Chapter 457: Everything Arranged Clearly

The nobles had signed.

In just a minute, the last lingering influence of the Southern nobles’ system on this land vanished into thin air.

Gawain sat solemnly at the head of the long table. The thirty-one surviving lords of the South were seated along its sides—each a scion of a venerable and ancient family—bowing their heads in silence as they signed their names on the documents before them. In a corner of the hall, an elderly scholar clad in a long robe directed his apprentice to turn a somewhat bulky arcane device toward the table.

It was, in fact, a maginet communicator. Though heavy enough to require a strong young man to carry it, it represented the pinnacle of Cecil’s current technology.

When the crystal lens of the maginet reflected the scene at the table, Gawain Orlando pressed a button on the device without hesitation.

In a nearby room, a projection crystal above an arcane printing press lit up. A holographic image of the conference hall appeared, accompanied by the mechanical whirring of the machine. The arcane transfer drum glowed with magical energy, rapidly imprinting the transmitted image onto pre-prepared sheets of paper.

Hetty carefully took the freshly printed sheet from the side of the press, rolled it up, and sealed it in an envelope, handing it to an assistant waiting nearby. “Deliver this to the newspaper office. Tell them to run a full-page spread.”

The assistant treated the “master plate” like a precious treasure as he left. Hetty gazed at the holographic projection above the machine, marveling softly, “It’s truly incredible…”

Kamail, floating nearby, asked, “Are you talking about what happened in the hall, or this device?”

“Both,” Hetty turned to him seriously. “The moment the old nobles signed will be recorded this way and spread across the South at an astonishing speed—far beyond any notice, proclamation, or rumor. Irrefutable evidence will blanket this land in an unstoppable wave… I always thought the giant cannons that could split mountains were the most powerful weapons, but now I finally understand why our ancestors said the printing press was just as mighty a weapon.”

She then lowered her gaze to Rebecca, who was crouched behind the press, opening the machine’s cover to inspect its inner workings. “…And I’m amazed that this girl figured out so quickly how to combine the maginet communicator with the arcane printing press.”

“I’ve said it from the start—Rebecca is a genius. She lives up to the Cecil family’s honor,” Gawain’s voice came from the doorway, interrupting Hetty and Kamail’s conversation. “And as for what you just said… I’m glad you finally realize the power of combining the printing press with ‘media.’”

Rebecca, still under the press, heard Gawain’s voice and immediately jumped up excitedly, “Ah! Ancestor, you’re here! You were just—”

“Bang!!”

Her head struck a metal rail beneath the machine with a loud clang that echoed through the room. Gawain saw the entire machine shake from the impact. Rebecca clutched her head, wincing as she crawled out, “Ouch… that hurts…”

Hetty was startled by the commotion and forgot to scold her for a moment, quickly crouching to check her niece’s head. Gawain, equally alarmed, took a few quick steps over to his great-great-granddaughter. “Are you alright?”

Rebecca, holding her head, slowly got up and looked at Gawain with tears in her eyes. “I’m fine…”

Gawain finally relaxed and immediately instructed the mechanical scholar nearby, “Check the machine.”

No one present thought there was anything odd about Gawain’s words…

Hetty gave Rebecca a helpless glare but, recalling she had just been praising the girl moments ago, held back her scolding and instead turned to Gawain. “Ancestor, did you just leave those nobles behind?”

“They finished signing, so the meeting is over,” Gawain said casually. “I’ve already explained all the follow-up arrangements to them. It won’t take long. Of course, to celebrate their newfound freedom and their joining the Cecil family, I arranged a small banquet for them… but how they feel about attending is none of my concern.”

With that, Gawain waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s put that aside for now—have the ‘photos’ been printed? How do they look?”

“Oh, sorry, Ancestor, I already sent them off,” Hetty exclaimed softly, then reported, “The quality is excellent. Printing the illusion magic onto paper creates a very different effect from traditional ‘shorthand’ spells—much more lifelike.”

“That’s good. As long as you’ve reviewed it,” Gawain nodded with satisfaction, then glanced at Rebecca, who was still wiping tears and sniffling nearby. “Silly girl, still hurting?”

“No,” Rebecca said, stiffening her neck and blushing, “but my head’s still buzzing a bit…”

Seeing her trying to stay composed, Gawain sighed with a wry smile. “Ah—take care of your head. Such a brilliant mind would be a huge loss if you knocked yourself silly.”

Hetty also looked amused and sighed quietly before turning to Gawain. “Ancestor, do you think those nobles who signed will settle down peacefully?”

“To be honest, I never trusted them—before or after signing,” Gawain said bluntly, since no outsiders were present. “But I don’t need their wholehearted support or opposition. That’s meaningless. We must remain vigilant, keep them under surveillance at least until they and their first-generation heirs are gone. Even after that, we must watch their descendants, though more leniently.”

He looked toward the conference hall, as if his gaze could pierce walls and doors to see the hesitant nobles leaving.

“Remember: the nobles who signed today and their first-generation direct heirs are barred from holding office, participating in any government department roles, or entering the education or media systems—not even as junior clerks, substitute teachers, or assistant editors. If any among them prove capable and reliable, they may engage in commerce or investment. I even permit them to run factories. With their brains, they can live far more comfortably and prosperously than when they were land nobles. But there is no place for them in government offices, schools, or newspapers.”

“Yes,” Hetty nodded solemnly but voiced her concern, “But this might cause us to miss out on some talent. The direct heirs of noble families are currently the most outstanding intellectuals in this land. While many are unstable, some could be won over and educated…”

Gawain sighed. He understood her point. “Allowing them to run businesses and factories after passing assessments is already the best way to avoid waste. There are risks involved, and weighing those against expected benefits, this policy cannot change. Also, I haven’t imposed a total ban—second and third-generation noble heirs, as well as non-direct branches, may enjoy the same rights as ordinary citizens after evaluation.”

He paused, then added, “Of course, this still means losing some talent and is unfair to them, but it’s a necessary price. It’s easy to wipe out the old nobles’ armies on the battlefield, but if they become part of the Cecil system, removing them later would be a huge problem.”

Hetty bowed her head deeply. “I understand.”

Gawain pondered for a moment before adding, “If you find truly exceptional talent among the Southern nobles or their direct heirs, report to me. I will personally organize assessments and consider exceptions.”

He exhaled. “Now, let’s go meet our real guests.”

Not far from the conference area, in a modest but neat and comfortable reception room, Andrew Leslie and Ropeny Grant waited quietly for the duke’s arrival.

“This day came quickly, didn’t it?” Viscount Andrew raised his cup of red tea and smiled at the lady beside him. “It feels like just yesterday—last year, Cecil was a dying name, and today they already rule the South.”

Ropeny Grant gave a faint, cool smile. “I’ve waited more than a year, Viscount.”

“…You’re a woman to be admired. You have conviction and a stronger will than I,” Andrew said after a brief silence, his tone sincere, then self-deprecating. “Unlike me—I was just investing in a business at first.”

“An investment?” Ropeny looked curiously at the pale man, rumored to be weakened by excessive potion use. She didn’t know much about his past. “What kind of investment?”

“An investment in Duke Cecil,” Andrew’s gaze turned forward, voice low. “It was the boldest deal I’ve ever made in my life…”

“Now Gawain is our sovereign,” Ropeny said quietly, watching him. “Do you think that investment paid off?”

“Paid off or lost…” Andrew muttered, recalling the rapid development of his lands over the past year. His territory had become a full-fledged industrial raw material base for Cecil. He imagined the staggering wealth he’d earned, every gold and silver coin stamped with the Cecil mark. He was hailed as the most outstanding, kind, and enlightened lord in Leslie family history. His people praised him for steadfastly enforcing Cecil’s laws…

He was about to become the governor of Tansan City. As proof of his achievements, the Leslie family would forever hold a seat in the city’s government.

He believed that as long as the Leslie family avoided rebellion and foolishness, his descendants would enjoy immense wealth—far beyond what they had as landowners.

But they would forever lose the power to rule life and death over their lands. Worse, they would have to submit to government administration.

Was this investment a profit or a loss?

“Of course it’s a profit,” Andrew looked up and smiled without hesitation. “I’ve definitely profited, and I could only have profited.”

A servant’s voice sounded outside the door: “Duke Gawain Cecil has arrived—”

(End of chapter)