As for Count Harvey, on the surface he used investing in Yorn as an excuse, having traveled back and forth twice, but the supplies he sent were not only of superior quality, their prices were also pressed to an extrely low level.
This attitude clearly was not out of pure goodwill, but an attempt to bet on the future of the Northern Territory in advance, leaving himself an escape route.
As long as the Federation continues to maintain this cooperative stance, the hold of the Calvin Comrce Association over the Northern Territory will completely loosen.
Even if they realize it, they will have no ti to ddle in the Northern Territory’s trade routes, and the Red Tide will take advantage of this gap to gradually extract the economic chain of the Northern Territory from Calvin’s grasp.
"This line of action must be continued," Louis mused to himself, then proceeded to read the next entry.
[3: The Red Tide chanic Group completed the prototype of the first-generation steam combat vehicle; performance is stable, ready for trial use.]
It’s been over a year since the first steam train test-ran in the Northern Territory.
Now the combat vehicle prototype has finally made its debut, marking the second step for the entire steam system.
Louis didn’t truly understand its principles or know about its actual performance; all he could do was sketch a crude shape of a tank from his mory for the chanic group, hoping to give them so direction.
As for how exactly to build it and what it should look like, he had to leave it to the craftsn to slowly explore.
Naturally, Louis needs to find a ti to go see the progress himself and then decide on the next steps.
[4: Sif’s pregnancy is proceeding well, and today she successfully gave birth to a baby girl.]
Upon seeing this entry, Louis felt as if sothing had lightly nudged his heart.
Louis had been telling himself all this ti that Sif was as strong as a snowfield she-wolf, but when it ca to pregnancy, nothing was certain.
He knew her physique was far superior to that of ordinary people, but it wasn’t until the mont of delivery that he realized he had always been apprehensive deep down.
A rare joy arose from his chest, like a fire being stoked with dry wood.
He seldom allowed himself such emotions, yet at this mont, he couldn’t suppress it.
Sif was safe, the child was safe, and this was the best and most crucial news he could receive these days.
No matter how chaotic the Northern Territory was, or how dangerous the Empire was, at least he still had them waiting for him here.
Louis rubbed his brow and exhaled lightly, as if trying to let this joy slowly settle: "...Very good."
In the next mont, his gaze returned to that familiar focus and decisiveness.
The safety of his family was the reason for him to move forward, not an excuse to stop.
Having just shut down the daily intelligence light screen, the threads about the Prince, the legion, the guild, and the harbor were still turning in his mind.
Yet his cultivation never stopped because of political situations.
The Fighting Energy gradually circulated along a familiar path, like a tide surging within his flesh and blood, warmth spreading from his chest to his limbs.
While cultivating, Louis suddenly heard a soft sound from the blanket behind him.
The sound was not loud, but it pierced his attention like a thin needle.
Louis opened his eyes and turned his head to look.
Sif shifted slightly on the bed, her brow gently furrowed, as if sothing was pulling her from deep sleep, taking an instinctive breath.
Initially, Louis thought she was rely ward by the hearth, ready to stand up to adjust the airflow, to cool the room down a bit.
In the next mont, Sif’s breathing noticeably skipped a beat.
She gripped the side of the bed, her cheeks dampened by a few strands of cold sweat, sticking to her neck.
"Louis..." Sif’s voice was sowhat hoarse, but she deliberately lowered it, as if afraid of disturbing sothing, "I’m... going into labor."
Louis almost instantly stood up, his calmness during cultivation was abruptly severed.
He walked to the bedside, holding her shoulders, feeling the controlled tremor beneath her muscles.
Sif held her breath, sweat already forming at the corner of her forehead, yet she forced herself to relax her brow, trying to maintain her customary calm.
"It’s fine, I can endure it," she whispered, her gaze sharp as when she faced battle.
Louis didn’t say much else, just turned to open the door: "Notify Healer Ilena, prepare the delivery room at once. Also, bring Emily."
The maid, stationed not far away, changed her expression upon hearing this. She hurriedly bowed in acknowledgnt, almost sprinting down the hallway.
Inside, Sif tried to sit up by herself, but her movents were stiff due to the strain on her abdon.
Louis turned back to support her, helping her adjust her position.
He could feel the extre tension in her, this tautness exceeding even when she wielded a war axe clad in beast-skin armor.
"Don’t push yourself," Louis said softly.
Sif barely curled the corners of her mouth: "I don’t want you to see too disheveled."
"You were quite disheveled when battling two snowfield boars," Louis joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
Sif snorted, about to retort, but a burst of pain exploded from her abdon, causing her fingers to involuntarily clutch the blanket.
Given Sif’s imminent labor, Louis had arranged for Healer Ilena to be in the room next door, so soon Ilena was summoned into the room.
The middle-aged healer, though not tall, moved efficiently. Her hair was neatly tied back, and her apron was tidily organized with needles and small scissors.
As she entered, she first assessed Sif’s complexion and breathing, then decisively ordered: "Take her to the delivery room."
Unlike Emily, Sif ca from the Barbarian Race and didn’t care about the Empire’s old customs or the notion of n avoiding delivery rooms.
However, Ilena insisted on her own rules.
"It’s not for you," she spoke calmly while checking Sif’s pulse, "it’s for her. Only the necessary people should stay in the delivery room; the closer they are, the easier it is for her to get distracted."
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