Chapter 449: Envy

"Philip I has already conceded defeat. It's rare to see him bow his head to anyone."

While the few atop the Wieldensteine Tower were signing the treaty, in an ancient manor north of Atlanta.

An old man lying in a rocking chair suddenly sat up, his eyes glinting as he gazed at the figures floating above the clouds.

"You seem surprised?"

Eliza looked at her great-grandfather with confusion: "Roland Benedict has already lost. If someone hadn't intervened, my boss's maid would have chopped him into mincemeat."

"Child, you don't know the power that old Philip possesses."

The old man slowly lay back: "He's a spider hidden in the shadows, weaving an immense web in corners no one notices, a web others can hardly fathom. Yet now he has conceded to Consul. Do you know what that means?"

Eliza pondered briefly: "You mean Consul's strength is so great that Philip sees no chance of victory?"

"Clever girl. I must tell you that during this confrontation, there must have been a hidden battle we know nothing about. I think Philip I was at a disadvantage overall. Of course, Roland Benedict's unexpected defeat was the key."

The old man spoke with a sigh, then handed a document to Eliza: "You can leave now, little girl. Downtown Atlanta should be safe. And take this with you—it's all yours."

Eliza glanced at it curiously and found several property transfer documents, including shares and real estate, worth about 250 million gold shields.

For the Targaryen family, with its numerous descendants, this was a substantial sum.

But she sneered: "This is my reward for backing the right person, right? I'm curious—what if Amo had lost? Would you have thrown me out?"

"Sharp-tongued!"

The old man rocked his chair leisurely: "I had you brought here forcibly for your safety! You little wretch, can't you recognize good intentions? Eliza, you must understand that every Targaryen has their own path. I never interfere with their choices, only help as much as I can. That was true for your father, and it's true for you. But beyond that, I'm sorry I can't do more. Your boss has limitless potential. The Targaryen family can cooperate with him, but there's no need to get too deeply involved. That's our family's current way."

"Sounds so wise, so insightful, so far-sighted. But unfortunately, I noticed just now—old man, you're actually envious, aren't you? I mean of Rote Linden. If he had sided with my boss, he might have carved off some flesh from those two. But such opportunities come only once."

Eliza snorted, took the documents, and walked toward the door: "Bye-bye, old man! Thanks for dinner. As repayment for this property, I'll put in a good word for the family with my boss. If I'm not mistaken, you not only want to invest in his fleet but also plan to take a stake when he ventures into the dark world, right? And give my regards to the gentleman in the next room. Since he doesn't want to see me, I won't disturb him."

After the female magic hunter's figure disappeared behind the door, the old man sat up again, rubbing his forehead in frustration: "Why are young people so hard to fool these days?"

"I told you you underestimated her."

A young man emerged from another room, his expression also helpless: "But I never expected this outcome either. What a pity! Though I saw that Roland Benedict might suffer a heavy defeat, I lacked Rote Linden's decisiveness. He hitched a ride."

"But we're not like the Lindens. They have an irreconcilable hatred for the Howards. We don't need to get involved, do we?"

Though the old man said this, he could hear the envy in his own voice.

Tens of billions of gold shields in assets—who in this world could remain unmoved? The Targaryen family lacked nothing but money—

…

"Cheers! To my boss's victory."

In a quiet villa north of Atlanta, Nanette Drew raised her glass and clinked it with Ms. Yseult.

The latter took a bitter sip and said with a complex tone: "You win, Nanette. I underestimated this son of an old friend. He won this war. I never imagined he had a sniper close to demigod level under his command. And—"

She paused, staring at the magical image displayed on the television screen ahead.

"A true demigod!"

"Elizabeth, that's because you don't know him yet."

Nanette Drew smiled slightly: "'You cannot see the true face of Mount Lu, because you are in the mountain itself.' I feel this Eastern poem isn't quite accurate. Without close contact, how can you truly know a person? Take my boss, for example—if you always keep your distance, you'll never know what's hidden in his coat."

Ms. Drew's eyes also held a strange light; she thought to herself that she too had underestimated Andre.

Hazel Wieldensteine—the trump card she had always believed to be the boss's most powerful asset—had not been used even by the war's end.

Facing two wars at once, and still having strength to spare?

Nanette Drew quickly dismissed the thought, poured herself another glass, and raised it: "This one is for you, for introducing me to this job. Elizabeth, truly, I'm grateful."

"It's rare to hear you thank someone so earnestly."

Ms. Elizabeth Yseult looked at her oddly: "But I wasn't sure this job would suit you. I thought you might refuse. I just let Andre give it a try—"

"I had no other options at the time, Elizabeth."

Nanette smiled: "Luckily, this last, most reluctant choice gave me a chance to rise again."

Ms. Yseult's expression turned serious: "Nanette, I sense your resentment. You want revenge, don't you?"

Just then, she received a satellite call. When the Atlanta city comptroller finished the call and returned from the courtyard to her seat, her face showed more joy.

"Another piece of good news, from Ms. Blythe's disciple. Nanette, the Benedict family will hand over their controlling stake in the Atlantic Intercontinental Bank and about ten billion gold shields in assets."

"Atlantic Intercontinental Bank? Yvonne Benedict agreed? I'm asking too much—under the current situation, her agreement isn't needed."

"In fact, she has no choice unless she wants to watch Roland, the Saint of Vines, die. This is the Magic Association's mediation. No matter how partial Christie Blythe is, she can't break the rules—"

Yseult spoke while pondering.

"Do you know what this means, Nanette?"

She was actually thinking about how this upheaval would affect her personally.

The friendship between the Yseult family and Li Chunchu's family would allow her to gain the support she wanted from Andre Lee Wieldensteine.

"Hundreds of billions of gold shields in capital, and leverage over the Benedict family. My boss's rise is unstoppable. No—he is already one of the most powerful in Atlanta."

Nanette, glass in hand, walked to the window and reached out dazedly, grasping at the air. It seemed something before her was now within reach.

"Look, Elizabeth, I now hold a winning hand. With such backing, why shouldn't I try to return to that place? To reclaim from the center of power in that bright world everything that once was mine!"