As Vincent came down the stairs, he heard a sharp ringing from the offices somewhere below.

The more steps he took, the more ringing noises resounded throughout.

In no time, the entire administrative building erupted in chaos.

The Knight Order appeared closer as Vincent reached the main hall.

A uniformed young man dashed toward Vincent with a letter in his hand.

He was stopped a few feet away by a knight.

"Your Lordship, there’s an urgent letter from Mirrec County." He said hurriedly and waved the letter.

"Let me see." Vincent said and the knight stopping the young man grabbed the letter and gave it to him.

As Vincent read it, a frown appeared on his face but he relaxed his face momentarily and crumpled the paper in his hands.

"What is it, My Lord?"

"What is it, young master?"

Leona and Anastasia asked.

Vincent shook his head.

For a moment, he considered saying it was nothing but remembered Leona didn’t like being lied.

He contemplated for a second, then said, "To refine ’that’, do you need a special forgery or can you make do with any? If it’s the former, you can head back to the Capital. If it’s the latter, then we’ll find you one here in Gold Town."

Vincent needed Leona. He needed her to strategize better but he knew that Leona urgently wanted to refine the Spirit Iron.

How could she not after feeling a trace of the Great Dao?

If Vincent was in his shoes, he would’ve wanted the same.

Adding to it, in her system profile, under system note, Vincent saw:

[...is a step away from venturing into the path of cultivation...]

Refining it might be what could lead her to a breakthrough?

Vincent wasn’t sure but he knew he’d only hinder her progress if he kept her around.

Leona looked down at Vincent for a few seconds. She didn’t respond but her mind was processing whatever was happening.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and said, "I can make do with any place as long as they have the basic equipment."

"Alright." Vincent said and turned to the Knight Order captain escorting him. "I want an entire squad around her. Let nobody disturb her while she works."

"At your command, sir." The captain placed a hand on his chest and bowed.

He went to send a telegram in the administrative building while Vincent turned to another knight and said, "I’ll be in the administrative building until evening. Make arrangements."

"At your command, sir." The knight bowed and left.

Vincent did not say a word more but Leona and Anastasia both knew something was off.

There was a sense of urgency on Vincent’s face and with the way he behaved, it was further confirmed.

However, Leona knew if she helped, she would have to see it to the end and couldn’t forge anytime soon.

She could read between the lines and knew Vincent asked the question about forge to give her a way out.

Leona stayed silent but her gaze was soft and lingered on her fiancé the whole time.

"Tea, young master?" Anastasia did not ask anything about the letter either and instead changed the topic.

Vincent nodded. "Once the seating arrangement is made, I’d like a cup of tea."

Anastasia gave him a curt nod and quietly stood behind him.

Soon, seating arrangements were made and a Knight Order squad arrived to fetch Leona.

She bid farewell to Vincent and left the administrative building.

Seated by a round table in the main hall were Vincent and Anastasia.

Taking a sip of tea, Vincent placed the crumpled paper on the table.

"Have a read," he said while resting his back against the chair.

Anastasia took the paper and went through what was written.

...

Train Station, Mirrec County.

Wagons containing grain sacks appeared at the train station, ready to be loaded into the train compartments.

A lady stood near the loading platform with a peppered pork pie in hand.

The crust crackled beneath her bite.

Hot steam escaped from the opening, carrying the scent of black pepper, onions, and roasted meat.

She quickly took another bite before the filling could spill out.

For a brief moment, the chaos of wagons, workers, and shouting merchants faded from her mind.

Then, the station bells rang.

"Stop the loading!"

Workers froze.

The wagons stopped moving.

Multiple footsteps resounded in her ears.

She was yet to swallow the second bite when she noticed a man in an elegant red attire appear while being surrounded by guards.

"Who is the person buying such a vast amount of grains?" A guard shouted and asked.

"What seems to be the problem, sir?" The grain merchant standing near the lady with pork hand pie walked toward the guards and said.

"Are you the one buying these grains?" The guard asked.

"No, sir. I am the one who sold it."

"Then where is the buyer?"

The merchant had a flattering smile as he replied, "Sir, is that even necessary? I am but a humble merchant and—"

Slap!

A crisp slapping sound startled the lady nearby, making her drop the pie.

The guard held the merchant’s collar and pulled him closer. "Where. Is. The. Buyer?"

"Sir..." the merchant said in a hoarse voice. "...why..."

The guard made a twisted expression but then showed a helpless face as he turned to the man in elegant red attire behind him.

The man in elegant robes shrugged lightly and placed his hands inside his pant pockets.

The guard turned to the man and said, "If you don’t answer, I will burn everything down. Do you want that?"

The grain merchant stared at the guard, then at the man in elegant red attire.

"Young Count..." he called out. "Is this justice?"

Count Mirrec’s eldest son glanced at him and said calmly, "You were asked who the buyer was. It is your fault for not responding to official orders. The more you resist, the bigger the crime would be."

The lady nearby nervously intertwined her fingers at the comment and felt despair loom over.

Until this moment, she wasn’t aware that it was the Count’s son in this county.

’These grains will never make it...’ she closed her eyes and thought, a tear almost leaking down her face. ’My children will starve again...’

"These grains are going to D’Arc County, aren’t they?" The guard asked the merchant.

The grain merchant did not respond and stared at the guard.

The lady nearby trembled in place and felt her legs give in.

"By order of Count Mirrec, all grain purchases bound for D’Arc County are to be suspended!"

...

"Those idiots..." Anastasia crumpled the paper in her hands.

Vincent put his teacup down and leaned forward. "They are interfering directly. They aren’t even framing the merchant or the buyer."

"Yes." Anastasia nodded fervently. "To think they’ve decided that the house is..."

She stopped speaking, suddenly realizing who she was conversing with.

"My apologies..."

Anastasia lowered her head.

"I spoke out of turn."

Vincent blinked.

"About what?"

"The affairs of House D’Arc are not something a maid should comment on."

Vincent shook his head and said, "If we’re discussing how not to die, you’re allowed to speak freely."

Anastasia nodded but didn’t comment further.

Vincent took a sip of tea again and sat quietly to think about the situation for a moment.

’Leona did say it would escalate and placed contingencies. But, these guys still ended up obstructing. What is—’

Suddenly, Vincent stopped as he realized something.

He frowned and immediately straightened his back.

’Son of a—none of the plans we executed worked!?’

To have suddenly come to such a possibility, Vincent couldn’t help but shout internally,

’System! Fate has not deviated even slightly!?’

[Affirmative.]

Vincent’s eyes widened.

The fishing fleets.

The warehouses.

The refugees.

The grain purchases.

There was not a single fate deviation notification despite the change.

’We did so much and had so many people involved but even then fate did not deviate let alone deviate majorly!?’

[No Fate deviation has been recorded.]

[Anchors stable: (4/5)]

’Impossible...!’

Vincent stood up from his seat and paced around, placing his hands behind his head and feeling lightheaded.

’How... who..what, why?’

Vincent’s startled expression and pacing around made Anastasia knit her brows. She hadn’t seen the young master so stressed before.

Right as Vincent thought about this matter, a uniformed young man approached his table.

He was stopped by the knights once again and without panicking, he handed two sealed letters.

"What is it?" Vincent asked and snatched the letters from the guards.

He tore open the first one and placed the other on the table.

Unfurling the letter, Vincent’s eyes turned sharp as he read through the first few lines.

...

Train station, Mirrec County.

"...are to be suspended!"

Workers stayed put in their place.

The wagons full of grains were suddenly stranded.

The grain merchant saw all of it and helplessly looked at the guard.

"Sir, what’s wrong with my goods? Why are they being suddenly confiscated?"

SLAP!

Another crisp sound rang in every person’s ears.

"This is a serious matter." The guard said loudly. "Resist any further and you will be charged with treason, your goods burned."

The grain merchant frowned. Even with two red handprints on his face, he did not let out a single tear or despaired.

"Burned, you say?" The grain merchant repeated in a slow and hoarse voice.

Ptoo!

He spat in the guard’s face. "Do it! I dare you, do it! You fucking bastard!"

A loud silence ensued on the platform. Everyone even held their breaths in as they saw the guard get humiliated.

The guard closed his eyes. His chest heaved rapidly.

Standing behind, the Young Count had the corner of his lip curve up as he watched the fiasco. He did nothing to stop the situation from escalating.

The guard opened his bloodshot eyes. He immediately strangled the grain merchant’s throat and shouted, "Burn the goods!"

"Urgh..." veins popped on the grain merchant’s neck and forehead as he was asphyxiated.

Guards lit torches and went toward the wagons.

The workers instinctively stepped aside.

Nobody wished to get involved.

Nobody wished to anger the Count’s son.

One of the torches touched a grain sack.

The burlap blackened.

A few kernels spilled on the platform.

The old porter standing beside had been carrying these sacks all afternoon.

The moment he saw these kernels spill, something within him instinctively made him move.

Pat! Pat!

The old porter patted against the burlap and extinguished the flames.

A guard standing behind noticed it and pointed his rifle at the old porter.

"Get back, old man."

The guards about to torch the wagons stopped in their tracks and stared at him.

The old porter refused to move.

"Get. Fucking. Back." The guard with a rifle appeared right in front of the old man.

The old man closed his eyes and stood completely still.

The guard’s face darkened.

Noticing this fiasco, the head guard dropped the grain merchant and stormed toward the old man.

"What the fuck are you trying to pull off?"

He snatched the rifle from the guard’s hands and smacked the old man’s head.

"AYE!"

A worker beside the old man shouted and charged at the head guard.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Another worker shouted and charged.

"HE HIT HIM!"

"BASTARD!"

"GET HIM!"

The rifle from the head guard’s hands was immediately slapped away.

A punch to his face followed.

A kick to his groins was next.

The workers threw themselves on him without a care.

More workers rushed from the distance and absolute chaos erupted as the majority formed a wall between the old man and the guards.

The Young Count’s face darkened.

The guards could not help the head guard and instead rushed to the Young Count’s safety.

The head guard was thrashed half to death.

"Ahhhhhhh!" He screamed. "Help! Help! Help!"

"How dare you!" The workers screamed louder than him and hit him more.

"Do you think we are fucking fools!?"

"Did you seriously think we’d get a rifle up our arse and not do anything?!"

The head guard twitched almost lifelessly on the ground and was covered in blood.

As the Young Count watched it, he wanted to leave but couldn’t.

He had orders to fulfil.

And his family’s head guard’s life was at stake.

If he did not intervene, he might lose his life and even his chance to inherit his father’s title.

He stepped forward and shouted, "That’s enough."

The workers did not stop and kept beating the guard.

The Young Count’s face darkened further. He did not say a word more and watched.

The workers stopped only when they noticed the head guard wasn’t screaming anymore.

They let him rot in place and turned to the Young Count and his guards.

"Beating the head guard of the Mirrec House... you lot will be punished for your treasonous acts."

The Young Count took a deep breath and then shook his head.

The crowd emotionlessly stared at him without a word more.

The head guard continued to bleed and twitch.

"Step aside." The Young Count said while taking a step forward with his guards pointing their rifles at the crowd.

"Let the illegal wagons be confiscated and I will choose to turn a blind eye to today’s incident. You lot will be pardoned if you don’t interfere further in official conduct."

The Young Count took another few steps forward but nobody from the crowd moved.

He had to stop in his tracks.

He knitted his brows and looked at the crowd.

The old porter from before stepped forward.

He looked at the Young Count, then bent down to pick up the fallen kernels.

Without a word more, he put them back in the burlap and moved the wagon towards the train.

A few workers turned around and helped him unload the wagon into the train.

More workers followed suit and turned around, showing their backs to the Young Count.

They began unloading the wagons into the train as well and within a few minutes, the wagons were empty.

Amidst the chaos, the trembling lady picked up her fallen pork hand pie and sneaked into the train.

Soon, the hissing sound of steam resounded in the station followed by the ringing of a bell.

Chug. Chug. Chug.

The locomotive started and after a few more whistles, the train began moving.

As the Young Count saw it, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He turned his head to the side and a guard leaned his head forward.

"Send a letter to ’that house’ stating House Mirrec was unsuccessful. And don’t inform father yet. I’ll talk to him personally."

The guard bowed and rushed away.

A minute later, the train completely left the platform.

The workers stared at the Young Count.

The Young Count stared daggers at them and clapped his hands.

Gnashing his teeth, he said, "Very good. Very good, indeed. I’ll remember this."

He turned around and stormed out of the station with his guards.

The head guard was left to his fate, bleeding and too drained to even have his body twitch.

...

"Satisfying." Vincent exclaimed and smiled.

"What’s satisfying, young master?" Anastasia asked from the side.

Vincent handed her the telegram and said, "Read it. You’ll know."

Anastasia took it from him and went through it.

Vincent looked at her and the paper, then thought, ’So it is true. The commoners in this world really aren’t afraid of nobles. They did not fold even when the count’s eldest son appeared. They beat his head guard almost to death right before him. How amazing...’

Vincent was all smiles but then he suddenly recalled, ’Wait...’

His smile dropped.

He knitted his brows.

’Why isn’t there a fate deviation notification? Even a slight deviation?’

The system did not answer and stayed silent.

Vincent frowned harder. He was about to lose his sanity over a notification when he noticed the second letter on the table.

He quickly grabbed it and opened it.

Only four words were in this letter.

The moment he read those, all of his hair stood on their ends.

"Impossible!" He almost took a few steps back and the paper fell from his hands, slowly falling on the table.

Anastasia was alarmed when she heard Vincent’s word, but she saw the paper landing on the table and couldn’t help but look at it.

Four words.

Silver Town has fallen.