Paul turned around, his gaze unwavering.
"But I still have to follow these rules. It is precisely because I know that power is fundamental that I cannot allow this power to get out of control. If even the first family can do whatever they want, then those below will learn to overstep their bounds. Officers will be greedy for credit, officials will seek personal gain, and soldiers will plunder. Once power has no boundaries, it will become tyranny."
"I don't expect to change everyone immediately, but I have to set an example. The law is to draw a line for power, and even if we can't achieve equality for all right now, we have to make it clear that even a lord's household cannot do whatever it wants."
Mariana listened quietly, her eyes still showing disapproval, but also a hint of scrutiny. She could tell that her son wasn't just talking about ideals, but was wielding power in a way she wasn't familiar with.
Paul concluded by saying, "I am not adhering to the law; I am using it—using it as a tool for controlling power and controlling oneself, not as an ornament."
Mariana listened to her son's words, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly sneered: "If your father dared to restrain me like this, to interrogate me like a criminal, I would have broken up with him long ago. Why would you be here talking about the law? And there wouldn't be you and Nathan here."
Her tone carried a hint of sarcasm, as well as a deeply hidden longing: "Your father understood one thing—governing a family is not governing a country. A family relies on affection, trust, and mutual respect. You actually used the law to govern your own wife."
Paul never expected that even though he had tried his best to "bend the law" for Frostine, he would still get a scolding from his mother.
But he didn't argue anymore; he had realized that some things couldn't be changed by reason.
Mariana grew up in an era where the strong made their own decisions and bloodlines were paramount. Her logic stemmed from survival and struggle, not from systems and procedures. He, on the other hand, carried memories of another world and attempted to build a new set of rules on top of the old order.
Two ways of thinking cannot be reconciled overnight; this generational gap cannot be bridged with just a few words of conversation.
He sighed, then smiled and said in a relaxed tone, "I'm glad about this, otherwise I wouldn't even have the chance to be born, let alone be here causing you trouble."
Mariana was taken aback for a moment, then her lips curled up slightly and she couldn't help but laugh.
The atmosphere immediately relaxed, the candlelight was soft, and laughter briefly drowned out the unresolved differences.
Paul knew the argument was over; tonight was a reunion, not a final battle. He raised his glass and said softly, "Come on, Mom, let's eat first."
...
Blackwater Lake Fortress.
Alvis had just returned from visiting a newly allied orc tribe and hadn't even washed his face when he was summoned to the office of Andrew, the commander of the steppe expeditionary force.
Andrew sat behind a simple wooden table, several military newspapers spread out on it. He glanced up at Alvis, then picked up a newspaper stamped with the Lakeheart Town seal. The letter, stamped with wax seal by the Staff Department, was handed over.
"An order from the General Staff Department." His tone was calm, but tinged with a hint of melancholy.
Alvis took the letter, quickly scanned the first few lines, and his expression changed drastically.
"...In view of the current changes in the situation, the full-scale offensive originally scheduled to be launched against Steppe Royal Tent in late autumn is terminated, and all front-line troops are put into a defensive standby state, awaiting further instructions."
"That's impossible!"
Alvis slammed his cane on the ground with a thud. He gasped for breath, his face flushed, and asked, "Cease? Why? We've completed our troop preparations, our supply lines are open, and the orc recruits from the North Three Territories are all in place—stop now?"
He stared at Andrew: " What is Lakeheart Town thinking? Abar is rebuilding his army. If we try to advance again once he's recovered, the cost will be ten times what it is now!"
Andrew was not angry, but just looked at him quietly: "The order comes from Lakeheart Town, is co-signed by the Staff Department, and is personally approved by Lord Glaeman. Military orders must be carried out."
Alvis stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving. He wasn't a soldier, but he knew that opportunities were fleeting. He muttered, "Foolish...utterly foolish!"
Andrew silently picked up the kettle on the table and poured Alvis a cup of tea.
"Have a sip of water first," he said in a low voice, "and finish reading the letter."
Alvis, panting, gripped the edge of the letter tightly with his fingers as he continued reading.
The letter was written in plain language, but its contents were alarming— Yellow Earth Plain had been officially granted to Duke by the royal family, the power of the former Sentinel Legion had been revived, the Crystal Radiance court had made it clear that it would no longer support the Aldor army's continued advance into the grasslands, and more importantly, Paul's proposal to expand conscription rights and recruit people from outside Northwest Bay had been rejected by the king.
Alvis's breathing gradually calmed, but his eyes grew colder. He slowly sat down, his cane still lying on the ground, but he no longer cared to pick it up.
As a scholar who studied politics and law at the White Tower, he understood the undercurrents behind words better than anyone else.
"This is not a strategic adjustment…" he said softly, as if to himself, "This is to weaken Lord Glaeman."
He raised his head, his gaze sharp: " Crystal Radiance is trying to win over Duke, offering Yellow Earth Plain in exchange for his loyalty, to stop the military expansion of Northwest Bay. As for halting the offensive, it's less about being worried about not being able to continue, and more about not wanting us to win."
Andrew paused for a moment, then nodded: "I think so too."
Alvis sat quietly for a long time; the tea had gone cold, and the wind outside the window had calmed down.
He suddenly braced himself on the corner of the table and stood up abruptly.
"I can't stay here." His voice was low, but it carried an unwavering determination. "If the higher-ups want to stop, then I'll go find the person who can change the decision."
Andrew looked up at him: "You're going back to Lakeheart Town?"
"Yes." Alvis bent down to pick up his cane, gripping it tightly. " Lord Glaeman must understand the orc threat. He knows Abar won't stop. As soon as we retreat, they will come back, not just to the grasslands, but sooner or later they will cross Blackwater Lake and burn to the borders of Alda again."
He stared at Andrew: "I don't expect the Aldo Royal Family to have foresight, but Lord Glaeman is different. Even if everyone else has to back down now, I will personally persuade him—even if it's just my voice alone, I have to let him know that stopping now is handing the future over to the enemy."
Andrew did not stop him. He knew that although Alvis was a scholar, he understood the essence of war better than many generals.
"Okay, I'll arrange for someone to accompany you right away. Be very careful on the road." That was all Andrew said.
Alvis nodded, turned and strode out of the office; he was to leave that very night.