Chapter 295: 258
Tayman Archipelago, International Port, Governor’s Mansion.
Known as the Governor’s Mansion, this place seldom saw the presence of the Governor himself. Instead, it was home to a "working-class" Countess, Miss [Mithril Dragon], who paid her own salary using her personal funds.
The whale oil lamp in the study still burned brightly, and the gentle night breeze from the open window did little to dispel the early summer’s oppressive heat.
After washing up, Catherine changed into a white silk off-the-shoulder nightgown and used a sparkling sapphire hairpin to secure her long golden hair.
Barefoot and curled up in the ergonomic chair gifted by her best friend Violet, she painstakingly handled the tricky affairs of her two territories and several companies.
The Privateer Fleet under the Pioneer Guiding Colonial Trading Company has expanded to 4,500 men and 38 warships. But if we wish to challenge the White Rose head-on, the company will eventually have to adopt professional military training. Those single-masted schooners, suitable only for raiding, must also be refitted as soon as possible. Training full-time soldiers costs money; shipbuilding costs money. This shipyard’s request for additional dry docks to improve shipbuilding efficiency... must be approved. This money must be spent. I’ll dip into my personal savings a bit.
The pace of constructing workers’ housing and seaside villas in the port city affiliated with Torrent Fortress also needs to accelerate. The armory urgently supplied a batch of fine arms to the Aztec Empire, assisting them in successfully capturing the sparsely defended Havana Royal Port. Since then, the influence of the fortress has begun to spread north. Under the banner of the [Father of Healing]’s faith, more and more city-states are expressing willingness to join the trade system. The initial signs Violet mentioned—the industrial and agricultural price-scissors effect of Torrent Fortress on primitive city-states, and its siphoning effect on populations—are beginning to emerge. This money must be spent. I’ll dip into my personal savings again.
She flipped through the documents, page by page.
Pioneer Bank finally took its first step a while ago, establishing its first branch in the Netherland colony, the most commercially vibrant region. Those Remit scoundrels actually launched a surprise attack; a few bankers bought up deposit receipts from retail investors at a premium, uniting to cause a run on my bank. It’s essential to always have sufficient reserve funds. Money that isn’t earning interest is effectively losing money. This money must be spent. I’ll dip into my personal savings once more.
My grandfather once assisted Byron’s grandfather in winning the war between the Kingdom and the Iris; countless nobles in the country have benefited from his generosity. Even today, many families still hold sympathy and goodwill towards the Grenville family. Maintaining relationships and garnering sympathy requires preparing an abundance of Bantaante goods, gold and silver treasures, fine spices, distinctive antiques, manor deeds... I know every family’s and every family member’s preferences and taboos by heart. The basic principle of marketing: satisfaction comes only when the client’s expectations are surpassed. Marketing expenses are also a major outlay. Coincidentally, I heard [Kingmaker] Earl Warwick is currently wrangling with Edward IV for power and profit, and both are extremely harsh on dissenters within the York Party. If I could maneuver things well for Byron and attempt to gain the support of the domestic moderates, it’s not entirely out of the question. This money absolutely must be spent. My personal savings are gone, so I’ll just have to borrow a little from... Byron’s marriage fund.
From internal affairs to external, from Banta’an to the Old Continent, the young woman managed everything in perfect order. Or rather, the education she had received from Prince Sorrenberg’s household since childhood was intended to nurture this adopted daughter into an outstanding helpmate. What exactly Byron’s father had in mind, well, that was a matter of perspective.
The grandfather clock on the floor chimed eight times. Catherine put down her quill pen and stretched languidly, her body forming a perfect curve. The loose nightgown slid halfway off her smooth, white shoulders, revealing a delicate collarbone—a beautiful sight, yet there was no one to appreciate it.
She grabbed a scone, prepared by a maid, from the desk to tide her over and casually picked up a wicker basket nearby. Inside was a men’s silk shirt, only half-sewn. A mithril needle danced up and down automatically, its stitches dense and even.
The rainy season has arrived; I need to prepare Byron’s new clothes soon. That rascal’s height has been shooting up recently; the clothes he used to wear in Sorenburg, which I’ve kept in my wardrobe, no longer fit him. The [Blood Banquet Holy Grail] requires one to always maintain a noble demeanor. Attire is fundamental; if it’s not proper, one could be looked down upon. Those protagonists in stories who turn up to banquets in rags are just spouting nonsense; improper attire is, in itself, disrespectful to the host of the banquet. If you are rude first, what right do you have to blame others? They’re just sour tales spun by minstrels. If you believe them and try to be unconventional, you might as well bid farewell to social circles for life. Unless you’re some supremely arrogant dictator who can do as they please, even without clothes, even kings must lead by example in observing etiquette. I’m not bragging, but when it comes to tailoring, not a single tailor in the entire Heitings Colony can compare with me. The money for silk fabric also has to be spent.
Catherine had repeated "this money must be spent" to herself countless times throughout the night. However, she had long forgotten that ever since arriving in the Bantaan Archipelago, she hadn’t bought a single new outfit for herself. It seemed she had naturally classified such expenses under "can be avoided."
Alas, money, oh money, why is our money gone again? This is all money that Byron earned risking life and limb!
The young woman sighed deeply, her gaze drifting absently to the night sky outside the window. She was obviously numbing herself with an overwhelming workload, trying not to think about her brother who was risking his life. Yet, whenever the night deepened and everything fell silent, the longing for him would inevitably surge from the depths of her heart.
At that moment, a sudden gust of cool, refreshing wind, as if descending from high above, blew fiercely through the open window. Catherine instinctively squinted. When she opened her eyes again, a pair of hands covered them from behind, and a rather punchable voice whispered teasingly in her ear, "Sister, guess who it is?"
Her heart leaped with joy, yet she couldn’t help but jab Byron irritably with her elbow, scolding, "You’re such a child."
She worried endlessly when they were apart, but now that he was safely home and her heart had settled back into place, her usual stern, managerial nature promptly took over, transforming her into a fierce, grumbling housekeeper.
On his way, Byron had briefly experimented with the abilities of the [Storm Admiral]. He sent the trio from the Church back to their camp nearby, then used a Deep Sea Leap to return to the International Port. He had traveled all this way, dust-strewn and weary, rushing back to reassure Catherine and give her a surprise.
"Ha, a man is a boy until his dying day. Only in front of you can I afford to be childish."
He rubbed his eight-pack abs, which were neither sore nor itchy, and walked over to the opposite side of the desk. Seeing all the documents and itemized financial expenses, he pursed his lips. Far from offering to help, he acted like a carefree lord who couldn’t care less, casually propping his feet up on the desk, as if those matters were beneath his notice.
Catherine, who had been busy all day, became infuriated seeing his leisurely manner, as if he were oblivious to the cost of household provisions. Hands on her hips, willow-leaf eyebrows arched, she was just about to erupt and let him experience her "Sister’s Loving Mithril Iron Fist."
But Byron preempted her: "I don’t like that bitter-gourd expression on your face. Come on, give your lord a smile."
THUD!
With a snap of his fingers, a treasure chest landed heavily on the floor, then tipped over. Countless Gold Coins poured out, clinking and clattering everywhere.
Catherine’s almond-shaped eyes widened, flashing with a golden light, and her small, cute mouth slowly fell open.
"AH—!"
After snapping out of her daze, she immediately cried out in surprise. She jumped off her chair, slipped into a pair of teakwood slippers, and dashed to Byron’s side, tenderly massaging his shoulders and legs. "You must be tired from your trip. Let Sister take a good look; are you hurt anywhere?"
"Ah, that’s good. A bit lower, yes, a bit lower... Oh-ho-ho, the pressure is perfect."
To wear fine clothes at night—who would appreciate it? After striking it rich, having a loved one to share the joy with was even more delightful than the fortune itself.
Lord Byron, reveling in the attentive massage service, waggled his finger and continued his demands, "I haven’t eaten all day. I’m hungry."
Catherine immediately picked up the plate of scones from the desk, which she had intended as her own late-night snack. However, she froze on the spot when Byron added, "The cream-then-jam version."
Scones are made from flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and milk, and come in both sweet and savory varieties. While they might not look very fancy, they taste quite delightful. They are usually eaten with jam and cream spread on the bisected scone.
However, there was a longstanding debate among the Harkins People over whether to spread the jam or the cream first, a dispute that had raged for ages. This disagreement originated in the counties of Cornwall and Devon. Cornwall insisted on spreading jam before cream, but Devon vehemently disagreed, asserting that cream must go on first, followed by jam. They had been arguing for centuries over which method was more authentic.
Both Catherine and Byron could enjoy sweet or savory, but Byron was a staunch member of the Cream-then-Jam Party, while Catherine was an even more fervent supporter of the Jam-then-Cream Party. If this is hard to comprehend, simply consider the sweet versus savory Tofu Pudding debate; one can instantly grasp the gravity of this fundamental disagreement.
THUD!
A chest of Mithril ingots slammed onto the ground.
Catherine immediately acquiesced, her principles vanishing into thin air. She personally delivered the cream-then-jam scone to Byron’s lips and even casually wiped a dab of jam from the corner of his mouth. Unwilling to let it go to waste, she popped the dab into her own mouth.
"Not bad, not bad at all, ahahaha..."
The thoroughly pleased young man then casually made an even more outrageous request. "My dear sister, about that... Dragon Knight matter we discussed, can it be arranged?"
Hearing this, a blush first crept onto Catherine’s stunningly beautiful face, followed by an expression of deep conflict.
THUD!
Another chest of Gold Coins dropped in front of her.
THUD!
THUD!
THUD...
By the time the sixth treasure chest landed, the sheer volume of treasure finally overwhelmed her defenses. She nodded with utmost solemnity. "The money isn’t important. I’m just worried about your safety when you fly so high in the sky all by yourself. It’s better if your older sister protects you."
In this world, every gain comes with a loss. Some people may gain wealth, but they mustn’t get carried away, for they have also lost... their boundless troubles! To gain something is to lose something else; such is the cycle of fate. Serves them right!