Chapter 458 — Dissemination

"They did," the great merchant said in a muffled voice. "Still wanting me to sign the Commercial Covenant. They also want to build a factory on that open ground south of town, and want me to come forward and persuade the people over there..."

"You still haven't signed?" The eldest son's face was full of worry. "Father, those are the lord's men..."

"Ugh, of course I know they are the lord's men, and I would not dare offend them," the great merchant said with a sigh. "Even if they asked me to take out a third... a quarter of the family fortune to repair the town walls and the castle, that would be fine. But they only want me to sign the covenant, and they want me to take the lead... that is absolutely out of the question."

Money lost can be earned again; using wealth to satisfy a lord's demands is something every merchant must learn, especially in this commercially thriving domain of Carroll. The great merchant Kord, who had long relied on the lord's favor to build his fortune, understood this very well. Yet faced with the Commercial Covenant the Cecil men had produced, this great merchant—who had already prepared to trade his fortune for peace—appeared hesitant and irresolute.

"Father, you had best agree. There is no good in opposing the administrative hall—though they seem very reasonable now, who knows how long their patience will last. If you do not sign, they might drive us all out..."

"Spending money is a deal; when the deal is done, it is done. But a signature lasts a lifetime—it is not so easy to give," the great merchant said with a sigh. His eldest son was no fool in business, but his experience of life was still too thin. "Do you know how many merchants are watching and waiting? And who has signed? If in the end most people have not signed, then those who did... what difference is there between them and the exiled, in the world of business?"

"The Cecil men have already occupied this place. From now on the whole Southern March will be Cecil's. Sooner or later everyone will sign."

"...I know, of course I know," Kord said with a bitter smile. "Sooner or later they will sign. That is exactly why I want to wait a little longer. I truly do not wish to be the first. The Cecil men's weapons are formidable, but there is still..."

The great merchant did not finish his sentence. The door of the room was suddenly flung open, and his second son burst in waving a roll of paper, wild with joy: "Father! Father! They signed! They signed!"

Kord could scarcely bear to hear the word "sign" now. The instant he heard it he sprang to his feet and shouted: "Sign what!! Who told you to go signing?!"

"Sign? Ah! Not me, not me!" The young man glanced at the mood in the room, at his dumbstruck elder brother and his father's face full of wrath, and quickly grasped the situation. He waved the newspaper in his hand. "It is the Southern March nobles—the Southern March nobles have signed! Look, the front-page headline in today's paper, and there is even a picture!"

"What picture, what front-page headline..." The great merchant Kord stepped forward and snatched the newspaper from his second son's hand. He knew of this "newspaper" invented by the Cecil folk; by a merchant's keen instinct, he had recognized its significance the very first moment he saw it—what it carried was timely information of vital importance to merchants. And so, ever since the regular courier carriages had begun appearing in the domain of Carroll, he had instructed his second son to buy the new newspaper at the earliest moment. But he could not imagine what information in a newspaper could be so astonishing as to agitate this youngest son of his—always timid and meek—into such a state.

And once he unfolded the newspaper, he understood.

He saw that black-and-white "picture," that lifelike "picture." It was clearly an image left by some kind of magic—a real event that had truly happened. The power of magic had recorded this event, and the Cecil folk's "magic-industrial" arts had copied that record countless times and sent it to every place under their rule—including this Carroll in the north.

"The Duchy Concludes Its Covenant—All Old Lords of the Southern March Swear Allegiance to Cecil Law..." the great merchant Kord murmured to himself, and then suddenly realized what message this newspaper was conveying.

"Signing... signing!" the great merchant cried. "Quick, maid, fetch my coat, I am going to the administrative hall—damn it, that old fool Donny lives right next to the administrative hall. I pray he does not make a habit of reading the paper in the morning... I must be the first!"

The two sons were startled by their father's violent reaction. They exchanged glances and asked in bewilderment: "Father?"

"There is no time. Now is the moment to declare where we stand," Kord said rapidly as he took the coat the maid hurriedly handed him. Halfway into it, something suddenly occurred to him, and he turned to fix his eyes on his eldest son. "Parr, go south at once, find Weiler—tell him I am buying that plot of his!"