After Layton was escorted out of the Main Castle, the night had not yet dispersed. Louis did not rest, rely ordering the guard to send another ssage.
Soon after, a second person with a hood over their head was brought in.
The person was breathing heavily, with a strong scent of spices and Southern wine on their collar.
Louis raised his hand, and several knights stopped their actions: "Uncover."
The hood was pulled off, and the man blinked. Upon seeing who was sitting before him, his face turned pale instantly, and he unconsciously took half a step back.
The man opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to blurt out a familiar excuse: "I’m just a humble spice trader..."
Louis rely looked at him with a smile.
...
That night, the lights in Red Tide Main Castle burned late into the night.
From rchants of the Red Glow Guild, to representatives of the Ashen Guild, even the hidden couriers of Star Fall, four or five mbers of the Federation Guilds who had been hiding in Red Tide for years.
The lights in Red Tide Main Castle burned deep into the night, as they were brought in one by one, and then taken away one by one.
Throughout the entire process, there was no sound of interrogation, not a drop of blood.
Louis did the sa thing with each person.
He first pointed out their real nas and the guilds they belonged to, then briefly stated their activities in Red Tide, Dawn Port, and Silver Ridge Hill over the years...
Finally, he asked them to sit down and pushed a letter sealed with the Red Tide stamp towards them.
"Rest assured," Louis spoke in a consistently gentle tone, "I will not execute legal rchants in Red Tide; Red Tide needs trade."
Facing him, those self-proclaid seasoned guild mbers broke out in cold sweat under Louis’ calm gaze.
"There is just one thing..." Louis tapped his fingers lightly on the tabletop, "From now on, we can send out goods, and you can make money. But backstabbing, leaking information, setting up lines for enemy nations, that’s not acceptable."
"If your superiors are wise, they’ll understand. What I’m offering is a way to profit long-term, not an enemy."
Soone couldn’t help but speak, "Is this... a threat, sir?"
Louis chuckled, "It’s a polite reminder."
He did not raise his voice nor show anger, but personally pushed the letter in front of them.
"The letter is very clear. Red Tide is opening trade quotas with the Federation and various guilds, but it requires reasonable prices and clean channels.
Take it back, relay the ssage word for word. If they accept, the goods of Red Tide are always open to you. If they refuse..."
He paused, though his tone was light, it sent a chill down their spines, "Then please tell them to stop reaching into the Northern Territory."
When the last person was led away with their head covered again, only the crackling of the fireplace remained in the study room.
"If they have any brains," Louis murmured softly, "they’ll see this as a win-win."
Red Tide is not exclusive, it does not reject the Federation’s Gold Coins, nor the guilds’ rchant ships, but Red Tide wants to operate by its own rules.
This is also sothing Louis has always wanted to do, or he wouldn’t have kept these Jade Federation spies here for so long.
So spies had been doing business here even before Red Tide City was established, back when it was still the Red Tide Territory.
As long as these spies didn’t cause any real damage, Louis, with his Daily Intelligence System, rely turned a blind eye to them.
It was just that the Calvin Clan cut off the trade routes, hastening his plans.
Louis stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the lights in the snowy night of Red Tide City: "Father, I’ve made my choice, I hope you won’t regret it."
......
The sea breeze in the Southern province always carried a salty scent, but in Count Harvey’s study, there was no hint of it.
The thick stone walls blocked the sound of the sea, and the fire in the fireplace burned steadily, its flickering light reflecting off the ledgers and docunts.
The desk was piled with tax reports, freight bills, quota lists, a half-empty silver wine jug, and the red wine in the glass shimred with a glow.
Count Harvey held a pen in his left hand, approving docunts, while sipping wine with his right.
It was a habit he couldn’t break after many years; a few sips made his mind clearer, allowing him to reconcile numbers, nas, and port tax contracts perfectly.
When he didn’t drink, his mind would get restless; this flaw had been with him since his youth.
He was not born into a truly noble family.
His grandfather was a Viscount on the verge of bankruptcy, addicted to gambling, nearly squandering the family estate.
When his father took over, there weren’t even enough servants left at ho, only an empty old manor remained.
Those tis taught him from a young age what it ant to be unable to move an inch without money.
Relying on the perseverance of father and son over two generations, the Harvey Family revived.
His father made his first fortune through smuggling wine and spices, establishing a trading firm at the harbor, and supplying the Imperial fleet with provisions.
Harvey himself studied in the Imperial Capital, not at the Knight Academy, but in finance and law, and after graduating, he followed his father in managing docks, clearing accounts, and dealing with Empire officials.
At that ti, he developed the habit of drinking while accounting; spirits could suppress anxiety and help him focus.
He rose to the rank of Count entirely due to the Emperor.
Back then, when Ernst August first took office, he implented heavy harbor taxes and trade route reforms. The old nobility mostly opposed, but he willingly took the risk of the coastal tax reform, advancing military expenses and harbor repair funds for the Royal Family.
The Emperor appreciated his courage and skill, personally appointing him as the Count of Southern Port Affairs.
From that day on, he realized he was no longer a nobleman by blood, but a political rchant by ans.
This background permanently instilled in him a near-neurotic vigilance.
Harvey doesn’t believe in luck, he only believes in numbers that match on the ledger. He doesn’t believe in the glory of bloodline, only in ships that can weather storms.
While approving docunts, he felt sowhat agitated inside.
The Emperor had disappeared, the Regent King was gravely ill, and the Princes were engaged in overt and covert battles.
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