When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1152 The Holy Alliance, Don't Foole Yourself Too
1457 9 Month 7 Day.

Central Avenue of St. Regis.

In a long-established coffee shop on the street, a copper coffee pot bubbled and steamed in a corner booth.

Standing up, Dewanbe used tongs to hold down the lid of the coffee pot, and lifted the coffee pot with his other hand.

The dark brown coffee liquid flowed down and into Grellerban's ceramic cup through the spout.

The rich, caramelized aroma of cinnamon powder immediately filled the narrow booths.

However, Grellerban's gaze was not on the coffee at all; he held a tube of smelling salts under his nose to sober up, his eyes completely focused on the view outside the window.

The central avenue of St. Regis was already lined with bright yellow exhibition banners and triangular flags.

The banner read in simplified Laia and Elven:

"The World's Fair officially opened on September 12."

"Welcome everyone, witness the miracle of the Holy Alliance!"

"The Holy Mechanized Court, the city where clockwork never ceases!"

When the wind blows, the banners and colorful flags surge like waves, making people's eyes dizzy.

As for the crowded streets, out of every ten pedestrians you pass, four or five are visiting merchants, tourists, or local residents.

Most of them were merchants from the north and south, wearing silk vests or woolen coats, and always accompanied by a young assistant carrying heavy sample boxes.

If you go to the pier, it will be even more lively.

Large wooden crates, bearing the names of "Farland Hill Textile Guild," "Norn Golden Gate Fort Gilded Guild," and "Saint-Union Good Juice United Fruit Company," were carried off the ship by porters.

Yes, Horn invited not only inventors and engineers from within the Holy Alliance, but also from all over the Empire.

“These traitors,” Grellerban said, staring at a French merchant outside the window, swirling his coffee cup. “They’re brainless, coming here to give money to the Holy Alliance.”

Every dinar he sheds at the Holy Union will become a lead bullet fired at the young men of Fran!

Dewanbe stirred the milk, but said helplessly, "Don't say that, Boss Grellerban. The Holy Alliance's exposition gave them an opportunity that even the royal family wouldn't give."

As long as you win the invention competition, you can get investment from Shenglian and obtain patent authorization.

If you were in that situation, would you do it?

Grellerban understood, but that didn't stop him from cursing the traitors.

Seeing that Greleban ignored him, Dewanbe took out a folded booklet from his pocket and began to read.

This is the "Expo Guide" distributed free of charge by the Holy Alliance. It's a small booklet of about ten pages in size (16mo), and it also comes with a map.

It not only marked the location of each exhibition area, but also detailed the exhibits and performances for each day.

The starting time of the "Galloping Horses' Rendezvous" venue, the competition between wind-up weavers and human weavers, the eating contest, the alchemical potion tasting, and so on.

There are even classic battles between human teams and mechanical teams, such as "bicycles versus donkeys" and "knight rowing boats versus wind-up speedboats".

This idea became commonplace in later generations, but it still attracts a lot of attention today.

“Look at this,” Dewanbe said, pointing to the competition area circled in red on the map. “If you ask me, half of those merchants on the street are here to participate in the exhibition, and the other half are just here to watch the fun.”

Grellerban glanced at the pamphlet and curled his lip: "Just some petty tricks to fool naive commoners."

Even so, his gaze lingered on the label "wind-up locomotive".

"Don't you find it strange?"

"What's strange?" Dewanbe put down his coffee spoon and leaned forward slightly.

“A clockwork machine, huh?” Grellerban said in a low voice, tapping his fingers on the table. “It’s already the fifth day of preparations for the Expo, and the Holy Alliance newspapers are reporting on it every day.”

Today we'll talk about how many qualified parts Leonardo's lathes have produced, tomorrow we'll talk about how many drive shaft problems the dwarf craftsmen have solved.

"All victories! Fifty victories a day, a hundred victories in two days, not a single setback! Do you believe it?"

Dewanbei frowned, stared at the newspaper for a long time, and then slowly said, "Something is definitely not right. It's too fake, like they're deliberately trying to cover something up."

Greleban picked up his coffee and took a sip: "The Holy Alliance just does these fancy things to fool the people."

It's one thing to fool the public, but don't fool yourself and actually believe you've won.

If they had actually reported encountering any difficulties, I might have thought that the wind-up locomotive might actually be possible to build. But now it's all victories, and I don't believe it anymore.

Dewanbe rolled the newspaper into a tube and tapped it gently in his hand: "That's true, but we can't just rely on guessing."

I suggest you find the person in charge of workshop information and ask them; they should know the specific progress.

Although the Kingdom of Fran's spy network is a mixed bag, the core members, especially those with official positions, are of high caliber.

If it were an ordinary Farn spy, he'd probably be drinking champagne for ten days straight by now.

Make no mistake, that's just how the French are.

But the two of them dared not slack off in the slightest, and still had to ensure that nothing went wrong, even if it was just a futile effort.

Grellerban fell silent.

He initially thought the Holy Alliance was just bluffing, but after Dewanbe's reminder, he began to have doubts.

“Alright, I’ll have someone come and ask.” Greller finally made up his mind and tapped the table.

A waiter wearing a black woolen vest walked over quickly, bowed, and asked, "Sir, would you like anything else?"

“Find a quiet private room.” Greleban tucked the newspaper under his arm. “Dewanbe, you go and wait.”

This situation is not uncommon in the Holy Alliance; it's just that merchants are looking for a quiet place to conduct their transactions.

This situation is even more pronounced now that foreign businesspeople are flocking in.

A knowing glint flashed in the waiter's eyes, and he nodded in response, "Yes, sir, this way please."

He led Dewanbe through the noisy hall to a small room in the backyard of the café.

Before long, Grellerban led a man dressed in silk, but with iron filings under his fingernails, through the door.

This is the person in charge of intelligence for the workshop, codenamed Old Acorn.

"How's the progress on the clockwork locomotive at the workshop?" Grellerban asked directly, without beating around the bush. "Are those victories in the newspapers true?"

Old Acorn gave a wry smile, pulled up a chair and sat down, lowering his voice to say, "Sir, you should only take what's in the newspaper with a grain of salt."

Leonardo DiCaprio did indeed build a precision lathe, which significantly increased the efficiency of machining parts.

But as you know, the Pilgrimage Management Act, which Saint Sun insisted on, is a huge hindrance.

"It won't be fast. The workshop I checked was incredibly slow."

Grellerban breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the coffee on the table, took a sip, and said with a hint of regret, "Leonardo is a genius, it's a pity he can't be used by Fran."

Dewanbe, however, did not relax: "Even so, we cannot let our guard down."

What if they're just creating a smokescreen? You all know how cunning these Holy Alliance cardinals are.”

Hearing Dewanbe's words, Greleban's unease resurfaced.

After thinking it over, he slammed his hand on the table and said, "No, I have to go and see for myself. I'm not comfortable just listening to reports."

"Boss, this won't do!" Old Acorn quickly dissuaded him. "The checks are strict now. If you go, you'll be in big trouble if the citizens of the Holy Mechanism report you!"

“Report me?” Grellerban scoffed. “I can disguise myself as your lackey. How could these foolish commoners possibly recognize me?”
Besides, since it doesn't concern them, I don't believe they would dare to risk reporting it.

I know them too well; they understand the principle of "it's better to avoid trouble."

He paused, his eyes sharpening: "As for the spies hidden in the crowd, do you think I wouldn't recognize them?"
I can tell at a glance what habits our Fran spies have and what characteristics the Holy Alliance spies possess.

If we really encounter them, we'll just kill them or run away. Are we afraid of them?

Seeing Grellerban's resolute attitude, Old Acorn dared not try to persuade him any further.

He remained silent for a long while before slowly nodding: "Then I'll make the arrangements. I'll take you to see him first thing tomorrow morning."

"Remember to visit several workshops." Dewanbei knew that Old Acorn's public identity was that of an investor in Fran, so it was reasonable for him to visit several workshops.

"Okay." Since he was going to do it, he might as well go all the way. Old Acorn readily agreed. "Is this afternoon okay?"

“Sure,” Grellerban readily agreed. “Let’s do it as quickly as possible. The sooner we figure it out, the sooner we can prepare.”

(End of this chapter)