industrial lord

Chapter 803 Inner Battle
Even on snowy nights, the theater in Boiheim remains brightly lit, like a warm yellow gem on a frozen wasteland.

In the square in front of the gate, carriages lined up in a long queue, and nobles wrapped in heavy furs chatted and laughed as they poured into the building, which smelled of pine wood and paint.

Tonight's show features a very popular comedy about the various funny incidents a country nobleman gets into in the big city.

Pavel sat in the family's reserved box, where scarlet velvet curtains and carved gold-plated railings separated the box from the noisy pool area downstairs.

On stage, the actors, dressed in brightly colored costumes, used exaggerated tones and dialogues to make the audience laugh uproariously.

Laughter surged like a tide, wave after wave crashing against the theater's dome.

However, in the heart of this sea of ​​joy, Pavel is like an isolated island.

He sat upright, his gaze fixed on the stage, but it was empty and unfocused.

The actors' comical falls and the witty ironies only produced a faint buzzing sound in his ears.

His fingertips unconsciously caressed the cool bottle of Happy Water, while a silent tsunami was raging inside him.

Olga's shrewd smile and her seductive, calculating words echoed repeatedly in his mind.

On one side were Olga, his childhood friends from Boyheim, and the local noble community they represented.

This is his root, a natural alliance connected to him by blood.

He was all too familiar with their way of thinking and their rules of conduct.

In this small world held together by personal relationships and worldly wisdom, rejecting Olga is almost tantamount to cutting yourself off from this circle, and the road ahead may be full of invisible thorns.

On the other side is the Duchy of Wesen.

It was Mr. Thomas's pragmatic yet sharp gaze, the booming industrial park construction in Budvis City, and the ironclad development principle of "strong government, correct policies, and security guarantees" as articulated by Hojenproz.

He had witnessed firsthand the efficiency and power of the Duchy of Wesen, and he believed that only that path could truly liberate his homeland, and himself, from stagnation, and lead them to prosperity and strength.

Deep down, he even began to appreciate the respect for rules and contracts.

Now, Olga and his allies, his natural allies, intend to use him to harm the interests of the country he sees as the future.

This feeling is like a betrayal, not only a betrayal of the "bright future" that Weisen might bring, but also a betrayal of his own nascent ideals and judgments.

Two forces were tearing him apart, causing him immense suffering and making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

The private room was warm and cozy, but he felt a chill down his spine.

The louder the laughter around him, the more acute his loneliness and inner conflict became.

Pavel has almost no recollection of how the farce ended.

He only remembered mechanically walking out of the theater with his servants, the cold night wind hitting his face, which brought him back to his senses.

Upon returning home to the family mansion, which appeared exceptionally quiet in the snowy night, he immediately declined all invitations for the next few days, citing a cold he had caught and the need for rest.

He was indeed "sick," not physically, but mentally.

For the next few days, Pavel locked himself in his study.

The room was filled with books, including family-inherited chivalric novels, old dossiers on territory management, and several booklets on basic economics and military manuals that he had brought back from the Duchy of Wessen.

The firelight from the fireplace flickered all day, illuminating his ever-changing face.

Pavel sat at his desk, scribbling unconsciously on parchment with a quill pen, listing the pros and cons of the collaboration.

The advantage lies in gaining the support of Olga and the forces behind her, acquiring a large amount of money and local influence in the short term, which seems to be a shortcut to developing his homeland. The disadvantage is that it angers Grand Duke Wessen, ruining his future at the military academy. More seriously, it runs counter to his goal of building a strong homeland, no longer being a target of mutual crushing on the battlefield.

He threw the parchment into the fireplace, stood by the window amidst the acrid smell, and gazed out at the lifeless courtyard covered in snow.

The city of Boyheim, like this courtyard, is frozen by old rules and this harsh natural environment.

The Duchy of Wesen brought with it both crystal fans and a development philosophy that was like an iron pickaxe breaking through the ice.

But now, he is helping the old forces to distort or even steal this power that breaks the ice.
Distress, like vines climbing the wall, tightly entwined him.

He even began to doubt himself, wondering if he had become "forgotten" after staying in the Duchy of Weisen for a while, and started to look down on the people and things of his hometown.
Olga's plan may be dishonorable, but isn't that the norm in this world, especially in Boyheim?

Is pursuing "clean" interests inherently naive?
Pavel's "cold" did not deter outsiders from coveting him.

Olga clearly wasn't going to give him much time to hesitate.

A few days later, a more formal invitation, bearing a gold-embossed seal, was delivered to his desk.

The lord of Boyheim, a powerful count, is hosting a grand banquet to welcome an envoy from the Kingdom of Piast.

This is undoubtedly the most high-profile social event of the season.

The invitation also included a small note handwritten by Olga, written in a friendly yet firm tone: "I hope you will join me in this grand event, and that we can discuss important matters together."

This is a signal, a clear gesture to draw him further into its circle.

Attending as her male companion is almost tantamount to publicly declaring their "special" relationship.

Pavel hesitated for a long time before finally making up his mind.

On the night of the banquet, the city lord's mansion was truly magnificent.

A huge crystal chandelier illuminated the hall as if it were daytime, and servants in uniforms moved about bustling about. The air was filled with the aroma of fine food, wine, and expensive spices.

The guests were all the most powerful and influential people in Boyheim, dressed in elegant attire, clinking glasses and exchanging pleasantries.

The special envoy from Piast, Baron Boch, with his full head of white hair and fame as a salt merchant, became the focus of everyone's attention.

Pavel, dressed in a dark suit, accompanied Olga, who was dressed in formal attire.

Olga was exceptionally radiant tonight, skillfully moving among the guests and frequently drawing Pavel into conversation, introducing him to the dignitaries as "our pride of Boyheim, a brilliant graduate of Wessen Military Academy, Sir Pavel."

Her arm would sometimes gently link with Pavel's, the gesture so natural and intimate that it was immediately clear to everyone what their relationship was.

Pavel tried to maintain his composure and politeness, but he could feel countless eyes on him, some curious, some scrutinizing, and some with a hint of conspiracy hidden beneath their smiles.

Olga's whispers occasionally reached his ears: "Look, that's the treasurer; he's very interested in transportation taxes..."

"The city lord seems to miss you a lot. He's mentioned you a few times before. I'll go see him with you later..."

“Piast’s special envoy, he is the person in charge of this deal.”

Each whisper was like a weight, adding to Pavel's inner burden.

He found himself at the heart of this lavish and powerful feast, yet he felt like a chess piece on a board, being pushed by an invisible hand into a battle in which he had not yet made a final decision.

Olga's attempts to win him over were like a silent chill in the warm hall, enveloping him tightly and leaving him nowhere to escape.

Pavel felt he had to make a decision as soon as possible.

(End of this chapter)