Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World - Chapter 461

Chapter 461: The Royal Dilemma 1

Duke (previously count, should be an error) Rupert Walter cautiously poked his head out of the carriage window to look around.

“My lord, I’ve carefully checked ahead; there’s no one in the alley,” reported a servant standing outside, whispering to him.

“Good, today we will take this route.”

The carriage wheels creaked into motion, surrounded by a dozen guards with hands on their sword hilts, their faces tense and alert as if facing a formidable enemy.

However, no sooner had they entered the alley than a loud shout rang out: “The Chancellor’s carriage is here!”

Seated inside, Rupert Walter’s heart skipped a beat, and he muttered in dismay, “Damn it!”

Looking out the window, he saw a large crowd rapidly surrounding them. Where on earth did these people come from? It seemed as if they had emerged out of thin air.

Ever since the rebellion led by the Duke of the Greedy Wolf, Jars, was “quelled,” pacifying the southern nobles who lost their lands during the rebellion had become a significant headache for the royal government.

The so-called quelling of the rebellion merely resulted in Jars’s promise not to secede from the Kingdom of Ordo. However, the land south of Thorn Fortress remained under the control of this nefarious wolf.

In the early stages of the rebellion, the royal army was preoccupied with expelling highland barbarians and reclaiming the capital from the rebel forces, while preparing for the food shortage caused by a fire. This significantly delayed their march southward. Meanwhile, Jars focused on attacking the southern territories loyal to the crown but lacking timely support. By the time the royal army regrouped, most of the southern lands were already under Jars’s control.

Reassessing Jars’s actions during the entire rebellion, it seemed his initial motive wasn’t to seize the highest power of the kingdom but to distract the royal family’s attention through continuous chaos, seizing as much land as he could.

Jars had distributed the newly annexed territories to his subordinates, and the original lords, if alive, were expelled to the north under the guise of “chivalry.”

These dispossessed nobles naturally congregated in the royal capital, Crystal Shine, with their families in tow.

The King had no choice but to allocate a substantial sum for their settlement—after all, they had fallen into such straits due to their loyalty to the crown, and it was only right for the King to honor this loyalty. Ignoring them would have disheartened all nobles loyal to the crown.

However, the King’s compensation only sufficed for maintaining their basic noble lifestyle. While manageable for the lesser or moderately wealthy nobles, it was insufficient for the upper echelons.

Back in their domains, these nobles lived lavish lives with numerous servants and grandeur. In contrast, their current constrained circumstances in Crystal Shine felt like a fall from grace—what was once ordinary had become a distant paradise.

Another stark contrast was the change in status. As lords, their word was law, often outweighing even the King’s commands. Now, displaced in Crystal Shine, their influence and confidence had significantly diminished.

Originally, if the royal army had defeated Jars, they could have reclaimed their lands and even seized additional territories from the defeated Jars and his vassals as a reward for their loyalty.

But the unexpected outcome of the conflict seemed to imply the royal family’s tacit acceptance of Jars’s control over the southern lands.

What about their original territories? What about their future livelihoods?
Discontent and resentment slowly brewed among these dispossessed nobles.

Thus, they began fervently lobbying within the noble circles of Crystal Shine, demanding the mobilization of an army to punish the traitor Jars, to cleanse the kingdom’s shame and recover their southern lands.

Pressured by their dire circumstances, reclaiming their lands gradually became their primary goal.

Their actions resonated with the hardliners among the nobility, garnering support and evolving into a potent force. Their movements grew increasingly bold, culminating in daily petitions at the palace gates and intercepting the carriages of high-ranking court officials at major thoroughfares.

Duke Rupert Walter, the Chancellor who had served the current King for nearly two decades, now found himself trapped by such a crowd.

“Lord in Heaven,” he thought, “to avoid these people, I’ve been changing my route to the palace every day.”

Unable to hide any longer, Rupert resignedly straightened his clothes and stepped down from the carriage, glaring sternly at the attendant who had scouted the route.

The guards, with shields in hand, closely protected the Chancellor.

This dire situation had arisen unavoidably, especially after a court official was hit with a rotten egg while arguing with these people the day before yesterday.

Though that official was not of high rank, who could guarantee that the disgruntled nobles’ anger would not extend to a minister?

What if a rotten egg were replaced by a brick, or even a dagger?

“Chancellor! How is the discussion with His Majesty and the ministers progressing?”

“Yes, when will the royal army be sent to punish the rebel?”

“Chancellor! If there is a military campaign, please take me with you. I want to see my domain being reclaimed with my own eyes.”

As soon as Rupert stood firm, a cacophony of requests for warfare filled his ears.

He waved his hands, trying to pacify them, “Gentlemen! War is not a trivial matter; it’s a top-tier issue concerning the nation’s safety and future. Naturally, it can’t be decided in just a day or two.”

He was in a dilemma, unable to promise immediate action or outright refusal.

The crowd was dissatisfied with his response.

“One or two days might not be enough, but it’s been almost one or two years now. Haven’t you decided yet?”

“Yes! At this rate, people in our domains will soon forget about us, their lords.”

“Chancellor, we don’t want to be parasites in the capital; we want to return to our domains and be self-sufficient.”

Amidst the noisy and discontented voices, Rupert felt overwhelmed.

“Chancellor, we know that nothing can be decided on the street. This is our collective petition to the King.”

An elderly man, trembling, took out a thick booklet from his bosom and handed it to Rupert shakily.

“Please make sure it reaches His Majesty. Ah, how I wish to see my homeland once more before I am called by the Lord!”

The old man, tears streaming down his face, incited others around him to weep as well.

Sigh! How many times had it been? Initially, Rupert felt somewhat moved, but now his heart was only filled with cold indifference.

The Chancellor wagered that Jars’s spies were nearby, secretly watching and reveling in his predicament.