Chapter 474 - 434: The Way to Break the Deadlock

Chapter 474: Chapter 434: The Way to Break the Deadlock

The rain was still falling, but it was no longer a suffocating, cold downpour. Instead, it was a sweet rain, washing away the old dust.

The gloom over the Royal Capital, Zelheim, was gradually thinning. A few faint rays of golden light peeked through the gaps in the clouds, as if trying to tear open the oppressive shroud that had hung for so long.

The rain washed the stone paths of the Salmon District until they gleamed, scouring away the greasy grime. The air carried the crispness of the sea breeze—the scent of what one might call "new life."

On both sides of the street, long-silent shops were taking down their tightly shut shutters. The clatter and clang of repairs rose and fell.

The liveliest of them all was the shop with the "Gray Marsh Trading Company" sign. A crowd was gathered out front, their eyes twinkling with optimism and hope.

The line snaked for two blocks. Citizens in patched linen clothes hunched their shoulders, tightly clutching a few Copper Plates in their hands. Rain dripped from the brims of their hats, splashing into the puddles and creating ripples.

「At the corner of the street, under an inconspicuous awning.」

Prince Willandar pulled his hood low, hiding a face that would have caused a sensation. He gazed at the long line in the distance, his voice muffled. "So these are your so-called ’sea-salt tubers’?"

"They’re a bit ugly, I’ll admit."

Velin stood to the Prince’s left, holding a black umbrella. His gaze fell on the citizens emerging from the shop. They were clutching a few tubers caked in mud, their skins as rough as a toad’s, yet they treated them like treasure, tucking them directly inside their clothes to keep them warm.

"Salt-alkali tolerant, short growth cycle, and one and a half times the starch content of ordinary wheat." Velin pushed at the bridge of his nose, where nothing sat, but he made the phantom gesture out of habit. "For the various regions of the Gray Sea right now, this is life itself."

"Hmph. A life bought with money."

A cold snort came from his right.

Caroline was sitting on a dry wooden crate. Her form-fitting, dark green riding habit accentuated her fine figure, and she wore an expensive waterproof cloak over it. She wasn’t looking at the refugees at all. Her emerald eyes were fixed on the notebook in her hand, her quill pen moving so fast it nearly struck sparks.

"To get these mud-caked lumps in here, I not only had to bypass the Imperial Navy’s layered blockade, but I also had to constantly watch out for those pirates who swarm in at the first scent of opportunity." Caroline didn’t look up, her quill scratching a vicious line across the paper. "On top of that, I had to scrap a fast ship that was run aground to escape a pursuer. That was a Flying Fish Level vessel, worth three thousand Golden Suns."

She snapped the book shut and looked up, the pain of the loss written all over her delicate face.

"Your Highness, this can’t be summed up with the word ’efficiency.’ This was paid for with the Golden Sail Commerce Association’s cold, hard cash!"

Velin turned his head to look at her penny-pinching expression and couldn’t help but smile. "But the returns are substantial, aren’t they? Caroline, once the situation stabilizes, the Golden Sail Commerce Association will be the biggest commercial giant in the Gray Sea."

"Save the empty promises for your subordinates to hear."

Caroline shot him a glare, stuffed the notebook into her coat, and crossed her arms. "All I see right now is my liquid capital evaporating at a rate of five hundred Golden Suns per hour. Barely meeting my expected returns? That’s only if you count me as part of the deal!"

"You’ve worked hard," Velin said.

"Cut the crap." Caroline turned her head away, but the tips of her ears were a little red. "Just remember to pay the bill."

Just then, the sound of urgent hoofbeats shattered the curtain of rain.

A drenched messenger dismounted, stumbling into the awning. He didn’t even have time to salute, pulling a scroll wrapped in oil paper from his coat with a trembling hand.

"Young Miss... an urgent report."

Caroline took the scroll and broke the wax seal.

She only needed a single glance.

SNAP.

The quill in her hand snapped in two.

Her previous haughty demeanor was replaced by a chilling coldness. This was the aura of the "Silver-haired Queen."

"What is it?" the Prince asked.

Caroline didn’t speak, merely handing over the damp battle report.

"Last night, on the southern route, the Golden Bird and the Poseidon were sunk." Her voice was soft, yet it sounded as if it were coated in shards of ice. "Along with one hundred tons of flour and thirty tons of salted meat, all of it is now feeding the fish."

The Prince’s hand trembled as he took the report.

"Pirates?" He looked at the description on the report—no flags, black paint, heavy ballistae.

"They were Imperial regulars flying pirate flags."

Velin stared into the rain, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Besides the Imperial Navy’s fleet, no one could have hunted down two merchant ships traveling at full speed in this weather."

"Those bastards."

Caroline gritted her teeth, her eyes blazing with the fury of someone whose bottom line had been crossed. "They don’t declare war directly, and they don’t attack the city. They’re just tightening the noose around our necks, bit by bit. My team has analyzed this pattern. It’s called the ’noose tactic.’ They’re trying to force the market to collapse, letting panic conquer the city for them."

As if to prove her point, a sudden commotion erupted at the entrance of the grain shop not far away.

"What? A limit of two bags per person? Yesterday it was five!"

"Are they out of grain?!"

"Let me buy! I have money! I have money!"

The crowd began to push and shove, the once orderly line descending into chaos. A few clerks desperately tried to maintain order but were nearly overwhelmed by the panicked mob.

The Prince watched the scene, his face ashen.

"Miss Caroline," the Prince said, turning around, his voice heavy. "You’re the professional. Tell me the truth, at our current rate of consumption, how long can our reserves last?"

Caroline took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Her mind began to race.

"If we don’t factor in panic hoarding."

She held up a single finger. "Including the high-yield modified crops from the Grey Marsh Territory, and the stock pooled together by the Pan-Gray Sea Alliance, we can last until the autumn harvest at the current daily ration. On paper, we’re safe."

"...On paper, we’re safe."

Hearing this conclusion, the Prince’s tense shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a long sigh of relief.

"That’s good, that’s good." He wiped the fine beads of sweat from his temple, much of the anxiety in his voice dissipating. "As long as we can last until the autumn harvest, the crisis won’t be too severe. It seems the situation is more optimistic than I expected. At least we have some breathing room."

"Your Highness, it’s too early to breathe easy."

Velin’s calm voice cut in, shattering the Prince’s relief.

"A secure present doesn’t guarantee a safe future." Velin turned and looked intently at the Prince. "We must consider the possibility that the Imperial Faction will launch an all-out war. Once the blockade tightens, coupled with the fact that an army in wartime consumes several times more than civilians, our current stock will be depleted in no time."

The Prince fell silent.

’I watched my people scrambling for sea-salt tubers in the rain, their faces twisted with fear. I once thought that if we just drove out the church and took back our power, everything would be fine.’

’But reality slapped me hard across the face.’

’The Imperial Faction used a plague, and now a naval blockade. They don’t care how many innocent people are in this city. They just want to win.’

The Prince closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the last trace of hesitation was gone. "We have no room left to retreat. Velin, Caroline. Sea-salt tubers and our current shipping routes aren’t enough. We have to break this noose."

"I’ve tried to open up new smuggling routes." Caroline’s brow was furrowed, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes. "But the northern ice-sea route is too dangerous, and the southern archipelago is crawling with the Empire’s spies. A single source and a single route is a fatal weakness. As long as they have us by the throat, we’re dead."

"So, we need a route the Imperial Navy can’t reach."

Velin turned, tilting his black umbrella slightly to block the drifting rain.

"And an ally with vast grain reserves, one who is completely independent of the Empire’s system."

"Ha? What kind of fairy tale are you spinning now...?" Caroline’s sharp demeanor crumbled. She irritably twirled a lock of her silver hair, her emerald eyes filled with a look that screamed, ’Are you kidding me?’

’She wanted to make a sarcastic remark or two, but then she remembered how incredibly busy Velin had been lately. It was understandable if his thinking was a little muddled.’

So she softened her tone and said to Velin, "If that were really possible, it would be a dream come true. As much as I hate to admit it... I’ve searched the Golden Sail Commerce Association’s intelligence network, and I really can’t find such a target."

Velin, however, raised his hand. His finger pointed past the curtain of rain, over the overlapping rooftops, toward the deep forest looming in the northeast, partially obscured by mist.

"There."

Velin turned his head to look at Caroline, whose face screamed ’absurd.’ His voice held a rare optimism and certainty as he added with a smile, "And you actually hit the nail on the head—what we’re looking for does have something to do with a fairy tale."

Caroline froze.

She followed his gesture, her eyes tracing the direction he pointed. The rain pattered down, and time seemed to stretch in that moment.

After a long moment, she finally connected the words "fairy tale," "the north," and a certain behemoth in the real world. Her pupils contracted sharply.

"The Evergreen Council?"

There was little emotion in the Prince’s voice, but his gaze was scrutinizing and grave.

He straightened his posture slightly, his tone even, each word carefully chosen.

"Velin, are you joking? The war between those long-lived species and the Empire has lasted for thirty years. The resentment runs so deep it’s irreconcilable. In their eyes, humanity is a single, greedy entity. What makes you think they would overcome that barrier of hatred to even sit down and talk with the Duchy, which is also a human nation?"

Velin turned his head to look at the Prince.

His wine-red eyes seemed especially bright under the dim awning, showing not a hint of hesitation.

"There are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests."

The Prince paused for a moment.

He subconsciously continued the thought, "And you have interests to offer?"

"I do."

Velin withdrew his gaze, looking once more toward the forest shrouded in rain and mist.

"When they refuse us, it just means the chip we’re offering isn’t tempting enough. If the price is right, even gods will bow their heads, to say nothing of elves."

"You’re going to go?" the Prince asked.

"I’ll go myself."

Velin straightened his wind-tousled collar, his tone as casual as if he were discussing what to have for dinner.

"And I’ll bring a bargaining chip they can’t refuse." He paused, extending a hand to the Prince, palm up, and smiled. "However, to make this play more convincing, and to avoid unnecessary trouble when crossing the border, I’ll need a legitimate, official identity."

"You want..."

"Give me a title, Your Highness," Velin said calmly. "Please grant me a formal letter of appointment, making me a special envoy of the Duchy. With that status, I can knock on the doors of those important figures with proper justification."

Standing to the side, Caroline watched Velin’s profile.

Rainwater trickled down his jawline. His expression, so confident it bordered on arrogant, was exactly the same as when he’d claimed he would grow grain in the Grey Marsh Territory.

’Damn it.’

’It seems my calculations have failed once again.’

She bit her lip and muttered under her breath, "...There it is again, that infuriating confidence. If you lose, I’m not reimbursing this business trip."

Velin smiled, opened his umbrella, and stepped out into the rain.

"Ready the ships, Caroline. We leave tonight."