perhaps even developing a childhood sweetheart bond in the meantime.
Moreover, the girl's mother and two elder sisters had all given birth shortly after marriage, which made many people believe she would be similarly fertile.
To the royal family, which still had no third-generation heir and a dwindling lineage, marrying such a noble and fertile young lady would be a very attractive choice.
That is if she weren't the daughter of Duke Romanov. Given the King's longstanding opposition to Romanov, he would never approve of the marriage. Everyone understood that if Prince Andrew married the duke's daughter, and one day ascended the throne, real power would inevitably fall into the duke's hands. And if Andrew never inherited the crown, Romanov would have only lost a daughter—not exactly a heavy price.
So the King would not approve such a match. Yet by reprimanding Baron Clifft publicly and using this incident as the reason to strip him of his office, he had essentially slapped Duke Romanov in the face and burned any bridges left between them.
From now on, even superficial politeness would be difficult to maintain.
What made this all the more puzzling was the timing.
Felix could understand Baron Clifft's move—it was related to the fact that the King had realized Clifft was a Romanov man and no longer trusted him. Clifft, likely sensing this, may have decided to throw himself fully behind the Duke and carry out his will.
However, the baron had become too arrogant after years of smooth success and failed to recognize his real standing. He still thought of himself as the powerful Keeper of the Seal, someone even higher-ranking nobles had to show respect to. But to both the King and Duke Romanov, he was now just a disposable pawn.
The King could replace him at any time. The Duke had only valued his official position—and once that position was lost, Clifft's value vanished too.
So the Duke's task for Baron Clifft was likely to push his third daughter into becoming Prince Andrew's consort.
Whether Clifft understood the deeper implications or not, he had indeed followed through.
Under normal circumstances, even if the King disapproved of the proposal, he wouldn't have lashed out in public. He would have handled it discreetly and found another reason to remove Clifft.
"So why did His Majesty lose his temper like that?" Felix muttered, puzzled. "Given his personality, he's not the type to openly fall out with Duke Romanov—especially at a time like this."
After all, if the King and the Duke were now openly hostile, Romanov might resort to eliminating the two princes. As third in line to the throne, that would make him the next King.
And that was a possibility the King most definitely did not want to face.
Felix stroked his chin, clearly troubled. He just couldn't figure out what had pushed the King over the edge.
It was the messenger who provided the answer.
The entire incident had a connection to them.
The messenger explained: that earlier, to prevent Dolores from being married off to Prince Andrew, Felix had secretly spread information throughout the capital about the dangers of close-relative marriages. He had even coordinated with the Church, which then publicly launched a major investigation and produced a report.
Naturally, the results of the investigation were shocking—so much so that they terrified nearly everyone. The Church had included in its findings numerous cases where pregnancies in very young girls led to birth defects, miscarriages, or stillbirths—not necessarily due to blood relations, but because the girls' bodies were too immature for childbirth.
Of course, the Church would never admit that these tragedies were largely caused by its policy encouraging girls to marry at the age of twelve—an age that was biologically unsuitable for motherhood. The Church itself probably wasn't even aware of this connection.
But once those cases were lumped under the category of "inbreeding consequences," it was no surprise the report's conclusions appeared terrifying.
Originally, the Church's influence in the empire had been declining, and most nobles were skeptical of anything it published. Only the lower classes truly listened to the Church. So while there had been much discussion among the common folk, most nobles dismissed the report as nonsense.
Then came the twist of fate. Not long after the report was released, a well-known noblewoman in the capital gave birth to a baby boy with a congenital leg defect.
The issue? She and her husband were cousins. They had already lost two previous children who died shortly after birth.
Suddenly, the Church's report seemed frighteningly accurate. Nobles, previously dismissive, began to reread the findings with cautious eyes and compare them with people they knew. The more they looked, the more uneasy they became.
Noble families were well-known for intermarrying. Their bloodlines were already entangled to the point that everyone was distantly related. Once people started seeing unhealthy children among the nobility, it was hard not to wonder about their parents' relationships.
This made the Crown Prince Edward and his wife particularly conspicuous. They were first cousins—the most direct example.
People began to eye the royal couple with growing suspicion. Prince Edward's poor health was already well-known, and now, everyone was questioning whether he could father a healthy heir at all. Even if he did, many feared the child might be just as weak—or worse.
Even the King began to view his previously well-regarded daughter-in-law in a different light. It was said that he had started considering the idea of finding his son a new wife.
Divorce, though not recognized by the Church, was not unusual in the Pradi Empire, especially among the nobility. There had even been cases of women divorcing their husbands for impotence—with the men unable to refuse.
However, royal marriages were a different matter and had to be handled delicately. So the King hadn't taken action yet.
That didn't stop the rumors, though. Word had already spread that the Church's report had shaken the royal household, and that the King was considering a new crown princess. Prince Edward and his wife had, of course, heard about it. They had little affection, to begin with, and now their interactions have become colder than ever. The princess began to avoid appearing in public with her husband entirely.
This only fueled speculation that a divorce was imminent.
Then, right in the middle of this turmoil, Baron Clifft suggested that Prince Andrew marry Duke Romanov's daughter.
To many, this felt like a deliberate provocation.
If the marriage were approved, and the resulting child ended up with health problems, what would happen then?
The King took it as a direct challenge from Romanov—and no wonder he exploded in anger, even going so far as to dismiss Clifft on the spot in front of the entire court.
Of course, Duke Romanov believed he had been wronged. Baron Clifft felt the same. The Duke had suggested before the Church's report gained traction, so he didn't know things would escalate like this. And as for Clifft—someone had deliberately kept him out of the loop, ensuring he was unaware that the King had started taking the Church's report seriously. Clifft still thought the King viewed the report the same way he had at the start—just a tool for the Church to gain influence by slandering noble bloodlines. After all, even the King's parents had been cousins.
So Clifft had gone to the King, proposing the marriage in hopes of proving the Church wrong through real-life example and thereby weakening its influence.
Unfortunately, his timing couldn't have been worse. The King had already changed his stance. And the fact that Clifft recommended the daughter of Romanov—the King's political rival—only made things worse.
After hearing everything, Felix dismissed the messenger and turned to Wei Wei with a sigh. "It seems the atmosphere in the capital is going to keep getting worse. We'd better keep our distance—no need to get caught in the crossfire."
Now that the King and Duke Romanov had openly turned against each other, their power struggle would inevitably escalate. Felix feared that the Duke might even make a ruthless move to eliminate his rivals. No matter who got hurt, it would be a bloody mess.
And if the direct heirs began fighting, who's to say the other potential successors wouldn't seize the opportunity? They weren't that far removed from the throne, after all. In the chaos, they might make their plays, hoping to benefit while the others clashed.
In short—the capital was heading into serious turbulence.
Wei Wei, however, was focused on another matter. "We still need to watch the Church. They've gained a lot of influence from this whole affair. We can't let them rise too high."
Compared to succession struggles, her wariness of the Church ran deeper.
Felix kissed her gently. "Don't worry. Once things calm down a bit, we'll put out new information to knock them back down."
For example, the Church's rule about girls marrying at twelve—that was an easy target. They could publish their report showing that girls that young were biologically unfit to bear healthy children. Many even died during childbirth. With the right public education, especially among women, resistance to that rule would grow stronger.
They didn't even need to start with the capital. They could begin right there in Sardinson County.
"No problem," Wei Wei said. "I'm already training those doctors. Once it's warmer, I'll have them offer free clinics. At the same time, we can spread basic health knowledge—and I'll include a few subtle messages in there too."
"Free clinics? What's that?" Felix asked.
"It means giving our people free checkups. If they need treatment, we'll provide medicine as well."
"That's a great idea," Felix agreed. "But if there's any cost for medicine, I'll cover it myself. I won't let you bear that burden."
Their marriage had started with a business partnership, and most of their income now went into shared funds. Still, each had retained a private stash of money—and they never interfered with each other's finances.
It wasn't that Felix didn't want to hand over control—Wei Wei simply didn't want to manage it. Most of Felix's private money was spent on maintaining his military. Even though she hadn't seen it firsthand, Wei Wei knew that Felix had indeed formed a special forces unit in secret. If she took over his finances, she'd also have to oversee military spending—something she had no interest in doing.
Felix knew that for projects led by Wei Wei, she typically funded them herself. But when it came to initiatives that benefited the people, as the lord, it was only right for him to foot the bill. He couldn't allow her to spend her money—especially since her private stash was even bigger than his.
Wei Wei didn't argue. "Then let's go fifty-fifty."
Felix readily agreed.
February 1st marked their first wedding anniversary. Felix had already prepared a gift for Wei Wei, and of course, Wei Wei hadn't forgotten his either. There was no skipping the celebration—but they still chose not to hold a banquet. This left many nobles who had been eagerly awaiting invitations deeply disappointed. They had been anticipating this for a long time.
Felix was now the most powerful noble in the Eastern Pradi Empire. The nobles around him all quietly acknowledged his leadership. Receiving a banquet invitation from the Williams family would be a great honor—and a perfect opportunity to network, build connections, and discuss business. After all, every noble who had worked with Sardinson Castle over the past year had made considerable profits. Everyone was looking forward to the castle's next big move—and hoping to get in on it.
Unfortunately, the current Lord and Lady Williams weren't party people. They rarely hosted banquets, and even when they did, they kept them private—only for internal staff. Even nobles from their territory were rarely invited, let alone outsiders. Last year, aside from their wedding banquet, Sardinson Castle hadn't held a single large event. They had even skipped the year-end feast traditionally held for their people. While this was understandable, many nobles found it out of step with tradition.
Of course, given Felix's status, no one dared openly criticize him. They only sighed in private, lamenting that Count Williams didn't care for social events.
"I heard he didn't like attending parties even when he was in the capital."
"But isn't the Countess pregnant? With how much he adores her, I don't understand why he didn't throw a banquet to announce it."
"I read something about that in a letter he sent my husband. Apparently, in her homeland, there's no such tradition. In fact, in Silk Country, it's considered bad luck to make a fuss before the child is born."
"Well, that explains it. Still, I wish they'd host more banquets—at least invite us over to keep the Countess company."
"So even for their anniversary, there's no banquet?"
"That's right. The Count said in his reply that travel is difficult this time of year, so they decided not to host anything."
Indeed, while February brought no more snowfall in Sadington, the melting snow made things even colder. As the snow melted during the day and refroze into ice at night, the roads became dangerously slippery. Carriages could easily lose traction. At times like this, nobles preferred to stay home whenever possible.
"Looks like we'll have to wait until their heir is born before we can attend a banquet at their castle."