Chapter 549: Yes, I Am a Member of the Van Gogh Clan

The early years of Freeman Martin’s life were marked by humiliation. Everyone knew him as a coarse and unruly individual, with his single claim to fame being an infamous incident in his hometown. Armed with only a sword, he once chased the future Duke of Mecklenburg, Charlot Mecklenburg, through the streets in a spectacle that became the stuff of local legend.

But his later years saw him transform into a cultural icon. Under the pen name Freeman Simon Qing Martin, he gained renown across both the Old and New Continents, earning himself a host of titles—ranging from the "Founder of Yellow Literature" and "Master of Scandalous Fiction" to the "Most Shameless Author in History" and the "Quickest Pen in the Old Continent." The labels were both prestigious and irreverent.

Freeman Martin also became one of the best-selling authors in both continents...

Although Charlot pocketed all his royalties, leaving Freeman not a single coin.

Charlot only became aware of the phenomenon when flipping through novels written during the Battle of the Twenty-Two Centimes. These books, penned by morally questionable and overly industrious scribes, were designed to captivate readers with salacious and shocking content. Among them was a peculiar biography titled The Wood Brandon Chronicles. Strangely enough, this biography lacked any actual accounts of Wood Brandon himself, focusing instead on its scandalous companion piece, Madame Winnie. Its elegant prose evoked the charm of La Dame aux Camélias, but its sensational narrative classified it as vulgar pulp fiction.

In any case, Charlot had paid off all these opportunistic authors to bury any connection between himself and the novels. He even refused to assert copyright claims...

It wasn’t like he could get Freeman Martin to sign an agreement, anyway.

Freeman would have flatly refused.

After the Battle of the Twenty-Two Centimes, only one of the "Three Titans" of the rebellion remained: Asturias Axel. Despite his exceptional martial prowess, Asturias had a significant shortcoming—he lacked the Axel family bloodline.

His ancestors were knights serving the founding emperor, adopted into the Axel family after being orphaned. Though Asturias stood out for his unmatched skill in martial arts, his lack of lineage meant he had no claim to inheritance, not even a distant one.

Every “Axel Emperor Candidate” sought to win him over.

But Asturias Axel refused to back any of them, finding himself trapped in indecision.

Asturias couldn’t fathom how such a carefully orchestrated rebellion, one with an 80-90% chance of success, had descended into chaos. With Morgan Axel providing legitimate backing and support from the venerable nobility of Fars, and with the brilliant and resourceful Wood Brandon leading political strategies, Asturias had believed their plan could succeed without war. Public opinion alone might have forced Maclaine Bretagne to abdicate. Even if war broke out, Asturias had been confident they could capitalize on the Great Empires’ entanglements at the front lines and secure substantial strategic advantages.

Yet within days, disaster struck. First, Morgan was assassinated. Then, Wood Brandon was forced to resign. The rebellion’s prospects crumbled, leaving them unable to even choose an emperor. How could they possibly sustain their uprising now?

Asturias set aside the document in his hands, massaged his temples, and sighed deeply, regretting his involvement.

At present, in the city of Strasbourg, seven members of the Axel family had declared themselves the most suitable candidates for emperor.

Truthfully, Asturias would rather support Midaphis Axel over this group of mediocrities.

At least Midaphis had once been a worthy rival to Antonio. He was leagues ahead of these sorry figures.

Charlot, meanwhile, had finished his administrative duties and climbed one of Machubi Fortress’s towers to gaze toward Strasbourg.

He had promised the old emperor that he would resolve the Strasbourg crisis within a month. With most of the time already passed, everything seemed to be progressing favorably. Strasbourg was now in such disarray that it could no longer mount any effective resistance. All that remained was for Antonio to lead his army to storm the city on the final day, securing victory in one fell swoop.

Charlot’s concerns, however, were twofold: the whereabouts of Wood Brandon and the movements of Midaphis Axel.

His greatest fear was that Midaphis might heed Strasbourg’s call and march his forces there. Such a development would complicate matters significantly.

Midaphis had a strong inheritance rank and wielded significant influence within the Axel family. During Asturias’s recovery, he had effectively been the family’s foremost leader, unafraid of assassination attempts.

Midaphis had only one glaring flaw: he had personally killed the old emperor, leading to his ostracism within the Axel family.

But politically, such a stain was negligible compared to the allure of the imperial throne. It all depended on whether either side had the vision and drive to propel this matter forward.

Fortunately for Charlot, neither Midaphis nor the Strasbourg camp seemed to possess such figures. Midaphis’s arrogance kept him from associating with the others, while the Axels in Strasbourg clearly didn’t want him swooping in to claim their spoils, victory still uncertain as it was.

Charlot’s intelligence network had uncovered no evidence of collaboration between Midaphis and Strasbourg.

In truth, neither Midaphis nor the rebellious Axels of Strasbourg understood that this was their last opportunity.

Once Strasbourg was retaken, the Bretagne dynasty would be secure. Even if the old emperor had no such intentions, Charlot would personally see to it that all Axels were exiled to the Aggras Archipelago to establish new settlements.

With the Axel family eliminated, Midaphis would be reduced to a common rebel. Charlot was confident he could easily crush such resistance with a swift assault.

Once these two rebellions were quelled, internal strife in Fars would come to an end, making the four-nation conflicts much easier to resolve.

As Charlot surveyed the distant horizon, a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. It was refined, calm, and wise yet unfamiliar.

“Greetings, Duke Charlot Mecklenburg.”

Charlot felt an immediate sense of danger. He was a Saint at the 19th level, albeit at the lower end of the rank. With his Eye of Insight ability, he should have been able to detect any approaching presence. How had this person gotten so close?

He turned quickly to find a magical mirror materializing before him. An elderly man emerged from its surface, his expression calm and amiable.

“Indeed,” the old man said with a slight smile, seeing Charlot’s wary expression. “I am of the Van Gogh Clan. This secret I have kept my entire life, but it no longer needs hiding.”

Charlot’s mind raced as he considered the most improbable possibility. Slowly, he pronounced, “Wood Brandon?”

The old man’s smile widened. “At your service.”

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