Chapter 123: Chapter 118: Regional Trade Partnership
Three days after Banaby fled in the night, the tranquility of Newly Town was broken by a long procession of carriages.
Over a dozen lords from the manors surrounding the Gray Sea Marsh had gathered here, each bringing "lavish gifts" befitting their financial means.
Kane and Mo’er stood at the head of the group before the Lord’s Mansion.
As the highest-ranking among the minor lords, they had naturally become the representatives.
Beads of sweat formed on Kane’s forehead. He gave a stiff tug at the collar of his formal attire, which was hard with starch.
Mo’er, meanwhile, couldn’t stop glancing at the guards at the entrance. Clad in uniform leather armor and holding long spears, they stood in silence, exuding an intangible pressure.
The gifts brought by the procession were unloaded one by one.
A few scrawny live chickens, a sack of sprouted potatoes, and half a basket of dull-colored turnips.
Piled together, the gifts looked less like a congratulatory offering and more like an exhibition on the theme of poverty.
A young man dressed like a clerk came out, holding a clipboard.
"My lords, the Baron is aware of your sentiments. Please, follow me. His Lordship is waiting in the reception hall."
The atmosphere in the Lord’s Mansion reception hall grew even more tense as they entered.
Velin sat at the head of the table. He wore no opulent robes to flaunt his status, only simple black attire. With his fingers interlaced, he watched them calmly.
To his left sat Ola, who was rumored to have been captured alive by him.
Gone was the fierce glare Ola usually shot them; instead, he was docilely polishing his great axe.
The sight nearly made the lords’ jaws drop.
Every one of them had been extorted by this savage Half-Dwarf. When had they ever seen him so well-behaved?
’Just how terrifying must Baron Grey Marsh be, to turn this tiger into a housecat!’
Kane’s knees felt weak. He stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Esteemed Baron Velin, we... we are truly delighted by your promotion and have come to offer our congratulations."
The words he had prepared on the journey caught in his throat, and his voice came out dry and raspy.
Velin offered a genial smile.
"Please, be seated."
As if granted a royal pardon, the lords cautiously took their seats on either side of the long table. They only dared to perch on the edge of their chairs, their backs ramrod straight.
Velin scanned the room. The faces he saw were filled with fear, sycophancy, and unease.
"First, I want to thank you all for coming to celebrate my promotion. As it happens, I also have a matter to discuss with you."
His gaze passed over each of their faces in turn.
"We’ve all witnessed the poverty and chaos of the Gray Sea Marsh. Each of us ruling our own domains, suspicious of one another—this only deepens our internal conflicts and allows outside powers to take from us as they please."
He spread his arms. "Now, the Grey Marsh Territory is willing to assume the responsibility of a regional core and establish a stable, efficient, and mutually beneficial framework for cooperation."
The lords exchanged blank stares. None of them understood his terminology.
"I propose we establish a ’Regional Trade Partnership,’ with the Grey Marsh Territory at its center."
Velin paused, giving them a moment to digest his words.
"All territories that join will enjoy priority trading rights. The Grey Marsh Territory will purchase your surplus resources, such as ore and lumber, at fair prices. In turn, we will sell you the vital supplies you urgently need, like grain and salt."
Velin turned his gaze to Ola.
"Ola."
"Present, my lord." Ola shot to his feet, planting his battle-axe on the floor.
"Do you think we’ll need to collect any extra ’assistance fees’ from our ’trade partners’?"
A pained smile stretched across Ola’s rugged face, and his trademark booming voice echoed through the hall.
"Of course not, Baron Velin! If anyone dares lay a hand on our partners, I, Ola, will be the first to twist their head off!"
Velin’s promise was nothing short of heavenly music.
"I’m in!" Kane was the first to stand, declaring excitedly, "Valley Village will join!"
"Black Water Village as well!" Mo’er chimed in immediately after.
"We all agree!"
"We will follow Baron Velin’s lead!"
For a moment, the reception hall was filled with cries of allegiance.
They might not have understood what a "trade partnership" was, but they knew one thing for certain: from this day on, Ola’s battle-axe would no longer be hanging over their heads.
Velin remained unmoved by the fervent atmosphere, merely raising a hand calmly.
"Very good. My clerk will discuss the specific terms with you in detail."
He rose, and the audience was over.
The lords withdrew respectfully, their faces a mixture of relief at having survived an ordeal and anticipation for the future.
Though no oaths of fealty were sworn, from this moment on, Velin was the de facto leader of the region.
「Night fell.」
Only Velin and Caroline remained in the study of the Lord’s Mansion.
The midsummer night was hot and stifling.
Velin sat ramrod straight, studying the proposal for the "Foundation-Strengthening Plan."
Caroline, however, was leaning against the window, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall.
She wore a cool, ivory-colored silk nightdress. The hem was short, barely covering her knees and shamelessly exposing her long, snow-white legs.
Seeing that the blockhead had no intention of sneaking a glance at her, Caroline bit her lip and moved away from the window.
She padded barefoot across the soft carpet and stopped on the opposite side of his desk.
She leaned forward, and a scent of wine and perfume washed over him as she tried to catch his attention.
"Velin, why didn’t you just tell Banaby from the beginning that your status as a Pioneer Knight was granted directly by the Noble Council? Wouldn’t laying your cards on the table have been simpler? You went through all this trouble—what if you’ve angered Marquis Minas Hill? Won’t that be even more problematic?"
The neckline of Caroline’s nightdress was quite low, and she seemed oblivious to the fact that if she leaned any further, she would be revealing quite a lot.
"Because the Marquis is a variable—a powerful one that I cannot control."
In the undisturbed quiet of the late night, Velin finally revealed the truth.
"Until I receive the Council’s final confirmation, anything could happen. If Marquis Minas Hill were a lord with strong expansionist desires, he would have both the means and the motive to create obstacles for me in the Council, causing my territorial application to fail."
"So you’d rather risk offending him and wait for the dust to settle?"
"That wasn’t a risk, it was a deduction," Velin corrected her. "Banaby’s stupidity gave me the chance to frame this as a ’private scandal’ rather than a ’territorial dispute.’ Now, to cover up his own scandal, he’ll be the one to actively help me suppress any fallout."
Caroline was stunned. She hadn’t realized the scheme ran so deep.
She took another sip of wine and asked a different question.
"Then what about the ’Regional Trade Partnership’? Those old Pioneer Knights aren’t the Marquis’s vassals. Why not form a proper alliance? Your control over the region would be much stronger."
Velin let out a soft chuckle.
"An alliance implies responsibility. If any one of them were attacked, as the leader of the alliance, I would be obligated to send troops to their aid."
"What I need are their people, their resources, and a secure external environment. I need them to work for me, not for me to fight their battles."
"A trade partnership implies a transactional relationship between equals. When I need them, I can hire them. When they’re in trouble, I can choose whether or not to help."
Caroline watched Velin’s back, lost in thought.
’A man who weighs every matter on the scales of profit... he can’t be swayed by emotion alone.’
She straightened up, letting her long hair fall and cover her prominent collarbones.
Suddenly, she laughed, the sound clear and bright.
"Velin, you are... an absolute bastard, through and through."
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