When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1176 The Calamity of the Dam City

"Breaking news! Pirates or a sea monster are suspected to be causing trouble near David Reef. Passing merchant ships, please be careful to avoid the area..."

A shout, accompanied by crackling noises, echoed throughout the harbor from the lighthouse atop Black Rock on the Dam City coast.

The sea fog trembled, the leaden clouds dispersed, and under the dark, overcast sky, the morning sun could not be seen.

On the dimly lit dock, sailors, porters, and brokers all looked up at the towering lighthouse from which the sound was coming.

The person on the lighthouse didn't shout loudly; his ordinary announcements were enough to be heard throughout the entire harbor.

This is a new invention of the alchemists of Windmill Land, which has now been bought and controlled by the French royal family.

Charlie himself named it "Trump" (phonetic translation) because its shape resembles a trumpet flower.

The Holy Alliance couldn't figure this out, but the alchemist Leia did.

It's about the size of a wardrobe. Essentially, it transmits sound by having layers of magical bat wing membranes covered by the transmission of magic power.

Lemington gazed at the lighthouse in the distance, then at the sparse crowd at the dock, and sighed.

He picked up the newspaper, looked at the headline "Shocking! The Pope actually had relations with four witches...", and was speechless for a moment.

News of Horn's marriage to the four saintesses had already spread throughout the empire.

In the past few days, various conservative and Theocratic newspapers have been trying to condemn Pope Horn to hell and crucify him.

But what can we do? What's the situation now?
How many warbands does the Pope have? How many warbands do you bunch of old-timers of the Divine Order have?
Following the events of the past and inspired by Dawn Island, Lemingston's stance has gradually shifted towards the Holy Alliance.

Since the Holy Alliance can help Dawn Island become independent, isn't it normal for them to help Windmill Land become independent as well?
If we're talking about closeness, then their Father Worship Ceremony in Windmill is still being run by Armand, the next Dean of Truth.

It's a pity that he made the wrong judgment at the beginning, which made him slightly disliked by the grandson.

However, Lemingston was confident that if the Holy League really wanted Windmill Land to do well, they would definitely give him a prominent role.

He may not be the future Patriarch of Windmill Land, but Windmill Land must be independent.

I never want to bow my head again.

Walking from the port into the town, it's only a short distance before you can see the surging crowds stretching from one end of the street to the other in Lemington.

Bankers dressed in formal attire, brokers in silk vests, and even small shop owners and their employees.

They crowded at the entrance of the Dam City Stock Exchange, standing under the colonnades, shouting loudly, like a storm confined to the streets.

It's only five o'clock, right? Where did all these people come from on the street?

Lemingston was stunned at first, then he realized what was happening.

Today is the day the Saint-Longmian Mountain Railway stock is issued.

These bustling brokers and bankers, even shop owners and employees who had closed their shops and taken leave, were all there to participate in the IPO.

Anyone with eyes and a brain knows how much this railway can drive the development and profitability of countless industries.

Although the railway was a novelty, the Holy Roman Union government guaranteed it.

The dividend yield is between 6% and 8%!
Although it's not as profitable as loan sharking, it's also less risky.

Normal usury can only be used by the nobility to make money from the common people and middle-class citizens.

Who could lend out those high-interest loans of thousands or tens of thousands of pounds? Who would dare to lend them out?

Wouldn't it just gather dust at home? Besides, with grain prices plummeting and commodity prices soaring, keeping it at home would be a loss.

Naturally, the profits must be made to offset inflation.

The original government bonds and industrial bonds of the Holy Alliance were among them, which could not only offset inflation but also make a small profit.

No wonder Charlie broke down and scolded the French for buying up Saint-Union bonds like crazy; those Saint-Union bonds were the only way to guarantee that assets wouldn't shrink.

Otherwise, why would all the funds and talent of the entire empire flock to the Holy Alliance?

Not only can it increase your value, it can also lead to a promotion.

However, with more and more buyers of Saint-Gobain government bonds and industrial bonds, interest rates have been declining year after year, and currently they can only guarantee that assets will not shrink.

The old aristocracy and rentiers began to feel anxious again, trying to find a newer area to make money.

Isn't this a coincidence?

The Saint-Lombard Vicente Railway Company issued new stock at 1000 dinars per share, payable in ten installments.

Like a series of explosions, the news spread rapidly along waterways and main streets.

Although the windmill area was far away, they were by no means the last to hear the news.

Given the nature and customs of the speculators in Windmill Village, would they let this go?

Even if there are risks, we have to hype it up first and reap the rewards first.

The only concern of speculators and rentiers is that they fear it's a scam.

The past decade has been relatively peaceful in the Leia region, but it has been a turbulent decade for the financial world in the Fran region.

Charles VIII, modeled after the Holy Roman Empire, reformed local stock exchanges in an attempt to replicate the empire's financial miracle. Unfortunately, his ancestors left him a heavy historical burden—a very low level of credibility.

The changes were made, but they were useless because the French royal family simply did not possess national credibility.

The king has too much power; he can default on his debts whenever he wants, and there are precedents for this. People don't trust the royal family.

Therefore, these reformed exchanges became outposts for Saint-Union bonds and stocks to attack the French financial world.

In any case, the restructuring of these exchanges has provided ample venues for financial activities.

Therefore, various classic financial scams began to unfold. A relatively simple one is: discovering a mineral vein - raising funds for mining - extremely high dividends - buyers entering the market - issuing and running away - buyers disappearing with the money.

After suffering losses for several years, everyone has become somewhat wary.

However, this wariness melted away like ice and snow under the dazzling lights of the Holy Alliance Kingdom Expo.

Many people, mostly urban residents and wealthy rural residents, have witnessed or even ridden in the wind-up motorcycle.

Imagine if the clockwork locomotive could pass through the pass of the Dragon Vein Mountains and go directly to Norn, it would be like opening a new trade route that is many times shorter than the waterway.

"How much can the Holy Alliance benefit from this? And what can we gain from it?" Lemingston stared at the crowd before him with a gloomy expression.

He has always believed that if Windmill Village wants to truly become independent and truly improve, the most important thing is to change this speculative atmosphere.

This is the poison in the blood of the people of Windmill Land.

It brought the people of Windmill Village immense wealth and a spirit of adventure, but it also fostered a petty-bourgeois mentality among them, characterized by a lack of diligence and a tendency to always seek shortcuts.

The cowardice of the Windmill Land people is different from that of the Thousand River Valley people.

The latter is cowardly because of the past, while the former is cowardly because of waiting for the future.

If they don't overcome this flaw, they will never be able to become independent.

"Whoosh—" A strange noise interrupted Lemingston's thoughts.

He frowned and looked towards the sea. What was that sound?
After a long while, he still couldn't figure it out, so he simply shook his head and left.

Halfway there, he conceived a new article specifically criticizing the speculative habits of the people of Windmill Village.

Let's start by talking about the tulip bubble from a few years ago.

Despite the looming opportunity in railroad stocks, Lemington decided to avoid the limelight for now.

In the future, we will still need their help to train the army and their diplomatic support for independence.

"Woo——"

The sound interrupted Lemingston's train of thought once again.

Turning my head again, I heard the sound coming from the harbor and the seaside.

He sensed something was wrong, rolled up the newspaper, and jogged back along the alleyway to the main road.

The sky was still dark, and the sea fog was so thick that it seemed like nothing could be seen.

But behind the sea fog, there seemed to be the shadowy silhouette of a large ship.

It wasn't just Lemingston; many residents and cafe patrons came out and gazed at the sea with puzzlement.

Apart from speculators who are still queuing up to subscribe to new shares, everyone is filled with doubt.

What is that sound?
Is it a ship?
“No, no!” Lemingston shouted, feeling a tightness in his throat.

That's not a sea vessel, that's definitely not a sea vessel!

The shadows behind the fog grew heavier, but their shape was not that of a ship; rather, they resembled an iceberg.

Before everyone could resolve their doubts, a huge tentacle tore through the thick fog with a whooshing sound.

The mist clung to its fleshy suckers, constantly pulling it backward.

With a loud bang, the lighthouse in the harbor snapped in half.

The lighthouse keeper screamed as he fell from the sky, disappearing completely in a cloud of dust.

What a colossal thing it was! Lemingston raised his head.

Black smoke billowed over its dark blue skin and bulging muscles.

Each time its tentacles are raised, they can smash a building, sending bricks and tiles flying, or sweep a roof beam across, sending dozens of people flying and turning them into minced meat and bones.

With a head as big as a house and tentacles longer than a warship, it was actually a giant octopus.

On the head of the faceless creature, two lighthouse-like eyes stared intently at everything before them.

He looked down upon everything like a king, including Lemington.

Lemingston's heart nearly stopped.

(End of this chapter)