NIP Chapter 555 : The Fate of the Northlands
Chapter 555 : The Fate of the Northlands
Chapter 555: The Fate of the Northlands
Hughes stepped out of the office, looking somewhat weary. He nodded toward the Banshee standing guard at the door and walked out.
He was completely exhausted that day—constantly switching between different shells, drifting in and out of consciousness, maintaining links to communicate with the Banshee or Gwen, and even squeezing in a meeting with a group of buriers from the Silent Sanctum.
Unfortunately, piles of administrative tasks still awaited him. Alexei came holding an entire stack of documents, asking for his opinion.
“The White Calamity has stopped moving. How should we proceed?”
“Keep the Fortress garrisoned. Dispatch a train to monitor the White Calamity nearby and report its status at all times.”
“And what about Grand Duke Alvarez? They surrendered directly—no tricks, and even offered us minor assistance.”
Hughes rubbed his temples.
“Confiscate his assets, but reserve what’s necessary for his daily use. Then draft a full report and hand it over to the Tribunal. Have Chloe work overtime to study it.”
“Some of the Scouts have returned. The White Calamity passed through several villages and towns. Since it mainly moved along the Railway, its flanks advanced slowly, so casualties were minimal. However, many houses were destroyed, producing a new wave of refugees.”
“Ask those refugees for their preference—send those willing to leave to Blood Harbor; those who wish to stay, resettle in nearby towns. Set up temporary shelters first—at least keep them from freezing to death.”
Hughes paused briefly, then added,
“Let the Resistance Army assist with this. They know the Northlands well.”
Alexei flipped through the stack, then pulled out a few more documents.
“More?”
“Not much, not much. Right—how should we deal with Grand Duke Dragonfang? He led many men against the Resistance, but left quite a few noble lords behind.”
“Reclaim their lands. Send the men to the Tribunal,” Hughes replied with a cold laugh.
“And Earl Bazel’s territory?”
“Reclaim the land. The man—send to the Stellar Furnace. I mean, when we find him, of course. That one’s not urgent. Oh, and handle Octavia’s lands the same way. Now that we’re here, there will be no more nobles in the Northlands.”
“Besides nobles, there are bandits and gangs. Shall we handle them too? The Northlands need rebuilding—there’s plenty of work available. Those willing to work honestly can be spared; perhaps they were only driven by circumstance. But the ones who refuse to repent…”
Hughes pointed at a nearby Holy Guard carrying a bolt-action rifle.
“If they can’t understand reason, then let’s try physics.”
“Won’t this cause instability?”
“Only one force can cause instability in the Northlands—our own Expeditionary Army. Our position was earned with guns and cannons; how could it be unstable? Anyone with complaints can take it up with the Gatling.”
“Understood, my Lord. One more matter—the buriers from the Silent Sanctum. The Banshee medical unit recommends sending them back. What’s your opinion?”
“Are their injuries severe?”
“Not physically, at least not for Transcendents—but they won’t wake up. Perhaps some kind of wound to the soul.”
“This…” Hughes hesitated, an unusual thing for him. Seeing Alexei’s curious expression, he explained,
“Castel does have far better medical facilities. With Richard there, even soul damage could be treated.”
“But I worry that once they wake up, they’ll catch Castel Syndrome just by taking a stroll around the island!” Hughes said bitterly.
Alexei’s expression turned equally awkward.
Indeed, cases of Castel Syndrome had sharply increased lately. Rumor had it that many Resistance fighters who had gone to the island ended up in the hospital.
Now, the docks of the island were lined with hospitals and customs offices—convenient for those who fell ill on the ship to be admitted directly upon arrival.
“Forget it, send them over. Keeping them near the White Mist might be more dangerous. As long as we watch them carefully and explain the situation, they should come to accept it… hopefully?”
Hughes hesitated for a moment more before finally signing the papers.
If madness came later, that would be a problem for the future. It wasn’t incurable anyway—just required a longer hospital stay. Besides, they were priests of the Silent Sanctum, one of the Four Great Churches, properly trained. They should be able to endure it.
Alexei took the signed documents, opened his mouth to speak, then decided against it and swallowed his words.
“Anything else?”
Alexei closed the folder and set it aside. Looking solemnly at his Lord, he asked,
“One more thing—how shall we handle the Northlands? This vast territory covers nearly one-third of the Empire, and now… it’s in our hands.”
Hughes halted his steps.
“Do you have a proposal, Alexei?”
“According to tradition, my Lord, you could enfeoff your vassals—appoint trusted retainers as regional lords to govern the Northlands. You could then petition the Empire for formal titles—they would surely grant them. In exchange for nominal submission, you would become the de facto ruler of the entire Northlands and the southeastern half of Tis, standing as an equal to the Empire itself.”
“And if I were to… be less ‘traditional’?”
“You could follow the Empress’s path—establish a civil official system. Replace feudal nobles with career bureaucrats who answer solely to you. Centralize power in Castel. Use war as a lubricant between social classes—let military merit silence opposition. Just as during the Empire’s peak—cultivating the fields with blades and fire—to become the next Emperor upon the Iron-Thorn Throne.”
“Oh, that does sound tempting, my friend. But if you don’t give me a serious answer soon, I’ll kick your ass with my boots.”
Hughes grinned. Had he been born a true noble, perhaps those two proposals might have tempted him.
But this body was merely a shell—death could not threaten him, power could not tempt him, hardship could not stop him. Even the towering walls of this ideal world—he could climb them again and again through sheer will.
He did not fear failure. He could fail countless times, and still have the strength to keep walking his own path.
“Then there’s the Castel way,” Hughes said finally. “We build schools. Build factories. Let the Northlands forge ironclad warships and flying airships. Pile mountains of munitions. Fill the wastelands with industry. Turn the Northlands into another Castel—turn every land into a Castel—until the enemy goes mad at the sight of us, confined to hospital beds, howling in despair.
Let them be crushed beneath technology they can’t comprehend, creations they can’t even describe—let it roll over all their pitiful, fragile things!”
“My Lord,” Alexei said solemnly, “then please decide—your will shall become the fate of the Four Northern Territories.”