industrial lord

Chapter 768 is riddled with problems.
When Rank returned to Cologne, he was suddenly struck by the stark silence that replaced the usual bustle. The streets were deserted, shops were closed early, and even the sounds of children playing had vanished.

The shadow of defeat clung to the capital like vines, and nobles retreated to their manors and estates, closing their gates and licking the wounds inflicted by the "Battle of Redwaterwheel Village".

Families who have lost loved ones hang black veils at their doors; the swaying ribbons in the wind tell of their silent grief. Banquets and celebrations have vanished, replaced by suppressed whispers and endless mourning.

The air was thick with the stench of failure, which had lingered for six months, leaving every corner feeling suffocating.

Meanwhile, an even more unsettling rumor began to circulate quietly in the streets and aristocratic salons—His Majesty King Rudolf seemed to have completely collapsed.

Details about his constant drinking and neglect of state affairs were circulated piecemeal by his servants. For example, he often passed out drunk in the garden late at night, his body covered in mosquito bites like a spotted dog, and he would occasionally attract women of unknown origin to do terrible things.

Through countless words, these details have become increasingly certain and unbearable.

People whispered among themselves, their eyes filled with suspicion and fear, and even the soldiers guarding the palace hung their heads and moved with sluggish steps.

The nation's leader relinquished control at the most critical moment, adding a touch of despair to the already somber atmosphere.

Rank felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his throat, making it hard to breathe.

He told the driver not to go home yet, but to drive around the city.

Suddenly, an idea began to take shape in his mind.

On a sweltering evening, as the setting sun painted the sky blood red, Bastian von Schünster, a junior officer in the Royal Knights, finished his day's duty and rode his motorcycle home.

He passed by an ice cream shop, which was still owned by Earl Rank, and picked up the ice cream he had ordered yesterday.

Bastian's father, Count Shuyun Stiga, the King's Army commander in the Battle of Redwaterwheel Village, has been under immense mental stress for the past six months. His face is etched with undisguised fatigue and solemnity, and he often sits there lost in thought.

Bastian noticed that his father felt better when he ate sweets like ice cream.

However, there were more people sharing the ice cream today.

Count Rank, whom I had just met, is now at Count Shuyun Stiga’s house for dinner.

This puzzled Shu Yun and Stiga. Rank was a high-ranking official but disliked socializing and had never appeared at banquets, balls or hunting parties held by nobles. Why would he suddenly come to their house for a free meal?
“Bastian,” Rank asked as he cut the roasted pork knuckle, “I have a question for you.”

Bastian immediately tensed up, swallowed the carrot chunks in large gulps, and said, "I will tell you everything I know."

Rank said casually, "I'm not familiar with the trends among you young people. My granddaughter's birthday is coming up soon, and I want to give her a surprise. What do you think would be the most suitable gift?"

Without much thought, Bastian replied, "I think Miss Rank will definitely like the White Rose motorcycle recently launched in Wesenberg City, but this model is only for technical verification and is not for sale."

Rank nodded after hearing this, thinking that it must be the women's motorcycle that Frederick had come up with.

Shu Yun Stiga frowned slightly as she glanced at her son. She had never heard him mention knowing Rank's granddaughter before.

The dinner went well, and the guests seemed to enjoy themselves. It was as if Rank was just there to ask the young people about their preferences, and besides their mode of transportation, he also asked about the latest fashion trends.

After the guests left, the father and son sat in the living room.

As Shu Yun Stiga pondered Rank's true purpose for tonight, Bastian broke the silence, saying, "Father, I received a letter from Pavel today."

Shu Yun Stiga raised his head, a hint of alertness flashing between his brows, signaling him to continue.

“He wrote a lot in the letter,” Bastian said, carefully choosing his words. “He believed that the failure at Redwheel Village was not just a command error, but also exposed deep-seated problems in our army.”

"Outdated equipment is just the surface issue; the deeper reasons are outdated war thinking, backward training methods, almost no communication means, chaotic coordination among different corps, and a lack of an efficient staff department."

He believes that we must reform, thoroughly reform, otherwise we will fail again next time.

Bastian's voice carried the fervor and anxiety typical of young people, but the direction of reform proposed by his friend was still vague, merely a strong and urgent intuition. The letter even mentioned that the morale of the border soldiers was low and that a mutiny could break out at any time.

Shu Yun Stiga fell silent, his expression gradually becoming complicated and conflicted, the wrinkles on his forehead deeply etched into his skin.

He was well aware of the deep-seated problems within the military, and perhaps even more so than his son, of the severity of the issue. Reform?

He knew deep down that this was the only way forward, or the kingdom would be doomed.

But when he thought about the huge old interest groups that the reforms would touch, those deeply rooted noble families; when he thought about the king's current state, his drunkenness and inability to make decisions; and when he thought about the empty treasury, unable to even pay the soldiers' salaries... he felt a sense of powerlessness, as if he were carrying a thousand-pound burden on his shoulders.

In particular, the suggestion coming from his son made him feel a heavy responsibility and risk, fearing that Bastian's enthusiasm might backfire.

He ultimately did not express his opinion, but only sighed deeply, casting his gaze out of the dark night sky as if trying to find the answer in the darkness, but only saw a blur, with even the stars hidden behind the clouds.

His father's silence weighed heavily on Bastian's heart like a stone, quickly cooling the young man's newly ignited enthusiasm and turning him into confusion and a hint of dissatisfaction.

Bastian clenched his fists, his throat tightened, but he didn't know how to speak again.

Meanwhile, in the wetlands outside the city of Coron, a campfire blazed and mosquitoes buzzed as Earl Pisto, the Minister of War, and Earl Delden, one of the vice-principals of the Royal Knights, were conducting a ostensible hunt.

Their main target wasn't the wild ducks, but rather the need for an undisturbed environment for conversation, away from the palace's spies and eavesdroppers.

Pistor, munching on a can of duck, said, "See, Delden, I can't even handle a duck now, I have to buy it ready-made."

"Just like our current army, it has the form but has lost its accuracy and strength; the soldiers don't even have the strength to draw their swords."

His voice was bitter as he looked across the desolate wetlands.

Count Delden nodded silently, his expression serious. He opened a can of beer and poured it into the pot, saying, "Rebuilding the army requires money, Pistor, a lot of money."

"Equipment needs to be updated, families of fallen soldiers need to be compensated, new recruits need to be recruited to fill vacancies, and training needs to be intensified... Each of these is like a giant beast that devours gold."

He paused, lowered his voice, looked around, and whispered, "But I received definite news from Earl Rank that the national treasury is almost empty due to this defeat and the previous wars."

“Count Rank is constantly struggling with the finances, his books are piled high with deficits, and His Majesty…”

He didn't continue, but the two exchanged a knowing glance.

Frederick was the finance minister of the Rhine Union, but Rudolf was actually in charge of the day-to-day operations.

Others had only heard rumors about the king's alcoholism and womanizing, but the two of them had witnessed it firsthand.

Given the current situation, don't expect the king to raise any money.

Pisto poured the duck meat from the can into the pot, added some spices, and said, "Without money, everything is just empty talk."

“We are struggling to even maintain the daily expenses of our existing army. Many families of the deceased have written to ask why their pensions have not been paid out yet. The letters are coming in like snowflakes.”

"Once the enemy discovers our true strength..."

He didn't mention the worst possible outcome, but his worry was clearly written on his face, his lips taut, as if he foresaw the scene of iron cavalry trampling across the border.

The firelight cast long shadows of the two men, which were distorted and deformed in the muddy water.

The beer in the pot had already started to boil, and the aroma of duck meat and beer filled the air together.

The two, who should have been enjoying a delicious meal, now felt like duck meat in a pot, suffering terribly.

The urgent need to rebuild the military, coupled with the dire financial situation, has created a frustrating and unsolvable problem.

Pistor considered asking Frederick for help, but after seeing the amount and knowing Frederick was getting married, he ultimately decided against it and didn't want to bother him.

If this problem is not resolved, the future of the Rhine Alliance seems to be shrouded in an inescapable fog, so thick that it dims all hope.

(End of this chapter)