The Lord: In Another World, I Have a Summoning Card !-Chapter 51: Chaptre : Ambition

Then he frowned slightly, his gaze fixed on the commander of the royal army—the only foreigner in the chamber:"Let’s not pretend this is all done out of goodwill or patriotism. These nobles don’t send their people to us to defend the realm—they send them to rid themselves of excess population. They lower their population density, reduce crime, and avoid unrest in their own lands... while keeping the battlefield as far away from themselves as possible."

A heavy silence fell. Some nobles looked visibly displeased, while others remained still—like they knew he was right but lacked the courage to admit it.

Then, Bestov added, his voice softer now, but still clear:"Some of them even exploit the situation to gain access to rare resources found only in the northern provinces... in exchange for sending us more of their citizens. A silent trade no one acknowledges—but it exists. And as you can see... we are on the verge of collapse."

He finally raised his head and looked directly at Duke Krayman.Bestov’s last words struck the silence of the hall like a stone cast into a still pond.

"We are not asking to be exempt from our duty—it is our mission and our oath as nobles. What we are asking... is that the kingdom recognize us for what we are: the ones standing on the front lines."

Upon hearing this, Duke Krayman frowned, though he said nothing. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to decipher what lay behind those words.

To some, Bestov’s statement may have sounded like a plea to protect the interests of the northern lords—a light scolding directed at the rest of the nobility.

But Krayman knew the truth.

These words weren’t merely meant for the chamber...

They were aimed at him directly.

He—Duke Krayman—the head of the nobles aligned with the crown, and their foremost representative in the ruling council.

He felt that same bitterness.

Since the beginning of the military campaign, he had watched prices skyrocket uncontrollably. Food—which barely covered the needs of the northern territories after every orc invasion—had suddenly become a rare commodity.

And the nobles from the central and southern regions, where fertile lands and abundant farms flourished, shamelessly exploited the situation.

They doubled the prices under the pretext of sudden conscription and mobilization costs, even though they were only asked for a handful of recruits.

Krayman knew that some of the profits were used to cover legitimate expenses, but that didn’t change the fact that northern nobles were still contributing more to defending the kingdom’s borders—even if indirectly.

And this method was worse than before...

Because now, they were being treated as if they were receiving charity.

"Absurd..." he thought bitterly, considering the food security situation in the northern province.

Take his own duchy as an example. Every year, he was forced to buy massive amounts of food just to cover the shortages left by the orc raids.

And to secure those supplies, he had to make concessions... In every meeting, he was pushed to appease lower-ranked nobles who happened to control rich agricultural lands.Politics of mutual interest forced him to smile at them in public, while hiding his frustration in private.

"If you’re not ready to pay the price, then you must offer a favor. Otherwise, you’ll get nothing."—That cursed rule haunted him in every deal, every council.

And he knew all too well...

If he, the head of this crumbling structure, couldn’t bear the burden—then it would be hell for the rest of the northern nobility—especially the younger ones, or those lacking political influence.

Earl Bestov looked toward Duke Krayman, who remained silent, then turned his gaze to the rest of the nobles—many of whom gave slight nods, signaling a tacit agreement with his words.

He felt a momentary sense of satisfaction.

In truth, as the duke thought, Earl Bestov’s words were not only meant to protect his own interests or those of the northern nobles suffering under the weight of greed-fueled practice.

But also to undermine the growing control of Duke Krayman and his family over the northern province.

Control that had been building steadily since the last major campaign and the repulsion of the orc invasion.

And the reason was clear:

The recurring orc attacks before each winter, coupled with the sharp decline in revenues across the northern fiefs compared to the rest of the kingdom’s regions, had pushed the northern nobles to unite—willingly or otherwise.

They had no choice but to present a unified front—not just to resist the orcs, but also to pressure the crown itself, to secure aid that had been promised time and again but rarely delivered.

To achieve this unity, a leader was needed—even if unofficial.And who else could that be but Duke Krayman?

He was the highest-ranking among them, the most influential, and politically the closest to the royal family—by blood and by alliance.

True, this new structure had helped reduce regional and internal conflicts, but the side effect was undeniable:The expansion of Duke Krayman’s influence, and his gradual transformation into a "king without a crown" in the north.

His informal authority now exceeded that of any other duke in the remaining regions of the kingdom.

And for that reason, his words today had been weighed with precision.

They appeased the angry nobles, unsettled Krayman, and portrayed him as a defender of the public good — but at their core, they were the first step toward opening the door to a long-buried dream:That the name Bestov would no longer be just "Earl"... but one day be spoken as: "His Grace, Duke Bestov."

Human greed knows no bounds. Earl Bestov, a powerful noble with vast lands and wealth, was not content to merely preserve his status — he still clung to the dream born with him in his youth:To one day see his family name crowned with the title of "Duke."

Since the founding of the Northern Province, only one noble house had stood atop the power pyramid: the Krayman.

But today, another family had amassed enough strength and ambition to challenge them: the Bestovs.

And for one to rise... the other must fall.It hadn’t always been this way.

On the contrary, before the northern lands had suffered immense losses in the orc wars, the North had been considered the largest of the kingdom’s regions, home to more than four earldoms, all proudly led by Duke Krayman.

But the last campaign changed everything.

Two noble houses were wiped out completely, and a third had declined so far that it barely held on to the title of baron.

Even Krayman himself had lost a large portion of his territory and influence.

Only the Bestov family had emerged with minimal losses — and that was all it took to ignite the spark of ambition in the heart of the old earl, who had begun to believe... he could replace the most prestigious noble family in the North.

But things hadn’t gone as he wished in recent years.

The Krayman family had used the annual orc raids as a pretext to unify the North under their banner, attempting to restore their lost prestige... and they had succeeded to a great extent.

Still, he saw the rise of Duke Krayman’s power not only as a threat — but also as an opportunity.

If he could undermine that unspoken dominance, sow seeds of dissent among the younger nobles, and manage to present himself as a wise and balanced alternative leader.

then it would not be impossible for his name to be whispered as a potential candidate for a future duchy — whether the North was ever divided, or Krayman’s position weakened enough.

Duke Krayman felt a cold current pass through his chest... Anger was rising inside him like a quiet volcano, but he knew this was not a moment to lose his composure.

Earl Bestov had gone too far, cornering him publicly — but Krayman was a duke... and a duke does not show anger; he reshuffles the board.

What made the tension worse was that some of the nobles exchanged glances among themselves... not looks of support or even neutrality, but a mix of anticipation and subtle satisfaction — as if they were waiting for Krayman to slip, to give them the excuse they needed to pounce.

But before Krayman could respond, a deep, calm voice cut through the hall:

"Gentlemen," said the Supreme Commander of the Royal Army, stepping forward, his voice steady and weighted like wisdom laid upon a scale, "It is no secret the extent of your losses in recent years... but we must recognize that facing the orcs requires a high level of coordination and close cooperation between the nobles and feudal lords — especially in the North."

Then he cast a quick glance at Duke Krayman and added with a firmer tone:"Duke Krayman has made efforts in this regard... and his role in maintaining stability cannot be denied."

Krayman felt a subtle flutter in his chest — not from anger this time, but from relief.

He gave the Supreme Commander a silent look of gratitude — not so much for personal support, but as confirmation of the king’s backing. The Crown’s backing.

Yes... of course, the army doesn’t want chaos. They’re barely holding the borders as it is.

To them, a weakening of his influence would mean the North splintering again... and then, disorder.

The commander continued with a firmer voice:"But we are here today to listen, not to justify everything. Your concerns are heard... and it is our duty to ease your burdens, not add to them. I assure you, Duke Krayman is prepared to provide a clear explanation regarding what has been raised."

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Krayman’s lips.

"Explanation"...He didn’t say "investigation." He didn’t say "accountability." Just... "explanation."

Yes... as if all that had happened was a simple misunderstanding.

From his side of the hall, Bestov noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

The glances that had moments ago leaned in his favor began to waver.

Some nobles stepped back in their stance, and others now eyed Krayman with more caution than confidence.