Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 69: Chapter 65: The Letter

In the top-floor reception hall of the Golden Sail Commerce Association headquarters.

The blended aroma of sea salt and spices was sealed in by heavy velvet curtains.

On the long table, the ice in the crystal glasses had long since melted, leaving only a few drops of condensation to slowly trace paths down their sides.

Beside the crystal glass was a half-eaten plate of something baked to a golden crisp.

Caroline Channing’s fingertips tapped lightly against the reflective Black Ebony Wood tabletop, producing a rhythmic, insistent sound.

Across from her, the three representatives from different port cities all wore grim expressions.

"Your Excellency, Vice-President, your terms are, if I may be blunt, far too harsh."

One of them, a portly nobleman with Gemstones on all ten fingers, wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "No matter how high the yield of sea salt potatoes, they are still just... potatoes. The exclusive rights and port tax exemptions you demand—this is tantamount to placing the food supply, the very lifeblood of our cities, in the hands of the Golden Sail Commerce Association."

Caroline’s tapping stopped.

She leaned forward slightly. There wasn’t a trace of warmth in her emerald eyes, only ice.

"Mr. Martin, you seem to have misunderstood something."

"I am not negotiating a price with you. I am informing you of the only way to obtain the sea salt potato seeds."

Her voice was soft, yet it seemed to drop the temperature in the room by several degrees.

"You can refuse. Then you can continue paying triple the price to buy moldy rye from those inland nobles to feed the laborers on your docks—laborers who could riot from hunger at any moment."

"Or," she said, her eyes sweeping over the three of them, a scornful smile playing on her lips, "you could pin your hopes on your Alchemists and Mages to break the ’curse’ that prevents the sea salt potatoes from producing seeds within, say, three to five years."

"Of course, that’s assuming your cities can even last that long, given that other ports will be sustaining their workforce with lower wages."

"This is not a negotiation, gentlemen. This is an opportunity, bestowed by the Golden Sail Commerce Association, for you to prevent your cities from descending into chaos this coming winter."

"And such opportunities have always come at a high price."

A naked threat, wrapped in elegant words.

The three representatives exchanged glances, seeing the humiliation and helplessness reflected in each other’s eyes.

Ever since the "Tarry Port Miracle," the Golden Sail Commerce Association’s strength had been greatly diminished.

But like a phoenix reborn from the ashes, it had erupted with an even greater vitality.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door.

After receiving permission, her aide, Cohen, strode in. Ignoring the three merchants, he went directly to Caroline’s side, leaned in, and whispered a few urgent words in her ear.

"Shiyan Town... entire force... Newly Town..."

"...catapults... flaming oil..."

"What?!"

Caroline shot to her feet, sending her chair screeching backward.

Veins bulged on her forehead, and her eyes looked like they were about to shoot fire.

Seeing this, the three representatives hastily took their leave.

With no outsiders left, she could no longer suppress her rage. She kicked over the expensive mahogany desk in front of her. Wine glasses, fries, and documents scattered across the floor.

"Ola Stonebeard? That piece of filth, who’s only fit to lick the boots of Dwarves in a mine, dares to touch my people?!"

Her chest heaved, and her voice trembled, clearly consumed by fury.

"Fleet One! Have Sea Wolf assemble his men immediately! Take the most direct route!"

The shipping manager beside her first nodded repeatedly, then froze, his face paling as he reminded her in a small voice.

"Your Excellency... even the fastest route will take four days..."

"Four days?"

Caroline’s roar died in her throat.

The air in the reception hall froze. Her burning rage was doused as if by a basin of cold water, leaving only deep, chilling fear.

Four days. By then, Newly Town would be nothing but charred ruins.

’That man... That bookworm whose eyes only see experimental data.’

’That bastard who said, "cooperation without material benefit is a pile of loose sand"...’

’He could die.’

The thought sent a chill down her spine.

She rushed to the terrace, where the sea wind blew so hard she could barely stand.

She gazed at the distant sea, gritted her teeth, and pulled a delicate silver whistle from her breast pocket, blowing a short, sharp note.

A magnificent albatross dove down and landed on her terrace.

She grabbed a pen and paper, her hand shaking so badly that her handwriting was crooked and messy, and ink spots even splattered onto her dress.

"Go!"

She whispered, launching the albatross forcefully into the sky.

[Attention all crew of the Golden Sail Commerce Association... if you receive this message, if you can reach Newly Town within three days... save him.]

The albatross beat its wings and soared away, quickly becoming a white speck before vanishing over the horizon.

After doing all this, she felt as if all her strength had been drained. She leaned against the railing, her mind a chaotic mess, filled with the image of Velin’s perpetually calm face.

’Idiot... You absolute idiot!’

’Why didn’t you ask me for help... Do you really not want to... owe me anything...?’

At dawn, a flash of white streaked across the skies of the Dawn Territory.

A carrier pigeon landed wearily on the sill of an open window in the Earl’s Mansion.

Before it landed, several of its "colleagues" were already resting there.

Evidently, the Count of Dawn had been busy with affairs of late.

Diana was sitting at her desk, the orange candlelight reflecting on her somewhat haggard face.

She was carefully dipping a quill in ink, composing a cautiously worded reply.

"BANG!"

The study door was thrown open violently.

"My Lord!"

A young man in black chainmail with a resolute face strode in.

Behind him followed a young nobleman dressed in magnificent attire, his manner elegant.

"I have already dispatched my ’Wind Crow Knights’ to completely eradicate the Jackal Wolfman Tribe in the southern hills, eliminating the threat to your flank."

The voice of the black-armored youth, Viscount Valerius, was loud and proud. "That’s far more useful than someone sending a few cartloads of worthless grain."

"Hmph," the other noble, Philippe, eldest son of the Count of Lin County, gave a soft chuckle and adjusted his immaculate lace cuffs.

"Valerius, if not for my father’s grain, your ’Wind Crows’ would likely lack the strength to even lift their weapons. The art of war has never been about mere brute force."

The two refused to yield to one another, their verbal barbs and boasting making the air in the room feel thick.

During a lull in their squabbling, Diana finished the letter in her hand.

She looked up and regarded them calmly, her lake-blue eyes holding a depth that belied her age.

Her thoughts drifted to the story in Velin’s letter.

About the empress and her ’sheepdogs’.

She cast a complicated gaze on the two nobles, who had once eyed her covetously.

In just a few short months, they were now scrambling over each other for a vague ’reward’.

’So this is how the game of power is played.’

She raised a hand, signaling for them to be quiet.

"Viscount Valerius, Lord Philippe, the Dawn Territory will remember your assistance."

Her voice, carrying the perfect measure of distance and dignity, immediately extinguished their fire.

Her slender fingers folded the letter carefully, sealed it with wax stamped with the crest of a rising sun, and shook the Silver Bell on her desk.

A Knight in bright silver light armor appeared silently at the door.

"Rudolph, take your Dragon Eagle and deliver this letter to Newly Town. Make sure you hand it to Knight Velin Klein personally."

"As you command, My Lord Count."

The Knight took the letter and turned to leave, leaving the two rival nobles to stare at each other in dismay.

Diana paid them no mind, her gaze turning to the window, her eyes revealing a worry no one else could see.

’Him... how is he doing now?’

’The investigation into the Magical Beast finally yielded results. That should be of some help to him, right?’