TYND 38

Chapter 38

Vanessa Rutherford was a central figure of the rising nobility and the leading force of the reformist faction.

The moment she inherited her title, she opened an expansive salon, sponsoring thinkers and artists. Using that network, she quickly drew influential aristocrats who enjoyed intellectual pursuits to her side.

If Duke Kiel stood at the top backed by the nobles, then Marchioness Rutherford was the one supported by the cultural and artistic elite. As the “godmother of culture,” there was no one present who could easily suppress her.

“Her Majesty is entering. Everyone, show courtesy.”

At the steward’s announcement, all nobles rose from their seats. Unlike before, every lord bowed deeply, paying full respect to the new queen.

Cutting through the silence, the queen entered the council chamber.

The lords flinched at the sound of military boots, then widened their eyes at Lucy’s attire. She wore not a dress, but a white uniform—styled similarly to the Grand General’s, differing only in color.

Silent glances traded in the air, debating whether the queen’s outfit was appropriate or not. Lucy, of course, paid it no mind and calmly took her seat to begin the meeting.

“I believe all of you know of the grave incident that recently occurred in the royal capital. It is deeply lamentable that a loyal subject of the kingdom would plot such treason.”

Lucy gave a light cough and continued in a more relaxed tone.

“But no matter how fierce the headwind, the water will always flow to where it must. I hope that those who may have entertained impure thoughts take this case as a lesson and reflect deeply on the true duty of a vassal.”

The atmosphere grew solemn.

To ease the heaviness in the air, Lucy shifted her gaze to Rutherford.

“Lady Rutherford. Thanks to your help, we were able to eliminate the traitor. The Marquess of Lass is not here, but I wish to express my gratitude to him as well. I shall prepare a separate occasion to formally commend you both.”

Rutherford bowed her head gracefully.

A mix of admiration and jealousy pricked at her skin from all directions. The sharpest of all was Duke Wheaton’s stare—there was no question.

Lucy glanced between Wheaton and Rutherford, then straightened her posture, placing her hand on the armrest. The topic the lords had anticipated most flowed from her lips.

“Now, we must decide how to handle the territory of Duke Kiel…”

All eyes—previously drifting between the air and the table—slowly converged in one place.

Some looked startled by the unexpected topic; others shimmered with anticipation as if they had been waiting for this exact moment. Lucy rested her cheek on one hand, feigning contemplation.

“I am unsure what would be best. It is fertile land, so I considered absorbing it into the royal domain and managing it myself… but I must admit I lack sufficient knowledge of territory administration for that.”

“…Do you mean, Your Majesty, that instead of making it royal land, you intend to assign the duchy to another lord?”

“Correct. Dividing such fertile land into pieces would be foolish, and the residents will hardly welcome it. It would be best if one person could manage it entirely.”

Wheaton and Rutherford inhaled at the same moment.

Bringing up the duchy in the middle of the meeting meant that “someone” would be chosen from among the lords present.

And among them, the two most influential were none other than Rutherford and Wheaton.

Someone needed to seize the initiative. Rutherford opened her mouth first—
—but was cut off by the oldest elder, Count Bubehol.

“So Her Majesty said ‘manage,’ not ‘grant.’ Do you mean, Your Majesty, that you intend the duchy to remain a royal territory, merely placing it under someone’s administration rather than awarding it?”

“That is correct.”

“If I may be so bold… I suspect Your Majesty is considering Lord Wheaton and Lady Rutherford as candidates for governor. Am I mistaken?”

As soon as the direct statement was made, Duke Wheaton snapped his eyes toward Rutherford. She pretended not to notice, lifting her fan to her lips.

Lucy simply nodded.

Count Bubehol stroked his deeply wrinkled hand and continued slowly.

“With all due respect, entrusting such a vast land to a single person does not seem entirely fair.”

“Why do you think so?”

“As Your Majesty herself said, the residents of Duke Kiel’s territory are deeply attached to their land. I do not defend treason, but the ducal family truly dedicated themselves to the people. The residents are extremely proud of their duke.”

“And?”

“If the royal family manages it directly, they would accept it. But if another lord suddenly becomes their ruler, they will struggle to accept it. Furthermore, one cannot govern the western seas with land-based tactics. With the duke’s maritime control gone, pirates will surely run rampant.”

Every word held weight. Lucy watched him with interest, lips slightly raised.

“So, what is the core of your proposal?”

“To designate it as royal land, but without appointing a single governor. Instead, divide it into zones and let the two lords jointly administer it. Both Lord Wheaton and Lady Rutherford are highly capable—together they would manage it peacefully without issue.”

Joint administration.

Soft exclamations rose across the chamber. Many called it an equitable idea, urging Lucy to approve it.

Lucy looked quietly at Rutherford and Wheaton.

As expected, neither looked pleased. Meanwhile, Count Bubehol looked thoroughly satisfied.

The proposal sounded reasonable, but Lucy could see the real motive: it was to keep the two most powerful lords in check.

If either of them gained the entire duchy alone, the council’s power would skew dangerously to one side.

But if they shared it, the glory went to the crown, and the burdens went to them. The council would gain endless grounds to scrutinize them.

Count Bubehol…

He had always seemed like a kind, genial old man—but apparently he hadn’t lived this long by chance.

Lucy pondered for a moment, then realized that the count’s idea aligned perfectly with her own plans. She nodded with satisfaction.

“A fine proposal. Very well. As you suggest, I shall entrust the two lords with joint governance. However, because the duchy is vast, I will divide the responsibility by region.”

Duke Wheaton, who had been sulking, brightened at the mention of division. And then the next words sent the corners of his mouth soaring.

“And the revenue from each administered region shall be divided—half to the crown, half to the administrator.”

Half the revenue.

To take half of the crops produced by such an enormous territory—
And the profits from Portmire Harbor alone would surpass the yearly income of many lordships.

At the mention of money, sparks flew in the lords’ eyes. Some grumbled that dividing revenue was unfair.

But Rutherford and Wheaton maintained impassive, disciplined expressions, hiding their excitement, and waited quietly for the queen’s next words.

“Bring the map.”

Lucy sipped her now-cold tea and gestured to her attendant.

The attendant returned with a map, spreading it across the table. Seeing the detailed layout of the Kiel duchy, all the lords drew near.

“Duke Kiel divided his territory into seven administrative zones. I intend to follow that structure. Lady Rutherford, Lord Wheaton—you will decide among yourselves how to divide the zones here and now.”

Rutherford stepped forward first, tapping the northern region lightly with her fan.

Her heart yearned to point straight at the western coast, but strategy dictated she save that for later. Wheaton also chose carefully, pointing at several zones. Thus the partitions were made one by one.

And after all the maneuvering and subtle glances, one final area remained.

The western coast—
the zone containing Portmire Harbor.