83: Chapter 83 A Contract: Recruiting the Future Empress

Victor could feel a core part of his life slipping away with the eager backs of those nobles.

He was like a stone statue abandoned in a corner, watching helplessly as the allies who had sworn allegiance to him and shared his former glory now swarmed around Levi like a pack of sharks smelling blood.

Their faces no longer held any awe for the Arbiter; instead, there was an undisguised, blatant greed and flattery.

The words once used to accuse Levi now turned into praise.

Disregarding the law?

No, that was the pioneering spirit of daring to challenge old conventions.

Associating with creatures of the abyss?

That was the magnanimity of embracing all, without sticking to one pattern.

Even the profit report that almost ruined him became a sacred text that everyone vied to read.

Levi was no longer the criminal in the dock; he had become the rising new sun in this hall of power, and Victor himself was the setting sun.

Levi's senses were enveloped by various mixed scents and sounds.

Expensive perfumes, cigar tobacco, and the slightly heated body odor of nobles due to excitement, blended into a unique aroma representing power and desire.

Duke Dupont's thick arm almost rested on his shoulder, as he gushed about the astonishing profits that southern silk routes through Blackstone Territory could bring.

The Alchemist Marquis, on the side, eagerly added, hoping to obtain priority purchasing rights for the magic energy crystals produced by Blackstone Territory's new mines.

He handled it all, a gentle and perfectly appropriate smile on his face.

His body subtly shifted back, skillfully avoiding Duke Dupont's overly intimate contact, maintaining distance without appearing rude.

His gaze lingered on each person's face for a duration as precise as if measured with a ruler, ensuring no one felt neglected.

His answers were always positive and vague: "This is a very promising direction, Your Grace," "Your suggestion is highly constructive, Marquis, we can have a professional team follow up on the details."

He was like a precise social machine, efficiently processing the incoming information flow, while rapidly tagging each person and family in his mind, evaluating their value, potential risks, and exploitable weaknesses.

This hearing, from beginning to end, was nothing more than a meticulously planned large-scale roadshow.

The defendant's stand was his stage, Victor was his backdrop, and these top nobles of the empire were his target clients for fundraising.

Now, the roadshow was successful, and he had smoothly secured the "investment" he wanted.

The surrounding clamor gradually subsided, and the nobles, with satisfied promises and aspirations for the future, left in twos and threes.

When the last Baron reluctantly released his hand and bowed out, a semblance of quiet finally returned to the hall.

Only a few council attendants in the distance were quietly clearing away debris, the faint clinking of metal and stone echoing in the empty hall.

Levi gently exhaled, his nerves, taut all day, finally able to relax a little.

He rubbed his somewhat stiff cheek muscles; the earlier smiles had cost him a lot of energy.

This performative socializing was essentially physical labor.

Footsteps came from behind and to the side, not heavy, but very firm.

Levi didn't even need to turn around to recognize the person from that unique rhythm.

It was Princess Ella Radiance.

He turned around and saw her standing not far away.

The Imperial Princess had today changed out of her usual sacred white gown, wearing a well-tailored dark blue riding-style formal dress, which made her seem less ethereal and more capable and heroic.

Her golden hair was meticulously coiled at the back of her head, revealing her smooth forehead and elegant neck line.

However, her emerald eyes were now filled with complex emotions, like the sea after a storm, seemingly calm but with undercurrents surging beneath.

She looked at him, no longer with the disgust of their first meeting, nor the shock and apprehension of the trial.

It was a new kind of scrutiny, with a touch of inquiry, a hint of awe, and even a trace of undeniable... admiration.

"My past opinion of you was wrong," Ella spoke first, her voice clear and cold, yet exceptionally distinct.

She didn't use the polite address "Lord Byron," but directly used "you," which instantly brought their conversation closer and made it more serious.

Levi did not show the arrogance of a Victor, merely looking back at her calmly: "People's perceptions of things are always changing, Your Highness."

Ella nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied with this neither humble nor arrogant reply.

She took two steps forward, shortening the distance between them to within three paces, a social distance that allowed for both a sense of security and a clear expression of attitude.

"I request a private meeting with you." She used "request," not a command or a suggestion.

This word, coming from an Imperial Princess, itself represented a lowering of posture, a signal acknowledging that the other party was on equal footing with her.

Her expression was extremely serious, even carrying a sense of desperate resolve: "This concerns the foundation of the Empire, and also... my personal destiny."

Levi's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, as if evaluating the truthfulness of her words.

He saw her clenched fists, and the burning flame deep within her emerald eyes.

That was not the flame of ambition, but the karmic fire of vengeance.

"Please follow me, Your Highness." He made a gesture to invite her, without asking another word.

Passing through a deep, secluded corridor on the side of the Council Chamber, the thick carpet underfoot almost absorbed all sound.

Portraits of past Grand Speakers hung on the walls, watching them with silent and dignified gazes.

Levi stopped before an unremarkable oak door; this was a temporary lounge he had rented earlier through Hamilton, its only advantage being its soundproofing.

Inside the secret room, Sylvie was already waiting and had prepared two steaming cups of black tea for them.

She bowed to Ella, then quietly retreated behind Levi, like a dutiful secretary.

Ella did not sit down, nor did she touch the tea.

She stood in the center of the room, as if having accumulated strength for a long time, finally finding an outlet for release.

"Victor is very likely just a puppet." She went straight to the point, dropping a bombshell with her first sentence.

"The reason he went to such lengths, even risking tearing apart the entire noble class to suppress you and Blackstone Territory, was not entirely, as he claimed, to uphold the old order. I suspect he is being manipulated by a secret organization called 'Grey Hand'."

Levi picked up his teacup, gently blew on the rising steam, his face showing no surprise, as if listening to an anecdote unrelated to himself.

His calm demeanor, in turn, made Ella feel a touch of bewilderment.

"Grey Hand?" He repeated the name, as if savoring an unfamiliar word.

"Yes." Ella's tone became heavy. "This is an extremely secretive organization. I spent a long time finding some clues. They cling to the Empire's body like leeches, stirring up disputes between different factions, creating chaos, and then extracting astonishing profits. Border conflicts, friction between lords, and even... even my brother, His Highness Claudius, the Empire's first in line to the throne, unexpectedly falling from his horse—I suspect they are involved."

By the end, her voice held an uncontrollable tremor.

The flames of vengeance danced in her pupils, making her exude a dangerous and tragic beauty.

Levi slowly took a sip of tea, the warm liquid sliding down his throat, bringing a touch of relief.

He placed the teacup back on the table with a crisp, light sound.

Throughout the process, he remained silent, allowing Ella's narration and emotions to ferment alone in the confined room.

It wasn't until Ella's chest heaved with excitement and her breathing quickened that he slowly spoke: "So, Your Highness, what do you wish for me to do? Become the sword of your vengeance?"

Ella was stunned. She had anticipated various reactions from Levi—shock, doubt, or haggling—but she had never expected him to be so direct, stripping away all her righteous pretense in an instant and pinpointing her core objective.

She took a deep breath and nodded: "Yes. Your wisdom and methods, I have witnessed firsthand. Only you, perhaps, can contend with that vast organization hidden in the shadows. In return, as long as I can ascend to that position, I will..."

"Your Highness." Levi interrupted her, his voice still gentle, but carrying an irrefutable power.

He gave Sylvie a look from behind him.

Sylvie immediately understood, taking out a document, already sealed with wax, from her personal bag and handing it over with both hands.

Levi took the document and placed it on the table in front of Ella, tapping it lightly with his finger.

"Your Highness, let's discuss something more practical."

Ella's gaze fell on the document, her heart filled with confusion.

She tore open the wax seal and unfolded the parchment.

The title that met her eyes caused her pupils to contract sharply.

"Framework Agreement on Optimizing the Strategic Partnership between the Imperial Royal Family and Blackstone Territory"

She quickly skimmed the clauses below, her heart growing colder with each line.

There wasn't a single word in the agreement about grand terms like "vengeance," "justice," or "the future of the Empire."

It was entirely filled with cold, mercenary business clauses.

Party A: Blackstone Territory. Party B: Ella Radiance.

The agreement clearly stipulated: Party A, Blackstone Territory, would utilize its intelligence network, economic entities, and armed forces to assist Party B in investigating and gradually eliminating the latent forces of the "Grey Hand" organization within the Empire, particularly in the capital region.

In return, Party B, Princess Ella, would need to leverage her status as a royal family member and the higher authority she might gain in the future to secure three key economic privileges for Party A: exclusive rights to salt and iron in the eastern marches of the Empire; priority usage rights for the shipping lanes from the lower reaches of the Roaring River to its estuary; and first-priority land and mineral exploration rights in newly developed colonies.

This agreement completely defined her vengeance, steeped in blood and tears, as a clearly priced commercial transaction.

Her hatred, her ideals, her brother's death—all became quantifiable bargaining chips here, exchanged for salt, iron, shipping lanes, and land.

Sylvie had, at some point, quietly placed a quill dipped in ink next to the agreement.

The black nib gleamed with a cold light under the magic lamp.

Ella held the pen, her hand hovering in mid-air, unable to descend for a long time.

She felt the pen weighed a thousand pounds.

She clearly realized that once she signed her name, it would mean the complete demise of the former saintly princess who prayed in the temple, believed that light would eventually conquer darkness, and harbored ideals and innocence.

From now on, her vengeance, her destiny, and even her soul would be collateral, bound to Levi's fast-moving, cold and ruthless commercial war machine.

She looked up at Levi.

The man was quietly watching her, his eyes devoid of urgency or pity, like a patient merchant waiting for a client to make a final decision.

Ella's breathing became long and steady.

The struggle, pain, and confusion in her eyes faded away within seconds, ultimately transforming into an unprecedented resolve, a determination to forge her soul into steel in a furnace.

She no longer hesitated, leaned down, and the pen tip glided across the parchment, leaving a fluid and elegant signature—Ella Radiance.

Levi picked up the agreement, carefully examining the signature, as if appreciating a work of art.

He satisfactorily blew the agreement dry, then carefully rolled it up and handed it to Sylvie for safekeeping.

After all this, he looked back at Ella, a genuine smile, the first since she entered the room, appearing on his face—a shareholder's smile welcoming a new partner.

He extended his hand.

"Welcome to the board, Your Highness. Our first agenda item is how to extract the last bit of residual value from our common enemy—Victor."

Residual value?

Ella instinctively clasped his outstretched hand; it was warm and strong, yet it sent a chill down her spine.

She thought their first agenda item would be how to deal with the Grey Hand, but she never expected Levi to first mention Victor, who had already lost power and was on "vacation."

What value could a loser still have?

She was about to ask, but met Levi's deep eyes.

Those eyes seemed to hide countless complex plans and precise calculations, but they held no intention of giving her an answer.