"Hey, Zorro is clearly a swordsman, so why is he being written up as a magician?"
At the moment, Lorist was eating breakfast, holding a copy of the
It had already been six days since the incident. A reporter from the Morant Daily had filed a detailed account from the Treinbury Kingdom, describing in the most wildly exaggerated terms how the mage Zorro had ignited every candle in the hall in an instant, had mysteriously stripped all the guards of their ability to resist and left them unconscious, and had even carved a strange "Z" mark on every person who had witnessed the events.
At the end of the article, the reporter had also interviewed a young noble who had personally experienced the mysterious incident. This noble youth claimed that every time midnight struck, the Z mark on his chest would throb with a dull ache. He said he could always feel some mysterious force in the netherworld calling to his soul, and each time he fought back against it with indomitable courage, lest the nefarious mage drag his soul down into the abyss of hell…
That reporter could go write epic fantasy novels — perhaps he was a third-rate novelist to begin with. Lorist had no idea he had actually guessed the truth. The Morant Daily reporter had never gotten anywhere near Viscount Silva, the actual party involved in the incident, because Viscount Silva was currently swinging from a gallows in the square before the royal palace. When the reporter had passed by, he had simply been wondering which poor fool had managed to anger His Majesty.
Since the Treinbury Kingdom had sealed all news of the glass technician's disappearance, the reporter had been forced to poke around taverns for information. He had finally managed to track down a young noble who had witnessed the events firsthand. After listening to the account, he returned to his inn, let his imagination run wild, and a brand-new report brimming with fantasy and suspense was born.
Lorist set down the Morant Daily and picked up the Faliqiu Weekly. This time, the coverage of the Fine Red Winery incident was far more credible. Compared to the Morant Daily reporter with his flair for fantasy fiction, the journalist dispatched by the Faliqiu Weekly was clearly a cut above. They had interviewed the winery's servants, the criminal investigators assigned to the case, and even the Minister of the Royal Guard who had overseen the matter for the Treinbury Kingdom.
The Faliqiu Weekly's headline read: "Zorro — Mage or Magician?" After conducting their own investigation, the reporters concluded that Zorro was no so-called mage, but rather a brazen bandit who had mastered a handful of minor tricks. Take the instantaneous ignition of every candle in the hall — the criminal investigators discovered it was nothing more than a small magician's trick. The truth was quite simple: wicks soaked in fire oil were connected by thin cords to every candle, and once a single flame was lit, it raced along the cords to ignite them all. That was the reason a web of fire had appeared in midair before every candle blazed to life at once.
As for why all the guards had collapsed, the reporter concluded that the bandit known as Zorro was likely a Gold-rank battle-force expert who excelled in bare-handed combat. The evidence was clear from the two Silver Swordsmen whose shattered jaws had been examined — every single guard had been physically knocked out, not struck down by any magical attack.
The reporter believed that this small bandit gang led by Zorro had originally intended to rob the Fine Red Winery, which was why they had gotten all the servants and workers drunk so they could search the premises freely. As it happened, Viscount Silva had arrived at the winery with friends and guards, and unfortunately became easy prey that had walked right into their trap.
So the bandit leader Zorro turned his sights on Viscount Silva — the fact that all the accompanying nobles had been stripped and robbed of their valuables was proof enough. What the reporter found puzzling, however, was that four days after the incident, the principal party and victim, Viscount Silva, along with his guards and some friends, had been strung up on the gallows by King Treinbury VII. The charges were unknown…
The reporter thus believed that behind the Fine Red Estate mystery lay an even greater secret. Even though all those in the know refused to speak, the reporter remained confident he could uncover the truth…
Good luck to that brave reporter, Lorist offered a silent prayer. He knew full well that the Treinbury Kingdom had already discovered the disappearance of the Mancini craftsman's family, which was why Viscount Silva had met his fate. It now appeared that the Treinbury Kingdom intended to keep the matter quiet while conducting a secret investigation. Lorist wasn't particularly worried about that. Once he finished his business and brought the Mancini family back to his family's territory, the Treinbury Kingdom would never dream that a glass factory had sprung up in the Northland…
Right now, the Mancini craftsman's family was staying in a room Lorist had booked for them on the third floor of the Red Crow Tavern, eating breakfast just as he was. The Treinbury Kingdom's spies would never be able to track them down — on that point, Lorist was very confident. Just as with entering Morant City, the Mancini family had entered the city separately. Posing as mother-and-son, father-and-son, and brother-and-sister pairs alongside Lorist's guards, they had slipped in among the thousands of servants and workers who flooded into Morant City every day, drawing no attention whatsoever. Only then had they reconvened at the Red Crow Tavern.
The only minor issue that had cropped up was that El and the Mancini craftsman's well-mannered daughter had developed a small situation while posing as siblings during their entry — the two kept exchanging furtive glances, something Lorist's sharp eyes hadn't missed. Although El was sixteen years her senior, that didn't stop the pair from hitting it off. Lorist could only wish his old brother El the best.
He enjoyed a delicious breakfast while continuing to scan the remaining news in the papers.
Sigh, he still wasn't used to life in Morant City. Compared to the family's territory, Lorist felt the biggest difference lay in the flow of information. In Morant City, one could learn of every major and minor event across the Galentea Continent without stepping outside — even if the news arrived a few days or even a month late, knowing was still better than not knowing. Thanks to the expansion of the Forde Commercial Alliance's sphere of influence, reporters from Morant City could travel freely to conduct interviews and gather news without having to worry about their safety.
The family's territory, on the other hand, had developed considerably over the past few years and appeared to be thriving, yet the circulation of information remained comparatively stifling. Lorist recalled how, a few years ago when he had been stationed in the Northland, he had been completely in the dark about the outside world, knowing absolutely nothing. His only source of external information had been the occasional visit from Count Kermes. But what Count Kermes knew best was the intrigue and scheming of the court and nobility — anything beyond the Iberian Kingdom was mostly hearsay.
Having lived two lives, Lorist was well aware of the importance of intelligence and information. He wanted to establish an intelligence network so that the family could stay informed about outside events and changes. But the biggest obstacle was that once beyond the family's borders, he could not guarantee the safety of any agents he dispatched. Considering that just a few years ago even the family's couriers had been captured by local lords and sold into slavery, Lorist simply couldn't afford to lose that many spies.
But now that the family had acquired the territory of Shilovas Island and established sea routes, they had finally opened a channel for communication with the outside world. After returning this time, it was time to activate Lanmode, whom he had left back home working himself to the bone for his wives and children day in and day out. Lorist had forced the fellow to marry seven wives, and in the span of three years, he already had about ten children.
From what Lorist had heard, the fellow toiled day and night as a beast of burden for his wives and children, yet he had somehow earned the reputation of a miracle worker in treating gynecological, obstetric, and pediatric ailments. One dose from his hand and the illness would vanish — truly remarkable.
During one gathering with his old classmates from the academy, the fellow had gotten drunk and burst into tears, lamenting that he should have kept his lower half in check rather than ending up in this living hell... Before he could even finish, two of his wives had him by the ears and dragged him home to reflect on his behavior. The old classmates who witnessed the scene bowed their heads in a moment of silent mourning for him...
Regardless, the fellow was still the family's knight, and he couldn't be allowed to waste his time like this. Moreover, all seven of his wives had awakened their
Lorist let out a deep sigh. When would the family's territory become as prosperous as Morant City? The road was long and arduous. Compared to the territories of other nobles, the
But in Lorist's heart, the family's current prosperity was merely a surface phenomenon. If they didn't persist, then in another hundred years and two or three generations, everything would revert to how it once was. He had numerous plans — establishing a comprehensive basic education system to raise the overall quality of the populace and strengthen their loyalty to the family. Tax reduction was another; the family didn't need to wring every last pitiful copper from their subjects the way other territorial lords did. There were plenty of ways to build wealth — Lorist could draw on his past life's experience to come up with countless ideas for increasing the family's fortune at any time. But achieving these goals would require even greater effort.
Lorist smiled bitterly. Many of his plans remained unrealizable because current conditions simply didn't permit it. Basic education was a prime example — unless they could achieve a breakthrough in papermaking, the exorbitant cost of beastskin parchment meant the family could never fulfill this ambition. If, as in his previous life, cheap paper were available, then the family could not only expand education on a large scale but also establish newspapers, seize control of public opinion, and shape the mindset of their subjects so they would take pride in being part of the Norton Family...
He had been so lost in thought that Lorist didn't even notice Sheward appearing in front of him.
"My lord, my lord..." Sheward called out twice.
"Oh, it's you. Why didn't you go to the library today?" Lorist snapped back to reality.
Sheward rolled his eyes. "My lord, we've already spent more than ten days in the library. We've learned everything there is to learn, and you told us just yesterday that we didn't need to go back."
Lorist said with an embarrassed smile, "Sorry, Sheward, I was lost in thought just now and forgot what I said yesterday. Is something the matter?"
"My lord, the owner of that shipyard you visited the day before yesterday — Widalai Shipyard — a Mr. Mirino, is here. He says it's urgent and requests that you absolutely must see him," Sheward said.
"Oh? Is there something wrong with the ship I ordered? Have him brought up to the third floor, and tell Ayl as well — make sure Mr. Manqini's family isn't seen by them," Lorist said.
"Yes, my lord." Sheward withdrew.
Two days ago, Lorist had visited Widalai Shipyard and reached an agreement with Mr. Mirino to commission a large ocean-going merchant vessel for six thousand five hundred gold Forde, with a construction period of four and a half months. Lorist had paid a deposit of one thousand and agreed to pay an additional three thousand gold Forde once the keel was installed, with the remainder to be settled upon completion and acceptance inspection.
before Lorist.
"Welcome, Mr. Mirino. I wonder what matter was so urgent that you felt you absolutely had to see me?" Lorist asked.
"My sincerest apologies, my lord. Due to forces beyond our control, Widalai Shipyard is unable to fulfill the order you placed. Here is your deposit, and here is compensation for the deposit. Please forgive us, my lord, but the agreement truly cannot be carried out." Mr. Mirino seemed to have something difficult he could not bring himself to say. He insisted on tearing up the agreement, then took his leave and departed.
On the table sat ten gold Forde notes with a face value of one hundred gold Forde each — this was the shipbuilding deposit Lorist had paid — along with a bulging coin purse containing one hundred gold Forde, the compensation equal to ten percent of the deposit. The shipbuilding agreement had stipulated that if the shipyard was unable to carry out the contract within ten days, the deposit must be returned along with compensation of ten percent of the deposit as interest...
In just three days, he'd earned a hundred gold Forde. If this were the old Lorist who was still an Instructor at
One hundred thousand gold Forde. Lorist had planned to purchase or commission twelve large ocean-going merchant ships to assemble a family merchant fleet. But now, the very first ship he'd agreed upon was gone just like that.
Lorist stroked his chin, pondering what unforeseeable force Mr. Mirino had referred to, when Schwad knocked and entered once more: "My lord, the owners of three more shipyards have arrived..."
In the span of half a day, all eight orders for large ocean-going merchant ships that Lorist had placed with eight private shipyards over the past five or six days since his return from the Kingdom of Trenba were refunded. The reason was the same — unforeseeable circumstances — and each came with the same one thousand gold Forde deposit returned along with one hundred gold Forde in compensatory interest. Under Lorist's repeated questioning, the last shipyard owner who came to return the deposit finally let something slip: "You've offended someone we cannot afford to offend..."
Lorist's face turned ashen. Who on earth was pulling strings behind the scenes? Every shipyard operating in Hidden Gold Bay was run by a local power broker with connections and several hundred to nearly a thousand skilled craftsmen. If even they dared not offend this person, who could it possibly be? And how had he offended them? Lorist had no recollection whatsoever.
"Er, go find the Ledos brothers and ask them to quietly investigate who exactly is working against us. Have them give us a lead. The rest of you, stay put unless you have business outside — we're in the eye of the storm right now and need to stay on guard," Lorist instructed.
One day later, Ledos arrived at the Red Crow Tavern. His investigation revealed that the Chicked Trading Chamber had stepped in to coerce those eight private shipyards into refunding the deposits Lorist had placed. Just as that last shipyard owner had said, they had offended someone they could not afford to offend, and the Chicked Trading Chamber was precisely that colossal force beyond their ability to provoke.
The Chicked Trading Chamber? Why had they thrown a wrench in his plans and blocked him from commissioning large ocean-going merchant ships? Hadn't that Chairman Chicked already apologized to him? Why go back on his word and act against him? Did he not know that behind Lorist stood the Peterson Trading Chamber...
Lorist frowned in thought — something unexpected must have happened that he hadn't anticipated. Just then, Schwad came over: "My lord, Chairman Peterson has just sent word — he asks that you come to the Trading Chamber to meet with him. He says there is a matter of great importance to discuss."
... (To be continued.)