Chapter 119: Sophia's Enemy

Sophia’s study was exquisite and opulent. The walls, as pure and white as jade, were meticulously crafted from a rare wood known as Moonlight Timber. This wood possessed a luster akin to white-glazed rock—smooth, cool to the touch, and perpetually refreshing—imbuing the room with a cool serenity throughout the year.

Moonlight Timber was not famed for its price, for its worth could not be measured in gold. This rare timber was a specialty of the Tyrell Mountain Range, and Sophia’s trading guild was among the few organizations permitted to trade with the barbarians. In fact, throughout the entire Kingdom of Gambis, only Sophia was capable of constructing a study from Moonlight Timber.

Embedded within the Moonlight Timber walls was a row of white crystals. These colorless crystals were essential to the Church’s rituals, each worth five hundred gold sols. Nobles customarily displayed such white crystals in their studies, for they amplified light; with just a single candle lit, the entire room shone as bright as day.

Yet, what truly drew the eye in the study was the mounted skull of a sabertooth tiger hanging on the wall.

The sabertooth tiger was unquestionably the most dangerous feline in this world. Compared to it, the moonblade leopard seemed as harmless as a kitten.

An adult sabertooth tiger weighed over 2,200 pounds, stood nearly two meters tall at the shoulder, and stretched over four meters in length. Its fifteen-centimeter-long saber teeth could effortlessly pierce a knight’s armor. Legend had it that even a fully grown ogre could find itself on the sabertooth’s menu. It was the king of beasts—a genuine silver-tier monster.

“What an astonishing creature! Even more astonishing is that it was personally hunted by you, Marchioness Sophia,” remarked a man dressed in lavish attire, his gaze fixed on the lifelike specimen on the wall.

“Duke Williams, your visit to the Marchioness’s residence surely isn’t merely to discuss hunting sabertooth tigers?” Sophia replied.

She wore a pure white fishtail gown that gracefully trailed on the floor, accentuating her slender figure. Her arms were crossed in a guarded posture, yet the fullness of her chest was pushed up alluringly, a snowy valley that captivated the senses—an inexplicable charm.

Duke Williams turned his head toward Sophia. Handsome and robust, his muscles were well-defined but not exaggerated. His eyes were sharp and clear, conveying sincerity and wisdom.

“Sophia, your beauty is truly captivating. Were I ten years younger, I would surely fall at your feet,” Williams said earnestly.

Sophia responded coldly, “Your Highness, I have heard many flattering words before. Please, speak plainly about your business. I would rather not cause any misunderstandings with the Duchess.”

“Marchioness Sophia, I believe you mean with Queen Catherine,” Williams smiled slyly.

Sophia’s gaze grew icier. In a frosty tone, she said, “Your Highness, since you know the nature of my relationship with Her Majesty Catherine, I suggest you take your leave.”

Williams shook his head with a wry smile. “Sophia, Catherine won’t help you, and she never will. Your relationship has already shattered. Now, only I can help you navigate this crisis.”

“Your little sweetheart has fallen in the Centaur Hills, her fate unknown. There’s a high chance she died in the Ant Swarm. And you, my dear, are in deep trouble.”

Sophia’s violet eyes narrowed sharply—this was her greatest fear. The grim news from the Centaur Hills three days prior had plunged her into despair.

Over the years, Sophia had skillfully played all sides. With Queen Catherine’s aid, she seized the marquisate inheritance and, leveraging the queen’s influence, purged the trading guild. Later, she secretly collaborated with Sylvia to free herself from the queen’s control and regain mastery over the guild.

Yet, an insurmountable barrier loomed: the laws of lordly succession inscribed in the Glorious Codex.

The first pope had compiled the Glorious Codex, decreeing the sanctity and inviolability of lordly inheritance. Upon a lord’s death, his bloodline must inherit the title.

In truth, this law was a trap for the lords set by the founding pope. The early Church, lacking strength to protect all humanity, chose to ally with the knightly class against alien invaders, granting knights the status of lordship.

As the Church’s power grew, it punished or executed lords who violated the codex, yet always respected the bloodline’s right of inheritance. This effectively subdued rebellious intentions among lords; even if a lord was executed, his descendants or siblings could safely assume lordship, lessening hostility towards the Church and averting fierce conflict. This revealed the original Church’s disinterest in temporal power—they sought only to protect the populace and maintain faith, for as long as humanity endured, faith remained unshaken, and the Church remained unassailable.

Over millennia, ceaseless family wars and alliances birthed military factions within the knightly class. When human kingdoms arose, knights established the Nobles’ Council and the Elders’ Senate to curb the Church’s influence on the realm. The Nobles’ Council mediated disputes among lords; when mediation failed, the Elders’ Senate ruled.

With these institutions, nobles learned to exploit loopholes in lordly succession. Catherine had Sophia wed Victor, thereby placing her on the marquisate throne.

Strictly speaking, Victor was the rightful heir, but the Elders’ Senate ruled that Sophia inherit first, with their offspring designated as heirs. The Church turned a blind eye to such maneuvers; inheritance laws were designed to appease lords, and as long as no disputes arose, the Church cared little for such affairs.

What Sophia never expected was the Ant Army’s invasion of the Centaur Hills. With Sylvia overwhelmed and Victor likely dead, her years of effort threatened to unravel. Her enemies would seize this chance to reclaim the marquisate inheritance.

Now even Duke Williams sought to ensnare her, yet Sophia refused to yield.

“So what? Even if I lose my title, I would merely return to my true self,” Sophia said coldly.

“Sophia, you may first consider my sincerity,” Williams said, tossing over a scroll.

Taking it, Sophia saw it was a deployment order.

“Baron Soren Wimberton, Commander of the Royal Guard, assigned as commander of Minsk Fortress, garrisoned for one year.”

Baron Soren Wimberton—a silver-tier peak knight, commander of Gambis’s Royal Guard, a prodigy poised to rise to golden knight, a trusted subordinate of Duke Williams, and Sophia’s mortal enemy!

Soren was the nephew of the Elder Wimberton Marquis. After his family fell into decline, he sought refuge with the elder marquis, who nurtured and funded him until he became a silver-tier grand knight.

The elder marquis had three wives in his lifetime. His first wife, deeply beloved, bore no children before her death. In his later years, desiring an heir, he married a daughter from a minor family. She conceived but mysteriously suffered a fatal accident. It was then he discovered Soren had deeply infiltrated the guild, scheming to seize his title and wealth.

By then, the elder marquis lacked the strength to punish Soren. Favored by Williams, Soren won over many guild officials, while the elder marquis’s days were numbered.

No longer seeking an heir, the elder marquis craved revenge against the traitor. Thus, he married his third wife—Sophia.

At that time, Queen Catherine was gentle and virtuous, neither meddling in politics nor the military. Yet the elder marquis was certain she was no fool; given chance, she would interfere in the guild. He carefully orchestrated everything for Sophia. Indeed, with the queen’s help, Sophia inherited the title and estate, purged the guild’s loyalists to Soren, and kept Soren silent before the queen’s power.

The elder marquis chose Sophia not for her beauty but for her ambition and capability. By inheriting his wealth and title, Sophia became Soren’s sworn enemy.

Using the queen’s might to eliminate the traitor and forge a silver-tier foe for Soren was the elder marquis’s vengeance.

As for the guild and Sophia’s fate, he cared little, though he never imagined Sophia would cleverly break free from the queen’s control.

Yet, despite all, Soren and Sophia were mortal enemies locked in a relentless struggle, unless Sophia agreed to marry him. But the elder marquis had long seen through Sophia’s character and will—she would never submit, for she was also a silver-tier grand knight.

No matter how much the elder marquis despised Soren, he could not deny he was his nephew. If Victor truly died, Soren could overturn the Elders’ Senate’s ruling, invoke the Church’s protection of lordly succession, and claim the title and guild.

However, Soren had just been dispatched by Duke Williams to guard the border, forbidden to return for a year!

“When the Elders’ Senate ruled I was to inherit the marquisate, Prince Roland blocked Soren for an entire day. This time, Your Highness has granted me a year. What is it that you want?” Sophia stared at Williams and asked.

“I want you to go to the Centaur Hills,” he said.