The Southern Grand Duchy and a Sister’s Gift

Allen had acquired crucial intelligence and, having already formulated a counter-strategy, felt a natural lightness in his heart. He ignored Marianne’s “ardent” gaze, which threatened to burn through him, and reached out to ruffle Anna’s red hair.

“Well done, Anna! Care for a good meal? My treat!”

“Yes!” Anna responded instantly.

Allen then purchased several brightly colored macarons from an exquisite patisserie by the roadside, handing one to Anna.

“Yay!”

Anna cheered, lunging forward for a bear hug, but Allen swiftly blocked her with his arm.

With a smile, Allen offered another vibrant macaron to Marianne.

“My apologies,” Allen said, his voice tinged with genuine regret. “Though I called this a ‘date,’ I’ve really just been preoccupied with my own affairs.”

“I knew that from the start.”

Marianne, however, harbored no resentment. She carefully took a bite of the expensive confection.

A delicate sweetness instantly melted on her tongue, akin to liquid sunshine.

She unconsciously narrowed her eyes, her long lashes trembling slightly, as a pure and contented smile bloomed on her face.

“If you were truly intending to date me, Allen, then the sky would surely fall. Oh, it’s so sweet,” she murmured, naturally switching to his given name, her voice laced with a sugary languor.

“Is that so?” Allen tasted a piece himself.

Sweetness undeniably brought pleasure, a physiological instinct ingrained in human genes, with dopamine secretion known to uplift spirits.

Yet, Allen did not immerse himself in simple sensory delight as Marianne did.

While his taste buds savored the sweetness, his mind raced, catching a subtle sense of incongruity.

The origin of the sugar!

In this world, the continental plates resembled an enlarged, stitched-together Europe, North Africa, and the Near East, offering no natural habitat for sugarcane.

Whence came the sugar for such an expensive confection as macarons, which demanded vast quantities of refined sugar? Could the Church have monopolized it?

It was not difficult for the Church to monopolize cash crops like spices and sunflowers, but monopolizing the sugar industry would likely prove far more challenging.

Sugarcane cultivation was a labor-intensive industry, arduous and perilous, requiring immense manpower to toil intensely in scorching heat.

The Church, always mindful of its reputation and image, could hardly assign its clergy to such dirty and exhausting labor.

Even less could they openly endorse slavery! This would directly contradict their sacred tenet of “suffering alongside the people.”

As for the other source of sugar—beets? Efficiently extracting and purifying crystalline sugar from them would demand the chemical engineering of an industrial era!

Given the Church’s stringent control over technology, this path was effectively blocked.

The origin of this sugar… was problematic!

Allen set down his macaron, turned to Marianne, and asked directly, “Marianne, does the Kingdom cultivate sugarcane?”

“Yes,” Marianne replied swiftly, swallowing her dessert. She was clearly well-versed in this information. “The Southern Grand Duke monopolizes both sugarcane cultivation and the sugar industry.”

Allen raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “How do you know this?”

Despite his numerous reincarnations, he only knew of a Southern Grand Duke NPC and had never truly delved into related information.

A faint blush bloomed on Marianne’s fair cheeks.

She lowered her head slightly, her voice tinged with a hint of quiet pride and imperceptible shyness.

“I wished to assist Allen in every possible way,” she explained, “so I learned a great deal from Jean Leclerc, including the specialties and vital industries of the Kingdom’s various regions.”

“I see!”

Allen’s eyes instantly brightened, as if he had stumbled upon a hidden treasure.

He had previously only regarded Marianne as a sharp blade, a dependable companion—what a dreadful waste, like casting pearls before swine!

She was intelligent, meticulous (though her thoughts occasionally veered in peculiar directions), possessed an absurdly strong learning capability, and even came equipped with an innate intelligence radar, knowing how to proactively gather information.

This was no mere maidservant; this was clearly a prodigious talent in the field of intelligence!

‘Future Head of Secret Service.’

In the future, all those clandestine “wet work” operations, the intricate infiltrations, subversions, and intelligence network constructions… could all be entrusted to her!

A personal maidservant and shadow sovereign—this dual identity was a perfect stage, tailor-made for her.

‘Wait… why does this line of thinking feel familiar?’

‘Didn’t those scoundrels from the Scarlet Spiral Cult recruit Marianne precisely because they recognized this “talent” of hers, intending for her to handle similar dirty work?’

‘Tsk, the villains’ logic is always astonishingly consistent!’ Allen grumbled silently. ‘However…’

Allen’s smile instantly transformed into one of righteous indignation, imbued with a sense of mission to “eliminate harm for the people.”

‘Thank you, old pals of the Cult, for painstakingly cultivating (and exploiting) talent!’

‘I, Allen de Laval, shall gladly accept this “grand gift!”‘

‘Your exploitation of Marianne was an evil inducement, a heinous crime! As for me… hehe, this is called discerning talent, knowing how to utilize people effectively! It’s righteous recycling and reuse!’

‘Rest assured! To express my sincere gratitude…’

‘I will definitely uproot you all, eradicating you completely!’

“Excellent work!” Allen praised genuinely, his voice brimming with excitement. “How much do you know about the Southern Grand Duke? Can you tell me more in detail?”

“Of course.”

Marianne nodded. Seeing the admiration in Allen’s eyes, her blush deepened slightly as she began to recount the details earnestly.

As Marianne spoke, Allen realized the political landscape of the Lorraine Kingdom was far more intricate than he had imagined.

‘The Southern Grand Duchy, though nominally a territory of the Kingdom, was in essence more akin to a highly autonomous, independent kingdom.’

It had originally been an independent Southern Grand Duchy, sharing the same cultural sphere as the Lorraine Kingdom.

It had only chosen to merge with Lorraine to collectively confront the looming threat of the Empire.

The two entities truly unified only during wartime, otherwise remaining mutually independent.

This “one country, two systems” stitched-together state even extended to the ecclesiastical structure, causing the Kingdom’s Church to split into the Northern Diocese (governing the main body of Lorraine) and the Southern Diocese (overseeing the entire Grand Duchy).

The quality of a nation was often revealed through comparison.

Compared to the Empire—a super patchwork monster of countless small states, constantly embroiled in internal conflicts after external wars, never knowing a moment’s peace for a millennium—the Lorraine Kingdom’s “two and a half nations” amalgamation ironically appeared remarkably unified.

However, this superficial unity could not conceal the South’s distorted prosperity.

‘The Southern Grand Duchy’s ability to develop labor-intensive industries like sugarcane plantations was rooted in its retention of a slavery system identical to that of the Empire.’

The blood and sweat of slaves irrigated this “prosperity.” Beyond the sugar industry, the region was rife with exploitative sweatshops.

Concurrently, the Southern Grand Duke held firm control over major overseas trade routes, amassing immense wealth from them.

Thanks to its relatively stable environment and brutal exploitation model, the South’s economy had even surpassed the disaster-stricken North in recent years.

‘Yet beneath this veneer of affluence lay a horrifying rupture!’

‘Vast fortunes were devoured by a select few, while the vast majority of common folk struggled beneath the poverty line, cast like fuel into the economic furnace. Uprisings and riots flared like subterranean fires, one after another, ceaselessly.’

‘What did this mean?’

‘It meant the Southern Grand Duchy was like a powder keg stacked with kindling! Just one spark could ignite the raging flames of revolution!’

‘Crucially, this seemingly formidable territory possessed military strength that was hollow at its core.’

‘Aside from the Grand Duke himself, who wielded formidable mark power, the entire South could barely boast a handful of decent Mark Bearers. Its security relied heavily on mercenaries and support from the Kingdom.’

Allen’s eyes gleamed brighter and brighter—’This was undoubtedly the weakest, yet most critical link in the chains of the Old World!’

Details! This was the importance of details!

His decision to conduct social research that afternoon had proven undeniably correct!

Allen observed the nobles, surrounded by their retinues, and suddenly turned to Marianne.

“Marianne, what impression does the Upper City leave on you?”

“Opulent, orderly… yet also lifeless,” Marianne replied after a moment’s thought.

“Precisely,” Allen nodded. “And what do you imagine… a world without nobles would be like?”

Marianne’s gaze snapped to Allen, instantly grasping his true intention.

She did not answer directly, merely whispering, “I believe, you are about to find out.”

****

Further ahead lay the Lower City.

As the trio passed through the archway connecting the Upper and Lower Cities, the scene abruptly transformed.

The enticing scent of fresh wheat wafted from bakeries, the clang of hammers echoed from blacksmiths, and housewives with baskets, hawking merchants, and running children filled the streets.

The vibrant pulse of life in the Lower City washed over them, a bustling clamor brimming with vigorous energy.

“Wow! So much food!”

As the three entered the crowded market, Anna instantly grew excited, like a puppy catching the scent of a meaty bone.

Allen observed the bustling scene with fresh curiosity, as if transported back to his homeland. The realm of vibrant vitality and burgeoning growth seemed to unfold before his very eyes.

He had another important task in the market today: to undertake the “Royal Capital Purchasing Power Challenge” and, incidentally, ascertain the current market prices.

Just how terrifying was 300,000 Livres? Only direct experience could truly convey it.

He approached a pottery stall. Rough yet practical earthenware pots and bowls were stacked high; a medium-sized soup bowl was priced at 5 Deniers (approximately 0.02 Livres).

Next to it, a vendor sold wooden utensils and tools; a sturdy small axe cost 20 Deniers (approximately 0.08 Livres).

The fabric stall was vibrant with color, mostly coarse linen and wool textiles. A bolt of ordinary local wool tweed cost approximately 1 Livre and 10 Sols (1.5 Livres).

Fresh pork and mutton hung at the butcher’s stall; a pound of good quality pork was priced at about 15 Deniers (approximately 0.06 Livres).

In the live poultry section, a plump hen was repeatedly weighed by a woman before finally being sold for 12 Deniers (approximately 0.05 Livres).

Bread was the market’s centerpiece, exuding an inviting scent of wheat. A single loaf of rye bread, enough to sustain a strong laborer for a day, was priced at 2 Deniers (approximately 0.008 Livres).

Allen even spotted a small vendor selling spices procured through Church channels; a tiny packet of pepper commanded a staggering 2 Livres, leaving him utterly speechless.

He walked and paused, inquiring about prices, constantly recording and calculating in a small notebook.

Livre silver coins were not minted in large quantities and circulated sparingly. Apart from their frequent use within noble circles, they primarily served as a unit of currency measurement in everyday transactions.

Commoners more often used the subsidiary coins of Sols and Deniers.

After some investigation, the purchasing power of 1 Livre far exceeded Allen’s imagination. It could almost cover several days’ rations for an average citizen’s family (black bread, legumes, a small amount of meat), or buy several practical tools, or even half a bolt of cloth.

This gave him a more intuitive and weighty understanding of the terrifying burden of his 300,000 Livre debt.

It was equivalent to several days’ rations for the entire population of the Royal Capital, or a mountain of vast resources.

This was a mountain of gold capable of crushing anyone.

After a stroll through the market, Allen had spent 1 Livre, though most of it had gone into Anna’s stomach.

“Allen, you’re so generous!”

Anna, with a skewer in her left hand and a honey cake in her right, devoured her food heartily, expressing her gratitude indistinctly.

“Eat slowly, don’t choke,” Allen chuckled helplessly.

When one’s “puppy” gazes up with such pitiful eyes, who could bear not to feed them?

It was fortunate Anna wasn’t wearing her nun’s habit, otherwise her gluttonous display would surely have frightened the citizens.

In this era, it was a luxury for common people to eat meat every day.

Though the Church had no fasting regulations, monks and nuns typically maintained a simple diet to demonstrate their solidarity with the common folk.

Anna’s “wine and meat pass through the guts” demeanor had a unique, almost ‘Buddha remains in the heart’ feel to it.

Just then, Allen’s gaze was drawn to an old woman selling small trinkets.

The stall displayed various small items crafted from colored glass beads, seashells, and inexpensive metal wire.

He noticed a butterfly hairpin, intricately made with blue glass beads and fine copper wire, which refracted beautiful light in the sun.

He imagined how it would look pinned in Marianne’s short black hair.

The old woman glanced at Allen, dressed simply, then at Marianne, who, despite her white dress, kept her eyes on Allen with a slight air of petulance. A simple smile bloomed on her face.

“Is this pretty young lady your girlfriend? This butterfly hairpin would suit her wonderfully, and it’s very affordable, only 2 Sous (0.1 Livres).”

“Girlfriend…” Marianne’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson.

Seeing Marianne’s reaction, Allen smiled and shook his head. “She’s my sister. Isn’t she lovely?”

“Oh, is that so?” The old woman gave an understanding, knowing smile. “Then you should all the more buy a gift for your lovely ‘sister’.”

Allen looked at Marianne.

She was still a little miffed by the term “sister,” but her eyes couldn’t help but dart toward the beautiful butterfly hairpin, a hint of expectation in their depths.

This small gift, he thought, must hold a very special meaning for her.

Allen then pulled out a 1 Livre silver coin.

The old woman looked at the large silver coin, rubbing her hands in distress. “Oh dear, sir, this… this is too much. I don’t have change. Do you have smaller coins?”

Allen rummaged through his pockets, finding only a few scattered Denier copper coins, totaling less than 1 Sou.

He felt a bit awkward, about to give up, when the old woman scrutinized his face. A flicker of doubt crossed her cloudy eyes, followed by growing astonishment.

She suddenly pointed at Allen, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “You… you are Young Master Allen de Laval?”