The flickering candlelight illuminated the letter spread open on the desk. Its contents were written in meticulous, measured handwriting—typical of the cautious and steady temperament of the old butler, Bradley.
Duke Calvin's eyes fell on the beginning lines, his expectations low for the son this letter concerned. He had never held this child in high regard. But as he read deeper into the message, his previously indifferent expression gradually sharpened, and his brows began to furrow."Performance far exceeding other frontier territories?"
"Agricultural breakthroughs, with early crop maturity?"
"Housing problems resolved more efficiently than even established regions?"
"Magic marrow ore successfully mined, and even a scientific mining plan in place?"
"Even slave management optimized to a degree beyond reproach?"Each point hit harder than the last. But it was the mention that grain production could support an additional 1,500 slaves that gave him pause.
He sat up straighter, narrowing his eyes as he once more examined Bradley's signature at the bottom of the letter. If the letter hadn't been written by Bradley—his family's most loyal servant—he might have suspected deceit. Bribery even. But the familiar penmanship and tone left no doubt.
The Duke's gaze stayed fixed on the parchment. He read on.
It became apparent that Louis's leadership extended far beyond mere administrative competence. His influence was not derived from the Calvin family name, but from his own ability. The loyalty of his people was earned, not inherited.
The Duke's eyes narrowed further when he reached a particularly bold statement."The people of Red Tide Territory hold an almost fanatical respect for Louis.""Fanatical? Is it truly that extreme?"Few lords within the entire Ironblood Empire could command such deep reverence, and certainly not so quickly. The Duke had only ever intended to throw Louis to the wolves in the North—an expendable piece, meant to fend for himself while extracting whatever value remained in him.
Yet now… he had made a name for himself?
A rare smirk curled on the Duke's lips."Indeed, the 'many children, many blessings' approach is never wrong. Like casting a net—cast wide enough, and you'll catch something worthwhile."As he reached the section detailing the magic marrow ore, Duke Calvin's eyes gleamed with renewed interest.
Louis had proposed a bold arrangement: transfer the sales rights of the ore to the family in exchange for financial and political support, while retaining the processing rights and technology."This young man's ambition runs deep."The implications were clear to the Duke. Louis was trying to retain independence. He understood the need for the family's backing—for now—but wanted to hold onto a card that would eventually let him stand alone.
The Duke let out a sneer."He's got nerve, that one."And yet, he wasn't displeased. In fact, he was... intrigued.
The Red Tide Territory, nestled in the remote North, appeared barren and inhospitable. But properly managed, it could become a formidable regional power.
Louis's willingness to surrender sales rights, while keeping the more critical processing knowledge to himself, revealed his strategic foresight. He was laying the groundwork for a future independent economy. If that succeeded, the Red Tide Territory could break free from family dependence and perhaps one day gain its own voice in the empire's trade network.
A typical noble son would have clung tightly to the family's resources, choosing the safety of blind loyalty over risk. But Louis was no typical heir.
Still, that alone wasn't enough for Duke Calvin to fully re-evaluate his son. As it stood, Louis hadn't yet truly established himself, and the profits from the magic marrow ore were still theoretical.
The North was unpredictable. What seemed promising today could collapse tomorrow.
Yet there was no denying the unexpected surprise Louis had delivered.
The Duke appreciated potential—and Louis had just shown he had plenty.
He continued to read as he idly tapped his fingers on the desk.
Bradley's uncharacteristically glowing praise bordered on the unbelievable. It felt surreal, almost absurd. But the results were undeniable.
A child he'd barely acknowledged was now thriving—not in fertile lands or rich cities, but in the harshest, most unforgiving corner of the empire.
Still, there were limits to the Duke's generosity.
The Red Tide Territory, despite its potential, was far from the Calvin family's southeastern heartlands. Committing too much support was not only impractical—it was strategically unsound.
Right now, Louis's domain was a seed yet to sprout. Full of potential, yes—but riddled with uncertainty.
Too much assistance could backfire. It might make Louis overconfident or make him dependent on the family's help. He needed to struggle. To fight for survival. Only then could his true abilities be revealed."Give him just enough—not more."The Duke made up his mind.
He would allocate another 1,000 to 1,500 gold coins. This was sufficient to maintain stability, to ensure the territory wouldn't collapse. But expansion? Louis would have to earn that himself.
He needed to learn how to balance books, to grow revenue, reduce waste, and manage people without relying on a constant stream of subsidies.
The Duke paused, then decided on military support as well—two knight squads. Officially, their duty would be to protect the valuable magic marrow ore. In truth, they were a lifeline—a trump card.
This small force wouldn't change the overall power dynamics in the North, but it would keep Red Tide Territory from being crushed too easily. If Louis had real leadership potential, this would be enough for him to build a foundation.
But if he couldn't even defend himself with this much support?
Then there was nothing more to say. The Duke would cut him loose.
He had many children. The death or failure of one was inconsequential. The family legacy wouldn't be jeopardized by a single failed son."What I lack is not blood. I lack competence."As for talent support, Louis had already demonstrated an ability to manage agriculture, infrastructure, and mining logistics. That level of versatility didn't require micromanagement. The Duke would send a few alchemy apprentices to assist with the basics of magic marrow refinement.
But Louis would have to figure out the rest himself.
If he wanted skilled people, he'd have to attract them. Convince them. Trade what limited resources he had for talent. That, too, was part of being a lord—learning to lead with more than coin.
Regarding political support, Duke Calvin decided on a hands-off approach.
Louis would receive no formal backing. But neither would he face restrictions. He could form alliances, deal with local forces, and build influence however he wished—as long as he didn't embarrass the family."You're a chess piece now, Louis," the Duke mused. "Let's see if you'll become a knight or be trampled underfoot."If Louis crumbled under the pressure, it meant he was never capable to begin with. Let him die in the North. That harsh land would consume the weak.
But if he could survive—thrive even—then he would prove his worth."Let reality teach him. Let hunger drive innovation. Let danger forge strength."The Duke's eyes fell on the letter one final time.
Bradley's words were still hard to believe. But the facts had been laid bare.
Louis had already shown initiative and resourcefulness. He had earned genuine loyalty and cultivated strategic insight."He's shown a bit of backbone."That was more than most of his siblings ever managed.
Very well, then.
Let Louis prove himself further.
Let him struggle in the cold and the dark.
If he could still shine, then perhaps he was worth more than just another forgotten child.
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