Regressor of the Fallen Family Novel - Chapter 236 (New)

In the wake of the inaugural war council, the aristocracy—who had been preoccupied with extracting and elevating tax revenues from their own domains—found themselves scowling at the official enlistment proclamations issued by the royal territories.

“He intends to stabilize this realm by squandering our wealth on a massive military?”

“Has the sovereign truly lost his senses?”

“More importantly, what is the purpose of such a colossal force? The standing battalions of Clan McLaine and Esperanza are already an intimidating power on their own…”

Driven by these shared anxieties, a significant number of these men gathered under a single roof.

“I am grateful for the invitation, Count.”

“Ah, Sir Hamel, your arrival is most timely.”

Jack Juan welcomed the nobleman who had come to show his allegiance, hiding his calculating thoughts behind a polished, easy grin. Though the circumstances prompting this summit were grave, he was secretly delighted. Thanks to the King’s string of administrative blunders, the nobility had finally found a reason to rally, and he had positioned himself as their natural leader.

‘The King is a fool. I cannot fathom how such a man ever earned the reputation of a legendary hero.’

Had Jack Juan possessed the combined military might of Clan McLaine and Esperanza, he would have utilized a gentle touch to charm the neighboring lords, slowly molding them into a base of devoted followers. Within a few years, he could have secured the entire kingdom’s unwavering loyalty.

‘First the taxes, now this army… tsk tsk. One mistake after another. It only serves my interests.’

As the new King’s seemingly invincible grip on power began to slip, Jack Juan saw his own influence rising. He was becoming the focal point for the disgruntled lords who wished to challenge the throne. The vision of this grand political triumph was materializing right before him.

With the collapse of most major Ducal and Marquis houses—excluding the two families acting as the King’s personal enforcers—the rank of Count now carried a level of authority far beyond its traditional station. This shift was, of course, largely due to Jack Juan’s own maneuvering.

“Ah! Count Ivan, it has been too long.”

“Haha, not since the last council. Your performance there left a profound impression on me.”

“You flatter me. I was merely doing my part to protect the ancestral rights of our class.”

Even Ivan Claude, a fellow Count, showed a degree of deference upon entering, fueling Jack Juan’s ego as he felt the mantle of leadership settling onto his shoulders.

“Esteemed lords and ladies, I thank you for answering my modest call to assemble. In these turbulent times, it is vital that we nobles of ancient lineage unite our strength to navigate these trials. Let this meeting serve as the cornerstone for a future of shared prosperity.”

The room filled with applause at Jack Juan’s rhetoric, but the warm atmosphere was abruptly sliced through by a sharp, impatient voice.

“Enough with the pleasantries. The King is sharpening his steel, and it’s pointed at us. What is the strategy, Count Jack?”

Count Mike Terroda, one of the few high-ranking peers left in the realm, made no attempt to hide his irritation.

Jack Juan maintained his graceful smile, even though he could sense the resentment in Mike Terroda’s tone—likely caused by the fact that the nobles were congregating at the Juan estate rather than his own. However, Jack Juan’s next words made Mike’s grumbling seem trivial.

“Haha, there is no need for such grim thoughts, Count Mike.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike’s brow furrowed, a look of confusion echoed by the other nobles in the room.

“The King is building a terrifyingly large legion. Is that not a threat? Knights are actually deserting their ancestral lands just to sign up for his service! Are we here to play games while our power is stripped away?”

Count Mike Terroda’s outburst prompted nods of agreement from the crowd, even from those who had previously leaned toward Clan McLaine. The King’s recent directives were so aggressive that even his allies were becoming nervous.

Yet, Jack Juan’s calm expression never wavered.

“You must look beyond the immediate surface of these actions.”

“And see what, exactly?”

“Where will the gold come from to pay for such a massive host?”

“From the taxes he is bleeding out of us! Everyone knows that—”

“And that tax revenue is a finite, temporary solution.”

“Temporary…?!”

Those words gave Mike and several others pause as they began to follow the logic.

“By my calculations, the wealth seized this time won’t sustain an army of that size for even six months. Even if McLaine and Esperanza pour their own treasuries into the effort, it is like trying to fill a bucket with a hole in the bottom. The sheer financial weight of this military will eventually cripple both of those families—the very pillars of his power.”

Jack Juan handed out ledgers containing detailed financial projections. Any noble with a basic grasp of estate management could see the numbers were damning. Mike Terroda studied the documents with a trembling hand, forced to admit the reasoning was sound.

Still, he was not a man to yield easily.

“Are you implying the King is just throwing money away without a plan? Are you truly dismissing Logan McLaine so easily?”

Logan McLaine.

The mere mention of the name caused a visible tension to ripple through the assembly. Even Jack Juan felt a momentary chill, but he quickly composed himself, his voice growing even more confident.

“A young, impulsive sovereign. A man of war and a superhuman who defines himself through battle. But in the art of ruling, he is a novice.”

“Aren’t you being reckless? Underestimating him could be a fatal error.”

“Think about it, Count Mike. A King who begins his reign by doubling taxes and mass-producing soldiers… do these sound like the choices of a wise ruler?”

“…”

“Regardless of what he did on the battlefield, we must deal with the reality of his governance. History is littered with heroes who became tyrants much faster than anyone anticipated.”

“That is a very narrow interpretation.”

Despite Mike Terroda’s lingering doubt, most of the nobles were being won over by Jack Juan’s narrative. Realizing he had the room, he delivered his final argument.

“Furthermore, even if the King has some hidden objective, the damage from such blatant mismanagement will not easily fade. And if it doesn’t fade on its own, we will ensure it persists. All that is required of us is unity.”

This bold claim caught the room off guard.

“What is there to fear if we stand as one? The repeating crossbows that once made McLaine famous are now common throughout the land. And superhuman strength? The age where a few powerful warriors could decide the fate of a war has ended—a fact the King himself proved.”

The room buzzed with growing excitement.

While organizing scattered nobles into a cohesive front was notoriously difficult, and a true counter to a superhuman had not actually been presented, Jack Juan could feel the momentum shifting in his favor.

“The era is shifting, and we are the ones who will shape it. Faced with a King who cannot stop making mistakes, it is our obligation to unite and steer the kingdom into a new age. Place your faith in me. I will be your voice and the shield that protects the divine rights and status of our noble class!”

The sheer certainty in Jack Juan’s voice drew a roar of applause from the gathered peers, which he accepted with a triumphant smile.

“It looks like we can actually balance the books. Even if we recruit the full 50,000 soldiers as planned, we can make it work with the contributions from McLaine and Esperanza—though it will be a very tight fit. We do have ‘that’ to rely on, after all.”

Despite the deep shadows under his eyes from exhaustion, Dwayne managed a weary smile.

‘I have reached the absolute limit of our reserves. Somehow, I’ve kept us afloat!’

He felt like he deserved a medal for his efforts, but his King—who seemed to view money only as something to be spent—was about to upend his hard work once again with a preposterous demand.

“We’re going to have to divert those mana stones to another project for a few months.”

“Ah… haha, that’s a good one. Very funny. Haha… ha…”

Dwayne tried to play it off as a joke, but the cold intensity in those crimson eyes told him otherwise.

“For the love of…”

His attempt at professional restraint shattered, and his frustration boiled over.

“Are you trying to see if you can actually kill me through overwork?! Is that the goal?! Why don’t you just open my veins and be done with it?! It’s impossible! I won’t do it! I absolutely refuse!”

Despite the explosive pushback, Logan remained undeterred.

“And I need more funding to construct a second dam. Specifically, in that wasteland blocked by the mountains west of the crown lands—the area where the Tenon River is cut off by the peaks.”

“You can’t possibly mean…”

“We’re going to implement the mana water irrigation system in both the royal lands and Esperanza’s domain for another three months. We’ll have to tighten our belts a little further, Dwayne. Just a bit more, alright?”

“Again?! Why now?! Why start so many massive construction projects with no money?! Have you lost your mind the moment you sat on that throne?!”

The administrator’s screams of outrage went unheeded. His anger had clearly crossed the boundaries of protocol, yet the King, knowing how much he was asking of his subordinate, simply chuckled. He didn’t punish the outburst; instead, he tried to reason with him.

“This year, our own lands proved that the mana water system can remain viable for a decade. If we can just survive a few more months of dam construction, we will have more than enough grain to feed the entire army by the next harvest.”

“Ugh…”

Dwayne’s face changed colors by the second, his heart rate refusing to slow down. Logan, however, pressed the issue.

“The dwarves and our family are the only ones who know about the mana stone mine. If we want to fully stabilize this kingdom within a year, this is the only path. It will take ninety days. Let’s make it happen.”

“Our home territory…”

“Yes?”

“Our people—the McLaine leaseholders—were supposed to be spared from the tax hikes that the rest of the kingdom is facing. You remember promising that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I remember.”

Dwayne was about to argue that the mana water farming had made that possible, but then he hit a harder point.

“If you follow through with these new plans, McLaine will be forced to raise taxes just like everywhere else, putting a heavy burden on the people who love you. Does their sacrifice mean anything to you, Your Majesty?”

The words were heavy. It was an argument Logan had expected, but hearing the plight of his own people described so bluntly by Dwayne made it hard to find an easy answer. Nonetheless, he held his ground.

“… One year. Give me one year. I will have everything back on a prosperous course before the next harvest and the onset of winter.”

The internal conflict was visible on Logan’s face as he spoke. Dwayne eventually gave a reluctant nod, though his expression remained incredibly grim.