Far away in the palace of Deity Grypherburg, when Fyodor heard this news, his mood—which had previously felt like seeing a swarm of cockroaches scuttling around his house—finally improved significantly.
Seeing his expression, the minister standing beside him also slightly relaxed his trembling heart. Although he was a courtier trusted by the Emperor, who knew if an enraged monarch might turn his blade upon them to vent his fury?
"Your Majesty, I still find it difficult to understand. Are you truly prepared to pay such an immense price merely for that intelligence? Those documents have been in their hands for some time now. Based on my understanding, they must be destroying the leads..."
The minister questioned Fyodor with slight confusion. For something that might be little better than scrap paper if the delay continued, was it worth committing so many resources? Even the Emperor's Blades had been mobilized.
Fyodor said nothing in response to the minister's inquiry. He remained silent for a moment before slowly exhaling. During that interval, the room was so quiet that one could almost hear heartbeats.
"You cannot look at it that way, Augusta. Even if there is only a sliver of possibility, we must fight for it! Otherwise, we will only become more passive, and the chaos of these past few days will become the norm!"
Recalling the scene of those nobles meeting him today, the fire in Fyodor's heart was ignited once more. He clenched his right hand into a fist and slammed it hard onto the table, causing the objects resting there to jump.
Augusta, hearing this, recalled those courtiers who had spoken with a subtly threatening tone right to the Emperor's face today. He finally understood where the Emperor's obsession lay. Those fellows were practically saying outright that if Fyodor continued to choose not to send troops against Laterano, it would damage the prestige of Ursus and bring shame upon his father's memory.
Fyodor had been so enraged he nearly ordered them to be dragged out and hanged on the spot. But the power held by these people was simply too vast; killing them might very well trigger an uprising in the court...
When Fyodor was alone in his bedchamber, he felt that being the Emperor of Ursus to such a pathetic degree was a feat that was likely unparalleled in history, both past and future.
But he had no choice! He had ascended the throne in great haste after his father's sudden death. Leave aside building his own faction—merely keeping these few ministers here had already cost him immense effort.
Even so, the power in his hands was fundamentally incapable of facing the War Faction head-on. Those men had absorbed far too much nourishment from past wars; they were not something a new Emperor like him could easily shake. These former ministers of his father had no intention of submitting to him so easily. They wanted to monopolize power, control him like a puppet emperor, and thereby dictate the future of Ursus.
"We must seize every force that can help us. Within this Summer Palace, only I, Fyodor, shall decide the future of Ursus! To that end, I am willing to pay even more."
The surrounding ministers were not surprised by Fyodor's words, but they hadn't realized that the final battle against the War Faction had already begun. The Emperor was now planning to stake everything on a single throw of the dice, using all his strength to gamble against those nobles.
"But... are we moving a bit too hastily, Your Majesty? If you were given another five years to develop, our chances of success would be much better than they are now."
The ministers felt the Emperor's current approach was somewhat radical. They were afraid to accompany him in such a massive risk. After all, if such a thing failed, no one would dare touch the Emperor, but they would become the punching bags for the nobility. Their families would be thrown into the mines.
Looking at the hesitant expressions of these ministers, Fyodor couldn't help but sigh. Even these officials, the most loyal to him, acted this way under these circumstances—let alone those officials who chose to remain neutral.
"I have not lost my mind to anger, nor do I intend to simply charge in and throw my life away. I have my own plans and arrangements, but the remaining steps can only be finalized after our conversation."
Fyodor's words were undoubtedly a shot of adrenaline for those loyal to him. If he could maintain his rationality, then the Emperor must have sufficient confidence; otherwise, he wouldn't risk his own life. After all, one only gets one chance at something like this. Once the nobles gained the upper hand, they would naturally move toward the idea of choosing a more controllable Emperor.
Thinking of this, everyone couldn't help but miss the era when the late Emperor was on the throne. Back then, these nobles were as low-key as shadows—how could they be as arrogant as they were now?
But with the late Emperor's sudden passing, everything had changed. These nobles, who once lived humbly, suddenly leaped out, relying on the armies in their hands to start looking down on everyone.
"Fine, all of you may leave. I need a moment of peace."
As his voice fell, the people in the room departed one after another. They discussed the Emperor's methods amongst themselves, some still carrying gazes full of worry.
As they left, the room fell into silence once again. The Emperor sat quietly, looking at the documents on the desk as if waiting for someone to arrive.
After a long while, the sound of a door opening echoed, and an Emperor's Blade entered. The Blade walked into the room and immediately bowed respectfully to him.
In this silent room, Fyodor hadn't heard a single sound until the Emperor's Blade walked in. Even as he sat there, he couldn't hear the man's footsteps.
"Your Majesty, it has been confirmed that a group among our Emperor's Blades has begun to collaborate with the nobility. However, the complete list of personnel cannot be determined yet."
The one bowing was the current superior of the Emperor's Blades, the one once referred to by Kashchey as "Twenty-Nine." At this moment, however, he felt an incomparable sense of shame. The Emperor's Blades had actually been infiltrated by others!
This was the very reason Fyodor was so anxious to strike at the War Faction nobles. When even the Emperor's Blades, who were supposed to be completely loyal to the Emperor, began to waver, who would be left to trust in a little more time?
"The Emperor's Blades... the Emperor's sharpest tools. To think that subordinates who once swore absolute loyalty to me would one day stand in opposition... How laughable. I truly have been a failure as an Emperor."
Twenty-Nine did not raise his head, but from the tone of the voice alone, he could imagine the hidden rage beneath the Emperor's cold, mocking smile.
"Your Majesty, this is the negligence of your subordinates! We did not expect those newcomers to be swayed by others, let alone cooperate with them. I am willing to take full responsibility for this failure, but please, Your Majesty, believe in us. The Emperor's Blades will remain absolutely loyal to you!"