industrial lord

Chapter 778 Dilemma
In late autumn, at the docks of Cologne, gray clouds hung low, and the north wind carried the fishy stench of the river. A row of warships not far from the shore loomed like mountains, weighing heavily on the hearts of everyone on the shore.

Marlene von Ranke gently covered her mouth and nose with a silk handkerchief, her icy blue eyes revealing shock and solemnity.

Beside her, Bastian von Schünsterga watched the Anglo Kingdom's fleet on the river, his brow furrowed.

Today, although Bastian wasn't wearing his military uniform, his upright posture still carried the unique coldness of a soldier.

Audiences with this kind of temperament are not uncommon to be seen along the river at this moment.

His gaze swept over the imposing foreign fleet on the river.

These warships have a structure similar to traditional seagoing vessels, with a superstructure located at the stern, no masts, and a detachable lookout tower.

The waterwheel is located below the superstructure, with sturdy steel-clad oak planks on both sides and the top.

The warship's sides are lined with a dense array of gun ports, which is chilling. What's intriguing is that the top deck is covered with a lot of equipment that looks like large boxes more than a meter long, and their purpose is unknown.

Bastian withdrew his gaze, turned his head, and looked at Marlene's slightly pale profile.

Marlene didn't turn around, but subconsciously leaned slightly to the side. Her cool shoulder blades touched his firm chest, and the familiar body temperature emanated through her clothes, making her tense heartstrings relax slightly.

“They’re showing off their muscles to us,” Bastian said in a low voice, making sure only she could hear him, “or rather, it’s blatant flaunting.”

As he spoke, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, his grip tightening slightly.

Marlene nodded slightly and continued to observe the Anglo-Saxon warships intently, as if trying to imprint them in her mind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the fear on the faces of the people around her, and sensed a mixture of humiliation and helplessness permeating the air.

Everyone now understands that this was not a friendly visit, but a silent intimidation.

“Let’s go, Marlene.” Bastian’s voice carried a hint of weariness that was barely perceptible and only revealed in front of her. “Watching any longer will only make things worse.”

He gently pulled Marlene around in a protective gesture, intending to take her away.

Marlene obediently turned around with Bastian's help, letting his broad palm slide down and naturally grasp her hand, their fingers intertwined.

He led her, struggling against the throng of people, outwards.

Behind me, the massive shadow of the Oak was still imposing, but the warmth from my hands dispelled the gloom in my heart.

The quiet teahouse they frequented in the city, with its private rooms filled with a delicate fragrance, isolated them from the outside noise.

The door closed behind him, and Bastian's previously cold expression softened. He raised his hand to rub his tense brow before turning to Marlene.

Seeing the lingering worry on Marlene's face, Bastian sighed softly, stepped forward, and naturally stretched out his arms to gently embrace her.

Marlene did not resist, resting her forehead against his shoulder and taking a deep breath. The familiar scent of leather and a faint scent of soap lingered around her nose, and her tense nerves finally relaxed for a moment.

"Are you alright?" Bastian asked softly, his large hand gently stroking her back.

Marlene nodded gently in his arms and gave a muffled "hmm".

After a brief moment of tenderness, the two sat down at the table.

Marlene gently stirred the flower tea in her cup with a teaspoon, watching the petals rise and fall.

Bastian had taken off his coat and hung it on the hanger. His short blond hair was slightly messy, his handsome brows were still furrowed, and his rough fingers tapped the table lightly in an unconscious, anxious rhythm.

“Bastian,” Marlene’s voice was much softer than at the docks, “Does Grand Duke Wessen have any clear opinion on the arrival of the Anglon fleet?”

"Has our Rhine Alliance, or rather the Grand Duke himself, devised any countermeasures?"

Her tone held a hint of expectation. Count Rank was at a loss and now hoped to get a different answer from the military from Bastian.

Bastian took her other hand, which was resting on the table, and gently stroked the back of her hand with his fingertips, trying to offer some comfort. He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and, watching the tea swirl, a bitter smile appeared on his lips. He slowly shook his head.

"Deal with it?" Bastian's voice was low and hoarse, filled with deep helplessness. "Marlene, given our current positions, don't you understand the state of the Rhine Alliance?"

He didn't need to explain the real difficulties he was facing; Marlene, as the granddaughter of Earl Rank, was well aware of them.

Bastian said helplessly, "Grand Duke Wessen is equally helpless and powerless in this matter."

A brief, oppressive silence fell over the room.

“However,” Marlene seemed to suddenly remember something, her previously dim eyes brightening slightly as she gently grasped Bastian’s fingers in return, “I overheard my grandfather casually mentioning in his study the other day that Grand Duke Wessen seemed to have proposed a rather novel theory at a meeting, something like… ‘Sea Power Theory’?”

“Hmm,” Bastian nodded, not letting go of her hand, and used his other hand to pick up the cup, take a sip of tea, and then put it down more heavily.

"This topic has been discussed within the Royal Knights."

"Grand Duke Wessen believes..."

He elaborated on the core tenets of his "sea power theory," and then solemnly added at the end: "Isn't the arrival of this massive Anglo fleet a living testament to the Grand Duke's prophecy?"

"It's like a mirror, cruelly reflecting our weakness."

A heavy sense of crisis spread silently.

Marlene sighed softly and gripped his hand tighter.

“But what can we do? Reality is so cold and cruel…” She recounted in detail the financial difficulties of the Rhine Alliance that she had heard from her grandfather, her voice filled with helplessness. “Where is there any spare capacity left to invest even a single copper coin in a bottomless pit like naval construction that requires astronomical sums of money?”

Bastian remained silent, took a deep breath, and then exhaled heavily.

His face was clearly etched with a sense of powerlessness with nowhere to vent his frustration and an uncontrollable anger.

“If only then…” he murmured almost absentmindedly, his voice as soft as a dream, “If only His Majesty Rudolf… hadn’t issued that fatal, chaotic decree at the crucial moment…”

As soon as he said it, he froze, a hint of panic flashing in his eyes. He immediately stopped talking and pressed his thin lips tightly together.

Marlene's heart sank.

She instinctively cupped his clenched fists in her hands, as if trying to soften the stiffness, and asked cautiously in a soft voice, "So... now, how is His Majesty Rudolf doing?"

Now, even Count Ranke can no longer control Rudolf's situation.

Bastian withdrew his gaze from the void and looked at her face, which was filled with worry. He forced a helpless and sorrowful smile and slowly shook his head.

Rumor has it that Grand Duke Wessen went to Rudolf's estate to persuade His Majesty the King to cheer up, during which someone was slapped a few times.

Rudolf later came out to receive the envoys from the Kingdom of Anglo-Saxon, but...

Bastian told him in a low voice about His Majesty's alcoholism and his Grand Duke Wesen's struggle to maintain his dignity. Finally, with a deep sorrow that he tried to suppress but still revealed, he said, "Grand Duke Wesen had to leave Coron City the day before yesterday due to urgent political affairs. His Majesty... then he went back to drowning his sorrows in his wine glass like a lump of mud."

"Everything has returned to square one."

The private room fell into a deathly silence once again. The sunlight outside the window seemed to have lost its warmth, and the faint hope was like a candle flickering in the wind.

Bastian remained silent for a moment, then suddenly withdrew his hand, stood up, sat down next to Marlene, and gently embraced her again.

Marlene didn't move, but simply pressed her cheek against his firm chest, closed her eyes, and felt the only warmth and support in this turbulent time.

The powerful and despair-inducing foreign fleet on the river was an external pressure, while the deep-seated internal problems were an even more suffocating shackle.

The future of the nation is shrouded in uncertainty, but at this moment, they can at least lean on each other and draw courage from the cold reality to keep moving forward.

(End of this chapter)