Two weeks had passed since the telegraph system's initial test, and the nationwide installation of telegraph lines had begun. The first phase prioritized the railway network, government administration, and military communications. Once these were fully operational, the service would be expanded for business owners and private citizens. Arthur had actively participated in the planning phase, overseeing the logistics and ensuring that William's factories could efficiently produce and distribute telegraph machines and cables. After finalizing the plans, he entrusted the large-scale execution of the project to the government.
As the end of the year approached, Arthur realized that two full years had passed since he had arrived in this world. This would be his second New Year's Eve in Pendralis, and he was now on the verge of turning twenty. Sitting at his desk, he reflected on how quickly time had flown.
"Two years already," he thought. "What I've accomplished in such a short time is impressive, but Pendralis is still far from the powerhouse I envision. Perhaps with the launch of our steam-powered warships in the coming year, I can finally begin the oceanic expeditions and secure new resources. That's when things will really start to get interesting."
As the last day of the year arrived, Arthur decided to take the day off and wander through the city. Strolling through the bustling streets, he observed families shopping for the celebrations, children laughing as they clutched sweets, and groups of revelers who had already begun drinking, singing loudly in the streets despite the early hour. Compared to just a few years ago, the people were visibly wealthier and happier. Seeing the direct impact of his reforms in their joyous expressions filled Arthur with a sense of pride.
Yet, while Pendralis celebrated, trouble was brewing in the Maraz Strait.
A Pendralis-flagged merchant ship was approaching the entrance of the Maraz Strait on its journey home. As it neared the harbor, the ship's owner, Michael, observed the coastline with a sense of nostalgia.
Michael had been among the first entrepreneurs to recognize the opportunities created by Arthur's industrialization efforts. He had built his fortune by exporting Pendralis' low-cost manufactured goods to foreign markets, funding his business with a combination of bank loans and his modest savings. Over time, he had expanded his operations, turning a single vessel into a profitable enterprise.
However, when Aragon had previously raised its transit taxes and his ships had fallen victim to pirate raids, he had nearly gone bankrupt. It was only after the recent agreement with Aragon—where taxes had been reduced and some level of protection against piracy had been promised—that he had managed to recover. Now, his ship carried a cargo of raw cotton, one of the most crucial resources needed to fuel Pendralis' growing textile industry.
As he guided his vessel toward the dock, he noticed something unsettling—the grim expressions on the faces of other Pendralis sailors. Something was clearly wrong.
Stepping onto the pier, he made his way toward the harbor office, where he intended to pay the standard docking and transit fees. As he approached, he overheard the frustrated curses of another merchant who had just left the office, his face red with anger.
When it was his turn, Michael stepped up to the counter. "Pendralis merchant vessel, requesting one-night docking and passage through the strait," he said.
The harbor official barely looked up from his ledger. "That will be 300 gold for transit and 45 gold for docking."
Michael's eyes widened. It took all his self-control not to hurl a string of expletives at the man. "Three months ago, the fee was a third of that amount. The agreement between Aragon and Pendralis set fixed rates."
The official smirked. "That was three months ago. Aragon has withdrawn from the agreement." He paused, then added with a chuckle, "Consider yourself lucky. Many Pendralis ships never even made it here—pirates got to them first. I've even heard that some crews weren't just robbed… but slaughtered."
Michael felt a cold chill run down his spine. He had long suspected that the pirates preying on Pendralis vessels were backed by powerful figures within Aragon. The stolen cargo and wealth were likely being funneled into the pockets of the Aragonese nobility.
Furious but powerless to change the situation, he paid the extortionate fee. His profit margin for this voyage had been wiped out entirely—he was lucky if he wasn't taking a loss. Resolving not to stay the night, he hurried back to his ship and ordered the crew to set sail immediately.
As they passed through the strait, he stood at the stern, glaring back at the horizon, cursing Aragon and its treachery. He had planned to stop at foreign ports along the ocean before returning to Pendralis, but now he abandoned that idea altogether. With pirates lurking in Aragonese waters, it was far too dangerous. Instead, he ordered his crew to head directly home.
News of Aragon's actions reached the Pendralis government swiftly.
Arthur, seated at his desk, was reviewing financial reports on his various business ventures when a knock came at the door. Setting the documents aside, he called out, "Enter."
A palace servant stepped in and bowed. "Your Highness, the King requests your presence in the throne room immediately."
Arthur frowned. His father rarely summoned him so urgently unless it was a matter of great importance. "Did he mention the reason?"
"No, Your Highness. Only that it is urgent."
Arthur nodded. "Very well. I'll be there shortly."
After the servant left, Arthur locked his documents away, straightened his attire, and left for the throne room.
Upon arrival, he found the room packed with government ministers, high-ranking military officers, and the director of MI6. Taking his seat across from his father, he listened as King Cedric spoke.
"Arthur, Aragon has officially withdrawn from the Maraz Strait agreement. They have raised transit taxes once more, and we have received reports of increased pirate attacks on our merchant vessels. Unlike before, however, these recent incidents are not just simple raids. Some ships have been completely massacred."
Arthur's expression darkened. "Did they offer any justification?"
"None," his father replied.
Arthur leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "Then it seems the recent surge in diplomatic activity between Aragon and the Fasi Kingdom wasn't just a coincidence. They must have reached an understanding. Rather than fight each other, they've realized that plundering our trade is far more profitable."
Finance Minister Henry interjected. "If we don't resolve this situation immediately, our economy will suffer severely. We are becoming increasingly dependent on maritime trade."
A heated debate erupted among the ministers. Some argued for diplomatic negotiations, believing that a peaceful resolution was still possible. Others insisted that this was an act of war and that Pendralis should retaliate militarily.
Arthur silenced the room with a single statement. "We must take the Maraz Strait."
All eyes turned to him.
Arthur's voice was cold and steady. "This is the only known route for trade with the East. Our economy is growing more reliant on maritime commerce every day. Even if we negotiate a new agreement now, greed will drive them to betray us again in the future. The only way to secure our future is for the Maraz Strait to belong to Pendralis."
King Cedric studied his son. "Do you believe we can win this war?"
Arthur smirked and looked around the room. "I don't think some of you truly understand the strength we now possess. We are the dominant naval power in the West. No single nation can defeat us at sea. And in a few years, when our modernization is complete, even if all of them unite against us, I would still bet on our victory."
A heavy silence settled over the chamber.
King Cedric finally spoke. "The Maraz Strait is vital. We cannot leave its control in foreign hands." Turning to the military commanders, he gave the order: "Begin preparations for war."