Chapter 200: Restoration

After a whole jar of salt was poured on her, Prudence fainted from the excruciating pain. When she finally came to, she was drenched in sweat, and the smell from the bedding was unbearable. Geoffrey saw she was in agony, on the verge of death. Only then did he stop. He lowered his gaze, his voice cold and controlled. “Mother, take care of yourself. Let me continue serving you. I’ll leave now and come back tomorrow.” With that, he stood up and left without a single glance in her direction.

The servant, who had been listening to Prudence's screams, froze, too scared to move when she saw the Duke rubbing salt into her wounds like a monster. Once the Duke had left, she rushed over. Prudence’s body was twitching, her eyes filled with hatred so intense it could kill. It was impossible to tell if it was saltwater or blood dripping down her face, but she looked like a complete wreck. The servant wrinkled her nose at the stench coming from the bedding and reluctantly fetched some water to wash her. But the Duke had just given an order that no one was allowed to use hot water in Blesertin. Even that cold water—it was autumn—was insufficient; the wind howled through the house, and there was no stove. It was just more suffering for Prudence.

The Langley family wasn’t doing much better. After Priscilla’s funeral, the house had gone deathly quiet. Nicole moped around, lamenting her failed marriage, while Vance drank away his last penny, ensuring no one in the house could stand him. And thanks to Isolde and the Duke’s daily “attention” to Prudence, the people around her had slowly started to neglect her. To top it off, the Duke had given strict orders: only a bowl of porridge and a cup of water every day. Isolde’s medicine was considered a “bonus meal,” so it wasn’t as if anyone cared for Prudence at all.

Money was tight for Priscilla and her daughters. Nicole didn’t mind so much, but Martha was throwing a fit. She was used to living lavishly, but today, she saw a bracelet she liked in a shop—it cost more than 100,000. In the past, she’d just go home and get it from her mother. Now? Nothing. Fuming, Martha marched straight to Blesertin, though there was no cash to be had. Even if there was, Vance had already cleaned the place out.

Martha was beyond furious. As if on cue, Prudence woke up and asked for a glass of water. Martha, staring at her once-mighty grandmother who couldn’t even scrape together a single coin, was seething. She grabbed the water and walked over with a wicked grin, pouring it straight onto Prudence’s face. “Drink, bitch.”

Prudence was shaking with rage. She couldn’t believe it. Wasn’t it bad enough that her enemies tortured her? But now, even her own flesh and blood were so cruel. Martha smashed the cup and stormed off, cold as ice. Prudence cried silently, the pain gnawing at her soul. No matter how vicious Geoffrey and Isolde were, they didn't make her suffer as much as the ones she had loved most in the world—the ones who hurt her the most. Her heart felt like it was being torn to pieces.

The only thing that gave her any relief was the thought of Isolde marrying a dead man and becoming a widow. To hell with it, she had it coming. As for the Marquis’s estate? Let it all burn. Everything’s going to crash down, just like my life. And then there was Clark, still deep in his mourning phase. Honestly, it kind of made her feel a little better, at least for the moment, although Clark hadn’t done anything bad to her. All she wanted was for everyone in the Duke’s estate to suffer, just like she was. Hell, it’d be nice if they suffered even more.

But of course, Prudence’s little victory didn’t last long. One day, Clark received the King’s Edict—the King had reinstated him to his position. His mourning period ended early. Tomorrow, he was expected to report to the palace and serve the King again. Clark could barely process what he was hearing.

After stumbling for a moment, he shakily reached out to take the decree when the official from the Parliamentary Library called out his name. However, he stared at the lord who was reading the decree, completely confused. Geoffrey, who had been listening to the announcement as well, spoke up on his behalf. “Lord Bennett,” he said, “the King’s Edict doesn’t explain what this whole thing is about. I’m curious…”

Ethan Bennett grinned. “My Lord, let me clear it up for you. A few days ago, Clark wrote up a proposal that the Chancellor presented to the Imperial Court. The King read it yesterday and was so shocked, he immediately ran to show it to the Queen Mother. Turns out, this whole thing was actually a joint decision between the King and the Queen Mother. The Queen Mother pointed out that Clark was Lady Margaret’s godson. So, in theory, Priscilla is just an aunt to him—she doesn’t need to mourn.”

Ethan glanced over at Clark with a smirk. “Congrats, Lord Langley. The King and the Queen Mother have shown you favor. You’re now in the palace, serving the King. Your future’s looking bright. Big congrats!”

Clark quickly cupped his hands. “Thank you, Lord Bennett. Please, go ahead and have your coffee.”

“No, no. I’ve gotta report back!” Ethan cupped his hands and left quickly.

As Ethan and the others walked away, Clark still couldn’t believe it. But the weight of the King’s Edict in his hand felt so real. “Father…” Clark looked at Geoffrey with wide eyes. “Is this really happening?”

The Duke gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. “Well, the King’s Edict has been issued, so yeah, it’s for real.”

“I can’t believe it!” Clark thought his future had been ruined, but here was a golden opportunity out of nowhere, like a beggar suddenly getting a feast. He didn’t even know how to process it.

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. “What exactly did you write to the King?”

Clark replied, “I’ve got the proposal back in the study. I’ll get it for you right now,” and quickly signaled Cooper to fetch it. Cooper, as if waking from a dream, grinned and bolted inside.

Geoffrey read the proposal three or four times in a row. By the time he was done, he was drenched in sweat. “You’ve got guts, kid. Too much guts. If this goes sideways, you might just lose your head.”

Clark had suggested over a dozen brilliant strategies for governing the empire, all of them sharp, insightful… but one of them, on centralizing imperial power, called for the King to reclaim military and mining rights from every king of every state around the whole empire.

Clark said, “Father, the lands granted to the kings are already rich, and the local taxes are generous enough. They shouldn’t be giving out mining rights on top of that. With all these external forces threatening, if we don’t curb the kings’ ambitions now, we could end up in chaos. The people’s desires are endless—we have to act.”

Geoffrey looked alarmed. “No wonder the King’s Edict didn’t explain the reason for your release. The King’s protecting you. If word of this plan gets out, the kings will want your head on a silver platter.”

Clark remained calm. “If the King accepts my proposal, I’ll give up my head if necessary. This plan is for the good of the country and its people. It’s the only way the empire will stay at peace.”

Geoffrey scowled. “You’re a young fool who doesn’t know how dangerous the official path is. When you head to the palace, you’d better watch your words. Think carefully before you speak. Don’t rush, and don’t be reckless, understand?”

Clark knew his father was just looking out for him. He understood that serving the King was like dancing with a tiger. He nodded respectfully. “I understand, Father. I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” Geoffrey said, his tone softening. “Now go. Get ready.”

“Yes, Father. I’ll take my leave now!” Clark turned to leave.

“Hold up!” Geoffrey suddenly called out, his voice steady. “The King’s given you your position back, so don’t forget to go congratulate your grandmother!”

Clark lowered his head, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes, Father.”