Since last year, Cecil’s goods have been increasingly common in this city.

The wheels rolled over the newly paved roads in the noble estates. The high-quality road surface and equally high-quality wheels almost completely offset the bumps during travel. Duke Ferdinand Wendell sat in the black Magic-guided Vehicle, his gaze sweeping across the window, seeing new shops renovating their facades on the street—between the black spires of Aldernon-style buildings, a large, eye-catching glass window occupied the entire street-facing wall. Inside the window were shelves yet to be organized, and workers hanging signs at the shop’s front entrance, with a few words written in beautiful script:

"The Best Desserts - Cecil Flavor"

"...As if only Cecil people know how to make desserts," Ferdinand frowned, couldn’t help but muttering softly.

The butler, sitting opposite him, an honest and dependable man who had served the Wendell family for decades, shook his head: "Actually, the person opening the shop is just a local—the Magic Shadow Drama has prompted those keen-sensed merchants into action."

"Magic Shadow Drama?" Ferdinand repeated the increasingly familiar term, "I’ve heard about it... Last winter, a Cecil merchant bought a piece of land in the southern part of the city and opened a new-style theater. But that one was for civilians—the ticket price was cheap, and almost everyone crowded into one hall."

"Yes, it’s a cheap drama for civilians, and at first, no one watched it," the butler said with a smile, "after all, no one knew what that thing was—the upper class wasn’t interested, and civilians were cautious with their small change. But over a month ago, those Cecil merchants spent a hefty sum advertising in the newspapers and offered free entry to the theater for three days in a row. Now it’s suddenly become popular, bringing along some stores..."

As the butler spoke, he glanced out the window; the shop claiming "Cecil Flavor Desserts" was already moving past the car window, about to disappear from view.

"It’s said that the storyline of the new-style drama repeatedly featured several types of desserts, eventually showing a scene where the main characters shared desserts after a safe reunion, sparking people’s interest in those desserts for no apparent reason—the shop you saw just now is actually the third one opened in the city."

Listening to the butler’s words, Ferdinand’s expression was quite incredulous, he frowned and shook his head: "Really can’t understand... Drama ought to be elegant and profound, just what are those Cecil people up to..."

"Indeed, hard to understand, but civilians seem to welcome it—after all, compared to jewelry and estates, at least desserts are something they can afford, and perhaps it allows middle-class citizens to showcase their ’decency’."

"You understand well," Ferdinand couldn’t help but glance at the butler, "You also went to see that so-called ’Magic Shadow Drama’?"

"I haven’t seen it," the butler replied, "I’m past the age for liking dramas and newfangled things, but my son and two daughters did see it, young people seem to like such things."

Ferdinand seemed to fall into brief contemplation, then shook his head, picking up the newspaper placed aside earlier, and continued reading its contents—this newspaper was a local one in Aldernon. After Havier Reston’s The Imperial Report achieved great success, the emperor gradually opened the way for civilian publications, though the threshold for starting a newspaper remained high. To this day, only three or four newspapers are popular in Aldernon. As a somewhat traditional old aristocrat, Ferdinand Wendell had only The Nobleman’s Weekly as his favored paper.

Opening the second page of the newspaper, large printed letters jumped into his view—

It was an advertisement for the Cecil Steel Investment Company recruiting personnel in Aldernon.

The layout was large, noticeable, and grand. Placing such an ad required quite a bit of money.

"Even on The Nobleman’s Weekly, Cecil merchants’ ads are beginning to appear," Duke Ferdinand said somewhat helplessly, "Who could have imagined such a thing happening before?"

"This is probably the era of economic openness..." the butler echoed his master’s topic, "It’s said our own merchants have opened many shops in Cecil Castle... As long as the Magic Train still runs along the borders, such situations will only become more frequent, for surely no one can resist money."

Duke Ferdinand listened to the butler’s words, seemingly thoughtful, yet he didn’t say anything further.

...

"No one can resist money," Viscount Hemir sat comfortably on a plush red sofa, gently swirling high-quality White Mountain wine in his hand. He wore a cheerful and sunny smile, appearing infectious enough to lift the spirits of anyone facing him. "Of course, our previous saying was that no one could resist Gold Coin—but the times have changed, Earl Hall Mak."

A slender, high-nosed middle-aged gentleman with tight golden short hair sat across from Viscount Hemir, holding a wine glass similarly, yet his posture was evidently more upright and conservative than the youthful Hemir.

He was Hall Mak, a member of Aldernon’s upper society, one of the designated economic ministers by Emperor Rosetta Augustus after restructuring the Empire. Unlike Duke Sevin, who is also an economic minister responsible for establishing the Empire Bank, this serious and cautious earl oversees the Empire’s foreign economic activities—since last year, he’s been in charge of commercial negotiations with the Highmountain Kingdom and the Silver Empire, achieving great success.

"Paper Money has inherent advantages—and if used properly, it can bind us closer with our business partners." Earl Hall Mak showed no displeasure over Viscount Hemir’s relatively flippant gesture, being a seasoned socialite, he always presented the most suitable attitude toward any visitor.

"Indeed, our business partners," Viscount Hemir nodded, expressing praise somewhat exaggeratedly, "I’ve heard about your commercial negotiations with the Silver Empire—it’s truly a model of negotiation brilliance. Even going through mere textual records, I must admire your quick thinking. Having dealt with elves myself, I know how challenging it is to alter their perspectives—they can be more elegant and amiable than any aristocrat, courteous, but that hardly means they will buy your goods."

"The Silver Empire is a very challenging fortress to breach, given that their society scarcely requires Typhon’s industrial products—their advanced technology grants them a carefree life, coupled with an inherent pride—but ultimately our progress with the Highmountain Kingdom opened the door for the entire negotiation process," Earl Hall Mak said unhurriedly, "Elves still need goods from the human empire, primarily enchanted paper and alchemical base materials...although on a scale much smaller than I anticipated."

"But at least it gives us one more trade route to the southern continent," Viscount Hemir remarked with a smile, "It’s said that Cecil’s merchants are already conducting business with the tribal country of Augari, even those dwarves in the far west of the continent; commercially, they’ve certainly outpaced us."

"Not just that," Hall Mak shook his head, "they even have connections with the Silver Empire."

Viscount Hemir’s eyes widened in surprise.

"The Silver Empire? Cecil?" the young viscount couldn’t help but exclaimed, "How did they manage that? I mean...there’s such a vast wasteland in between that even a bird couldn’t fly over..."

"Of course, it’s not like our commercial activities, but the relationship between the Silver Empire and the Cecil Clan is indeed very close," Earl Hall Mak said seriously. "I heard from the Highmountain Kingdom that long ago, during the era when various kingdoms cooperated to repair the great walls, the elves and the Cecil Clan came together. Naturally, those wastelands obstructed their direct commercial activities; only a few goods were sent through the lengthy overland trade routes starting from Moss Woods, passing through the territories of gray elves, beastmen, and fairies, through the southwestern Rift Valley of the continent and the border forests of the Highmountain Kingdom, finally entering the land of elves..."

At this point, the middle-aged noble furrowed his brow slightly, gently turning the wine glass in his hand: "This flow doesn’t form a scale, commercially it poses no threat to us for now, but who knows what the future holds? The Cecil Clan is too adept at creating the unexpected, and they expending great effort to maintain their contact with the elves certainly have intentions for the future."

Viscount Hemir’s mildly playful smile slowly faded away as he stood up from the sofa, pacing back and forth while thinking. After two laps, he returned to his seat, and after a sip of fine wine, he finally seemed to make up his mind and said, "It seems... the market in the southern continent will sooner or later become a ’battlefield’ in the future..."

"Even if the Cecil Clan doesn’t intervene, the southern continent’s market will become a battlefield, Hemir. You should know how much our factories can produce in a day—short-sighted people only think about selling those things to their neighbors and the countryfolk, but those with foresight realize that selling goods farther will bring longer-lasting and richer benefits."

Earl Hall Mak said, flashing a slight smile at Hemir.

"Hemir, we have already opened the trade routes to the Highmountain Kingdom and the Silver Empire. The Empire’s Southern Investment Company has already started to grab the gold, just like every new field; those who first establish a foothold always earn the greatest share of profits."

"Of course," Hemir set down his wine glass, gently exhaled, and his face once again radiated a sunny smile, "So I am willing to fully support your ’Southern Investment Company.’ I am willing to initially invest one hundred thousand...no, one hundred fifty thousand pounds. Earl, I trust you will make good use of this money."

"Hemir, my friend, you can wait at home for a handsome return," Hall Mak stood up, offering a slight smile and extending his hand to Hemir, "Shareholder profits will prove your keen insight today."

Hemir also extended his hand to grasp Earl Hall Mak’s slender, dry palm: "Actually, I don’t have much keen insight; I just discovered a knack and have persistently followed it—"

"Oh?" Hall Mak couldn’t resist his curiosity, "Would you be willing to share this knack with your new business partner?"

"It’s quite simple—whatever the Cecil Clan does, I follow suit," Viscount Hemir laughed, "They’re investing everywhere, and I just follow suit—in this era full of new things and new fields, I don’t need to be the first, being the second is enough."

Hall Mak looked at the young viscount, who was smiling happily, momentarily dumbfounded.

Following a pleasant conversation, the noble rising star, who had been basking in the spotlight for the last two years, took his leave.

Slender, high-nosed, and with short pale blonde hair, Earl Hall Mak returned to the reception room. He looked at the two wine glasses on the small round table and the sofa where Viscount Hemir had sat earlier. Although his facial expression didn’t change, he couldn’t help but mutter, "Ah, frivolous young people..."

A servant entered the room, starting to tidy up the items, accompanied by the butler who also entered, awaiting further instructions from his master.

"What do you think of Viscount Hemir?" Hall Mak turned his head, looking at the old butler who had served him for many years, and asked casually.

"I shouldn’t appraise a noble." The butler responded meticulously.

"A frivolous young man, but with undeniable talent," Earl Hall Mak didn’t care how the butler responded; he just spoke to himself, "In a few years, he has become one of the wealthiest among the young generation of aristocrats, and this is no mere luck—though many think he merely had the good fortune to encounter the craftsman named Martin and happened upon the Anglais Weaving Machine."

At this point, Earl Hall Mak couldn’t help but shake his head: "I appreciate such young people, but just like other young individuals, he focuses solely on what interests him. From the standpoint of a Typhon aristocrat, he is only concerned with the Cecil... what’s this?"

His gaze was suddenly drawn to something a servant was clearing off the table, prompting him to ask—what appeared to be a slender book with a colorful cover and seemingly cheap binding. When the item was brought over, he saw clearly the letters on the cover—

Arcane Living Magazine

"A magazine, huh..." Hall Mak wasn’t a closed-minded person, and he recognized that this slender book was actually a "magazine" which had become increasingly popular in recent years. However, this magazine was not something his residence had subscribed to. "Was it left behind by Viscount Hemir?"

The butler came over to look and nodded: "It seems so."

"A respectable noble often wouldn’t mind such things, but have someone send it to him later," Hall Mak said as he took the magazine and flipped through its first few pages casually, "Hmm... is this published by the Cecil Clan?"

"Yes, sir," the butler replied, "This is a magazine recently published by several Cecil merchants, introducing lifestyles in the Magic Era—mostly focusing on the lifestyle of the Cecil Clan. Over the past two months, it’s become quite popular among the respectable citizenry, because many ancient magical devices mentioned in the magazine are popular items on the market."

"Respectable citizenry..."

"Yes, those who can purchase a magical Refrigerator within a year, like lawyers and physicians. Of course, many young aristocrats also enjoy this magazine—they love those novel and intriguing machines."

Earl Hall Mak acknowledged with a sound, then asked seemingly casually, "Does anyone in this house subscribe to it?"

"Yes, as far as I know Chef Richard subscribes to it—he frequently mentions his plan to add a magical phonograph to his home recently..."

"Tell Chef Richard—and the others—that if they bring such items into this house, they can cancel all their shopping plans," the Earl said expressionlessly, "We don’t lack our own magazines."

"...Yes, sir."