industrial lord

Chapter 786 An Invitation from an Old Friend
The hot springs shroud Carlsbad in a hazy white mist during the winter, and when the first snowflake passes through the steam and lands on a pedestrian's face, a gasp of surprise ripples through the streets.

The snow came earlier this year than usual.

In the hotel where Count Marchine was staying, thick curtains kept out the cold wind from the windows, and the firewood in the fireplace was burning brightly.

He sat in front of the fireplace, curiously studying the row of round holes above it.

Behind these round holes is a row of finger-thick copper tubes shaped like an underscore. The copper tubes pass through the inside of the fireplace, and the other end passes through the wall at a lower position outside the wall. After the flames in the fireplace heat the air in the copper tubes, the hot air rises from low to high, thus warming the fresh air outside the room before it enters the room.

After the negotiations broke down, Marchin wandered around the town, discovering many new and fascinating things.

Just as he was thinking about how he would renovate his castle like that when he got home, the owner of a gift shop arrived.

Traditionally, nobles would sit at home and have merchants bring goods to their door. Only Frederick liked to go shopping, so Marcin naturally followed the traditional practice.

He planned to buy some gifts to take back, and the housekeeper had already informed the boss of his needs, and the boss was ready.

The exquisite music box can hold paper tapes of different tunes, and you can even punch holes in the paper tapes to compose your own music.

The 6mm caliber magic air bullet guns have exaggerated designs, with some featuring a fire dragon with its mouth wide open, making them quite interesting.

Marcin was eventually drawn to a row of transparent glass bottles, each containing a small and exquisite model of a sailboat.

He looked at the tiny bottle opening, then at the ship hull that almost filled the entire space inside, racking his brains but still unable to figure out how the ship got in there.

After he finished buying the gifts, he instructed that the two small boats in the bottles should not be wrapped up, so that he could study them carefully.

Before he could figure anything out, the butler came to report: "Master, the investment in the 'animation film' has been settled without any difficulties, and the terms are mutually beneficial."

Marchin nodded. It seemed that Grand Duke Wesen was not making things difficult for him personally, but only for the Kingdom of Piaster.

"This matter..." He thought for a moment, "I will have the eldest son in charge, and your son assist him."

Not long after this matter was arranged, a servant delivered a letter. The sealing wax stamp on the letter was a wheel pattern with different spoke designs.

Marchin was somewhat puzzled. This pattern was often used by commercial groups formed by several nobles. He didn't recognize it. Could it be the gloves of the Duke of Wessen?
He opened the letter, pulled out the stationery, and smelled a strong mixed floral fragrance. The handwriting was delicate yet revealed a hint of sharpness.

The other party claimed that he had not seen Marchin for more than 20 years and invited him to a villa on the edge of town for a chat, signing it "Madame Bibian".

Lady Bibian?
Marchin searched his memory carefully and confirmed that he had never heard of this name before, or even names with similar pronunciations. So he asked his butler to inquire about it.

The steward soon received the news that this Lady Bibian was a merchant who had become active in the Bohemian region and the Duchy of Wessen in recent years, and had extensive connections in both places.

“My lord,” the butler said in a low voice, “I have heard that Lady Bibian is not well received by the Duke of Wessen and has not benefited from the Duchy of Wessen’s aid to Bohemia.”

Marchin frowned and asked, "Do you know the specific reason?"

He vaguely sensed that something was wrong.

The butler replied, "I heard that Lady Bibian used to be a high-ranking noblewoman, but her family fell into poverty a few years ago." Marchin nodded slightly. It was not uncommon for noblewomen to have their husbands die for some reason, forcing them to make a living on their own.

But he was unsure whether this person was Grand Duke Wessen's glove or came from another faction.

The water seemed deep, but Marchin didn't care and decided to keep his appointment on time.

The villa on the outskirts of town is located in an estate, and farmers in the surrounding fields are tending to the rye in the fields.

With the weather cold now, planting low-yielding rye is more practical than wheat, which may result in a complete crop failure.

The villa's exterior walls were covered with withered rose vines, and gilded window frames and silk curtains were visible, indicating the owner's considerable wealth.

The butler who received Marchin was well-dressed, using only the finest materials, and wore a rare pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

Stepping into the room, a wave of warmth hits you, dispelling the chill outside.

The room was decorated in an extremely extravagant manner, with crystal chandeliers, large stone tapestries, peach blossom vases, velvet curtains... These were just the tip of the iceberg. What attracted the most were the young maids with beautiful faces, dressed in bright colors and not very proper attire, with a hint of nonchalant frivolity in their expressions. They were the type that the guests liked.

Marcin's heart sank. This atmosphere and this behavior were clearly a test for the cadres.

Upon entering the opulent living room, the butler bowed to Marchin and said, "Your Excellency, Madam requests that you wait a moment while we enjoy tea and refreshments."

As they spoke, two graceful young women, dressed in nearly transparent gauze dresses, slowly stepped forward carrying silver trays of tea and fruit. Their eyes, which looked at Marchin, were practically spitting fire.

Although Marchin was fond of women, he had strong self-control and knew what to do in different situations. Otherwise, he would not have been able to organize such a high-stakes operation as stealing military rations and murdering witnesses.

He sneered, and just as the girl was about to put down the silver tray, he waved his hand and said expressionlessly, "No need. I prefer to enjoy things after everything has settled down."

The butler understood his meaning: if he had something to say, he should say it directly. If he continued to play these tricks, he would leave immediately without hesitation.

"Please wait a moment," the butler bowed gracefully as always, "Madam will be here shortly."

Marchin sat expressionlessly on the sofa, certain that Mrs. Bibian knew everything about the living room.

He had not only seen many of these negotiation tricks, but had also used them himself.

Not long after, the large stone tapestry curtain at the side entrance was lifted, and a noblewoman slowly walked out.

She was dressed as a typical middle-aged woman, wearing a silk robe with traditional Bohemian patterns. Her brown hair, styled meticulously beneath a white pearl hairnet, and a pair of large, snow-white earrings swayed as she walked.

At first glance, Marchin thought she looked somewhat familiar, but upon closer inspection, his pupils contracted and his heart tightened!
"You're the...second princess of the Legens Alliance?"

Although time has etched its marks on his face, adding the marks of age, his eyebrows and features remind him of the deepest memories of twenty years ago, a time of constant warfare.

(End of this chapter)