Chapter 879 — Seepage

"Certainly not commercial activity like ours, but the ties between the Silver Empire and the Cecil people are indeed close," Count Holmark said earnestly. "I heard from the Highland Kingdom that back when the nations worked together to repair the Great Wall, the elves and the Cecil people had already come together. Of course, that wasteland blocks their direct commerce—only a few goods travel the long overland route from Mosswood Forest, through the territories of the gray elves, orcs, and fey, through the rift region of the southwest continent and the border forests of the Highland Kingdom, and finally into elven lands..."

Here the middle-aged noble frowned and slowly turned the glass in his hand. "This flow is not on any scale, and commercially it poses no threat to us—but who knows what the future holds? The Cecil people are far too good at producing the unexpected, and the great effort they expend maintaining their ties with the elves must mean they have designs on the future."

Viscount Hemir's somewhat flippant smile also slowly faded. He rose from the sofa and paced slowly, and after two circuits returned to his seat. Having taken a sip of the fine wine, he finally spoke as if he had made up his mind: "It seems... the market in the southern continent will sooner or later become a 'battlefield'..."

"Even without the Cecil people interfering, the southern market will become a battlefield, Hemir. You should know how much our factories can produce in a day—short-sighted men think only of selling those goods to their neighbors and country folk, but far-sighted men realize that the farther goods are sold, the more lasting and substantial the profit."

As he spoke, Count Holmark gave Hemir a faint smile.

"Hemir, we have already opened trade routes to the Highland Kingdom and the Silver Empire. The Empire's Southern Investment Company has begun to harvest gold—as in every brand-new field, those who first gain a firm foothold always reap the largest share of the profit."

"Of course," Hemir set down his glass, softly exhaled, and let a radiant smile return to his face. "That is why I am willing to give my full support to your 'Southern Investment Company.' I am willing to invest one hundred thousand at the outset... no, one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Count, I trust you will put this money to good use."

"Hemir, my friend, you may wait at home for a generous return," Holmark rose, revealed a faint smile, and extended his hand to Hemir. "The shareholders' returns will prove the keenness of your judgment today."

Hemir also extended his hand and clasped Count Holmark's slender, bony palm. "Actually, I have no keen judgment at all. I merely discovered a trick and have kept to it ever since—"

"Oh?" Holmark could not help his curiosity. "Would you share this trick with your new business partner?"

"It's simple—whatever the Cecil people do, I do the same," Viscount Hemir said with a laugh. "They invest everywhere, and I simply follow along—in an age full of new things and new fields, I don't need to be the first. Being the second is quite enough."

Holmark looked at the young viscount smiling happily and was, for a moment, struck dumb.

After a pleasant conversation, that rising star of the nobility, so prominent these past two years, took his leave.

Count Holmark—lean, high-nosed, with pale blond short hair—returned to the reception room. Looking at the two wine glasses on the small round table and the sofa where Viscount Hemir had sat, his expression scarcely changed, but he could not help muttering under his breath: "Ah, flighty young people..."

The servants came into the room and began packing up its contents, and the butler entered as well, waiting for his master's further instructions.

"What sort of man do you take Viscount Hermir to be?" Holmark turned his head and looked at the old butler who had served him for many years, asking casually.

"It is not for me to judge a nobleman," the butler replied meticulously.

"A flighty young man, yet with a talent one cannot ignore," Count Holmark paid no mind to how the butler had answered and simply went on speaking his own thoughts. "Within a few years he became the wealthiest of the younger generation of nobles, and that was not down to luck—though many believe he merely had the good fortune to encounter that craftsman called Martin, the good fortune to encounter the Angray loom."

Here Count Holmark could not help shaking his head. "I admire young men like that, but like other young men, he concentrates only on what interests him. As for where he stands as a Typhon noble, his attitude toward Cecil... What is this?"

His gaze was suddenly drawn to something a servant was clearing from the table, and he could not help asking aloud—it looked like a thin book, with a brightly colored cover and a binding that fairly shouted its cheapness. Only when the servant brought it over did he make out the lettering on the cover—

Arcane Life

The butler came over for a look and nodded. "It would appear so."

"A respectable nobleman would most likely pay no attention to such a thing, but have someone deliver it to him afterward," Holmark said as he took the magazine and idly flipped through its opening pages. "Hm... this is run by Cecilians?"

"Yes, sir," the butler answered. "It is a magazine recently started by several Cecilian merchants; its contents introduce the lifestyle of the arcane age—chiefly the Cecilian way of life, of course. These past two months it has been very popular among the respectable burgher class, because many of the arcane devices mentioned in its pages are hot commodities on the market."

"Respectable burghers..."

"Yes, respectable burghers who can afford an arcane icebox once a year—lawyers and physicians, for instance. Of course, many young nobles enjoy this sort of magazine too—they like those novel and amusing machines."

"Tell Mister Richard—and the others as well—that if they bring anything of the kind into this house, they may cancel all their shopping plans," the count said expressionlessly. "It is not as though we have no magazines of our own."

"...Yes, sir."