industrial lord

Chapter 802 We Reeds
The heavy snow continued, and the world seemed to be only one color. The swirling snowflakes covered the path we came from and buried the way we were going.

The sky was no longer the sky, but an eternally low-hanging dome, gleaming with a cold, leaden-gray light.

The snow was knee-deep, burying the boundaries between roads and field ridges, simplifying the world into an endless white wasteland.

The gale whipped up ice crystals, lashing the building's exterior walls like an invisible whip, emitting a mournful howl.

With the city gates tightly shut and the drawbridge frozen, any attempt to travel far without the aid of a railway seemed futile and foolish in the face of this harsh natural force.

For the nobles of Boyheim, this long freeze was both a period of confinement and a season for introspective social interaction.

Unable to go out hunting, patrol their territories, or engage in long-distance trade, their activity radius was compressed to a few noble residences within the city.

Thus, one salon, dinner, and indoor dance after another became the only way to break the silence, maintain relationships, and also to relieve boredom.

The warm living room became an isolated island in the snow, where candlelight, music, wine, and gossip intertwined, constructing a brief and fragile prosperity.

Sir Pavel, who had just returned from the Duchy of Wessen, unsurprisingly became the most popular guest in this closed social circle.

He was like a window that had suddenly opened, bringing in a breath of fresh air from the outside world, especially from the legendary Duchy of Wesen.

His observations, his speech, and even the small Wesson items he carried with him all became the focus of attention.

Invitations poured in like snowflakes, forcing him to shuttle between the living rooms of various families, repeating stories of overnight riches at the racetrack, exotic animals in the zoo, and the ever-emerging myths of wealth. However, the emphasis of each story would be subtly adjusted according to the different audiences.

That evening, the blizzard subsided, and the sky took on an eerie, frozen deep blue hue.

Pavel received an exquisite invitation from Olga's servant—an invitation to a dinner party and small ball to be held at her residence.

Olga’s mansion in Boijheim is known for its elegance and good taste.

As Pavel stepped into the hall and his servant removed his cloak, a warm scent wafted towards him, a blend of expensive beeswax, dried flowers, and a subtle feminine fragrance.

Unlike the noisy banquets elsewhere, the atmosphere here is more private and refined.

There weren't many guests, but they were all prominent young people in the city, including Polina, who was sitting quietly in a corner, discussing a color scheme with an older woman. When she saw Pavel come in, she only glanced at him briefly, nodded slightly, and then immersed herself back in her own artistic world.

Pavel's gaze lingered briefly on her for a moment before subtly shifting away.

The dinner menu also reflected the host's thoughtfulness, featuring not only traditional delicacies but also desserts that resembled Carlsbad cream puffs but had slightly different fillings.

During the meal, the conversation naturally turned to Pavel's trip to Wessen.

“Sir Pavel,” a young baron with a handsome mustache asked with interest, “I heard that you met a powerful official in Budvis, the very same Mr. Thomas mentioned in the newspapers?”

This issue immediately attracted everyone's attention.

Compared to the grand visions and experiences of Wessen, these specific personal connections often meant more practical information and opportunities to these local nobles.

Pavel felt a chill run down his spine as a thought arose in his mind: this was what many people were truly interested in tonight.

He remained as composed as ever, wiping his mouth with a napkin before calmly replying, "Yes, we've known each other for a while."

"Mr. Thomas is one of the officials in charge of this food aid in the Duchy of Wessen. He is a pragmatic and capable person."

“Food aid,” another lady repeated thoughtfully, her gaze casually sweeping over the delicate glassware on the table, “you know, those… crystal-clear noodles?”

“Exactly.” Pavel nodded. “Mr. Thomas is very busy, and it was by chance that I got to know him.”

“Wesson’s officials operate in a very different style from ours. They are extremely efficient, and…” He carefully chose his words, “…have an almost obsessive adherence to rules and procedures.”

He skillfully steered the conversation toward the characteristics of Wesson's administrative system, answering the question without revealing too much information about Thomas personally, thus avoiding the impression of boasting or leaking secrets.

He noticed that Olga, sitting in the main seat, listened with a smile, occasionally interjecting a guiding remark or two, keeping the conversation warm yet polite.

After the dinner, the carpet in the center of the living room was rolled up, revealing the gleaming wooden floor.

A small band of local musicians began playing soothing dance music.

The soft candlelight and the firelight from the fireplace intertwined, casting flickering shadows on people's faces.

Out of courtesy, Pavel invited several ladies to dance, including Polina.

The atmosphere was relaxed and familiar as they danced with Polina. They exchanged a few words in hushed tones about Wesenberg University and the Academy of Arts. Polina's eyes sparkled with anticipation for the future and a hint of apprehension about studying magic.

However, the atmosphere suddenly became subtle when Olga reached out her hand to him.

Olga's dance moves were elegant and precise, with an undeniable sense of control.

She was very close, and her cool yet slightly alluring fragrance lingered around Pavel's nose.

Her gaze sometimes met his, and sometimes seemed to casually sweep over his shoulder, looking at the crowd outside the dance floor.

“Pavel,” her voice was exceptionally soft in the music, almost a whisper, “you know what? In Boyheim, there are very few young people like you who are both knowledgeable and capable.”

Her tone carried an intimate ambiguity, as if they shared some kind of secret.

Pavel could feel the pressure on her shoulders and hands, which wasn't what was required for the dance.

Olga's flattery and friendliness were too obviously purposeful, making him somewhat uncomfortable.

“You flatter me, Olga,” Pavel replied cautiously. “I simply had some exposure to things about the Duchy of Wessen earlier than everyone else.”

When the song ended, Olga did not let go of his hand; instead, she gently took his arm.

“You’ve gotten a bit hot from dancing. How about you come with me to the small living room next door to rest for a while? I have some good wine that a friend just brought back from the north. I’m sure it will suit your taste better than Weisen’s energizing tea.” Her smile was impeccable, but her eyes conveyed an undeniable air of refusal. The heavy door closed, shutting out the music and voices, isolating the small living room from the hustle and bustle of the main hall.

The room was small, but the furnishings were exquisite. Landscape paintings hung on the walls, and a magic lamp emitting a warm yellow glow stood next to the soft sofa.

Olga herself took a bottle of amber liquid and two crystal glasses from a wine cabinet inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

She handed Pavel a glass, then leaned back gracefully on the sofa armrest, gently swirling the wine in her glass.

“There are no outsiders here, Pavel, we can talk openly and frankly.” Olga’s ambiguous expression from the dance floor deepened, while a focused look, typical of negotiation, appeared on her face.

Pavel took the glass, but didn't drink it immediately. He just looked at her quietly, waiting for her to continue.

The two have been friends for many years and know each other well.

Pavel put down his glass, his gaze calm and firm, and said, "Olga, there's no need for us to beat around the bush."

"If it's for the benefit of the family, you can just say so."

"If it's for doing business in the Duchy of Wesen, I can help you make connections."

The moonlight slanted in through the window, making the rim of the crystal glass shine slightly.

He knew she was good at using gentleness to overcome strength; he had witnessed it when they were children.

But tonight, he refused to be used again.

"It's not that I don't understand human relationships, it's just that I prefer to take every step with integrity and honesty."

After Pavel finished speaking, he raised his glass in a gesture and then took a big gulp.

The liquor glides down the throat, carrying a burning sweet aroma, yet it cannot suppress the slight bitterness that rises to the tip of the tongue.

To be honest, among all the female friends he'd known since childhood in the city, Olga had the figure he liked the most.

He didn't quite like Olga's personality and way of dealing with people, thinking she was too scheming, but he could understand the hardships of a young girl supporting her family on her own, so they were still friends.

As for marriage, Olga's name was not on the list carefully selected by Pavel's father in the territory.

“The news you brought back, about Crystal Noodles, about that Thomas official,” Olga looked him straight in the eye, her tone steady and clear, “showed me an opportunity, a big business.”

“Business?” Pavel frowned slightly. “That’s food aid from the Duchy of Wessen.”

"The Duchy of Wesen suffered a major financial blow after the Battle of Redwaterwheel Village and is also facing the problem of reduced food production, but it still allocated a large amount of supplies to aid us. We should not betray this friendship."

“It’s precisely because it’s aid that it’s business.” Olga’s lips curled into a meaningful smile. “Think about it, Pavel, the Duchy of Wesen is going to transport such a huge amount of grain to Boyheim City and then distribute it to all the surrounding food-scarce areas.”

“This requires transportation, storage, allocation, recording... every step requires manpower and cooperation with local nobles.”

"No matter how capable Weisen's officials are, they can't do everything themselves."

She took a sip of her drink and continued, "Whoever can secure the agency distribution rights for this batch of aid supplies in Boyheim, whoever can organize convoys and laborers for transshipment, whoever can ensure that the food is delivered accurately to the rightful recipients according to the Wesen people's requirements—there is far more room for maneuver than you think."

"You and I both know how much profit is hidden in this, Pavel."

"What we lack now is how to make contact with the officials of the Duchy of Weisen, not just in a general way, but in a way that allows us to share benefits."

Pavel's heart sank upon hearing this.

He understood what Olga meant.

They profit by taking advantage of information asymmetry, local connections, and perhaps even some less-than-honorable means.

“This is a dangerous road, Olga.” Pavel’s voice lowered. “Mr. Thomas, and the Duchy of Wessen behind him, are not to be trifled with.”

"Their auditing and oversight systems are more rigorous than you can imagine."

"When food that should have been delivered to aid sites ends up on the black market shelves, everyone knows what's going on."

"Grand Duke Weisen sent out the 3rd Division, which includes the 'Emperor's Assassin,' to help his friend collect a debt."

"If he knew you had embezzled his money, he would send at least a whole regiment."

After he finished speaking, he took a sip of his drink, feeling somewhat agitated.

“Risk and reward always go hand in hand, my dear Pavel.” Olga was not surprised by his reaction. Instead, she got up and sat down next to him, leaning closer and lowering her voice, her tone full of seduction, “We don’t need to do much, just have a hand in the key moments.”

"For example, whether it was damaged during long-distance transportation..."

"You don't need to worry about those grains appearing on the market; our market isn't local."

Her gaze was intense, as if she could already see the blueprint for success.

Pavel's eyes narrowed slightly upon hearing this. He turned his head and looked at Olga beside him incredulously, staring directly into her azure eyes.

"The Kingdom of Piast?"

He immediately thought of where the market Olga had mentioned was.

Olga rested her head on Pavel's shoulder and whispered, "We reeds can't decide which way we sway; we can only move with the wind."

(End of this chapter)