Chapter 119: The Struggle for the Throne

Returning to the castle, both sides redrafted a contract regarding the purchase of steam engines.

Since the deposit was ten percent of the total price, just ordering the steam engines alone required Heint to pay five hundred gold coins upfront, not to mention the additional money spent on other products.

Because Heinte had given Owen a benefit—agreeing that the saltpeter her mines produced would be supplied to Bianshu Town at ninety percent of market price—Owen in return granted him a five percent discount, rounding down the remainder.

In this way, the two sides concluded a massive deal.

While sailors were moving the goods, Heint ordered his trusted men to carry down two large chests of gold coins from the ship and deliver them into the castle, handing them to Owen in person.

Seeing such a huge amount of money, Clive grinned from ear to ear. He and his men eagerly set about counting the coins.

Now, Bianshu Town would not be short on funds for the time being, and could confidently proceed with its development plans.

Before departing, Heinte said to Owen:

“Marquis, if nothing unexpected happens, I’ll be back in three months to collect the goods.”

“Please rest assured, I’ll have the first batch prepared by then.” 

Owen promised.

“Oh, that’s right!” 

Heinte suddenly recalled something. 

“Among the merchants I know, some operate several mines. Should I recommend your steam engines and ore transport system to them?”

Having someone help promote the steam engines was, of course, an excellent thing. With such high profits, Owen didn’t even hesitate before agreeing.

“Then I’ll be counting on you, President Masha.”

“Good! I won’t linger any longer. Farewell, Marquis.”

After the farewells, Heint turned and boarded her merchant ship.

The gangplank was quickly pulled away by the sailors, sails unfurled, and the vessel drifted downstream, gradually disappearing from sight.

…

While Bianshu Town was quietly pushing forward with its development, the royal capital, Junhui City, was far from peaceful.

The Third Prince, White Wells, declared that he was the heir to the throne, appointed by the late king himself, and produced a will as proof.

Meanwhile, the First Prince, Legovis Wells, headed south to Abundance City, gaining the support of Duke Marcus. He began recruiting troops, soon amassing a massive army.

Naturally, White was not idle either. Building upon his existing forces, he also expanded his army.

It was obvious to all that a struggle for the throne between the two princes was inevitable.

To protect their wealth, many merchants hurriedly gathered their assets and fled from the capital.

For once an attacking army breached a city, plundering was inevitable—that was the reality of war.

If the Third Prince were to be defeated, ordinary civilians would have no choice but to stay home and pray for their safety.

Across the kingdom, nobles were also choosing sides, supporting one prince or the other, hoping to profit from the conflict.

When the heavy snow finally melted, the time for battle arrived.

North of Junhui City lay the Fertile Plains—flat terrain with wide open visibility—chosen as the site of the princes’ first clash.

The First Prince’s army was arrayed to the north.

The vanguard consisted of a mixed cavalry force from Dragonfang Ridge and Abundance City. The central army was personally led by Legovis. The left wing was commanded by Duke Marcus’s son, while the right wing was led by the son of Marquis Lyman of Dragonfang Ridge. The rear guard was composed of two mage corps, also from Dragonfang Ridge and Abundance City.

The Third Prince’s army faced them from the south, arranged in nearly the same formation, though his numbers were clearly fewer.

At this moment, the distance between the two armies was still too great for their mage corps to strike with large-scale spells.

Thus, they had no choice but to wait for one side to make the first move.

In the center, White sat astride a handsome white steed. At his waist hung a royal sword inlaid with several top-quality magic stones of different colors. He wore royal armor gilded in gold, shining brilliantly, exuding majesty and power.

“Behave yourself—move faster!”

At that moment, a knight came forward from behind, shoving a man clad in chainmail before White.

“Your Majesty, I report—”

After saluting White, the knight reported:

“Just now, Baron Cole tried to desert before the battle, but we caught him.”

“Oh?” 

White narrowed his eyes coldly. 

“Baron Cole, is this true?”

“Injustice, Your Majesty!”

Baron Cole quickly cried out in his defense, explaining:

“I merely had an urgent need and wanted to find a place to relieve myself. You know as well as I do, holding it in during battle would affect my performance. Yet these men suddenly grabbed me and accused me of desertion—it’s pure slander!”

“Your Majesty, Baron Cole is lying.” 

The knight immediately exposed him.

“If it were truly just an urgent need, he could have told us. Instead, the moment he saw us, he bolted. That clearly shows a guilty conscience.”

“Baron Cole, if you’re going to make excuses, at least come up with a better one.”

White drew the jeweled sword at his waist and held it up, admiring it briefly.

“I’ll give you one more chance—tell the truth.”

“Ah—! Please, Your Majesty, don’t kill me!”

Seeing the blade drawn, Baron Cole trembled all over, his neck shrinking back in terror.

“The First Prince’s army is almost twice our number. Anyone can see the odds of winning a frontal clash are slim. So, I thought…”

At this point, Baron Cole dared not finish his words.

“You thought of running away, didn’t you?” 

White finished for him.

Baron Cole stepped back half a pace, bowing his head low, unable to reply, unable even to meet White’s gaze.

“Restrain him.” 

White ordered.

“Yes, sire.”

The knight shoved Baron Cole down, pinning him firmly.

Sensing death’s approach, Baron Cole struggled desperately and cried out:

“Ah—! No! Your Majesty, don’t kill me!”

White raised his sword high, then brought it down in a flash. The razor-sharp blade severed Baron Cole’s head with ease.

After the execution, White turned to the surrounding soldiers and shouted:

“Look well, all of you! This is the fate of those who betray me!”

At once, the soldiers straightened their backs, gripping their weapons tighter. Their fear of White now far outweighed their fear of the enemy’s numbers.

“Take the body away.”

“Yes, sire.”

The knight signaled two soldiers to help him drag off Baron Cole’s corpse.

Sheathing his sword again, White lifted his chin slightly, gazing northward toward the opposing army. An insidious smile crept across his face.

Meanwhile, Legovis was arrayed within his own troops, clad in silver-white armor and mounted upon a fierce black steed.

Since he would soon be fighting on horseback, a greatsword would be unwieldy, so he had swapped it for a long halberd.

Both armies seemed to be waiting for the other to strike first. But Legovis was already growing impatient—he wanted to seize the royal capital quickly and drag White from the throne.

After all, his side was the attacker, and his forces outnumbered the enemy. It made sense to have the vanguard move first.

The vanguard was heavy cavalry. Their speed made them difficult targets for enemy mages, whose spells took long to cast.

If he attacked now, the enemy formation would fall into chaos. Then, once the order was given for the full army to advance and spread out, the damage from large-scale spells could be minimized.

Break White’s army in a frontal assault, then press the attack all the way to the capital—and it would be over.

Legovis had already run through the battle in his mind, brimming with confidence.

With that thought, he raised his weapon high and gave the command:

“Vanguard, hear my order—iron cavalry, charge!”

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