parentshiftbook Chapter 1225 - 1152: Holy Alliance, Don't Deceive Yourselves Too
Chapter 1225 - 1152: Holy Alliance, Don't Deceive Yourselves Too
September 7, 1457.ry Court Barracks Central Avenue.
In the corner booth of a long-established coffee shop by the street, a copper coffee pot bubbled with steam.
Standing up, Dewanbay used tongs to press down the lid of the pot, while lifting the coffee pot with the other hand.
The dark brown coffee liquid gushed down and flowed through the spout into Greyleban's pottery cup.
The rich, burnt aroma mixed with cinnamon powder instantly permeated the narrow booth.
However, Greyleban's gaze was completely away from the coffee; he put a vial of smelling salts under his nose to sober up, his eyes wholly focused on the outside window.
On both sides of Central Avenue at ry Court Barracks, bright yellow exposition banners and triangular flags were already hung.
On the banners, written in simplified Leia and Alwen bilingual script,
"World Exposition officially opens on September 12."
"Welcome everyone, to witness the miracles of the Holy Alliance!"
"ry Court Barracks, the city where springs never cease!"
When the wind blew, the banners and flags surged like waves, dazzling the eyes.
As for the crowded street, among every ten pedestrians passing by, four or five were foreign merchants, travelers, or locals.
Most of them wore silk vests or woolen coats, with a young assistant carrying a heavy sample box following them.
If you go to the dock, it's even more bustling.
Large wooden crates, stamped with the names "Falan Huaqiu City Textile Guild," "Norn Golden Gate Castle Gilt Guild," and "Holy Alliance Good Juice United Fruit Company," were carried off the ships by dockworkers.
Indeed, Horn had invited not only inventors and engineers from the Holy Alliance but from all parts of the empire as well.
"These traitors." Greyleban stared at a Falan merchant outside the window, shaking his coffee cup, "Have no brains, coming here to give money to the Holy Alliance.
Every dinar he spends in the Holy Alliance will turn into a lead bullet aimed at Falan lads!
Dewanbay stirred his milk, but helplessly said: "Don't say that, boss Greyleban, the Holy Alliance's exposition gave them opportunities their royal families wouldn't.
If they win the invention competition, they can get investment from the Holy Alliance and patent rights.
Put yourself in their shoes, wouldn't you do it?"
Greyleban understood, but it did not stop him from cursing these traitors.
Seeing Greyleban ignoring him, Dewanbay pulled out a pocket-sized folded booklet from his pocket to read.
This was the Holy Alliance's free distribution of the "Exposition Guide," a sixteen-page booklet, accompanied by a map.
Not only did it mark the locations of each exhibition area, but it also detailed the daily exhibits and performances.
The schedule for the Horse Encounter Grounds, the weaving competition between spring machines and humans, the eating contest, alchemy potion tasting, and so on.
There was even a "bicycle versus donkey race" and a "knight rowing boat versus spring speedboat contest," classic matches between man and machine.
Such ideas are rampant in later generations, but now they can attract quite a lot of attention.
"Look at this." Dewanbay pointed at the red-pencil-circled competition area on the map, "I say that half of the merchants on the street are here to exhibit; the other half are just here for the spectacle."
Greyleban glanced at the booklet, the corner of his mouth twitching: "These are just petty tricks, enough to fool those who have never seen the world."
Despite saying that, his gaze stopped at the label "spring machine."
"By the way, don't you think it's strange?"
"Strange about what?" Dewanbay put down the coffee spoon, leaning in slightly.
"Spring machine." Greyleban lowered his voice, tapping his fingers on the table, "It's already the fifth day of exposition preparation, and the Holy Alliance's newspapers report every day.
Today, they say the Leonardo-style lathe processed many qualified parts; tomorrow, they say dwarf artisans overcame many transmission shaft difficulties.
All victories, fifty victories a day, a hundred every two days, not a single setback, do you believe it?"
Dewanbay frowned, staring at the newspaper for a long moment before slowly speaking: "Indeed something's off, too fake, like they're deliberately covering up something."
Greyleban sipped his coffee: "The Holy Alliance just knows how to mess around, keeping the public spinning.
It's one thing to fool the public, but don't actually believe you've succeeded.
If they genuinely reported difficulties encountered, I might actually believe there's a chance they'd produce spring machines.
Now with only victories, I don't believe it."
Rolling the newspaper into a tube, Dewanbay lightly tapped it in his hand: "That's how you say it, but we can't rely on guesses alone.
I suggest you find the person responsible for information from the workshop to ask; he should know the real progress."
Although Falan's kingdom spies vary in quality, core personnel, especially those with official positions, are quite competent.
If it were ordinary Falan spies, they'd likely be celebrating in taverns with champagne for ten days.
No doubt, that's the Falan way.
But these two dare not relax a bit, they need to ensure nothing goes wrong, even if only doing meaningless tasks.
Greyleban fell silent.
Initially, he thought the Holy Alliance was just bluffing, but Dewanbay's reminder made him worry.
"Alright, I'll call someone to ask." Greyleban finally made up his mind, tapping the table.
A waiter in a black wool vest quickly approached, bowing: "Sir, need anything else?"
"Find a quiet private room." Greyleban tucked the newspaper under his arm, "Dewanbay, you go wait first."
Such situations were common in the Holy Alliance, merely businessmen seeking a quiet place for transactions.
Especially now with the influx of foreign merchants, it's even more apparent.
A glimmer of understanding flashed in the waiter's eyes, nodding: "Sure, sir, this way please."
He led Dewanbay through the noisy hall to a small room in the café's back courtyard.
Not long after, Greyleban walked in with a man in silk clothing, although iron filings were visible under his nails.
This was the person responsible for workshop information, codenamed Old Acorn.
"How's the progress on the spring machine from the workshop?" Greyleban wasted no time, directly inquiring, "Are the victories reported in the newspaper true?"
Old Acorn showed a faint bitter smile, pulled a chair to sit, and said in a lowered tone: "Sir, the words in the newspaper are just for listening.
Leonardo indeed produced a precision lathe, speeding up parts processing.
But you know, the Saint's Grandson's insisted "Pilgrimage Management Act" is really a drag.
It can't be fast, anyway the workshop I'm watching has rather slow progress."
Greyleban relaxed, took a sip of coffee, with a touch of regret in his tone: "Leonardo is indeed a genius, but unfortunately, he can't be used by Falan."
But Dewanbay remained tense: "Still, we can't take it lightly.
What if they are deliberately setting a trap? You all know how cunning the Holy Alliance's cardinals are."
Listening to Dewanbay's words, Greyleban's unease resurfaced.
After pondering, he slapped the table: "No way, I need to check personally, I'm not reassured with just reports."
"Boss, is that alright?" Old Acorn quickly advised against it, "Now the checks are strict; if you go and Holy Alliance citizens report you, it's over!"
"Report?" Greyleban scoffed, "I can disguise myself as your little assistant; these foolish citizens, how could they possibly recognize me?
Moreover, it doesn't concern them; I don't believe they'd risk reporting.
I know them too well; they prefer less trouble, they understand this principle."
He paused, his eyes sharpening: "As for the spies hidden among the crowd, you think I can't recognize them?
I can spot the habits of Falan spies and features of the Holy Alliance spies just from a glance.
If encountered, eliminate or escape, surely, I wouldn't fear them?"
Seeing Greyleban's determined attitude, Old Acorn dared not persuade further.
He remained silent for a while, then slowly nodded: "I'll make arrangements; early tomorrow, I'll take you to see."
"Remember to visit several workshops." Dewanbay knew Old Acorn's public identity as a Falan investor, seeing several workshops was reasonable.
"Sure." Since deciding to proceed, Old Acorn readily agreed, "How about this afternoon?"
"Okay." Greyleban promptly agreed, "The sooner, the better, the quicker we understand, the sooner we can prepare."