Chapter 114

Indeed, the Lyne family’s affairs will collapse completely within no more than two months.

After hearing the Princess’s judgment, the Minister of Defense couldn’t help but shake his head, a strange sense of melancholy rising in his heart.

Whoever becomes the new Duke of Lionheart can only watch helplessly as the Lyne family falls, yet how much better off are the Princess and I, who are also propping up our own crumbling structures?

The old nobility’s influence is deeply entrenched; nearly a third of the twenty-odd major departments are controlled by them, like fat, bloated lice clinging to the nation and draining it dry.

The merchants and parliamentarians, raised to counter the old nobility’s grip on the Upper Academy, initially served as a check—but after over a hundred years of development, they grew too powerful to control and now relentlessly exploit their legislative power in the Lower Academy to seize benefits for themselves.

With joint support from both academies, the kingdom’s regulation of commerce has grown increasingly lax in recent years; though commerce has flourished, tax revenues have plummeted rapidly.

The kingdom’s wealth is now wildly concentrating in the hands of big merchants and the old nobility—they grow ever fatter and stronger, while ordinary people and the state itself grow steadily thinner and weaker.

These ailments were once barely contained, but the six-year-old War of National Defense shattered all pretense; now the kingdom’s finances are in chronic deficit, the military’s readiness is slack, and rebels wreak havoc everywhere—all problems teetering on the brink of explosion.

Even after the efforts of two successive royal generations to reclaim fiscal control, and despite my own rise to Minister of Defense as part of the “Princess Faction,” gaining influence over the military, the overall situation remains grim.

If the Princess’s reforms ultimately fail and fail to sweep away these deep-rooted maladies, then the entire kingdom is merely a cabbage rotting a little slower…

…

“Princess Veronica!”

As he reached this thought, the white-haired old man drew a deep breath, then straightened his slightly hunched back with solemn expression:

“Since the Lyne Blood Night, the military has opened many powerful vacancies; I intend to seize as many as possible. If you have no other matters to discuss, I shall take my leave.”

“None.”

Shaking her head, the Princess noticed the Minister’s hair had grown even whiter since their last meeting; warmth flickered in her eyes as she added:

“Your complexion has worsened lately—please take better care of your health.

I know time is urgent, but if you collapse from exhaustion, all our years of effort will be utterly wasted.”

“I promise!”

After vaguely replying to the Princess, the old man declined her offer to see him out, and strode out of the room with two young officers; no sooner had his footsteps vanished than someone gently tapped on the door.

“Come in.”

With a soft creak of the hinge, a young man in a dark wool overcoat, his face heavy with lethargy, shuffled in, slumping into the chair opposite the Princess.

“You handled this matter very well.”

Ignoring his rudeness, the Princess smiled, lifting the file of the new Duke of Lionheart, and asked:

“A man who was only recently added to the Lyne family register, whose hair isn’t even golden—how did you make him the new Duke of Lionheart?”

“It’s simple.”

The lethargic youth lifted his eyelids slightly, pulled two dice from his pocket, and placed them on the table; then, with a listless tone, explained:

“Without any intervention, the old duke’s chance of choosing him was only three percent. If you kill five to seven heirs and elevate his succession rank to within the top five, the probability jumps directly to fifteen percent.

Then, sneak into the hospital, find the old duke’s medicine, and mix in a alchemical tonic that accelerates heartbeats; kidnap the grandson of the old duke’s most trusted steward, and force him to deliberately provoke the duke’s emotions—

the probability rises to thirty-six percent.”

Though no one touched them, the two dice on the table began to tremble and shift.

First, one stood on its edge, the other showed three; then one showed one, the other five; then three and six—exactly matching the numbers the lethargic youth had just stated.

“Finally, order a cartload of bananas from the Banana Fruit Shop, secretly loosen the wheel locks, and cause the cart to overturn at the intersection, blocking the main road to the hospital—delaying Leon’s arrival until the very moment the old duke’s emotions peak—his chance of being chosen rises to sixty-six percent…”

As the lethargic youth finished speaking, the two dice flipped once, both showing sixes face up.

“Now it’s just a matter of luck.”

Pointing at the dice, the lethargic youth concluded:

“If events unfold within this sixty-six percent range, he’ll be chosen; if not, someone else will become the new duke.”

“I see.”

After hearing the full account, the Princess clapped twice softly and praised:

“What an astonishing ability—even after working with you several times, I still find it incredible.

You merely perform unrelated actions in sequence, and suddenly the success rate of any endeavor climbs to around sixty percent…”

“Not around sixty percent. Sixty-six percent.”

The lethargic youth corrected her seriously, pointing at the dice:

“The left die is the tens digit, the right is the ones digit. Since dice only go up to six, the maximum success rate is sixty-six percent.”

“So, have you considered switching to two ten-sided dice?”

“No. Only these two dice have this effect.”

“Alright…”

The Princess blinked with faint regret, then pulled out an anonymous check and placed it on the table.

“This is the agreed payment. Good cooperation.”

“I’m sorry, but I need an additional fee.”

After folding and pocketing the check, the lethargic youth said seriously:

“You didn’t tell me Leon Lyne is also an employee of our Sixth Clearance Bureau, and he’s highly valued by the Director. My actions carried considerable risk—so the price must rise ten percent above our original agreement.”

“I accept the price increase.”

The Princess frowned slightly but didn’t argue; after a moment’s thought, she made a request:

“But since this extra fee wasn’t agreed upon, in compensation, you must use these two dice to answer me one more question.”

“Agreed.”

Nodding, the lethargic youth picked up the dice and asked:

“What’s your question?”

“Same as before.”

The Princess took a deep breath, closed her eyes slightly, and whispered:

“How must I act to save this nation?”