The Debt Of Fate-Chapter 292: Take advantage of her family.

The following morning, the war room was filled once more.

Scrolls lay unfurled across the long table, their edges weighted down by carved stones. Lines of ink marked supply routes, fortified towns, rivers, and mountain passes. The councilors stood rather than sat this time, as though none of them dared appear too comfortable.

King Edward arrived late.

His presence silenced the room at once.

"Begin," he said, taking his place at the head of the table, not bothering to sit.

General Corwin stepped forward first. "Your Majesty, after careful deliberation, two viable plans have been prepared."

He gestured to the first map. "The first is a targeted strike against Lord Aureline’s supply channels. His control over the second region relies heavily on grain and weapons transported through water routes. We still have a few loyal navy men. With reinforcement, the chances of taking over are six out of ten. If we sever these lines, his forces will be weakened, and we can then advance. However, the odds may not be as favorable as we have analyzed, and the losses would be great. We may fail to take full control of the route."

A few commanders nodded. It was a bold plan—risky, but decisive.

Corwin then moved to the second map. "The second plan is slower but steadier. We advance village by village, town by town, reclaiming territory while fortifying each position. This will gradually weaken Lord Aureline’s influence among the people and restore confidence in the crown. Though it would take time, it is the safer option."

The room fell silent.

Both plans were sound. Both carried weight.

King Edward studied the maps without speaking, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. His gaze shifted between the routes, his mind clearly calculating which victory he preferred—swift domination or cautious control.

Just as he was about to speak, a voice broke the silence.

"Your Majesty."

All eyes turned.

Lord William stepped forward.

It was a bold move, one that made several councilors stiffen. William rarely spoke without invitation, and never without careful thought.

King Edward’s eyes narrowed. "Speak." He knew of William’s loyalty.

Lord William bowed deeply before lifting his head. "Both plans are excellent. Yet before Your Majesty chooses a path, I must speak of something more fundamental."

Edward did not interrupt.

"A war cannot be won by strategy alone," William continued. "If morale collapses, even the best plan will fail. At present, the army’s spirit is unstable."

Murmurs stirred through the room. Everyone knew this to be true, but none dared to say it aloud.

"The rumors spreading through the kingdom—that the gods have rejected Your Majesty, that Prince Lucan’s son was poisoned..." He paused briefly. "These matters have not been addressed. Soldiers hear these whispers, as do the people who supply them. Doubt is spreading, aiding rebellion."

Edward’s expression darkened.

William did not stop. He spoke as though he did not notice the king’s gaze.

"Furthermore," he said carefully, "it has now been two months since General Ernest was suspended. His absence has been felt on the battlefield and within the ranks. Many soldiers remain loyal to him. The longer this matter remains unresolved, the more resentment grows."

The war room fell deathly silent.

To speak of Ernest now—at this moment—was dangerous. Many present worried for Lord William.

Lord William bowed again. "For the sake of the kingdom, I believe the case should be reviewed. Whether Your Majesty restores him or passes final judgment, uncertainty cannot continue."

King Edward’s fingers stopped tapping.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

The maps lay forgotten.

The council waited with bated breath, knowing that William’s words had struck where strategy could not—at the heart of the king’s authority.

And whether Edward accepted them or not, the truth had already been spoken aloud.

Finally, Edward spoke. "Prepare to attack the water route." His voice was sharp.

The people in the room felt their breath catch in their throats. They wondered how the king could ignore something of such importance, but none dared object.

"Yes, Your Majesty," all the military men present bowed.

Just when everyone thought the meeting was over, the king spoke again. "Lord William."

Hearing his name, Lord William bowed. He knew the king could choose to punish him instead of heeding his warning. The others present remained motionless, waiting for the king’s command.

"Since you brought up Ernest," Edward continued, "I will leave the follow-up investigation to you. I trust your judgment."

Unwilling to lower his head, King Edward pushed the task onto Lord William.

No matter how much he wished to deny it, with two rebel forces rising, he knew he needed a sharp mind like Ernest’s.

The men in the hall breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the instruction.

After issuing the order, King Edward left the meeting room. He did not return to his study but instead went to visit his mother’s courtyard.

King Edward arrived at his mother’s courtyard covered in sweat, having walked instead of taking the sedan chair. "Your Majesty, Her Grace has instructed that she will not be seeing anyone for the next few days," the guards and attendants said, attempting to intercept him at the outer courtyard.

Edward waved them aside. "I will see her. Do not block me."

The guards wished to stop him, but he was the king, and they did not dare disobey.

The courtyard was secluded, surrounded by high walls and shaded by ancient trees. Far removed from the bustle of the main palace, it served as a sanctuary for the Queen Mother. Yet Edward paid no heed to its serenity. He crossed it quickly and entered the sitting chamber.

Queen Mother Mary sat by the window, a prayer book open in her lap. An incense lamp burned softly beside her, her expression calm and composed. She did not look up when Edward entered, nor did she acknowledge his presence.

"Mother," Edward said stiffly, "your son pays his respects."

Mary continued reading, turning a page deliberately.

"Mother," Edward called again, stepping closer, his voice softening like that of a child. He understood that while he could force his way in, he could not force her to speak.

"Mother, I have come to speak with you. Will you not even look at your son?" he asked.

Mary’s hand paused mid-page. "You enter my courtyard as though the world bends solely to your will. Do you truly hold me as your mother in your heart?" she asked, without looking up.

"I apologize for my actions, but Mother, you cannot refuse to speak to me because of this," Edward said.

"I know why you have come," Mary replied evenly. "But I have nothing to say to you." Though she had not moved, she was fully aware of all that had transpired.

"Mother, I am still your son. You cannot ignore me when I come to you," Edward said softly, struggling to hide his frustration.

"Then are you here as the King of Nixel, or as my son?" Mary asked, her gaze still fixed on the book.

Edward’s heart tightened. He knew that if he answered both, she would turn him away. "As your son," he said, lowering his head.

A bitter smile touched Mary’s lips. She closed the book and finally looked at him. "Then I ask you as a mother—did you poison your nephew?"

Edward felt cold sweat break out, but he did not dare lie. "I did," he admitted. "But it was a decision I made for the kingdom—for its future. A child born of the Princess of Gube is bad news for our royal family."

"Enough!" Mary rose abruptly, crossed the room, and slapped him hard across the face, unable to restrain her anger and disappointment.

"Mother!" Edward was stunned. In all his life, she had never struck him.

"Who was it who agreed to that marriage?" Mary demanded. "No matter who his mother is, he was still your nephew!" She covered her mouth as tears fell.

Even after investigating and suspecting Edward’s involvement, she had refused to believe it. She had raised her sons to support one another. She had never imagined such betrayal.

"I acted for the kingdom," Edward said desperately. "Decisions had to be made swiftly. There are rebels, rumors, disloyalty... I was afraid of future trouble. I trust my brother, but that Princess of Gube—I..." His voice broke as he fell to his knees. "I know I was wrong. My actions hurt my brother deeply. I only want a chance to make amends."

Hearing this, Mary felt as though her heart were being torn apart. Both men were her sons. The child was her grandson. Everyone mattered to her.

If she forced her second son to step forward and clear his brother’s name, she would be doing him a great injustice. Yet she also understood that the kingdom could not continue in this state.

Her second son was weak—unfit to sit upon the throne. She could not allow outsiders to take advantage of her family.

At last, Mary lost the dignity she had carried for so many years as both noblewoman and queen, and she wept openly.

Miss Margaret, hearing the cries, longed to enter and comfort her, but facing both king and queen, she did not dare.