TFVWMMF 101🔐

CHAPTER 101……………………………….

The atmosphere in the grand council chamber was as if Marquis Jojoba had been killed in an attack by the New Imperial Alliance.

The nobles who had merely been listening suddenly realized—this was their chance to corner the Emperor.

The Emperor’s gaze turned toward Marquis Jojoba’s retainers, but they were just as lost as anyone, uncertain of what was going on.

“Your Majesty’s stubborn stance is what brought this about!”
“This is only the beginning, Your Majesty. More nobles will fall to the ruthless New Imperial Alliance if this continues!”

They began blaming everything on the Emperor.

Amid the growing chaos of the chamber, only Duke Barkad sat back, watching the scene unfold with a pleased smile.

The Emperor’s trembling eyes sought out Duke Barkad, but the Duke pretended not to notice and looked away.

Just a little more pressure, and the Emperor would probably tell him to handle the issue of the private armies himself.

At that moment—

“Marquis Jojoba is here!”

The chamber doors burst open, and Marquis Jojoba came rushing in, breathless.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Your Majesty.”

The once-noisy chamber fell silent in an instant.

With everyone’s eyes on him, the Marquis scratched his head awkwardly and bowed.

“I’ll be sure not to be late again.”

It was the Emperor’s sudden movement that broke the silence. He sprang from his seat and quickly approached Jojoba.

“Marquis Jojoba! Are you all right? Were you hurt? I was told the Alliance attacked your estate!”

Jojoba’s eyes went wide.

“I… was attacked?”
“We were told the New Imperial Alliance broke into your house.”
“Your Majesty, what are you talking about…?”
“If there was no attack, then why are you late?”

The Marquis scratched his temple awkwardly.

“Well… I wasn’t feeling well this morning, so I left late and just got here.”

A few nobles let out stifled, incredulous laughs.

The Emperor turned sharply toward Count Grozian, his voice booming with fury.

“Count Grozian! Explain this madness!”
“I—I…”
“You said only minutes ago that Marquis Jojoba had been attacked!”
“That’s what I was told…”
“By whom?! Who claimed the Marquis was ambushed when he’s standing right here?!”

Count Grozian’s confident composure began to crack.

He could have sworn he received word that the mission had been completed before arriving at the palace.

Had he misread it? Impossible.

He retraced his steps in his mind, but couldn’t find the mistake.

His eyes darted toward Duke Barkad—but Baron Akot’s sharp, cold gaze cut him off.

Handle it yourself.

That was what Akot’s eyes were saying.

“Damn it…”

Muttering curses under his breath, Count Grozian dropped to his knees.

“Your Majesty, I may have acted too hastily, thinking every second counted.”
“Too hastily?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Before I came to the palace, I received an anonymous report.”
“A report?”
“That Marquis Jojoba’s estate was under attack. I panicked—fearing other nobles might be next—and rushed here without confirming it.”

The Emperor gave a short, derisive snort.

“You expect me to believe that?”

Count Grozian bowed so low that his forehead struck the marble floor with a loud crack.

The sudden sound shocked everyone in the room.

“It was my fault for not verifying it first. I was only… worried. Please forgive me, Your Majesty.”

The atmosphere shifted in an instant.

The nobles who had been loudly blaming the Emperor began to quietly back away.

Even as time passed, the Emperor’s anger didn’t cool.

At last, Marquis Jojoba stepped forward to calm him down.

When the Emperor finally left, he did so with a cold, cutting glare at the nobles—making sure they knew he was still furious.

Once the chamber doors closed, a mix of relieved and frustrated sighs filled the air.

No one dared to help the still-kneeling Count Grozian.

Everyone hurried out, eager to avoid being dragged into the mess.

When the murmurs faded, Grozian suddenly stood and looked around.

He spotted Duke Barkad and Baron Akot walking toward the exit.

“Baron Akot.”

It wasn’t loud, but not far enough to be ignored.

Neither of them turned around.

Grozian bit his lip hard, rage and humiliation burning inside him.

He had tried to impress Duke Barkad—but it had backfired completely.

“Baron Akot! Did you not hear me calling you?”

Akot turned, pretending to be surprised.

“Ah, my apologies. I was in discussion with the Duke. What is it, Count Grozian?”

His tone clearly drew a line between them.

“You’re just going to leave like this? At least hear me out—”
“Hear you out? About what?”

Grozian glanced toward Duke Barkad, who continued walking ahead.

“I did my best—”

Akot quickly looked around, then hissed under his breath:

“Be quiet. This is the Imperial Palace. What are you trying to do, following me like this?”

“I acted based on the report I received! I wouldn’t have moved unless I was certain!”

Grozian’s voice trembled with desperation.

From ahead, the Duke let out a long sigh.

“Your Grace, I received confirmation that the mission was successful—here, look at this note!”

Grozian pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and held it out.

Akot snatched it and read it quickly before whispering to the Duke.

“The Count’s telling the truth. Look—‘Mission Complete’ is written here.”

Duke Barkad didn’t slow his pace, only casting a brief glance at the note.

He said nothing all the way to his waiting carriage.

Behind him, Grozian’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

Just before climbing into the carriage, Akot turned back.

“His Grace says to come to the Duke’s manor tonight.”

As the carriage pulled away, Count Grozian’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.

Five hours earlier—before Count Grozian had brought his report to the Emperor.

In an alley not far from Marquis Jojoba’s estate, quiet movement stirred.

“Is everyone here?”

A rough-looking man glanced at the cluster of boys huddled in the shadows.

“Yes, they’re all here.”
“Will this be enough?”
“We were told it only needs to look threatening, so probably.”

Each man bore a small scrap of blue cloth on his chest—the mark of the New Imperial Alliance.

“Um…”

One of the boys raised his hand timidly.

“What is it?”
“Are you really going to pay us just for going in and coming out?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“But… that’s Marquis Jojoba’s mansion. If we get caught, we could lose our heads.”

The man spat on the ground in irritation.

“That’s why you gutter rats stay in the slums—you’ve got no guts.”
“What?”
“Making money isn’t easy. You don’t get paid just for walking in and out, you idiots.”

The men with the Alliance insignia laughed and moved in menacingly, surrounding the boys.

Only then did the children realize something was terribly wrong.

The man thrust a wooden pole into the hands of the tallest boy. A banner was tied to it—reading:

“Down with the Nobles! Glory to the New Imperial Alliance!”

“All right, now repeat after me. Keep your voices low.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced before them.

“The Barthmann Empire doesn’t need nobles! Give us food!”

The boys knew exactly what those words meant—and that saying them could get them killed.

So they stayed silent.

The man’s eyes flashed with anger.

“What are you waiting for? Repeat it!”

The boy who had spoken earlier stepped forward.