Chapter 1809 - 502: And the Short-Sighted Thunder City Citizens, Ultimately Bought by the Demon's Schemes (Part 3)

Mr. Horace burst into a pig-like laughter upon hearing this, as if he had just heard the funniest joke of the era.

"Utterly absurd! He might as well ask the Duke to subsidize his wine barrels! If such a proposal gets passed, wouldn't my textile workers get drunk in broad daylight? Who's going to do the work then?"

Elsey chuckled dryly twice.

"Haha... I think the same, no devout believer would vote for him."

In principle, the Church does not encourage drinking, at least not anything other than wine.

Although the Campbell Duchy currently lacks priests who can strictly enforce the oldest clerical laws, no devout believer would support such a blasphemous proposal.

This is no longer about politics, but about faith.

Even Mr. Horace is a factory owner with faith, at least he believes so.

"Vote for him? If I were sitting across from him, I'd definitely throw my shoe at his stupid face!"

He tossed the roster back into Elsey's arms, not hiding the disdain on his face.

This candidate list becomes increasingly displeasing to him the more he looks at it, just becoming more irritated the more he reads.

"...Biscuit bakers, tavern owners, and my competitors! How could this bunch of vermin represent the interests of the Horace Textile Factory? How could the hundreds of workers under my command possibly vote for them?"

He couldn't sit idly by any longer.

Horace paced back and forth in front of the office door, suddenly gritting his teeth and stopping, looking at his accountant.

"Elsey."

"Yes, boss." Elsey immediately stood at attention, gripping the booklet in his hand tightly.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to keep an eye on my factory." Horace's voice carried a hint of reluctance, but he eventually made up his mind, "For the sake of our duchy, I have more important things to do next and might not be able to attend to matters here for the time being."

He needs to find a way to persuade the Grand Duke to raise the threshold of Parliament a bit more.

One silver pound in taxes...

No matter how one looks at it, it's too little.

Elsey was dumbfounded, and the pen in his hand fell to the ground with a "clatter."

When he came to his senses, he hurriedly picked up the pen and spoke quickly.

"Boss? Have you, have you decided where to open up new ventures?"

A chill ran through Elsey's heart as he sincerely hoped the boss was just joking.

Across the entire Northeast Shore of the Vortex Sea, where else would there be a better investment opportunity than Thunder City?

Throwing money into the Ryan Kingdom would be like throwing sausages to the dogs. Throwing it into the Aus Empire, you wouldn't even hear a sound!

But here, their esteemed Duke Edward, although also greedy for money, at least doesn't make it too obvious.

He's even willing to let factory owners like them sit at the same table and discuss the duchy's future together.

Of course—

Despite saying so many dignified words, the thing he was most concerned about deep down was still his own future.

Horace's business was just starting, and so was his. He was already tied to this man in the same boat.

He had just acquired two followers and an office of his own, and in high spirits, he promised his partner that within three years at the latest, they could move into a house with no rent, and one with a front yard at that.

If he switched to another factory, he would have to start from scratch and climb his way up step by step once more.

After all, Mr. Horace had him, and Mr. Yokavin had his own "advisors," including biscuit bakers and beer sellers, who used to be disorganized but were no longer so.

A crowd would gather around them offering lousy ideas.

"What nonsense are you spouting!"

Horace righteously interrupted Elsey's speculation, forgetting that it was he himself who had shouted about shutting down the factory to move it elsewhere.

"This is my hometown! I've grown up here! Here, I've got my favorite pumpkin soup and roasted... beef intestines!"

He thought for a moment before recalling what he ate yesterday, couldn't help but bite his lip, shivering, took a sharp intake of breath and continued.

"Listen, Elsey, only failures leave their homes, are we failures? We are Campbell people, we just ended the ambitions of treacherous ministers! Horace is right here, he stands with the Grand Duke, and he's not going anywhere!"

The pen that Elsey had just picked up stopped in mid-air, staring dazedly at the boss blustering with great eloquence, unsure of why the boss had gotten so worked up.

A few seconds later, his mind finally caught up—

His boss wasn't planning on leaving.

This was... a plan to run for office?!

Upon realizing this, Elsey's eyes lit up like a magic crystal lamp.

He hurriedly flipped to the last page of his booklet and began to transcribe the stirring campaign speech in that blank space.

But that alone wasn't enough.

They needed to offer something more tangible to convince the citizens of Thunder City that they were doers, not just cake dividers.

After taking notes for a while, Elsey suddenly raised his head and excitedly continued to ask.

"Boss, what you said is simply fantastic! I'd definitely vote for you! So, what is your electoral proposal?"

Electoral proposal?

What on earth?

Horace was baffled by Elsey's question, wondering what he needed that for?

Parliament wasn't going to pay him, so why should he bother offering ideas for them as long as they didn't interfere with his money-making.

However, just as he was about to say this, he suddenly grasped Elsey's meaning from that expectant look.

Hold on, was this clever little rascal trying to encourage him to run for councilor?!