Tax Reform 6
Translator: Cinder Translations
...
The material life that this world cannot provide—
Is this the reason why my lord works so hard? Bernard pondered inwardly, but he couldn't imagine it.
"My lord, please forgive my ignorance, but I really can't imagine what you still lack with your current power and wealth—if you truly utilize them."
He raised another question.
"Oh, Bernard." Paul spoke with a hint of pity in his voice. "Can this world allow me to communicate with friends far away at will?"
"I want to browse news from all over the world while eating, and exchange views with all sorts of people from different places around the globe; can this world offer that?"
"I want to record interesting moments in my life with images, to savor them repeatedly during my free time; can this world provide that?"
"Ha ha, Bernard, I know what you're going to say." Paul waved to stop his secretary from speaking.
He continued, "Yes, you're not wrong. If I hire more people, buy a few more fast horses, even build a few more optical stations or hire a few more painters, wouldn't I be able to accomplish what I want? But…"
"I want to hear my friend's voice while talking, and I want him to hear mine; I want the news I see to be rich in both text and images; I want to record…"
"If I say I want to concentrate what I wish to do into a box the size of my palm, which I can operate with one hand, can this world give me such a small box?"
"That's impossible!" Upon hearing Paul's "fantasy," Bernard exclaimed in disbelief. "There's no way such a box can be manufactured in this world."
"It's this [current] world, Bernard."
Paul added embellishments to his description, and Bernard could see the immense confidence etched on his face.
"But I believe it will be made one day—one hundred years? Two hundred years? Five hundred years? A thousand years? It's only a matter of time."
"And what I want to do is to push this process forward, to make this box… and the things represented by this box appear in this world as soon as possible."
Paul again rested his feet on the table, speaking with a hint of melancholy:
"Yes, to be pessimistic, I might never see it in my lifetime, but a person has to have some hope, right? Don't you agree?"
The lord's dream struck Bernard as both absurd and real. It was absurd because he didn't believe such a thing could exist; it felt real because of the confidence in the lord's tone. Coupled with the various inventions made by Earl Grayman before, Bernard couldn't outright dismiss his words as nonsense.
The office fell silent for a few seconds.
"Lord Grayman!" Bernard decided not to continue the previous topic. He pulled out a document and placed it on Paul's desk.
"Lord Cecil asked me to hand this document to you before he left. He had urgent matters and could not report to you personally. This document contains the candidate information for the messenger to Alden stationed at Horns Bay."
Paul happily picked up the document, "Oh? So soon?"
With the changing situation at Horns Bay, Paul increasingly felt the need for an official representative stationed there.
Initially, he considered Lady Ladia Setia, but given her witch identity, which was too sensitive at this juncture, and a bit of personal selfishness, he ultimately ruled her out.
After much consideration, he decided to choose from among the Northwest Bay residents who frequently operated in Horns Bay—especially merchants.
He instructed Cecil, the head of the intelligence department, to select a suitable candidate for him.
The reason he asked Cecil to handle this was that the intelligence department had contacts with merchants traveling from the Northwest Bay to Horns Bay. He asked them to gather various information about Horns Bay within regular means, and naturally, the identities and backgrounds of these merchants were on file with the intelligence department, so Paul entrusted the task of selecting the official representative to Cecil.
"So soon? I hope that Cecil didn't just find someone to placate me."
Paul murmured to himself as he opened the document.
"Friedrich Liszt?"
…
General Fedotov of Collins watched with satisfaction as his army gradually forced the enemy, the Eaton army, to retreat.
Among the Eaton forces, there was a knight in white armor and a white helmet, who stood out—it was Duke Cabre, the ruler of this country. Before the battle began, according to ancient customs, the leaders of both sides introduced themselves, so Fedotov could recognize him.
At this moment, Duke Cabre was wielding a uniquely shaped longsword, fighting fiercely. The surrounding Knights of the Faith had nearly no one who could match him. However, one man's bravery could not change the situation on the entire battlefield.
The Eaton forces fought valiantly, but their soldiers seemed slightly inexperienced and clearly undertrained, with poor coordination among themselves.
Fedotov speculated that it must be because the Eaton main forces had joined the alliance at Horns Bay. It appeared that the Knights of the Faith had a very successful overall strategy.
The goddess of victory was already beckoning to him.
"Hahaha!" Fedotov couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh.
"General, your name will surely echo throughout Horns Bay from now on."
His subordinate, Harper, flatteringly offered his compliments.
"My dear Harper." Fedotov looked at him with some sarcasm, "It seems those sorcerers who defeated you have not shown up today."
"Uh…" A look of embarrassment flickered across Harper's face, "They must be afraid of your might, General, and fled early."
"Hum!" Fedotov didn't doubt that Harper was lying; he believed Harper had indeed encountered sorcerers.
According to reports from soldiers who returned from the vanguard, the sorcerers were led by a burly man wielding a thick iron chain. They seemed unafraid of their own casualties and drew blades to mercilessly slay the Knights of the Faith, while the swords wielded by the Knights merely glanced off their thin armor as if striking a metal plate, leaving only dents.
Now that his main forces had arrived, they were gradually crushing the hopes of the Eaton people right beneath the walls of Hydra.
The sorcerers still had not come. The "devout" Fedotov believed that it was precisely because the Father's power was bestowed upon him that those sorcerers were afraid to show themselves.
"Harper, keep your eyes wide open. Even if those sorcerers do appear, it will be too late. Our army will surely crush some."
Fedotov confidently raised his head, addressing his subordinates.
"General Fedotov!" "General Fedotov!"
A messenger on horseback came galloping toward him.
Fedotov inexplicably felt a bad premonition.
(End of the Chapter)
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Translated 4 Series, 1.65K+ Chapters and 2.01M+ Words.