129: Chapter 129 The Most Expensive Autograph in History

The hand holding the "Third Legion Reorganization and Retirement Security Agreement" was taut with protruding veins, its knuckles turning slightly white from the force of the grip.

General Marcellus, a battle-hardened soldier who had spent half his life soaked in the wind and frost of the North, was using every ounce of his strength just to keep the thin piece of parchment from slipping through his trembling fingers.

He took a deep breath. The air was cold, carrying the scent of ink and old paper unique to the study, yet it could not calm the turbulent waves crashing within his chest.

He thought of the old comrades who had followed him for years; he thought of their broken bodies ravaged by illness, their coughing fits in the winter nights because they couldn't get enough charcoal, and the way their eyes held a mixture of mockery and despair whenever they looked toward the Imperial Capital.

That ethereal imperial glory had never brought them a full meal or a warm coat.

But this agreement before him—every word felt like a heavy gold brick slamming onto the solid earth of reality.

Thud.

A dull sound echoed.

Marcellus dropped to one knee, his hard knee armor clashing against the smooth stone floor with a crisp ring.

This action even caught Evelyn, standing beside him, slightly by surprise.

This was not a vassal's oath to a lord, nor did it look like a defeated man begging for mercy.

His back was ramrod straight, like a spear about to be thrust into the battlefield.

He simply lowered his proud head and held the agreement level above him with both hands, the movement as solemn as a sacred ritual.

"Lord Levi." His voice was raspy, yet carried an unprecedented resolve. "I, Marcellus, and the Third Legion behind me, shall from this day forward no longer fight for any Emperor or Empire."

Levi did not speak, only watching him quietly.

"We fight only for this agreement." Marcellus looked up, and those hawk-like eyes actually shimmered with moisture. "Whoever guarantees its validity, we shall die for them. Whoever dares to tear it up, we shall drain their blood dry!"

There was no loyalty in this oath, only a transaction. Yet it was the most reliable promise Levi had ever heard.

He stepped forward personally, took the agreement from Marcellus's hands, placed it on the desk, and handed over a charcoal pen soaked in ink.

Marcellus took the pen and, without hesitation, signed his name at the end of the agreement in a bold, sweeping script that seemed to pierce through the paper.

The ink was not yet dry, appearing as if it still carried his searing determination.

Behind Levi, Evelyn moved with subtle speed.

Her fair, slender fingers were rapidly flicking across a palm-sized brass contraption.

It was a Miniature Magi-tech Calculator, the latest product from the Blackstone Territory Alchemy Workshop, capable of processing calculations a hundred times more complex than an abacus.

A series of complex numbers flashed across a Glimmering Mana-crystal on her retina.

The moment Marcellus signed his name, the calculation results were finalized.

She walked to Levi's side, leaning forward slightly, and reported in a voice only the two of them could hear: "My Lord, based on the six thousand veterans of the Third Legion and according to the terms of the agreement, the total estimated cost for pensions, compensation, and medical security we need to pay over the next twenty years will exceed three million gold coins."

This figure was enough to completely bankrupt any ducal territory in the North within ten years.

Her voice held no emotion, merely stating a cold fact: "The more immediate problem is that Blackstone Territory's current cash flow, after deducting various project payments and raw material advances, can at most support the Greystone Keep garrison and the Third Legion—a total of over forty thousand men—for three months of full salary. The pension reserve account is currently at zero."

Levi didn't even blink, as if the astronomical figure Evelyn reported was merely today's weather.

He reached out and, with an indisputable strength, helped the kneeling General Marcellus to his feet.

"General, welcome aboard." His palm was warm and firm as he patted Marcellus's solid shoulder.

Marcellus stood up. His tall frame made Levi look somewhat slight, yet the steady aura Levi exuded made this battlefield veteran willingly lower his gaze.

"Tiberius must be getting impatient. From now on, you are partners of equal rank; there are many things that will need coordinating." As Levi spoke, he led Marcellus out of the study.

In the adjacent parlor, Tiberius had been waiting for a long time.

Seeing Marcellus enter, his face showed no tension from meeting an old rival; instead, he wore a knowing smile.

He proactively extended a hand. "It seems you've received that 'indentured servitude contract' as well."

Levi signaled Evelyn to hand a copy of the agreement to Tiberius.

Tiberius took it and looked it over. The terms were largely the same as the security plan he had previously received for the Greystone Keep garrison, though the benefits for veterans were even more generous.

There wasn't a hint of jealousy on his face; rather, he looked relieved as he nodded to Marcellus. "Congratulations. You've secured the best possible destination for your brothers."

He turned to Levi, his tone having fully transitioned into the role of a 'professional manager': "My Lord, since we are now two independently accounted security divisions, I have a proposal. There are many areas where Greystone Keep's logistics system and Ironthorn City's training framework can be merged and reorganized. For instance, unified procurement of military rations and horse feed can secure lower prices; centralized training for new recruits can save on instructors and facility resources. This could save us at least fifteen percent in daily operating costs."

Marcellus listened in a daze; he had never imagined a military could be operated this way.

In his understanding, logistics and training were the lifeblood of a legion—secrets that could never be shared with outsiders.

But in Tiberius's mouth, these had become quantifiable, optimizable "costs" and "efficiency."

Was this the Blackstone Territory model?

For the first time, Marcellus felt a sense of... curiosity toward this young lord that far exceeded mere awe.

Levi looked at Tiberius's proposal with approval. He had intended to implement these measures anyway, and having Tiberius propose them voluntarily made the effect naturally better.

"The two of you discuss and come up with a concrete plan," he said, then turned to the guards outside the door. "'Invite' Envoy Cassius over."

Soon, a haggard Cassius was escorted in by two guards.

His noble attire was unrecognizable, and his face was filled with fear and humiliation.

When he saw Marcellus and Tiberius—the two Imperial generals who should have been his backup—standing respectfully by Levi's side like subordinates, the last shred of hope in his heart was completely extinguished.

Levi offered no judgment, no reprimand, and didn't even give him a second look.

He simply gestured for Evelyn to place a pre-prepared document on the table in front of Cassius.

It was a Confession.

The contents were detailed to a hair-raising degree, documenting exactly how "he" had conspired with the Northern Quartermaster Varnes to embezzle over two hundred and fifty thousand gold coins in military funds over the past three years through false reporting of rations, reselling weapons, and withholding pay.

Every account entry, every timestamp, even the locations of every secret meeting were written clearly, as if it were a diary written by Cassius himself.

Cassius took one look and began to shake like a leaf.

This was slander!

It was a blatant frame-up!

Yet the "evidence" listed was damnably realistic; many details were even clearer than his own memory.

"Two choices." Levi's voice finally sounded, as calm as if discussing an inconsequential business deal. "First, sign it. You will receive a severance package sufficient for you to live a wealthy, anonymous life in any southern city, along with a forged merchant's travel permit to ensure you leave the North safely."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Cassius's bloodless face.

"Second," his voice turned cold, "you don't sign. In that case, you will be 'handed over' to the soldiers outside. They have just learned that the reason they nearly froze to death in winter and went months without pay was all because of you, the esteemed Envoy. I imagine they would be very happy to organize a 'public trial' to decide your fate."

Cassius snapped his head up, looking at Tiberius and Marcellus standing behind Levi.

Tiberius's gaze was as if he were looking at a dead man.

And Marcellus, the general who had just been moved by the future of his veteran soldiers, now had eyes as cold as iron.

His silence was, in itself, the most terrifying threat.

Cold sweat slid down Cassius's temple, dripping onto the Confession on the table and blurring a small patch of ink.

He knew he had no room for choice.

His life and his reputation had been completely destroyed the moment Levi decided to use the newspapers to vilify him.

Now, he was merely signing a final price tag for his wretched life.

With trembling hands, he picked up the pen and, under the icy stares of Tiberius and Marcellus, used the last of his strength to sign his name at the bottom of the Confession.

Evelyn stepped forward and elegantly picked up the priceless Confession as if it were a common work report.

She then took a heavy coin purse and a parchment travel permit from her robes and placed them before Cassius.

"I wish you a pleasant journey, former Lord Envoy." She bowed slightly, her tone devoid of mockery, yet it made Cassius feel a chill that reached his very marrow.

Subsequently, the two guards stepped forward again to "escort" the despondent Cassius out through the back door of the City Lord's Mansion.

Marcellus, carrying that heavy agreement and the first batch of "retirement startup funds"—ten crates of solid gold advanced from the Blackstone Territory treasury—returned to Ironthorn City through the night.

Without a moment's delay, he immediately ordered the entire army to assemble.

Over thirty thousand soldiers stood at attention on the vast drill grounds, the Northern wind kicking up dust in a solemn and heavy atmosphere.

They didn't know what had happened, only seeing a complex expression on their general's face that they had never seen before.

Marcellus wasted no words. He stepped onto the high platform and, in front of everyone, read every single term of the "Third Legion Reorganization and Retirement Security Agreement" in a voice like a booming bell.

From triple wages to new equipment, to children's education...

The drill grounds were pin-drop silent. The soldiers' eyes widened as if they were listening to a distant fairy tale.

When Marcellus read the clause stating that "all soldiers who have served for more than ten years or have been disabled in battle may choose to retire with honor, receiving a lump-sum pension equivalent to twenty years of salary and lifelong medical security from Blackstone Territory," the entire legion fell into a deathly silence.

Then, Marcellus gave a sudden wave of his hand.

The personal guards behind him carried the ten heavy wooden crates onto the platform and kicked open the lids simultaneously.

Crash—

Golden light, under the gray Northern sky, stung everyone's eyes.

They weren't copper coins, nor silver coins, but ten full crates of gold coins, stacked neatly and shimmering with a dazzling hue in the sunlight!

"Old brothers!" Marcellus's voice went hoarse. He pointed at those gold coins and roared at the gray-haired, scarred veterans in the front ranks, "This is your future! This is the dignity you've traded your blood and lives for! Now, go and take it back!"

The deathly silence was shattered completely.

A veteran who had lost an arm fell to his knees, trembling and wailing loudly.

His crying was like a signal, instantly igniting the entire drill grounds.

Cheers erupted like a volcano that had been suppressed for a hundred years.

The sound pierced the clouds, making all of Ironthorn City hum with the vibration.

Soldiers tossed their helmets into the sky; they hugged each other and cried out loud, venting all the accumulated years of humiliation, poverty, and despair.

What they shouted was no longer the distant and illusory "Long live the Emperor," but an incredibly real, incredibly loud name—

"Blackstone Territory!!"

Marcellus stood on the platform, looking at the boiling ocean of men below, his eyes rimmed with red.

He knew that from this moment on, the Imperial Third Legion was dead.

What lived on was a pack of Blackstone Territory wolves, fighting only for gold and dignity.

Silvermoon City, City Lord's Mansion.

Levi stood by the window, appearing as though he could hear the earth-shaking cheers from three hundred miles away.

He didn't turn around, simply extending his hand calmly.

Evelyn understood immediately and gently placed the Confession, its ink now completely dry and signed by Cassius's own hand, into his palm.