Samuel Grant spread his hands and gave a helpless, bitter smile. “I say, Brother King, what do you expect me to do? Stuck with an idiot like David Carter, and that wastrel Richard Bolton—they’ve dragged us all down. If we don’t agree, it’s not just the Ministry of Rites, even the Grand Secretariat will be in trouble!”

Stephen Mason admitted that Samuel Grant had a point.

But it seemed that agreeing would bring even bigger trouble.

“Sigh, I really don’t know how to explain this to Grand Secretary Young now.”

With a heavy sigh, Stephen Mason hung his head and left to find James Young.

He didn’t notice that, just as he turned away, the corner of Samuel Grant’s mouth lifted ever so slightly, then quickly returned to normal as he too left, frowning all the while...

Chapter 6: Thrown Into Disarray

“Sigh, with this document in hand, His Highness can finally enter the city with dignity.”

Philip Clark breathed a sigh of relief. The vigor he’d just shown seemed to drain away all at once, and he slumped into his chair, exhaustion written all over him.

No wonder—a man nearly seventy, having traveled from Jiangxi to the capital, covering thousands of miles. The fact that he hadn’t collapsed was proof of his robust health.

But who exactly was this old man, and why had he suddenly appeared to help Charles Brooks?

He was born into an official family, later passed the imperial exams, and served in the capital. In his early years, he had met James Young, Samuel Grant, and Stephen Mason. While they couldn’t be called close, they at least knew of each other.

Unlike these men, Philip Clark’s official career was not smooth. He was assigned as chief steward to the Prince of Xing’s household.

After the Yongle era, the princes were all just idling their lives away. What prospects could a chief steward in a princely household possibly have?

Philip Clark’s career was nearly at a dead end.

But the old man was indeed a capable official. In the prince’s household, he handled all sorts of affairs, making the journey of Prince Xing Thomas Brooks to his fief go very smoothly. He even served as a tutor to Charles Brooks for a time. When Henry Foster first entered the prince’s household, the old man taught him for two days as well... Of course, Henry Foster’s main job was to take beatings for Charles Brooks—his hands were swollen from it!

Philip Clark devoted himself to the Prince of Xing’s household, and Thomas Brooks was deeply grateful. Unwilling to see the old man’s talents wasted, he did everything he could: first, he secured him an honorary rank, raising him to the third rank, and then maneuvered to have him appointed as Surveillance Commissioner of Jiangxi.

Provincial officials—especially those at the level of Provincial Administration Commissioner or Surveillance Commissioner—were worlds apart from ministers and vice-ministers at court. The difference was like night and day.

Otherwise, even if Prince Xing had worked himself to death, he couldn’t have promoted the old man!

But it was precisely this bond of gratitude that proved a great help to Charles Brooks!

Now, Thomas Brooks could probably rest easy in his grave.

The imperial envoy’s party hurried north with Charles Brooks, but with only Henry Foster at his side, it was clearly not enough.

Princess Consort Mrs. Harris was a woman and hadn’t thought of this, but Henry Foster’s shrewd father, a seasoned merchant, sensed that things were not so simple. He sought out Mrs. Harris and suggested inviting Philip Clark north to protect His Highness.

Mrs. Harris immediately agreed. She wrote a letter herself and summoned Charles Brooks’s wet nurse’s son, Matthew Reed, to accompany them to Jiangxi to meet Philip Clark.

That was why the old man had come.

To avoid the eyes and ears of the authorities, they didn’t stay at official inns along the way, but relied on Old Foster’s network of contacts to travel swiftly north, finally meeting up with Charles Brooks in the outskirts of the capital.

Philip Clark’s arrival was a great help to Henry Foster. Without him to hold the line, Samuel Grant wouldn’t have compromised so quickly.

Now, with a written promise in hand, they had truly won the first battle—a resounding opening victory!

“Sir, and Edward!”

Charles Brooks clutched Samuel Grant’s promise, his eyes reddening, nearly bursting into tears.

This victory had not come easily!

He really wanted to have a good cry. But in the end, he held it in.

It wasn’t time yet—he had to stay calm.

Still, happiness had come, and he couldn’t help but show it...

“Sir, do you have any wine?” Charles Brooks’s voice was soft, even a little ingratiating.

Asking his teacher for wine—this kid was really getting bold.

Philip Clark was taken aback. “Wine—yes!” The old man didn’t refuse, but instead laughed, “With such good news, why not have a little drink, a little drink! Hahaha!”

Henry Foster was pulled in to celebrate with drinks as well, everyone in high spirits. Meanwhile, the Marquis of Shouning Richard Bolton, who had come up with the “brilliant plan,” was practically coughing up blood.

David Carter, battered and bruised, recounted what had happened.

How angry was Richard Bolton?

He didn’t even hit David Carter; he just said, “You just wait,” and then took off running!

At this point, no one else would do—only the Grand Secretary James Young could turn the tide.

Richard Bolton, full of fury, headed straight for the Young residence...

James Young was already past sixty. Since William Brooks had fallen gravely ill, he had single-handedly managed state affairs: drafting the imperial edict, arresting George King, welcoming the new emperor, rooting out corruption... He hadn’t had a moment’s rest. In a whole day, he barely slept two hours. His time management skills would put any young man to shame...

But no one is made of iron. At his age, after so many sleepless nights, James Young’s eyes were ringed with dark circles, and he was utterly exhausted, dozing off in his seat.

Just as he was drifting off, his son Robert Young walked in. Yes, the very same Talented Young who wrote “The mighty Yangtze River flows eastward.” The Young father and son were truly extraordinary!

Robert Young bowed and said, “Father, the Marquis of Shouning Richard Bolton requests an audience!”