Louis continued, "As for external packaging, the first phase will not be terd a board system, but a sustainable ration trial."
He simultaneously introduced prototype benefits, demonstration city tax reductions, open comrcial rights, and trade concessions, enticing the nobility with advantages.
"Yes, sir." Bradley noted every word, secretly thinking how the rhetoric was refined to an art form.
"Once they taste the benefits, they will never part from us." Louis’s voice was calm yet sharp. "When resources, comrcial rights, and military supplies are all tied to Red Tide, they will realize that opposing Red Tide is equivalent to contending with the entire Northern Territory."
"If this regulation is successfully implented, the Northern Territory will see no more turmoil," Bradley said softly.
"It’s not the end of turmoil," Louis corrected with a touch of humility in his tone, "it’s about clarifying choices. I hope they choose order, not ."
He sighed lightly, "If I had Duke Edmund’s strength, I wouldn’t have to go through such trouble setting all these arrangents."
Bradley was taken aback, then bowed his head, knowing Louis was being modest again.
Louis chuckled gently and said softly, "This is just a rough idea of mine, and certainly, there are many immature aspects that will require you and the Governnt Hall people to improve step by step."
"Yes, sir." Bradley responded with a serious expression.
The two discussed details for a long ti, from the chamber’s quota proportions to port warehouse regulations and the structure of the boardroom, even ticulously examining ergency tax rates.
Only when the mid-day sunlight slanted into the study did Louis put away the drafts.
"Go about your business, Bradley. I have so things to attend to," he said warmly.
Bradley bowed and turned to leave.
Louis looked at the docunts on the table for a long ti before finally putting on a coat, opening the door, and stepping into a carriage heading to the outskirts of Red Tide City, towards the Alchemy Workshop.
......
The morning wind slipped through the window cracks, carrying a hint of coldness from after the snow.
rian awoke from the dream, his chest rising and falling violently, fingertips clutching the bed corner tightly.
The dream was still about that lightless room of the Green Tide Guild.
Moist air, the echo of chains scraping, footsteps resonating amongst stone walls.
But when he opened his eyes, he was t with sunlight, real sunlight.
The curtain was lifted slightly by the wind, warm yellow light spilling onto the wooden wall, and the air was filled with the scent of burning wood in the fireplace, along with the sll of freshly baked bread.
rian was dazed for a few seconds, his mind blank.
Then he slowly sat up, looking around.
The door wasn’t locked, the window was open, and there were no shackles at his feet.
That strange freedom made him initially more anxious; it was too quiet, too bright, even fear had nowhere to hide.
He suddenly rembered, in those years at the guild, he had hardly ever really seen sunlight.
Ever since being taken into the underground research institute as a teenager, his life had been trapped beneath layers of stone doors.
Every corridor was guarded, even sleep and diet were recorded.
The only places he could go were the laboratory, dormitory, and report room, with almost no opportunity to set foot on the ground.
On rare occasions when assigned outside tasks, there was always soone following the entire ti, not allowing him to talk to any outsiders.
That life of isolation and surveillance went on for decades, and only now did he realize he had long forgotten what freedom ant.
He lifted the blanket, the smooth wooden floor was cold but not damp.
In the corner, there was a small plant, with green leaves and a few white moss flowers, a common hardy variety in the Northern Territory, with dew drops glistening on the leaf tips.
He reached out to touch it gently, murmuring softly, "It’s January... I’m still alive."
The voice was almost inaudible, as if afraid of breaking this unreal tranquility.
A light knock on the door ca at this mont, with a cautious young servant’s voice, "Master, breakfast is ready."
The title "Master" made him tremble slightly; there was no cold command in the tone, only respect.
For a mont, he didn’t know how to respond, only whispering, "...Thank you."
The servant placed the breakfast outside the door, then left.
rian gazed at the bowl of hot porridge and two slices of buttered bread, silently for a long ti.
The aroma made his throat tighten, yet he found it strange; in the Federation, he had never tasted such a flavor from the food, which typically consisted of nutritional potions and pastes containing various elents to sustain him long-term, though the taste was bound to be unpleasant.
Then he sat at the seat by the window to savor the al; outside was a courtyard of three-story buildings, with his residence located in the most luxurious part of Red Tide City.
The buildings were structured with wood and stone, featuring warm-colored exteriors and broad windowsills, with small fountains and neat vegetation in the courtyard.
Three servants were responsible for his daily life, cleaning, and al delivery.
The guards stationed in the distance rather than at the door, resembling courtesy more than surveillance.
All of this was beyond rian’s belief; while in the Federation, he had spent a lifeti underground, yet now in a corner of this Northern wilderness, he possessed a house of his own, so luxurious.
Before arriving at Red Tide, he could never have imagined living such a life.
For a month, this tranquility left him sowhat uneasy, often waking up thinking he was still in a dream.
All of this was arranged by Louis.
In the days at Red Tide, no one restricted his freedom, but rian still dared not venture far, mostly pacing between the laboratory and residence, only occasionally watching the city center lights from the third-floor terrace at night.
After breakfast, rian put on a white robe, sowhat clumsily, and when fastening the last button, his hand still trembled slightly.
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