Mentiel Mont, Lord of the Raven Kingdom (渡鸦国公孟契尔) was the first to break the heavy, silent curtain woven with grief and caution outside the Imperial funeral chamber, clearly stating his support for The Winter Duke Dipper Aureus (寒公爵北斗煜)'s accession to the throne.
Before the authority of the Elector Kings, age was never a measure of influence—whether it was the youngest Lord of the Raven Kingdom or the eldest Lord of the Dragon Fang Kingdom, the vote they held was of equal weight in law.
At this moment, a near-stagnant heaviness pervaded the Council Hall. Six high-backed seats, carved with their respective national emblems, were arranged in a semi-circle, symbolizing the equality of electoral power. Yet, subtle differences in their arrangement hinted at an invisible hierarchy.
Above the hall's dome, portraits of previous Emperors flickered in the dim light. Their stern or wise gazes seemed to penetrate the dust of time, scrutinizing the people below who were deciding the future of the Divine Frostbreath Empire (神圣霜息帝国).
The six Duke-Kings who held the destiny of the Empire were:
Ōu Qīngcāng, Lord of the Dragon Fang Kingdom (龙牙国主敖擎苍), 61 years old, Grandson Faction
Wū Liè, Lord of the Tiger Wing Kingdom, 33 years old, Absent
Lì Shòuyě, Lord of the Silver Wolf Kingdom (银狼国主厉狩野), 58 years old, Grandson Faction
Huá Dān, Lord of the Bronze Sparrow Kingdom (铜雀国主华丹), 48 years old, Grandson Faction
Chéng Mùbái, Lord of the Black Sheep Kingdom, 29 years old, Aureus Faction
Mentiel Mont, Lord of the Raven Kingdom, 26 years old, Aureus Faction
Evidently, the three older, conservative Duke-Kings belonged to the Grandson Faction, believing that the existence of a child Emperor would be beneficial for them. The other three belonged to the Young Faction. Excluding the absent Lord of the Tiger Wing Kingdom, the First Electoral Council confirmed a three-to-two situation.
Ōu Qīngcāng (敖擎苍) caressed the cold dragon-head carving on his chair's armrest, his gaze sweeping over Chéng Mùbái and Mentiel Mont. In the depths of his eyes was the wisdom accumulated from weathering storms, along with an instinctive scrutiny of youthful exuberance.
Lì Shòuyě (厉狩野), true to his title, held his back straight like a spear, his arms crossed, knuckles slightly white from tension, like a silver wolf ready to pounce at any moment. Huá Dān (华丹), the Lord of the Bronze Sparrow Kingdom, appeared more reserved. He gently tapped the table with his fingertips, his gaze lowered, seeming to listen and yet to weigh, his composure making his true thoughts elusive.
The calculation of the older faction was simple: regardless of who was elected, they would likely not live to participate in the next electoral council, so electing a child Emperor to control was the best course of action. Conversely, Dipper Aureus's brilliance was too dazzling, likely to overshadow their family's descendants, and they lacked the ability to control such a strong figure.
The perspective of the younger faction was straightforward: electing a child Emperor to the throne would not allow the younger Duke-Kings to gain prominence in national affairs, as they would be blocked by the three senior figures in terms of seniority. Even if state power was seized, these seniors would still obstruct them, denying opportunities to the young.
Five of the six Duke-Kings had gathered in Prime Lake City; only Wū Liè, Lord of the Tiger Wing Kingdom, was absent from the First Electoral Council.
At the beginning of the meeting, attendants served warm mead to each Duke-King, but hardly anyone touched their cup. The air was filled not only with the fragrance of burning pine but also an invisible, tight tension, like a bowstring drawn to its limit, waiting for the slightest trigger to snap. The recorder knelt behind a low table in the corner, his pen scratching against the paper, documenting every word of this potentially Empire-defining discussion, though fine beads of sweat were already forming on his brow.
Just as the Imperial House prepared to dispatch fast horses to urge his arrival from his fiefdom, a messenger from the Tiger Wing Kingdom arrived first with the dire news—Duke Wū Liè had suddenly died in his own domain.
At this point, only four days had passed since the late Emperor Dipper Huǎng's death.
This news, like the bitterly cold wind of the Northern reaches, instantly froze all the initially subtle, underlying calculations. The Electoral Council was thrust into a clear three-to-two deadlock, which, according to the iron rule of "no coronation without four votes" (非四票不得立), had become a checkmate.
Inside the Council Hall, dry pine wood crackled in the enormous stone fireplace. The roaring firelight, however, could not dispel the chill that permeated the air. The debate between the two factions, focused on almost cruel political expediency, swirled like a vortex.
Ōu Qīngcāng (敖擎苍), the old Duke-King whose hair was streaked with gray, spoke with a voice as steady and hard as his title:
"The succession of the Throne prioritizes legal legitimacy! Imperial Grandson Dipper Qián is the late Emperor's legitimate eldest grandson; his bloodline is pure, and his claim is established. We must discard personal agendas and jointly support the child sovereign to maintain the stability of the Empire's thousand-year legacy. This is the very foundation of the state!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than Chéng Mùbái let out an almost imperceptible scoff, then proclaimed:
"If succession were merely about seniority, why would the six of us need to be here today? The Emperor's revered position carries not just glory but the authority and responsibility to command the entire Empire. How can such a heavy burden be borne by an eight-year-old child? The Winter Duke Dipper Aureus is the son of the late Emperor, full of youth and strength, and in the battle of Cold Well Gorge (冷井峡谷), he rescued the Empire from collapse. His martial achievements and prestige are evident to all in the Empire. Only a lord of such caliber is worthy of the supreme position."
Marquis Sū Wàng of State Stability, sitting to the side, could no longer remain silent. He absolutely could not allow "merit" (功绩) to become the focal point of the discussion, as that would completely undermine his grandson's greatest advantage.
"Lord Chéng's (程国主) words focus too much on the past," Sū Wàng's voice carried a deliberately composed tone. "With His Majesty's passing, what matters is the Empire's future stability. The Winter Duke is indeed a fine general, but talent in commanding troops does not necessarily equal ability in governing a nation. Ruling a vast Empire requires benevolence and prudence, not merely... martial conquest."
This statement was weak and forced, its underlying self-interest almost transparent. Lì Shòuyě (厉狩野), the old general who maintained a soldier's lean physique despite his late fifties, swept his sharp, wolf-like gaze across Sū Wàng, interrupting him with a chilling voice:
"Marquis Sū Wàng (定国侯), restrain yourself," Lì Shòuyě's words were like a drawn sword. "You are not an Elector King. Rashly interfering with the Council will only invite trouble upon yourself. Withdraw."
After Sū Wàng somewhat awkwardly collected himself, Lì Shòuyě turned his gaze to Mentiel Mont, continuing:
"As of now, the three Kingdoms of Dragon Fang (龙牙), Bronze Sparrow (铜雀), and my Silver Wolf (银狼) all support His Highness the Imperial Grandson. The general trend is clear. I believe that soon, the remaining two Duke-Kings will also recognize the current situation and make the same choice. The Marquis Sū Wàng does not need to worry excessively."
Sū Wàng bowed, seemingly submissive. However, Mentiel Mont, who had remained silent like an observer, now let out a low, distinct laugh.
"Duke Lì (厉国公), I am afraid I must disappoint you," Mentiel Mont's voice carried a perfectly measured trace of apology, yet his eyes showed no hint of retreat. "I have no intention of leaving what you call 'confusion.' Marquis Sū (苏侯爷), to conclude that the grand trend is settled now is, perhaps, premature."
"Oh?" Lì Shòuyě's brows knitted, the pressure in his tone instantly increasing. "Dare I ask, Lord of the Raven Kingdom, what is your reason for stubbornly refusing consensus?"
Faced with this aggressive challenge, which sought to corner him, Mentiel Mont broke into a seemingly cheerful, guileless smile, as if discussing merely a trivial matter.
"The reason is simple. The crown of a monarch is too heavy for an eight-year-old child. I merely worry that the dazzling pearls and gold will completely obscure the young Prince's vision of the future."
This nearly irreverent frankness elicited a few gasps in the hall, yet no one dared to reprimand him. For what Mentiel Mont pointed out was the cold, undeniable dilemma that no one could avoid.
Chéng Mùbái immediately chimed in, supporting his temporary ally:
"His Highness Dipper Aureus just crushed the Snow Wolf (雪狼) army with glorious military success. Is not this very ability precisely what the Empire needs right now? Do the Lords truly believe that a commander capable of repelling powerful foreign enemies is less capable of guarding the Empire's glory than a child who needs to be carried?"
This was not a novel argument, but its foundation in fact made it difficult to refute. A shadow crossed Lì Shòuyě's sharply-featured face. He abandoned his wrangling with Chéng Mùbái and focused his sharp gaze entirely on Mentiel Mont.
"Lord Mentiel Mont (孟契尔国主)," he began slowly, each word sounding as if it had been tempered in ice water. "Can you assert before all the Duke-Kings that your strong support for The Winter Duke is completely free of any personal bias?"
"What is the meaning of that?"
"It is known to all that you and The Winter Duke were former classmates at the Royal Academy," Lì Shòuyě pressed further. "Can you guarantee that your current position is driven by a sense of duty to the Empire's public good, and not... the prioritization of an old friend's private relationship?"
Facing this pointed accusation, which sought to nail him to the pillar of "favoritism" (徇私), Mentiel Mont neither flinched nor grew angry.
He simply rubbed his cold fingers together and responded candidly, with a kind of elegant shamelessness:
"Of course, I can assert that."
He smiled faintly.
"It is precisely because we were classmates that I understand Dipper Aureus's ability and character better. This is nominating a capable person for the nation; how can it be mistaken for personal favoritism?"
"Furthermore, my heart is as clear as the sun and moon. I only consider what is most beneficial for the Empire, not what is most beneficial for my own family."
His words did not immediately provoke a rebuttal but plunged the Council Hall into a deeper silence. Several officials standing by the wall unconsciously held their breath; even the crackling of the wood in the fireplace seemed gratingly loud.
Mentiel Mont's speech, like a colossal stone dropped into a calm lake, did not immediately create surging waves, but a sudden acceleration of the undertow. He not only subtly deflected the charge of "favoritism" but also threw the suspicion of "self-interest" (谋私) back at his opponents. The sharpness of his rhetoric and the meticulousness of his thought process secretly astonished everyone present, including his temporary ally Chéng Mùbái.
His intelligence was bold and careful, and his nerves were far tougher than his delicate exterior suggested. In front of the Lord of the Silver Wolf Kingdom, who far surpassed him in both age and seniority, he displayed a faint, implied contempt.
Mentiel Mont's final statement was particularly cutting: it openly framed the Grandson Faction as prioritizing "their own family's interests over the Empire's interests" (谋求自家利益高于帝国利益) —an unforgivable accusation.
Ōu Qīngcāng's brows were deeply furrowed, and the fingers gripping his armrest tightened slightly. The cold light in Lì Shòuyě's eyes intensified, almost becoming palpable. Even Huá Dān (华丹), who had remained aloof, finally raised his eyes, truly scrutinizing the youngest Lord of the Raven Kingdom for the first time. The air became thick with the smell of gunpowder; the last vestiges of polite pretense instantly vanished.
Consequently, Mentiel Mont's speech marked the end of the final "rational" (理性) negotiation of the First Electoral Council. Both sides descended into a confusion of mutual accusation. However, both factions maintained a veneer of dignity; they hurled insults but did not come to blows.
The ensuing debate predictably lacked the initial restraint. Lì Shòuyě openly accused Mentiel Mont of "clever words and a treacherous heart" (巧言令色,包藏祸心); Chéng Mùbái retaliated, implicitly suggesting the three older Duke-Kings were "old and muddled, knowing only how to maintain the status quo" (年老昏聩,只知守成); Ōu Qīngcāng attempted to subdue the opposition with his extensive seniority but was met and dissolved by Mentiel Mont's more incisive logic. Huá Dān occasionally interjected words that sounded conciliatory but often served to further muddy the waters.
Inside the Council Hall, voices rose, and the atmosphere became increasingly strained, like a room filled with gas, only needing a spark. Yet, constrained by the ancient traditions of the Empire, even with words like knives, both sides maintained a surface-level decorum, never crossing the line into physical conflict. But how long could this fragile balance last?
In truth, Mentiel Mont's greatest reason for supporting Dipper Aureus was to maintain the split in the Electoral Council. If he too had defected to the Dipper Qián camp, the suspense of the meeting would instantly vanish, and the value of his crucial vote would plummet.
"Support the weaker side to command the highest price."
This was the strategic cornerstone of all Mentiel Mont's actions. If this "investment" (投资) succeeded, he might break precedent and trade for the position of Prime Minister from the new Emperor. According to the Empire's old statutes, an Elector King could not simultaneously serve as the Imperial Prime Minister—this was the ultimate defense line set by Conqueror Emperor Dipper Kuí to prevent the over-concentration of a subject's power.
Thus, once the Electoral Council concluded, the public authority of the six Duke-Kings ceased until the next council convened. How fortunate Mentiel Mont was to be born in this era! The Emperor had died suddenly, and a new Emperor could not be smoothly elected; an Elector Duke had coincidentally died mysteriously at this time, and the legitimacy of his successor required the Emperor's confirmation...
A perfect, self-perpetuating deadlock (死结) in the cycle of power.
As long as four votes could not be gathered, this stalemate, chaos, and mutual constraint would inevitably continue. And this was the perfect incubator and hunting ground for an ambitious man.
When the meeting adjourned in a disgruntled atmosphere and the Duke-Kings began to leave, Mentiel Mont was one of the last to rise. He walked slowly toward the window, ignoring the angry or scrutinizing glances behind him. Outside, the lamps of Prime Lake City were being lit. The vast surface of Lake Dipper shone with a murky glow in the twilight. The Empire's central hub was now tightly entangled by invisible threads of power. He reached out a finger, lightly tracing the cold pane, as if sketching the invisible chessboard.
Was the death of the Lord of the Tiger Wing Kingdom an accident, or... the beginning of a larger conspiracy? A subtle, almost undetectable curve played on the corner of his mouth. Chaos is a ladder, and he was now standing at the foot of that ladder.
In the depths of his heart, he harbored no contempt for Dipper Aureus's act of patricide; rather, he felt profound sympathy and understanding—that nightmare named Imperial Father should have been purged long ago. They were former classmates and friends; this friendship was genuine.
But beneath that elegant exterior, another set of cold calculations was simultaneously running. He had already deemed the secret of "Dipper Aureus's Regicide" (北斗煜弑父) to be the most lethal weapon for a future day when the two of them would inevitably face off.
He was certain that day was not far off.
And this weapon would be his ultimate trump card for controlling Dipper Aureus.
As for the other four Elector Kings? In his eyes, they were merely pieces positioned differently on the chessboard, and sooner or later, they would all be checked and placed where he desired.
The firelight in the fireplace danced in his deep eyes, reflecting the delicate profile of a young nobleman's seemingly harmless face. He lightly turned up the collar of his fur coat, as if merely to ward off the omnipresent chill in the Empire's center.