Forests Don't Support Idle Goblins

Plantagenet City, Bernier Palace.

Calling it a palace is an exaggeration; the building is simply a large estate. However, it was designed by the master architect Bernier, and the entire building is elegant and dignified, yet simple and comfortable. Members of the Franco royal family sometimes liked to stay here, so it gradually became known as Bernier Palace.

The second prince of the royal family does not live in the palace now, but resides here for an extended period of time, which has been approved by the old king.

It was just past dawn, but in one of the palace's reception rooms, people were already sitting on sofas discussing business.

"Sir, please be sure to convey our message," several well-dressed men said earnestly.

A middle-aged official dressed as a political assistant was looking at their petition, which detailed the various measures that Earl Valentine of the Northern Border would take to increase taxes on members of the artisans' association.

"These measures don't seem wrong," the official said with some doubt as he looked at the contents.

"No, sir, in the case of Golden Flower City, it may not be a big deal, but the artisans on the northern border have even lower incomes. This tax increase will significantly reduce their income, and some artisans may go bankrupt or even be forced to flee to other countries." The leader of the artisans' association immediately moved forward. "These artisans are different from merchants. Their costs are much higher than those of merchants, and this tax increase is a one-size-fits-all approach, without any discrimination against business owners."

"So, you hope His Highness will intervene in this matter?" The official put down the petition and looked at the group of people opposite him.

"Yes, we have reported this matter to the ministers before, but there has been no response. The Minister of Finance is even unwilling to see us. We heard from the people in the capital that His Highness the Prince is kind and benevolent, so we came to give it a try." The four senior members of the Craftsmen's Association said respectfully.

"This matter is indeed somewhat difficult. On the one hand, the lords in various regions do have certain tax collection rights, and on the other hand, you should have seen the two huge monster carcasses that Earl Valentine transported to the capital. I think his army must have suffered losses in the battle against the monsters, so it is understandable that he increased the tax." The official pushed the petition back and said calmly.

"But, sir..."

"Alright then," the official raised his hand to interrupt the other person, "I know that life for ordinary people in the North is much harder than in Plantagenet. I will help you deliver this petition to His Highness the Prince and will do my best to explain it to you. I think His Highness will also explain the pros and cons to His Majesty the King."

The members of the Craftsmen's Association smiled upon hearing what the other party said: "Thank you very much, sir."

"However, the final decision rests with His Majesty, but I believe His Highness will do his utmost to advocate for you." The official looked at the other person, then glanced at the petition on the table. "Let's leave this petition here for now."

"Thank you, sir. The Second Prince truly is the most benevolent person in Golden Flower City." Upon hearing the officials' conversation, the members of the Craftsmen's Association all stood up, grabbed their hats, placed them in front of their chests, and bowed in respect.

"No, no, His Highness doesn't like people saying that," the official immediately stood up and said. "He often says he's just a good man."

"Yes, yes, yes," the members of the Craftsmen's Association nodded hurriedly. "Then we'll head back now. We apologize for disturbing you and His Highness today."

"Yes, Your Highness will certainly handle this matter. As for whether it will be successful or not, I will keep you informed in a timely manner." The official smiled and extended his hand.

"Thank you, and thank you, Your Highness." After exchanging pleasantries, the high-ranking members of the Craftsmen's Association left the Beniel Palace one after another.

The political assistant picked up the petition again and carefully read through its contents. "The matter isn't too difficult. We'll tell His Highness when he returns from the palace."

Then, he straightened his clothes and walked out of the reception room, instructing the guards on duty to watch out for any guests. He then began to wander through the various corridors of the palace, finally arriving at an entrance in a wall.

"Duo duo duo," he tapped the wall rhythmically a few times. A few seconds later, the wall began to flash a green light. Then, as the light engulfed the entire wall and gradually disappeared, a downward passage suddenly appeared in the place where the wall had been.

The administrative assistant squinted, looked to his left and right to make sure no one was watching, and then he stepped down the stairs.

The downward staircase wasn't very long. After walking down for a short while, the administrative assistant arrived at a large room filled with various bottles and jars, as well as a lot of experimental equipment. In one corner, several small monsters with different skin colors were locked in cages. If you looked closely, you could see some traces of goblins on those monsters.

"Master Cunningham, have you not finished producing the batch of 'Little Blue Stars' you promised before?" He asked, looking at a figure cutting something at the lab table.

"It's you again. Didn't I tell you last time that we don't have enough materials?" The figure didn't turn around but continued to work on something at the lab table.

"I want to remind you again that since you were expelled from the Sorcerer's Guild and became a wanted fugitive, you've only been able to live peacefully thanks to His Highness's power." The political assistant stood on the steps, looking down at the back of the figure, his tone tinged with hostility. "There are many people in Golden Flower City who want to buy 'Little Blue Star.' If you don't produce new products soon, His Highness will suffer huge losses."

"Hmph," the figure sneered, then glanced back at the people behind him, "They're all a bunch of lust-driven bastards, they're useless on their own, they can only rely on drugs to survive."

The administrative assistant stared intently at the profile of the figure below, with messy gray hair and a beard that reached his chest. One of his pupils gleamed red, and a contemptuous smile graced his face, which was covered in wrinkles like old tree bark.

On the experimental table, a mutated goblin was tightly bound by its limbs. Its chest had been cut open, and its heart, along with its blood vessels, was placed on a silver plate. Judging from the trembling of its hands and feet, it seemed to still be alive.

"Tell that 'merciful' prince that because of that stupid forest clearing that Earl Valentine did, my pets have run into problems. Now we're short of the necessary materials. 'Little Blue Star' can only provide a small amount. If we run out of materials, we won't be able to synthesize that medicine," the somewhat hunchbacked Master Cunningham said grimly.

"Is there really no other way?" the administrative assistant asked again.

"Who gave you the courage to speak to a high-ranking archmage like that?" Cunningham chuckled coldly.

The administrative assistant was so shocked when he saw the other person's slightly raised, withered hand that looked like a corpse that he took two steps back.

"Don't worry, I've already sent my disciples to check. Hopefully, we can find any remaining offspring. If we do, we can try to restore them." Cunningham seemed quite satisfied with the other party's reaction. He turned back to continue his research. "You can raise the price during this time. Anyway, those lecherous men and nobles will definitely buy them."

As soon as he finished speaking, a dark-colored bag flew up automatically from the corner, and with a "whoosh," it traced an arc and landed in front of the government assistant.

"Get lost, and don't bother me again unless it's absolutely necessary." High Archmage Cunningham said coldly, then he looked down at the mutated goblin on the experimental table, muttering to himself, "This reaction is wrong, the toxins haven't triggered any magic consumption. Relying on backlash is not an effective way to resist the magic plague."

The administrative assistant frowned and stared at the hunchbacked archmage for several seconds before reluctantly bending down to pick up the bag on the steps. Just as he turned to leave, Cunningham said in a sinister tone, "The time for your next material delivery is approaching. Don't send the wrong thing again this time. I want healthy men, not those beggars on the street."

The administrative assistant didn't speak, but simply nodded, then climbed the steps upwards. He wanted to leave this disgusting "laboratory" as soon as possible.

…………

"Those 'veterans' are indeed very skilled." Evita remarked, fiddling with the "lance" in her hand. "Their lance charges look more reliable and more powerful."

"How does it compare to before?" Charles stood beside her, looking at the short lance with interest.

This lance was specially made to fit the centaur's body. Unlike the long, thick lances used by human cavalry, this lance is shorter and made of tough materials. It won't break with a single hit and can withstand many strikes.

"Before, we were just charging with spears held in both hands, nothing like what we're doing now." Evita glanced down at Charles. "Thanks to those skeleton warriors, I think my people's fighting strength has increased by at least half."

Charles looked at the short-haired brown centaur girl in front of him. Her hair had been grabbed and cut off with a single stroke, so the roots looked uneven. "It's good that you've improved. I'll think of a way to help you reorganize your armor so you can carry both lances and bows at the same time."

"Thank you." Evita pursed her lips a few times, and finally said only a simple sentence.

Charles waved his hand dismissively. He knew that the centaur girl hadn't smiled since returning from the village, and was probably preoccupied with "revenge." However, having witnessed the reckless madness of the red goblins, she didn't want her centaur people to suffer more deaths.

"Take your time," Charles said with a smile, and then he saw Nine Fingers running over in a panic.

"Chief, something's happened at the anthill."