86: Chapter 86 A List, A Parliamentary Subpoena

Victor clutched the gold-plated quill; the heavy shaft felt light as a feather in his hand, for the weight of his soul had been hollowed out.

His wrist, along with his entire arm, was trembling violently in a visible manner, as if bearing the weight of a thousand tons.

Humiliation, fear, the guilt of betrayal... these emotions coiled up his arm like countless cold vipers, burrowing into his heart and gnawing at his remaining pride.

The nib hovered above the pristine parchment, ink gathering at the tip, poised to drip, just like his own fate hanging in the balance.

He could not bring himself to write; every letter felt as if it were branding an indelible mark of shame onto his soul.

Levi did not urge him, merely tapping his long, slender knuckles against the smooth mahogany tabletop.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound was not loud, yet it struck like a funeral knell, precisely hitting Victor's shattered nerves.

"Lord Victor, as my senior advisor, you naturally enjoy Blackstone Territory's generous pension plan."

Levi's voice remained gentle and calm, as if discussing the most standard employee benefit. "We have tentatively divided it into three tiers."

He held up one finger: "The first tier is the Basic Pension. You provide some inconsequential, basic intelligence in exchange for a quiet life at your country estate, with food and clothing assured, but that is all."

He held up a second finger, a meaningful smile on his face: "The second tier is the Detailed Pension. The intelligence you provide is sufficiently detailed to allow me to clearly outline the 'Grey Hand'."

"In return, not only will I guarantee your quality of life, but I will also consider investing to revitalize the wine industry at your estate. After all, ensuring a senior advisor lives decently is also a matter of my own face."

Tap.

As the final tap fell, Levi held up his third finger and leaned slightly forward, his gaze piercing through the curling tea steam, becoming sharp.

"The third tier is the Subversive Pension. The intelligence you provide is not only detailed but also subversive, enough for me to find their core weakness and deliver a fatal blow."

"In that case, Lord Victor, I assure you that the name of the August family will reappear in the Empire through your grandchildren, in the form of a brand new, more respectable business giant. I need an obedient, experienced local agent, do I not?"

Threats and inducements, the stick and the carrot. This was the most classic and effective method.

Victor's violent trembling miraculously ceased.

The last spark of struggle in his eyes completely extinguished, replaced by a dead, gray resignation that had accepted reality.

He was no longer the powerful Grand Speaker who held sway over the court; he was merely a senior advisor choosing the optimal solution for his family's survival under the noose of capital.

Subversive Pension.

This term seemed to carry a magic that shattered his final psychological defenses.

Swish, swish, swish...

The quill's nib finally landed on the paper, producing a clear and continuous scratching sound.

Ink bled onto the parchment, forming names, locations, and streams of secret fund flows.

He wrote at an extremely fast pace, as if afraid that if he stopped, he would lose the courage to betray everything.

The room was filled only with the scratching of the nib against the paper and Victor's heavy, suppressed breathing.

Princess Ella watched this scene, a complex emotion flashing in her emerald eyes—there was the satisfaction of revenge, but also a trace of instinctive discomfort at this invisible torture.

She subconsciously gripped her hands resting on her lap; even her cold silk dress could not make her feel a shred of warmth.

An hour felt as long as a century.

When Victor finished the last word and threw the quill onto the table, he looked as if he had been fished out of water; his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his luxurious robes were soaked through, clinging tightly to his back.

He slumped in his chair, staring hollowly at the ornate magic crystal chandelier on the ceiling, as if his soul had been completely drained by those five pages of parchment filled with incriminating evidence.

Levi did not look at him, instead immediately picking up the list.

His gaze was calm as water, scanning line by line, word by word.

Victor's handwriting was scrawled and panicked, but the content was shockingly clear.

The first page of the list contained the crests and names of six families.

Lion, Iron Oak, Three Towers, White Sail, Giant Bear, Golden Wheat... Behind each crest stood an ancient feudal noble house that had persisted for centuries, or even millennia, in the history of the Empire.

They were the cornerstone of the Empire, the guardians of tradition, and the most conservative and xenophobic forces.

Levi's eyebrows raised slightly.

This differed somewhat from his initial guess.

He had originally thought the 'Grey Hand' would be an interest group composed of emerging commercial nobles or ambitious opportunists.

"Their goal is not money."

Levi's gaze fell to the end of the list, where Victor's analysis and summary were. "They fear my model."

"They fear that this efficient commercial model, which breaks class barriers, will spread like a plague from Blackstone Territory, eventually crashing down the feudal fiefdom system they rely on for their livelihood."

"Once the serfs and commoners under their rule see another possibility, they will no longer be content with the status quo."

"Therefore, they want to obtain it, and then... control it, or even destroy it."

So that was it.

This was not a commercial war, but a struggle over paths, a desperate battle between advanced productive forces and backward relations of production.

"Sylvie."

Levi handed the list over, his tone brooking no argument. "Initiate the highest level of background checks, utilize all our intelligence channels, and cross-verify every word on this list."

"I want to ensure that what we have received is not a trap fabricated by Victor to save his own life."

"Understood, My Lord."

Sylvie took the list, shrewd light flashing in her purple eyes.

She glanced at the names on it, her slender fingers tightening slightly.

"Also," Levi added, "based on this list, draft a proposal immediately."

"Exclude these six core families, and for everyone else remaining in the Parliament, create an investment analysis report on 'Business Cooperation and Risk Mitigation'."

"Forgive my bluntness, My Lord, but is it not too optimistic to prepare a cooperation proposal at a time like this?"

Sylvie voiced her question.

Levi shook his head, a cold arc curling at the corner of his mouth. "No, this is not optimism; it is cutting ties."

"I want everyone to see clearly that standing on our side is the bright, broad road; while continuing to be bound to those six old fossils is like being on a sinking ship."

Ella, standing to the side, finally could not hold back.

She looked at the familiar names on the list, her face pale as paper.

Some of them had even held her and taught her horsemanship like kind elders when she was a child.

"Levi!"

She stood up, her voice trembling slightly with anger. "What do you intend to do with this dirty intelligence?"

"Blackmail them? Force them to stand on your side? This is the most despicable method! This violates the honor and spirit of the nobility!"

Levi turned his head and looked at her calmly, his eyes without a ripple.

"Your Highness, you misunderstand. I never blackmail anyone; I only believe in interests."

He paused, then patiently explained in a tone bordering on that of a mentor, "This is not blackmail; I call it 'Precision Risk Investment Analysis'."

"I will clearly present two investment options to those smart, wavering fence-sitters in the Parliament."

"Option A: continue to be bound to the 'Grey Hand', a force that represents backwardness, decay, and is destined to be eliminated by the times. What they will face is comprehensive commercial strikes from Blackstone Territory, infinite asset losses, and visible total bankruptcy."

His gaze swept over Ella's slightly parted lips in shock, and he continued: "And Option B: cooperate with Blackstone Territory, which represents advancement, efficiency, and possesses an infinite future."

"I will provide them with a brand new investment option with a rate of return so high they cannot imagine it. In your opinion, how would a qualified merchant, a qualified family helmsman, choose?"

Ella was momentarily speechless.

She found herself completely unable to refute this logic.

In Levi's words, conspiracies became investment analysis, betrayal became risk mitigation; everything dirty was wrapped in a cold and rational commercial shell.

Just then, the door to the private room was gently knocked.

A waiter dressed in the uniform of the 'Golden Griffin' restaurant walked in respectfully, holding a sealed envelope in both hands, the Imperial Parliament's double-headed eagle emblem branded in red wax on the envelope.

"Lord Levi Byron, an urgent summons from the Imperial Parliament."

The waiter's voice sounded exceptionally clear in the silent room.

Levi's movements did not pause in the slightest; he gracefully took the envelope and sliced open the wax seal with a small knife he carried.

A thick piece of parchment slid out.

His gaze scanned the content quickly, his facial expression not changing in the slightest, calm as if he were just looking at a regular business report.

Ella, however, saw it clearly; the leading signature on that summons was none other than the former Grand Speaker—Victor August—who had just been slumped in his chair like a walking corpse.

Below his name were the joint signatures of dozens of council members.

The content of the summons was fierce in language and severe in wording: on multiple grave charges including 'suspected illegal commercial monopoly,' 'maliciously disrupting market order,' and 'endangering the economic foundation of the Empire,' it demanded that the Lord of Blackstone Territory, Levi Byron, personally attend the Noble Council's public hearing in the Royal Capital within ten days.

This was a trap. It was a desperate counterattack launched by enemies driven to desperation.

Ella's heart instantly jumped into her throat; she looked at Levi but saw only a face so calm it was nearly indifferent.

He placed the summons casually on the table, appearing so light and airy, as if it were not he who had been summoned by the entire Imperial Parliament.

He ignored Ella's nervous gaze and did not look at Victor's lifeless face, instead taking a smooth black crystal from his breast pocket.

As a trace of weak magic was injected, ripples appeared on the surface of the crystal, and the image of a woman slowly emerged within it.

"Evelyn."

Levi's voice was not loud, but it was filled with unquestionable penetrating power. "Send the notice down; our 'Corporate Culture Building' and 'Team Cohesion Expansion' activities can begin ahead of schedule."