Translator: Cinder Translations
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After night fell, the bustling city of Niceport finally quieted down. However, this silence was merely reflected in the absence of large crowds on the streets; various taverns and leisure spots still echoed with laughter and chatter. The excitement among the people seemed far from over.
In an office of the council, a dozen bigwigs from the Horns Bay Alliance gathered. In stark contrast to the cheerful atmosphere outside, these leaders wore frowns, each looking deeply worried.
Marcus, the current chairman of the council, held a pipe in his mouth, puffing away while shrouded in thick smoke, as if it could somehow ease his troubled heart.
Marquis Joe Foster sat to the right of the chairman. He lifted his head to glance around, but no one met his gaze.
"Ahem!" He cleared his throat several times, drawing the attention of others.
"Mr. Chairman, sitting here idly isn't a solution. We should immediately send envoys to Collins to explain the situation to the Archbishop."
"It's too late now!"
Before the chairman could speak, Horace, a staunch advocate for a hardline stance against the church, stood up.
"Mr. Chairman, I suggest we take advantage of the public's high spirits to quickly contact the Horns Bay states that share our views and form a formal alliance against the church. With greater numbers, they won't dare to act rashly."
"That would be too risky…"
As the argument began to heat up, footsteps echoed from outside.
Everyone turned toward the door, where Quill Foster, the second son of Marquis Foster and the current captain of the Niceport guard, entered.
After bowing to those present, he spoke in a low voice: "Mr. Chairman, esteemed councilors, the situation outside is mostly under control. The cathedral has been sealed off, and all bystanders have been cleared."
Chairman Marcus raised his heavy eyelids, his gaze somewhat clouded, and asked, "Were there any casualties? On both sides?"
Quill's expression darkened: "Five civilians died and thirteen were injured, while on the church's side, six died and over thirty were injured. However, it seems the church knights struck first."
"Ah… it doesn't matter who struck first now. Is the Archbishop's envoy still unconscious?"
"Uh… yes. Judging by the head injury, it seems they hit something hard when they fell."
"What about Bishop Angelo?"
"Although he was a bit shaken mentally, physically he's fine. The cathedral is currently under his management."
Chairman Marcus nodded. "Alright, thank you for your hard work. You can go rest now."
Quill placed a hand on his chest, shame written all over his face: "Mr. Chairman, with this incident occurring, the guard responsible for the city's security bears undeniable responsibility. Please punish me."
The chairman waved his hand. "Such things are impossible to predict. The guard may bear some responsibility, but it's not severe enough for punishment. Reflect internally and be on your way."
Quill replied heavily, "Understood."
After exchanging a glance with his father next to the chairman, he left the office.
Once the door closed, Marcus exhaled a cloud of smoke and put down his pipe. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've decided on a dual approach. On one hand, we'll send someone to Collins to meet with Archbishop Elvis, explain what happened today, and present our reasonable demands—this will be an open action. On the other hand, we'll contact allies who share our goals to garner their support, but this will be kept secret."
He scanned each person in the room with a scrutinizing gaze.
"I expect the second measure to be strictly confidential. This cannot be discussed in the council. Everyone here is someone I trust, and I hope no one will let me down."
Foster stood up first, solemnly assuring, "Mr. Chairman, rest assured, I will keep it strictly confidential."
The others also quickly pledged their support.
Chairman Marcus nodded. "Good. Let's now discuss the specific arrangements."
The group rearranged their seats around Marcus and began to speak in hushed tones.
They deliberated over who should be sent as an envoy to Collins, what to say to Archbishop Elvis, and how to discreetly contact potential allies—all meticulously analyzed.
During this process, someone suggested that, in addition to sending an envoy to Collins to meet with the Horns Bay Archbishop, they should also send another envoy to the Holy See to meet with His Holiness the Pope, requesting him to mediate the conflict between the Horns Bay Church and the alliance.
Many had reservations about this suggestion; after all, the Holy See was the superior to the Horns Bay Church, and there was no reason for them to "go against their own." It was likely they would protect their own, making the alliance risk not just driving away a wolf but inviting a tiger.
"When I went on a pilgrimage to the Holy City, I had the fortune of meeting His Holiness. He is a kind, just, and benevolent elder. If we clearly explain our difficulties, I believe he will seek justice for us… at least he won't side with the other party."
Marquis Foster stood up to support the proposal, and after much hesitation, Chairman Marcus agreed.
The group continued discussing until midnight, dispersing in the still tense atmosphere.
"Joe, stay back for a while; I have some things to discuss with you."
Just as Marquis Foster stood up to leave, Chairman Marcus called out to him.
The two sat back down, and at that moment, there was no one else in the room.
"Marcus, what's so important that you needed me here?"
The Chairman stared into his eyes. "Joe, we must prepare for the worst-case scenario, and the sooner, the better."
Foster asked in surprise, "You mean...?"
"Yes, war!"
"Will things get that bad?"
"That's why I said it's the worst-case scenario."
The room fell silent. Marquis Foster remained silent, while the Chairman picked up his pipe and started smoking again.
After a long pause, the Marquis looked up. "Alright, what do you need me to do?"
Marcus replied softly, "We need to stock up our armory. We require a large supply of weapons for emergencies. But remember, it must be done discreetly."
"Understood!" Foster agreed without hesitation, but Marcus could see the doubt in his eyes.
"You must be wondering why I'm assigning you this task?"
"A little bit."
The Chairman stood up and paced around the room.
"Recently, the Kingdom of Aldor ended its civil war."
"I know, but what does that have to do with us?"
The Chairman nodded. "It has a lot to do with it. The merchants brought me important information—Aldor's royal army is unusually well-equipped. Not just in terms of quality, but in quantity and scale. Almost everyone is armored, and damaged weapons can be quickly repaired or replaced, significantly reducing soldier casualties and leading to the rebels' surrender. You know how crucial experienced veterans are for victory. Of course, this affects our merchants' businesses to some extent, as the competition means they can't sell at satisfactory prices."
The Marquis began to understand the Chairman's point; if they needed to stockpile weapons, it would be best to have as many supply channels as possible.
"You mean procuring weapons from workshops within Aldor?"
"Exactly!" Marcus confirmed, "But I just emphasized the need for discretion in this matter. So our procurement range cannot be too broad; otherwise, news could leak. We must identify a few manufacturers with strong capabilities and stable channels."
"I understand. I will quietly start filtering through options."
"Good. What I'm about to say relates to why I chose you for this task. After my investigation, I found that most of Aldor's army's equipment comes from an organization called 'Northwest Industries' in the Northwest Bay."
"Northwest Bay?"
"Yes, Northwest Bay. Once regarded as a wild land, many people didn't even know it existed. Now, it's continuously supplying exquisite porcelain, inexpensive paper, useful honeycomb fuel, sailor-favored canned goods, and... a large quantity of iron products. By the light of the Lord, something miraculous must have happened in that land. And I've heard..."
Marcus paused.
"Your family has some connection to Northwest Bay? Oh... don't misunderstand me."
"Hmm." Marquis Foster nodded. "My second son is quite good friends with a lord there, and our caravan often does business in that area."
This wasn't something to hide; in fact, many of the goods the Chairman mentioned were indeed transported by the Foster family to the Bay.
"I should add that the items you mentioned mostly come from a place called Alden, whose lord is the friend of my son."
The Chairman nodded. "I suspect the so-called 'Northwest Industries' is likely connected to Alden. If that's the case, I'd like to leverage your family's relationship with this lord to carry out our plan to stockpile military supplies. What do you think?"
Foster replied seriously, "It's my duty to do so."
"Good! I knew choosing you as an old friend was the right call." The Chairman was somewhat emotional, then quickly reminded him, "Your status is special, so going there personally would attract attention. Arrange for someone trustworthy and discreet to go instead."
"I know. I'll send my two sons under the pretext of discussing business; our caravan frequently travels there."
"Great. Additionally, regarding that lord, we need to clarify a few things: first, what his attitude toward the church is—of course, don't let him know about our conflict with them; second, how much influence the Aldor royal family has over him—so that the church doesn't pressure him through the royal family and cut off our supply."
"I'll get to the bottom of all of this."
"If this lord is reliable and values his friendship with your family, I'd like to assign all our initial orders to him. Of course, he must have sufficient supply capacity."
"Uh..." Marquis Foster was taken aback. "Chairman, we can't put all our eggs in one basket."
Marcus shook his head. "Discretion is more important. The fewer people who know, the better. If our efforts to stockpile arms are discovered by those with ulterior motives, we'll be at a disadvantage. Others might think we have intentions to provoke war. And the weapon workshop owners in the Bay, hmm, who knows how many of them are loyal followers of the church? Northwest Bay is far enough from us, making it a good place to manufacture and store weapons, and relying on maritime transport greatly avoids interference from land forces."
"Alright, I understand."
The Marquis nodded in agreement.
"Hmm." Chairman Marcus squinted, taking a couple of puffs from his pipe. After clarifying everything, he let out a long sigh of relief.
"By the way, what's the name of that lord?"
"Paul Grayman."
TL: Is it just me or do you guys also 'don't really care' about anything other than which is directly related to Paul.
(End of the Chapter)
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