"Yah!"

  Celeste giggled as she ran through the snow, dodging left and right, Arno following behind at a leisurely pace, occasionally hefting a snowball in his hand as a show of threat.

  After staying cooped up in the city mansion for over a month, the weather had finally begun to warm, the sun hanging high in the sky, awakening all things that had slumbered through the winter. Though the temperature had risen significantly compared to before, the cold wind still stung the face like a knife. Unable to resist Celeste’s pleading gaze, Arno had nodded agreement to accompany her out for a snow excursion. They first built two snowmen, one large and one small, until their sheepskin gloves became soaked; the two stopped only when their bare hands began to burn from the cold.

  At some point, Celeste had clenched a snowball and suddenly hurled it at Arno, catching him off guard and hitting him on the forehead. The shattered snow clung to his forehead, hair, and fell all over his clothes, leaving him disheveled. To teach this little girl some manners, Arno specifically shaped an enormous snowball and chased after Celeste.

  Amidst screams and running, whether the one running ahead or the one chasing behind, the depression brought by the winter melted away along with the laughter, just like the ice and snow under the sun, quietly dissolving.

  Perhaps she could run no more, Celeste placed her hands on her knees, bending over and gasping for breath, wearing a pleading expression. "Brother Arno, forgive me! I really didn’t mean it," she said, her small face red from the cold standing out vividly against the white world. A mischievous light flashed in her eyes, the corners of her mouth tilting upward slightly, clearly plotting something.

  Arno had long noticed that Celeste would occasionally grab snow in her hands while running, but at this moment, he pretended not to know. Since he had let go of his burdens to relax, why be too shrewd? Happiness was the most important thing! He snorted a few times, approached Celeste, and looked down at her. "It’s too late to know your mistake. I’m the fearsome demon city lord everyone fears. Little girl, accept your fate!" As he pretended to press the snowball in his hand toward her, Celeste shifted her body, moving sideways toward Arno, and at the same time pressed a large "snow cake" in her hand toward Arno’s face.

  With a splat, the snow cake completely covered Arno’s face. Celeste forgot to run, staring at Arno in a daze. "Why didn’t you dodge?"

  The snow cake trembled, revealing a mouth. "If I had dodged, how could I have caught you, little girl?"

  Only then did she realize she was wrapped in Arno’s arms. Arno maliciously raised the large snowball and pressed it onto Celeste’s head, even taking the time to rub it hard. The broken snow pieces slowly slid into her collar along her smooth flaxen hair, making Celeste shiver and tremble, which made Arno burst into laughter. As he laughed, he wiped the snow from his face; the little girl looked at him and laughed along.

  There was no deception or scheming in their laughter, no laughter for money or power—simply laughter for joy, and sometimes joy was priceless.

  After tidying her clothes and makeup, Celeste clung to Arno’s arm, bouncing as she walked and humming an unknown tune. Arno led her toward the house, asking as they walked, "Do you remember the letter I wrote to Grand Duchess Jeanne before winter?"

  Celeste was taken aback, then nodded quickly. "I remember! It was about the Moonlight Blade Technique," she said, her speech slowing down as her eyes grew wider. "Could it be… did Grand Duchess Jeanne agree?"

  Looking at the nervous Celeste, Arno nodded. Just the previous evening, Jeanne’s reply had arrived in Pramisburg. To Arno’s excessive request, she had surprisingly not refused, agreeing immediately. Of course, Arno was not to give nothing in return; he also had to offer Jeanne something as exchange. In politics, regardless of gender, someone like Jeanne who had reached such a position had politics deeply ingrained in her bones—one could not simply distinguish a politician’s professionalism by gender.

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  What Grand Duchess Jeanne wanted was simple yet precious: not wealth, an item, or intelligence, but for Arno to speak a word on her behalf at some future time.

  Orlando VI had already abdicated, and her era was coming to an end. The newly enthroned Orlando VII was not Orlando VI and had little emotional foundation with her. Jeanne was a woman who understood boundaries well. With Orlando VI’s era concluding, she immediately submitted her resignation and returned to her fief. This old woman was calm and rational; she did not rely on the previous emperor’s favor to look down on the new emperor or act like a disagreeable elder. Instead, she was cautious, well aware that her awkward situation could plant the seeds of destruction for her family.

  A grand duchess from neither the Golden Family nor the Sacred Bloodline was too dangerous.

  If Arno were emperor, he would also surely act against a grand duchess like Jeanne; if she could not be fully trusted, she would have to be eliminated!

  For a legendary combat technique in exchange for a single promise, Arno did not overthink. He had the messenger convey that they would meet in the capital on March 1st, the day of the new emperor’s coronation.

  Ascension and coronation were not the same concept. Ascension was declaring to the world that the empire’s highest noble leader had changed, that the next leader of the royal family had emerged. Coronation, however, was the inheritance and recognition of power; only a coronation blessed by other Golden Nobles allowed the emperor to wield authority. Before coronation, all policy changes made by the new emperor still had to be reviewed by the old emperor.

  As one of the Golden Nobles, Arno naturally had to represent House Goldthorn at the coronation and deliver some ceremonial remarks.

  Upon learning that Grand Duchess Jeanne had agreed to Arno’s request, the little girl beamed, laughing so hard her mouth could not close. Grand Duchess Jeanne! The only female noble in the Orlando Empire to found a fief through martial prowess! In the Holy Empire era, someone like Jeanne could even be called a "queen"! Obtaining her inheritance was simply unimaginable.

  Falkes approached from a distance. Arno frowned slightly, then relaxed, patting Celeste’s small, icy hand. "You go back first. I might have some business."

  Celeste shot a glare at Falkes, who smiled bitterly and lowered his head. This young mistress was clearly annoyed he had come at an inopportune time, but he had no choice—Arno had instructed him to report any matters immediately.

  After curtsying, Celeste trotted away, and only then did Falkes approach, bowing with his head lowered. "My lord, word has come from Harvey—everything is prepared."

  After spring, all of Bell Province faced a slave shortage. This not-too-long yet extremely cold winter had caused a large number of slaves to die in the harsh cold. Sometimes the world was ridiculous: weren’t slaves human? They were, but because a slave’s price was often less than the cost of feeding and warming them for a whole winter, many chose to let them die. Over nearly three months of winter, 100 days of food, heating, clothing, and hot water cost over twenty silver coins; if a slave fell ill, medical expenses were an added cost. Abandoning treatment meant wasting the winter supplies already provided.

  Rather than waste money, it was better to spend a dozen silver coins on a new slave after spring, saving money in the end.

  Cruel? Perhaps!

  But no one considered it cruel. Except for top-tier slaves, others were mere consumables! As consumables, death, injury, and replacement were inevitable.

  To gather the market’s slave needs before the shortage fully erupted, the slave hunt was naturally on the agenda. This year’s hunt was grander than any previous year. Only three slave traders in Bell Province had been granted trading licenses, so Harvey had formed a luxurious slave-hunting team: 700 cavalry and 1,500 infantry, enough to sweep through small and medium tribes in the Salme Mountains. Harvey’s target was 5,000 to 8,000 slaves for the first batch after spring, followed by second and third batches… until winter came.

  Arno had actually wanted to go along—he had only read about slave hunts but never experienced one—but the city could not do without him, which was slightly disappointing.

  "Summon all district councilors to the city mansion. I have matters to announce," Arno paused for a moment, gazing at the cloudless sky, deciding to reform some civil affairs in Pramisburg.

  It was not that he was needlessly meddling. Though he was destined to leave the city, the more his influence grew in the empire, the tighter his grip on it would remain. Moreover, whether novel policies suited this world and could take effect required a testing ground. Undoubtedly, Pramisburg was such a city. Did the imperial high-ups not know of his meddling? They surely did. Why pretend ignorance or allow his so-called "reckless" actions? Because top imperial rulers, like Arno, wanted to see where his experiments would lead the city.

  Using the city as a template to absorb good policies and discard useless or harmful ones—this was the true attitude of Arno and many imperial rulers.

  In the end, they were all just a bunch of commoners.