Taming the Protagonist

Chapter 43: Art of War

Implementing a decree was a troublesome matter.

It wasn’t as simple as Anselm drafting a document, gathering the nobles, announcing it, and seeing it enforced.

The aftermath of that banquet involved Anselm discussing post-Count Chishuang policies with all the influential nobles of Chishuang Territory.

Though all ten out of ten were unwilling to implement Anselm’s decrees, those nobles, already scared witless, lacked the courage to defy him.

After these days, starting tomorrow, his prepared decrees would finally begin to take effect.

But Saville brought some less-than-ideal news.

"Currently, the nobles aligned with the former Count Chishuang are relatively stable, but a few are making minor moves, unwilling to accept your commercial policies and agricultural relief. The wavering lesser nobles will likely follow the policies in name, but in practice… I doubt there’ll be any change."

"The key issue is Count Ironstone," the old butler paused. "He’s always leaned toward you and acted wisely in all matters, but this time, he’s in your opposition. Though he agreed at the meeting, his recent actions… are not honest."

Anselm, writing at his desk, didn’t look up, replying calmly: "His opposition is expected. After all, he’s theoretically the most likely to succeed as the lord of Chishuang Territory."

Unconcerned with the loss of this territory, Anselm chuckled: "The lord of Chishuang Territory cannot inherit such policies."

Freeing peasants, reducing commercial taxes, encouraging handicrafts, lowering teleportation fees, attracting population, curbing noble abuses, expanding public facilities…

Count Ironstone was a clever man.

He knew Anselm’s policies were fundamentally for the better development of Chishuang Territory, but in the early stages, the lord would bear an extraordinarily high cost—Anselm’s policies were blatantly excessive, showing complete disregard for the lord’s interests.

So, if Count Ironstone took over, what would he do? Maintaining Anselm’s policies would bleed him dry.

Reversing them risked reigniting the public discontent Anselm had pacified, potentially erupting in a more terrifying way.

Moreover, the unique nature of Chishuang Territory’s lordship… doomed him from being a "dutiful" lord.

"After all, the North is one of the rebel strongholds."

Anselm said meaningfully: "Their radicals are always looking for opportunities. The people of Chishuang Territory have suffered for a century. If he mishandles this… and the rebels use it as a breakthrough, it won’t just be a matter of losing his head."

Rebels, righteous armies—call them what you will.

Anselm preferred to call them revolutionaries, though given his position, he had to refer to them as rebels.

These people were relentless, practically a part of the Empire.

The "historical cycle" from the memory library applied to this world, to the Empire.

Yet, whenever that point of decline arrived, when the rebel banners rose high, the Empire always displayed its despair-inducing, pure… terror.

An Emperor incinerating a rebel legion of 100,000 from a thousand miles away in a single breath, a Grand Duke cleaving through battle lines with a war axe to behead a rebel leader, or that generation’s Hydra bringing the rebels utter despair.

Thus, Anselm rarely applied theories from that other world here, as they were meaningless, merely references for study.

"Then, what do you need me to do?" Saville, the one who best understood Anselm’s intentions, bowed slightly. "Shall we give Count Ironstone a small warning?"

"A mere warning is pointless."

Anselm waved his hand with a smile: "Normally, he’s backed by a Grand Duke. At critical moments, he’s just the Grand Duke’s puppet. No need to trouble our pitiful Count Ironstone."

Saville remained silent, thinking the Count, usually so respectful and cautious around Anselm, should be grateful.

His prudence and wisdom had earned Anselm’s mercy.

Even if he made one mistake, today’s conversation might have been different.

"If so, we should proactively disrupt Count Ironstone’s plans. Acting first makes it an unavoidable force for him."

Saville said: "If Grand Duke Ironblade still holds him accountable for failure under these circumstances, then it’s just Count Ironstone’s fate—"

The old man’s words halted abruptly, and he swallowed the rest, falling silent.

To Saville’s surprise, Anselm said calmly: "No need, Saville. Let him do it."

"If he wants to continue exploiting peasants, raising taxes, maintaining oppressive rule, and preventing my decrees from being implemented, let him. I don’t care."

"Do you intend… to deal with him directly?" Saville frowned slightly. "Grand Duke Ironblade is currently at a disadvantage. If you eliminate his only piece, he may not be as mild as the Grand Duke of Gray Tower."

The young Hydra chuckled: "No worries, Saville. A true wise man will see the path I’ve left. He knows what to do."

Ever attentive to Anselm’s needs, the old butler remained uneasy: "If so, the prestige you’ve built in Chishuang Territory… may suffer due to indulging him—"

"Then we’ll act when the time comes, won’t we?"

Saville finally ceased his warnings, though he knew Anselm had likely accounted for everything.

He simply didn’t want anything to harm his young master.

Old folks were always like that—knowing full well, yet unable to let go.

Moreover, Saville couldn’t fathom why Anselm would let… that girl who had just fled from the door know about this.

"She’s gone?" Anselm asked, propping his chin with a sly smile.

"Yes."

Saville’s position seemed slightly shifted from a moment ago: "And she seems very angry, Young Master."

"She’ll be smug soon enough. She’s finally caught my ‘weakness,’ hasn’t she?"

This made things more complicated.

Saville wanted to say so, but seeing Anselm’s calm, amused expression, he held his tongue.

His young master, Anselm Hydra, was a born, great dominator. T

he loyal Saville was utterly convinced of this.

The young noble opened a book he had personally transcribed, running his fingers over the square characters only he could understand.

"The highest form of warfare is to attack the enemy’s strategy; next, to attack their alliances; then, to attack their army; the lowest is to attack their cities."

He recited words Saville couldn’t comprehend, spreading his palm as if seeing that ever-reckless, impatient girl running upon it until she collapsed from exhaustion.

Until the curtain woven of pure malice fell, heralding the conclusion.

"Here, the power of ‘war’ can become absolute… but dear Hitana, you are still far from such absoluteness."

"Don’t make the wrong choice again. This time, I won’t be by your side."

The wicked Hydra prepared to once again enjoy the drama he had orchestrated.