Chapter 535 And the king was plunging a dagger into his own chest.
The lower city of Roland, the capital of the Kingdom of Ryan.
In the café called Copper Kettle, the air was as stagnant as a pool of still water.
The smoke from burning cheap tobacco swirled under the low ceiling, mixed with the smell of overcooked coffee grounds, making one frown.
This place should be a place for citizens to relax and unwind, but the atmosphere here is incredibly oppressive.
Several well-dressed citizens were sitting around.
Newcastle judged them to be "decent people" because there was still a cup of over-brewed coffee on their table.
Newcastle sat at the rickety table in the corner, took out his pocket watch for the third time, and then looked up and glanced around.
"By Saint Sith...can't these guys be a little more punctual?" he grumbled to himself, but then, thinking that there might not be a clock in the other party's shed, he felt relieved.
"Boss, I really need a raise."
A voice, deliberately lowered but unable to conceal its anxiety, came from the bar counter.
Newcastle turned his head slightly and saw the young waiter holding the dirty rag, looking at the manager who was doing the bill with resentment.
"Do you know how much a loaf of black bread costs? A full twenty copper coins! By Saint Sis, I work hard for an hour, and I can't even afford a loaf of bread, let alone a cup of coffee I brew myself!"
"Then get back to work!"
The overweight store manager didn't even look up; his fat fingers scribbled rapidly on the ledger.
"If you think the pay is too low, you can leave. There are plenty of homeless people outside who would love to do this job. If you work hard enough and serve the customers well, they will naturally give you tips. Don't complain to me here; the price of my coffee beans has gone up too!"
The waiter opened his mouth, but ultimately suppressed his dissatisfaction and vigorously wiped the counter, which had been wiped white, as if it were the manager's greasy head.
Newcastle looked away, no longer glancing in that direction. However, even though he tried to avoid looking, he couldn't escape the annoying voice that kept coming back to him.
"Our national treasury is like a wine barrel with a hole..."
A sudden whisper from the next table reached Newcastle's ears.
They were three men wearing old woolen overcoats, who looked like down-on-their-luck civil servants or school teachers.
One of the men, with a full beard, lowered his voice, his face clearly showing displeasure.
“Every drop of tax money that falls in is unnoticed, but three drops of debt will be revealed underneath.”
"This is quite a miracle."
Another person pushed up their glasses, their voice laced with sarcasm.
"After all, our great Baron Wickton invented an oil press that can keep running forever. As long as our baron increases the production of their copper coins, our kingdom can keep turning forever."
This sounds like self-deprecating humor.
However, the third guy had such low emotional intelligence that, like the "naturally empathetic" Ms. Ma Rui, he was completely oblivious to romance and a single sentence from him caused the conversation to fall flat.
"So what is the fuel?"
The air was quiet for a moment.
The three exchanged glances in silence, and then the first person to speak shrugged and said uncertainly.
"Perhaps it's...us?"
Newcastle, who was eavesdropping intently, almost burst out laughing. Ryan was being really funny again, even though this joke was a bit awful.
Fortunately, the three men laughed themselves and didn't notice the unusual expression on the face of the gentleman next to them.
But even if they find out, they probably won't care.
Just as he had judged, the entire city of Roland had become a powder keg chained in shackles, and those shackles were burning hot.
Everyone was waiting for that fuse to burn out, encouraging the flames to ignite in the corners of the streets and alleys.
At that moment, the waiter who had just been scolded walked over with a dark face and slammed a refillable cup of coffee onto the table, splashing liquid and staining the surface.
His actions clearly carried a hint of resentment from his life, even though he himself was unaware of it.
In the past, Newcastle would probably have told him a joke to make him laugh. Like, "Hey buddy, how did my black coffee end up on your face?"
But now, he didn't say anything. Instead, he said "thank you" in the softest voice, even though the waiter who turned and left didn't hear it at all.
Just then, the wooden door of the café with the bell was pushed open, and a gust of wind carrying the smell of lime powder blew in.
Stonemason Barr walked in, looking travel-worn. He was wrapped in an ill-fitting overcoat and wore a low-brimmed cap.
Looking at this man who clearly couldn't afford it, the owner behind the bar frowned, staring intently at him until he sat down opposite a respectable gentleman before turning his attention back to the endlessly unsolvable accounts in his ledger.
“You’ve finally arrived…” Newcastle glanced at his clothes and said in a low voice, “Let’s meet at the beer garden next time.”
"I'm sorry to have troubled you," Baal said softly, his face showing embarrassment.
"fine."
Newcastle shook his head and put down his coffee cup.
Ever since those two reckless guys broke into his apartment last time, he decided to change his contact location here for safety reasons.
However, it now seems that these people not only lack a sense of time, but also don't even have a decent set of clothes.
They initially agreed to correspond, but Newcastle discovered that writing letters was incredibly difficult for someone like Barr.
They weren't completely illiterate; if they were, they wouldn't be able to understand the encyclopedia.
However, language ability is not just about writing. Some people can explain ten things in one sentence, but this Brother Barr can't explain one thing even after rambling on for ten sentences. Occasionally, his right brain is led by his left brain.
That's not the worst part.
What's worse is that they were completely unaware of how dangerous they were doing, and in order to save on the stamp, they couldn't help but deliver the letters themselves every time.
Saint Sis, if Miss Marie sees him, he can explain that they are construction workers. But if Sir Skadkin, a commoner, finds out, then he's really doomed!
Sir Arthur Skydkin was quite an interesting fellow.
Ever since she found out that he and Miss Ma Rui were dating, she would come to his house every few days and always forget valuable things at his house.
Sometimes he couldn't even tell who was giving whom the profits from the fire extinguisher sales. Couldn't everyone just split the money according to the contract?
I should have hired a local to do this job!
Newcastle was unaware that after inadvertently discovering the "scientific method," he also inadvertently grasped the essence of "multinational corporations."
However, stonemason Bal didn't care about any of that; he and his fellow stonemasons were more concerned with how to save their home.
"Did you bring the things...?"
Barr lowered his voice, his weathered face filled with tension and anticipation, his hands fidgeting nervously under the tablecloth.
The bookstore where they had previously purchased the encyclopedia had been shut down by the Royal Guard, along with newspapers and other publications from Thunder City.
They used to occasionally see newspapers from Thunder City, but now even the salted fish vendors don't dare use those things to wrap things.
Newcastle was his only channel; only this powerful Campbell businessman could bring the voice of "republic."
Unfortunately, Newcastle didn't know what he was thinking, otherwise they would probably be both amused and exasperated.
Its power was immense...
Well, after all, Sir Skadkin was the most important person these stonemasons could ever meet, so there's nothing wrong with that.
Newcastle looked around to make sure no one was watching, then, like a thief, unbuttoned his coat and pulled out several books wrapped tightly in the Rowland Times.
Those were several abridged versions of the encyclopedia, their covers deliberately worn, making them look like ordinary ledgers.
"Take it."
He quickly shoved the book into Barr's arms and muttered a complaint.
"Don't cause this kind of trouble again... By Saint Sith, I have to say this thing is of no use to you at all."
“How could it be useless, sir,” Barr said, clutching the books tightly to his chest, arguing for their Professor Ferguson. “Only by understanding what feudalism is can we find the republic we long for!”
ha……
Newcastle took a sip of coffee, glanced at the guy who smelled of plaster powder, and made no comment.
He didn't mean to look down on them, but it was clear they had only read the encyclopedia literally.
However, perhaps Baal is right; it's not entirely useless. After all... if you measure carefully with a ruler, you can always find out that the two legs are not the same length.
He tried it yesterday, and it really worked.
Newcastle couldn't help but think of what had happened in the Twilight Province, where a group of people who knew nothing of the Holy Light had created a child for Saint Sith called the Child of God.
“You’re right, Mr. Barr. I have to take back the second half of my sentence. Please accept my apology.” He put down his coffee cup, trying to appease him.
What if they win?
Although it's unknown who owns this casino, Newcastle chips must be present in it...
It might save his life.
“You don’t need to apologize! We should thank you, Mr. Newcastle! By the way, we recently found a sympathetic priest who told us… Wait, don’t go yet! That priest is a good man, really! And, at least take the money!”
While pulling Newcastle back as he was about to leave, Barr frantically reached into his pocket and quickly pulled out a dirty silver coin.
The silver coin was covered in dirt and sweat, and the edges were worn so worn that the patterns were no longer visible. It must have been the famous "Ryan Iron Sheet".
“This is for the books… I heard that the encyclopedia of Thunder City is worth one silver coin. I know you don’t lack that money, but this is just a small token of our appreciation! We can’t let you support our cause out of your own pocket.”
Without a word, Baal stuffed the silver coin into his palm, controlling the volume of his voice.
Newcastle stared at the low-quality "silver coin," struggling to suppress his fear, and reluctantly sat back down, glancing left and right at the same time.
Seeing that no one was paying attention to them, he breathed a sigh of relief and, with a stern face, pushed the silver coin back into Baal's hand.
“Listen, Baal, I’m not doing this for the money, and I don’t need anything in return from you. It’s for my… conscience.”
The encyclopedia costs one silver pound; one silver coin cannot buy this.
Nowadays, there is no longer a publicly exchangeable price for "Ryan iron pieces" and silver pounds, and even Ryan's merchants are not very willing to collect those crudely made iron pieces. They would rather take their goods to farther places and spend more time to exchange them for coins with a higher silver content.
and……
The risks he took for this were far more than that.
Seeing that Mr. Newcastle wouldn't accept his money, Barr became anxious and stubbornly tried to push the money back.
"Sir, I know you're in business and don't need our money. But this represents a small token of our appreciation, and we can't take advantage of a friend!"
"Then you can consider it a token of my appreciation, or... an investment from Mr. Newcastle. That's enough, or if all else fails, just consider it a loan!"
Newcastle blocked his hand again, this time with a little more force. Although he was no match for Bale's strength, he still showed his determination.
"But--"
"No more 'buts'! I don't want people to misunderstand that there's something between us. Don't forget, this is a public place!"
Barr was stunned, clearly not understanding the Campbellian's humor.
However, seeing how determined the man was, he could only awkwardly take back the silver coins to avoid attracting attention to the two of them.
"Well... I'll thank you on behalf of my fellow workers!"
He stood up, bowed deeply to Newcastle with profuse thanks, then clutched the book tightly in his arms, strode out of the café, and disappeared into the gloomy streets of the lower town.
Newcastle watched his departing figure, shook his head helplessly, finished the last sip of coffee in his cup, and left a few copper coins as a tip on the table.
"This is insane."
...
"...This is insane."
In the city center, in the office of the Minister of Economy, Baron Wickton finished reading the newspaper in his hand and couldn't help but mutter a curse under his breath.
At this very moment, what lay in his hands was the Thunder City Daily, and the headline was news from several days prior—
The Andean Bank, in conjunction with several banks on Queen Street and the Royal Mint of Campbell, has established a "Central Bank" to issue copper pounds as a stable subsidiary to the silver pound!
Although the capable men around His Majesty the King had realized the corruption coming from the lower reaches of the Benliu River and sent troops to block all writing from that area, it was not difficult for him, who was also a "capable man," to obtain a few tattered newspapers.
It was for this reason that Baron Wickton felt the biting cold before anyone else, and was going upstream along the rushing river.
Although the report did not mention at all that Archduke Edward intended to reclaim the minting rights from the lesser nobles, Wickton, as an expert in economics, sensed a chilling undercurrent simply from the phrase "issuing copper pounds as subsidiary currency."
The Andean Bank, which previously issued silver pounds to replace silver coins, has now turned its guns down an inch, aiming at the barons' copper coins!
They no longer allow nobles to take advantage of the common people's hard-earned money!
So what will everyone eat?!
Baron Wickerton felt more troubled than ever before.
Clearly, Archduke Edward has a true mastermind by his side, who is directing the Campbells to build a dam on the floodplain of the Kingdom of Lane.
Is it Prince Colin?
Or is it Sak Gale from the Kingdom of Gutaf?
Or... Jan Andes himself?
He felt like he was in a fog, his past experience was no longer enough to solve this thorny problem, and everyone behind him was counting on him to get moving.
Just then, there was a knock on the office door.
He put down the newspaper in his hand, looked up, and responded.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Sir Hannock, the Treasurer, entered.
He was holding a thick stack of documents in his arms, and his face, which was usually always frowning, had a rosy glow today, although the swelling beneath the rosy glow was still faintly visible.
He either drank too much last night or didn't sleep well.
"Your Excellency, this is the spring financial report."
Hannock placed the documents on the table, wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, and reported hurriedly.
"Thanks to the progress you made at the Third Council, the deadline for His Majesty's treasury to run out has been extended to June of next year. Although the problem is not solved, at least there has been a turning point... Perhaps the situation will improve by then."
He spoke these words in a light tone, trying to highlight the Baron's merits, but he still couldn't hide the hint of worry between his brows.
Wickton opened the report and carefully read through every single punctuation mark.
The deficit on the books is shrinking at an astonishing rate. The huge debts that once weighed heavily on the kingdom have miraculously evaporated by one-third in just three months. In particular, the debt in copper coins has miraculously shrunk by half!
The reason is not complicated: the debt of copper coins is the debt of the citizens, an IOU written by the royal steward to the tavern owner. Although it must be repaid, it cannot be strictly considered a debt.
It is more like a tax levied by the nobility on the citizens through the "great hand of time".
This brilliant idea came to Baron Wickton when he was cornered by the nobles.
If the king hadn't pushed him, he wouldn't have known how capable he was.
If His Majesty's bottom line is lowered slightly and the nobles are mobilized to increase the production of copper coins, the copper coins will rapidly depreciate against the silver coins. A single silver coin in the hands of the nobles can be used as two coins, while a single gold coin in His Majesty's hands can be used as three or even four coins!
As for the debt in silver coins, it can be resolved by making deals with nobles.
For example, if the king lowered the standard for copper coins and allowed nobles to rob the citizens of Roland, the nobles would certainly not mind paying some debt interest in exchange.
This was clearly a win-win situation for both the nobles and the king. As for who would pay for the banquet, the answer wasn't hard to guess.
Since ancient times, the audience has always paid for stage performances.
However, Baron Wickton knew very well that this would not come without a price. After the trial of the "Winter Fire," it was time to test the Ryan people's tolerance for hunger.
As he had expected, Sir Hannock, standing in front of his desk, nervously clasped his hands together, and the excitement in his voice gradually faded.
Instead, there was an undisguised tension.
“Your Excellency… Although the most serious crisis has been resolved, I must remind you that we may have sown the seeds of an even more serious hidden danger.”
Wickton clearly guessed what he was going to say, and without looking up, he simply flipped through the documents in his hand and got straight to the point.
How much does a loaf of bread cost?
"Twenty copper coins..."
"I'm asking about the black bread, not the one you ate this morning."
“I’m talking about black bread, and the cheapest kind, sir. I was worried my servant was trying to fool me, so I went to the market myself this morning to inquire. I can tell you with certainty that a one-kilogram loaf of black bread costs twenty copper coins! But perhaps it will cost more tomorrow, because other breads are going up in price, and soon everyone except us will be eating that stuff.”
Wickton's fingers, which were turning the page, paused, and his heart clenched painfully.
Twenty copper coins!
Even in years of famine, this price would be terrifying. Just three months ago, the most expensive one ever sold was less than ten!
The farmland of the Kingdom of Ryan did not suffer a reduction in yield.
But then a famine occurred.
The farmers didn't slack off, the merchants didn't hoard goods, and the number of cargo ships on the flowing river didn't decrease, but the city dwellers simply couldn't afford to buy...
What exactly went wrong?!
Even if a copper coin contains no copper at all, it's still a metal, right?
Baron Wickton took off his glasses, picked up a cloth and wiped them clean, trying to calm himself down and think things through.
Clearly, Baron Wickton's moral standards were still too high. Although he was quite learned and in charge of the kingdom's economic lifeline, he hadn't seen what the kingdom's copper coins actually looked like in far too long.
Copper coins did not necessarily have to contain copper, nor did they necessarily have to be made of metal, and they did not necessarily have to be minted by nobles.
The unscrupulous merchants on the Benliu River weren't stupid either. They could choose not to buy, bypass Roland City, or head straight for the more prosperous market downstream.
What's happening in Roland City now is no longer an economic issue.
Although it is still the height of summer, Baron Wickton is already starting to worry about winter six months from now.
Seeing the silent Baron, Sir Hannock worried that he did not realize the seriousness of the problem. After hesitating for a long time, he finally decided to tell him everything he had seen and heard that morning.
"Sir, when I was inquiring about the price of bread, I spoke with the baker for a while and asked him how many loaves of bread he could make in a month. He proudly told me that his brick oven could bake forty loaves at a time, one in the morning, one at noon, and one in the evening... He could bake more than three thousand loaves a month. Because of his unique skills, he could basically sell out all the bread he baked."
"Then I asked him how many loaves of bread he could buy with his monthly earnings, and he gradually stopped smiling."
Sir Hannock swallowed hard, carefully considered his words for a long time, and then slowly began to speak.
"Two hundred loaves of bread, sir, only two hundred! Can you imagine? Our baker worked for a month and couldn't even buy back one-tenth of what he produced himself."
A deathly silence fell over the office.
In Roland, being a baker is considered a respectable profession. A baker typically trains at least three apprentices, and their income is often three times or more than that of an average person.
If even the baker has such a hard time, then his apprentices and the people standing behind the counter must be having an even harder time.
Besides, people can't live on bread alone.
Even if they don't eat meat or drink coffee, they still need firewood, salt, and oil to survive...
This still ignores the serfs who could survive on tree bark.
“Everyone on the street is seething with anger right now. They may not realize what the problem is yet, but the pressure they can’t let go of will eventually explode. I’m worried that one day they’ll suddenly start saying… that we’ve eaten their bread.”
"Enough, Sir!"
Seeing Sir Hannock getting more and more excited as he spoke, Baron Wickton couldn't help but interrupt him for the first time.
Looking at the jazz who remained silent, he took off his glasses again and rubbed his sore nose vigorously.
Sir Hannock stared blankly at the familiar minister, suddenly realizing that the face felt completely foreign to him.
It wasn't because of that "enough" sentence.
It's not because of the weariness etched into those wrinkles.
This once spirited aristocratic scholar has aged so much, I don't know when it happened...
He didn't see when Baron Wickton put his glasses back on, but he heard a gasp that sounded like a ghoul.
"I see……"
"I'll figure something out."
...
Effective immediately, all bakeries in Roland City must accept the Royal Family's guidance on bread pricing, and unauthorized price increases are strictly prohibited.
—The Rowland Times
At the Thunder City train station, Horace stood on the edge of the platform, looking at the old newspaper with its curled edges in his hand, his face full of surprise.
"By Saint Sith...who came up with this brilliant idea? Fire him, at least we can save some salary."
It's not just newspapers from Thunder City that enter Roland City; newspapers from Roland City also travel downstream along the Rushing River.
Some newsstands sell these old newspapers from other regions, and they are often a little more expensive than local newspapers.
Although the newspaper was dated "seven days ago," the news was still barely up-to-date. If someone was planning to sell bread in Roland City, this piece of paper would save them a fortune, since they would definitely lose money there.
Horace paused for a second to think about what he would do if he were the bakery owner.
However, even if he could come up with many money-making ideas, the most reliable approach seemed to be to close the shop, hand it over to the gentleman who came up with the idea, and ask that brilliant shrew to take over personally.
This was certainly not because Mr. Horace was morally superior and didn't know how to put sawdust in bread or how to turn a bakery into a tavern, but because he knew very well that not all money could be taken home.
Several respectable gentlemen were standing next to the newsstand, reading old newspapers from Roland, and they voiced Horace's thoughts.
"I think they must be crazy."
"If I were a baker, I would definitely add sawdust to the bread. I wonder if the next issue of the newspaper will say that adding sawdust to bread is prohibited."
"Things have already progressed to this point, I don't think it matters anymore what's in the bread."
“I’m more worried about the bakers. Even if they go hungry themselves, they’ll probably still get beaten up before the real thieves.”
Horace wholeheartedly agreed with the gentleman's words. No one knew better than him that love born of ignorance is indiscriminate, and the madness it brings is indiscriminate, regardless of friend or foe.
When times were good, he could join the workers at Horace's textile mill in cursing Theodore; when times were bad, even the loyal and brave Mr. Horace could be brought under Theodore's command.
How novel! Even His Highness Colin can't meet Mr. Horace. What makes him worthy of being the King's subordinate?
so--
If there's an opportunity to bribe someone, try to use bribery.
Horace folded the newspaper and stuffed it into his pocket, silently mourning for his friends upstream for a second.
Saint Sis, His Majesty Edward sewed up his purse. Now, the River Runner no longer sells bread for five copper coins; black bread costs five copper pounds.
May the saint save them.
Horace, having put away the newspaper, temporarily forgot the sorrow that flowed downstream, and also forgot that he had once planned to set up a factory there.
He looked around, searching for someone to strike up a conversation with.
At this very moment, the newly completed Thunder City Railway Station is filled with dignitaries and celebrities from the entire Thunder County and even Campbell Castle.
Not only nobles with ancient surnames, but also business and political figures and newly emerging industrial elites of Thunder City were invited.
In addition, there are doctors, lawyers, soldiers, composers and playwrights... and even a few chefs who are said to have won some awards, etc.
The reason these people were gathered here was because of a decision previously announced by Archduke Edward—
Their esteemed Grand Duke intends to hold this year's "summer hunt" at Granston Castle in the Earldom of North Creek Valley!
As is well known, Glenston Castle is not only the hometown of Earl Derek, but also the former stronghold of the "Winter Rebels".
Clearly, the Grand Duke's purpose in this trip was not merely to hunt a few rabbits or magical beasts.
This is a political parade, intended to deter conservative forces in remote areas and to declare to everyone that the Principality of Campbell is now a united whole!
What was unprecedented was not only the choice of the hunting location, but also the fact that this royal hunt invited many commoners without noble titles!
In order not to lose face at this grand event, Horace, who always valued money more than life itself, spared no expense this time and had a set of decent new clothes made for himself and his wife.
The money hurt him, but he knew very well that this train ticket was a ticket to a higher level, and once he missed it, he would never have another one.
However, seeing the crowds on the train station platform, he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.
Is it really okay for so many people to set off together?
Even though he had heard about the train's carrying capacity before, he couldn't help but be a little worried. After all, he had only heard of it being used for transporting goods, not people.
"Darling, look! That's the Iris Flower Theatre Troupe!"
His wife, Figona, gently tugged at his sleeve, her eyes filled with excitement, interrupting Horace's thoughts.
Horace followed the lady's gaze and saw a group of well-dressed young men and women appear on the platform, smiling and waving to the enthusiastic crowd.
The person in the lead is Miss Kiki, who is just as beautiful as she is on stage, just like "Elois" herself!
Standing next to her was "Little Eagle," a girl dressed very femininely, which made one feel a little sorry for her.
Horace heard that the Iris Theatre Company would be traveling on the inaugural train to Glenstonburg, from where they would begin their national tour.
As expected, the appearance of this group immediately caused a sensation throughout the entire train station. Even the station staff couldn't help but put down their work and crane their necks to look.
Although those standing on the platform at this moment are all celebrities from all walks of life in Thunder City, not all of them attended the banquet at Andes Manor before.
For example, Horace didn't have the chance to participate.
As one of the "waters" released by His Majesty the Grand Duke, this was also the first time he had seen this group of dazzling people up close.
"Hey, I knew it."
Horace, puffing out his slightly protruding belly, boasted to his wife with a touch of pride, “My parliamentary title does have its advantages; this is much closer than the VIP seats at the Collins Theatre. Now we can not only see Miss Eloise up close, but maybe even chat with her… and not just her, the entire theater company is here!”
Seeing her husband's nouveau riche attitude, Fimona rolled her eyes in annoyance, but she couldn't hide the happiness and joy in her eyes.
Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out at the entrance to the train station platform.
The gentlemen and ladies who had been chatting and laughing suddenly stopped talking and all turned their eyes toward the center from which the commotion was coming.
The crowd parted automatically like a tide, making way for Prince Colin, who was walking in surrounded by his attendants.
"It's Prince Colin!"
"By Saint Sith, he's actually here too!"
Exclamations of surprise rang out from the crowd, as if they hadn't even seen the guestbook with the guests' names on it.
Prince Colin walked through the crowd with a gentle smile, waving to the welcoming crowd, his demeanor composed and elegant.
"Nice to meet you."
Although he did not wear elaborate medals or make any deliberate displays of arrogance, his aura, emanating from within, still made the surrounding nobles, dressed in their finest attire, pale in comparison.
And the most incredible thing is—
Surprisingly, not a single person was jealous of him!
"Your Highness! Your Highness, I am Baron Guts! You saved my life in Silverpine Forest that year! Do you remember me?" Baron Guts, wiggling his hips, tried to squeeze into the crowd with a fanatical expression. To show off his well-developed leg muscles, he specially wore expensive white stockings.
In Thunder City today, "Alacdor's Secretions" remains a luxury item for the upper class, and only nobles with full confidence in their martial virtue would wear it.
Or perhaps a show-off country bumpkin like Baron Gus.
To be honest, Luo Yan was starting to regret it.
He originally intended to have this thing worn by a hero, but now it's just a bunch of grown men following the trend.
It's hard to say how many years it will take before their aesthetic sense catches up with the growth of wealth.
Regardless of how Luo Yan tried to maintain his smile, the crowd at the station erupted in excitement at his arrival!
The commotion was even more intense than when the Iris Theatre Troupe had performed earlier, and some socialites and ladies were almost overwhelmed by the excitement.
Some people are corseted.
Horace's heart warmed up, and he instinctively wanted to squeeze in and get acquainted with the person, even just to shake hands would be nice.
However, before he could take two steps, he was pushed out of the circle by several guys whose shoulders were wider than the door.
Well, Campbell's nobles weren't much more polite than Ryan's. These guys were even worse; they needed servants to help them cut in line!
"Excuse me, excuse me... Ouch, don't step on my new leather shoes!"
Horace retreated in a disheveled manner, wiping his shoes with heartache as he looked up.
He looked up and discovered that his wife was gazing intently at Prince Colin's handsome profile, her eyes shining with an admiration that was even brighter than when she looked at him, her husband.
The old man's jealousy instantly flared up, the sourness reaching his very core; clearly, he had overestimated his own magnanimity.
This is roughly equivalent to asking Mr. Horace to donate two castles; he would say without hesitation that two are not enough, four are needed!
However, if you asked him to donate his own clothes, he would definitely grip the buttons tightly, glare at the person, and make sure that guy wouldn't even think about it.
Horace decided to take a closer look at the beautiful women, and just as he was thinking this, he saw Miss "Elois" not far away, blushing and stammering as she spoke to Prince Colin.
Her shy yet adoring expression was so obvious that even a blind person could see she had completely forgotten about Matthew, who looked so delicate.
"snort."
Horace gave a sour snort and whispered in the lady's ear in a sarcastic tone.
“Look at our Miss Eloise, she doesn’t need the bell ringer’s prompting at all. I think she can’t wait to plunge into that dark hell. She’s even thought about what position she’ll use later.”
Mrs. Fimona looked away, amused by her jealous husband.
How surprising! Horace is actually jealous, and the reason isn't because he spent Horace's money!
“But what does that have to do with our Mr. Horace?” She reached out and straightened his slightly crooked bow tie, teasingly adding, “Darling, you’re not Matthew, why are you worrying about this? Knowing you, you’re the one who’s going to ring the bells.”
"Haha, darling, thank you for thinking so highly of me!" Horace chuckled and said sarcastically, "That's a secure job with a guaranteed income no matter what. If Saint Sith hung it on my door, I'd be laughing in my sleep."
Looking at this suddenly childish fellow, Mrs. Fimona shook her head helplessly, her teasing tone unchanged, but her eyes softened.
“What I mean is… I’m not Miss Eloise either. If I were her, I wouldn’t ask you if you wanted to elope, but would knock you out with a stick, throw you in a carriage, and take you away. By the time you wake up, we might already be in Thunder City.”
Horace stared blankly at his wife, his old face suddenly turning red. He scratched the back of his head shyly, and his usual shrewdness seemed to turn into something rather simple and honest.
“Oh, my dear…then be gentle when you do it. Also, don’t forget to take those five silver coins with you. We’ll need money for the journey, and those are what I got in exchange for my indenture.”
Seeing this money-grubbing guy, Fimona finally couldn't help but burst out laughing.
The fine lines at the corners of his eyes were filled with a smile, and Horace stared at them, somewhat lost in thought, even more so than when he was looking at Miss Eloise.
Saint Sis above—
You've been a little too kind to me, sir.
“…Okay, I’ll think about it.” Looking at her stunned husband, Fimona said teasingly, “After all, he was someone I got by selling myself, it would be a shame to lose him.”
To be honest, the joke would be fine in a pub, but it was a bit rude here, drawing stares from several unfamiliar gentlemen and ladies around.
They didn't hear the whole story, only the last sentence, "It was obtained by her husband selling himself," and then their eyes showed surprise and sympathy.
Those gazes fell on Horace, on Phimona, and some turned into whispers.
Femona realized her slip of the tongue; she had inadvertently mistaken this place for the Colin Grand Theatre or her own living room, where no one knew them.
However, things are different here. They are all guests of the Grand Duke, and everyone is wondering to themselves – how did they get in here?
Just as she was at a loss, wanting to explain the misunderstanding but not knowing how to start, a city wall blocked her way.
That wasn't a real city wall, but something thicker than a city wall—the face of Senator Horace.
With his shameless social skills and unfounded confidence, he not only successfully turned an awkward situation into an opportunity and cleared up the misunderstanding, but also successfully got the conversation flowing through this little episode.
The couples who initially viewed him with prejudice were quickly amused by his humorous and witty remarks.
They exchanged business cards with him and agreed to have afternoon tea together sometime later.
"Waaaaah—!"
Just then, a loud whistle broke the noise of the station, temporarily silencing the commotion on the platform.
That's the sound of a train arriving at the station!
The moment Horace saw that enormous creature, the slight worry he had been carrying vanished instantly.
This thing is huge! It could probably empty the entire population of Gladstone Castle, let alone move all the people on the platform at once!
One trip isn't enough; a few more trips will always be enough!
Finally, Archduke Edward made his appearance.
Surrounded by a crowd, he boarded the train with Prince Colin, becoming the first passenger on the "Prince".
Then the guests followed one by one according to the numbers on their tickets.
The scene was orderly; the baron followed the flight attendants' instructions, the gentleman held the lady's hand, and those with titles unusually yielded to those without.
No one was worried about being left behind by the train, and everyone's smiles and gestures were full of politeness.
They didn't seem to be boarding a train; rather, they were walking hand in hand into the center of the dance floor, waiting for a brand new era to begin.
A huge plume of white steam rose into the air, like a lit cigar, briefly obscuring the blazing summer sun.
The piston, engraved with inscriptions, began to reciprocate, driving the steel connecting rods and wheels amidst the melodious sound of the steam whistle, producing a dull rumble on the rails.
The booming sound startled a row of pigeons perched on the eaves and also woke the boy who was dozing under the eaves.
Gazing at the monster running across the fields, he momentarily forgot the phrase "Saint Seis al-Din" that adults always used to say.
The train seemed longer than ever before, and the red-painted carriages looked more spacious and beautiful.
I must visit Thunder City someday!
The boy bit off the straw he was holding in his mouth and couldn't help but think to himself.
Thinking of the beautiful girl on the poster, he suddenly felt that the encyclopedia he had tossed aside didn't seem so boring after all...
The other end of the village.
Hearing his child say that he wanted to be a train conductor when he grew up, the father, who was putting down his hoe, couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia.
He remembers that when he was a child, his dream was to be an adventurer, but nowadays kids don't even like to play the role of a demon king or a hero in pretend play anymore.
They thought that was too old-fashioned.
But he felt that time was passing far too quickly...
(End of this chapter)
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