Duke Calvin sat alone in the study, the letter in his hand neatly trimd, the sender being his eighth son, Louis Calvin.
The letter arrived almost precisely every three months, sent from the Northern Territory’s Red Tide City to the Calvin residence in the Southeast.
"Tsk... this kid does know the rules." Duke Calvin’s tone carried a hint of sarcasm.
He leisurely unfolded the paper, his gaze sweeping over the familiar opening phrases:
"Grateful for the family’s protection and support, the governance of Red Tide Territory is stable, operations for this quarter are smooth, public sentint is calm, preparations for winter are adequate..."
And the latter part of the letter touched on the issue of gold coins.
"Recently, due to the needs of building a new port, the plan is to expand the shipyard, lacking skilled shipbuilders and technicians, hoping for the family’s assistance in coordination...
Once the port is completed, goods from the Southern and Northern Territories can directly reach by sea, saving lengthy transit tis.
It is expected to save more than threefold in transportation ti, enhance Red Tide’s external trading capability, and simultaneously benefit the Southeast branch of the family business guild."
Duke Calvin unconsciously nodded in agreent.
This isn’t a matter of a few horses or bags of grain; the transport capacity, routes, and even price negotiation rights from the Northern Territory to other provinces, especially the Southeast Province, would be affected.
But this son is truly ambitious, skilled shipbuilders aren’t laborers one can casually pick up by the roadside.
The family has already dispatched two batches of people over, and now he says it’s still not enough?
"You’re bold in asking." The Duke snorted coldly, a hint of amusent rising in his brows.
Yet Duke Calvin truly had to consider it.
If Louis could indeed build that port, the greatly shortened North-South trade ti would be a significant advantage for the family.
Moreover, Red Tide Territory would be thoroughly bonded with the family business guild, becoming a mutually beneficial community of destiny—a rather favorable outco.
After weighing the pros and cons, Duke Calvin would ultimately send people over.
Personnel would be provided, equipnt could be authorized, but conditions would certainly be attached.
Expansion of the port is permissible, but main navigation rights, comrcial tax ports, and site control must reserve a share for the family.
Duke Calvin continued reading: "Has been officially enfeoffed as Count of the Northern Territory... the youngest child was born this month, mother and child are safe, grateful for the family’s blessings..."
Having finished the letter, the Duke smirked and placed it back on the desk.
The letter was written neither too warmly nor too coldly, neither close nor distant, like a routine report.
Even the matter of "childbirth" was summarized blandly with a "thanks for family blessings," as if rely fulfilling an obligation.
"Appointed as Count, has a son now... while constantly expressing gratitude to the family, he is running ever farther away, quite shrewd indeed."
Unfortunately, this shrewd son evidently does not intend to truly draw close to the family.
Originally, sending him to the Northern Territory was rely to comply with the Emperor’s order for expansion, utilizing a marginal resource for the count.
Who would have thought this piece of marginal resource now truly rooted in the Northern Territory, becoming a local power.
Now even Knights, Nobility, and business guild forces are beginning to gravitate toward him.
The spies he himself sent either have been absorbed or marginalized.
"Still thinks of himself as a Calvin?" Duke Calvin coldly laughed, sitting up straight.
To achieve this, it indicates this son indeed is capable, but it also signifies he has slipped beyond control.
The genuine intel he can obtain cos from the family business guild, each achievent Louis accomplished astonishes him.
Red Tide Territory now controls most of the Northern Territory’s mineral veins and salt lakes, governing over a third of the Northern population, even old nobility in the North have been placated by him.
Louis has turned that wasteland into his own kingdom.
Duke Calvin leaned back in his high chair, tapping the table, beginning to reconsider the frequent question he recently pondered.
Who should be the successor as Patriarch?
Originally, this didn’t require consideration.
The eldest, Gaius Calvin, whether in knight rank, military talent, or administrative skill, was the widely anticipated future patriarch.
But now? Gaius disappeared along with the Emperor, unlikely to ever inherit the Calvin Clan.
Looking at the third son, Eduardo.
Due to special reasons, he was sent personally at a young age to the Golden Feather Flower Church Court.
Yet precisely because of this, the child from the start was fated not to be the heir as patriarch.
Regarding the remaining ones...
Seldon, indeed shrewd, good at business, ruthless and decisive.
Yet his vision is too narrow, his scope limited, always seeing others as a bunch of brainless fools.
Even with Louis’ rise causing such a stir, he thinks it’s re fortune, capitalizing on a trend.
"Small-minded, lacking big picture." He shook his head.
As for the other sons...
Duke Calvin sighed, rest his forehead against his hand, his gaze falling on the family tree beside the table.
How many sons did he really sire?
Ten or so? Twelve? Fifteen?
He couldn’t quite rember.
Yet those who are truly noteworthy... countable on fingers.
"Conversely, the one least expected," he murmured, "now becos the family’s sole reliable pillar."
Louis, the Count of the Northern Territory, Lord of the Red Tide.
Mother a humble maid, yet now through his own might, from the most remote fief, he has forged a wasteland into the Northern core.
"Now... the most suitable child." It’s the conclusion he hesitates to voice.
Sadly, the blood bears the na "Calvin," yet always seems intent on drawing boundaries.
Consistently maintaining that elusive distance, even drawing closer to the Edmund Family.
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