Limborg Province.
The mountains refused to don cloaks of green, choosing instead to spew black smoke of coal ash and iron filings into the sky year-round.
Eternal Night Castle, a behemoth of steel and will entrenched in the mountains, was also the den of the Blackrock Hand Commerce Association.
The castle's top floor.
The air here was free of the ubiquitous smell of coal ash and rust that permeated the city, bearing only the scent of expensive ambergris incense.
Hector Este signed his name on the final document.
At the top of the document, a title was marked in conspicuous red ink: "Preliminary Investigation and Post-Accident Handling Report on the Structural Collapse of Mine No. 3."
Next to his signature, a jarring number was marked in parentheses: 1274.
He casually tossed the report onto a pile of finished documents.
From the deepest shadows of the office, a figure completely shrouded in a gray cloak spoke.
The voice sounded like two pieces of rusted metal grinding against each other.
"Over a thousand fresh lives, and to you, they aren't even worth a few extra seconds on your desk."
Hector didn't turn around. He drew out a silk handkerchief and, slowly and deliberately, wiped his fingertips.
"They are merely consumables, my lord. Consumables are not worthy of my precious emotions."
"Are you really not going to offer any compensation? After all, over a thousand people means over a thousand families."
Hector looked up, his expression serious as he gazed at the person in the shadows.
"My lord, as you said, they have families behind them. Therefore, I will not be holding them accountable for the major losses their operational errors have caused me."
"Hahaha, very good."
The Imperial Mage under the cloak let out a soft laugh, one tinged with an unsettling satisfaction.
"It seems you've given our 'appetizer' quite a favorable review."
A refined smile graced Hector's face, which was pale from a lack of sunlight.
"Efficient, simple, and remarkably effective."
He walked to the massive desk and picked up a heavy metal box.
"It struck precisely at the Golden Sail Commerce Association's weak spot. That self-righteous daughter must be tearing her hair out at her fishery right now, like a cat on a hot tin roof."
"The Golden Sail Commerce Association's foolish alchemists must be running around like headless chickens, searching for some imaginary 'pathogen.' They will never figure out that their enemy isn't some plague, but 'the rules' themselves!"
"And the rules are always written by the victors."
The Imperial Mage's voice held a tone of condescending approval. "The Empire appreciates efficient hounds."
"As for wild dogs like the Golden Sail Commerce Association, who dream of breaking their chains and can never be tamed, their backs must be broken without mercy."
Hector bowed slightly. His posture was as humble as a student listening to a lesson, yet his eyes showed not the slightest ripple of emotion.
"In that case, is it time for the 'main course' that will end this farce to be served?"
The Imperial Mage did not answer immediately.
He extended a withered hand and slowly pushed a palm-sized crystal vial to the center of the desk.
The vial was carved from a single piece of colorless crystal, its stopper tightly sealed with some mysterious, silver-gleaming metal.
Magnificent, colorful light swirled within the vial.
"Inside this is sealed 'Withering Decay.' It's a substance capable of making any High Tier magical wood completely rot into a pile of sludge within a week."
The Imperial Mage's voice carried a bewitching power.
"You need only drop it into the main shipping lane near Stone Bridge City, and the ocean currents will do the rest. The Golden Sail Commerce Association's fleet, their vaunted 'caravels of the sea,' will turn into a pile of foam before they even know what's happening."
A smile returned to Hector's face, but this one was more sincere.
This was the art form he desired.
Silent, deadly, and irreversible.
First, use the fishery crisis to drive away the foolish sheep, luring that silver-haired witch, Caroline, away from her den.
While she's running herself ragged over some rotten fish, destroy her very foundation—the ocean-going fleets that give her the confidence to undertake massive shipping contracts.
When her shipping network is completely annihilated and her capital chain snaps, he, Hector, will acquire everything the Golden Sail Commerce Association owns for a price so low it's insulting.
A perfect strangulation.
"And what the Empire needs," the Mage's voice pulled Hector back to reality, "is for you, after inheriting the title of Marquis Este, to turn the entire Limborg Province into the first wedge the Empire drives into the heart of the Duchy."
"As you wish."
Hector smiled, but in a corner unnoticed by anyone, his fingers gently caressed a Gold Coin stamped with the Empire's phoenix emblem.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
A subordinate in a black deacon's uniform entered silently, sinking fluidly to one knee.
"President, the latest intelligence. Caroline Channing's flagship, the 'Sea Siren's Song,' arrived at the port of Stone Bridge City yesterday morning."
Hector nodded lightly.
Everything was under control. The chess pieces were moving exactly as he had anticipated, right into their designated positions.
"What are her movements?"
"She has summoned all the alchemists and High Tier Priests she could find. It seems she intends to solve the fishery problem in Stone Bridge City personally."
The deacon paused, as if organizing his words for greater precision.
"Also... according to our informant, before she left, she took a great deal of information regarding 'Newly Town.'"
"Newly Town?"
Hector repeated the completely unfamiliar place name, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"According to an internal report from the Golden Sail Commerce Association, it's a territory established on the edge of the Gray Sea Marsh by an obscure branch of the Klein Clan," the deacon replied respectfully. "Our database shows that the Gray Sea Marsh has nothing to offer but man-eating mud pits and annoying mosquitoes."
"Our intelligence network has a complete blind spot in that area because it is too barren to have any value worthy of our attention."
Hector waved his hand, dismissing the deacon.
A worthless Pioneer Knight.
Caroline Channing must be getting desperate, trying to squeeze some trivial benefit from that poor fool to offset her losses at the fishery.
Pathetic, and laughable.
In recent years, the Golden Sail Commerce Association had become increasingly aggressive in business, especially in the iron ore trade. The woman's commercial instincts were as sharp as a beast's, and she had thwarted his plans time and time again.
Her unreasonable talent reminded him of his father, who always prattled on about "bloodline" and "lineage," and his good-for-nothing eldest brother, who was poised to inherit everything as his birthright.
The self-entitled arrogance on their faces was identical to this woman's.
He hated that feeling.
Therefore, he would personally break her arrogant spirit and turn the Golden Sail Commerce Association, along with that silver-haired witch, into the most exquisite piece in his collection.