Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

Chapter 362: Is This a Palace Coup?

Chapter 362: Is This a Palace Coup?

TL: Etude

Just when everyone thought that Paul should be feeling happy and proud, they saw the Count of Alda with a face as sour as a bitter melon.

“Count Grayman?”

Curious, Count Parker called out to him.

There was no response.

Malron Ganard, however, had a pretty good guess about what was going through Paul’s mind.

He elbowed his ally, “Paul, the King’s decree…”

“Hmm?” Paul snapped out of his thoughts, noticing Hansel looking at him with a strange expression.

“House Grayman thanks His Majesty for his grace!”

He immediately knelt on one knee, respectfully receiving the parchment.

Grace? This was clearly a complication!

Paul hoped to establish an efficient administrative system, one that could communicate orders seamlessly from top to bottom, relying on a tiered system of high-quality civil servants, not a bunch of self-important local despots.

Although Paul was currently one of the many local despots in the Kingdom of Ordo, he absolutely did not want a bunch of such characters under his command.

Wasn’t the whole point of promoting education and selecting qualified administrative personnel through examinations to avoid this?

Indeed, Paul had the power to choose not to grant titles and lands or only confer ceremonial nobility. But how would his subordinates view him then? Other lords were so generous; why so stingy when it came to him?

How could he ensure the loyalty of his subordinates then?

To grant fiefs or not? This was an important question.

The current state of Alda was already shaping into a modern regime, albeit with many backward aspects. However, as the government gradually improved, Paul believed these issues would be resolved one by one.

A wave of enfeoffment could potentially undo all his efforts and rapidly shrink the land he could actually control.

“Congratulations, Count Grayman!”

Unaware of Paul’s turmoil, the other lords came up to congratulate him.

“Thank you!”

Paul replied with a bitter smile.

He accompanied the guests through the rest of the machinery tour with mixed feelings.

“Count Grayman!”

After the tour, Derrick Heller, the son of Count Heller, excitedly called out to Paul.

“May I visit the place where you produce firearms and cannons?”

This posed a difficult question for Paul; it was a closely guarded secret of Alda.

“Ah… I’m very sorry!” Paul flatly refused.

Old Heller quickly tried to smooth things over for his son: “Count Grayman, Derrick is young and thoughtless, please don’t take offense.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I was too impulsive.” Derrick looked dejected and extremely disappointed.

Perhaps he was just interested and had no ulterior motives. Paul had inquired; this young noble was impulsive but rather straightforward.

“Sir Baron, there will be a joint infantry-artillery drill tomorrow morning. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to observe.”

Derrick, who had been hanging his head low, suddenly looked up, his eyes sparkling with immense enthusiasm.

“That’s wonderful, thank you so much, Count Grayman. I can’t wait to witness the majesty of your troops.”

His fists were clenched tightly, displaying his excitement.

Winifred Heller said with a wry smile to everyone, “I apologize for my son’s behavior. He’s been fascinated with warfare since childhood. The recent war thrilled him so much that he still hasn’t had enough of it.”

Everyone nodded with a smile, familiar with Derrick Heller’s bravery in battle, despite his occasional recklessness.

…

Two days later, Austin, the Commander of the Alda Navy, arrived at Lakeheart Town to attend a high-level military and administrative joint meeting at the lord’s mansion.

Communication between Lakeheart Town and Port Fran had become very swift, thanks to the newly functional flag signaling ‘telegraph’ system. A message from Lakeheart Town could be delivered to the recipient within half an hour, with actual transmission taking only about ten minutes. Most of the time was spent on translating signals and delivering the paper messages to the recipients.

In addition to the operational ‘Port Fran – Lakeheart Town – Butuya’ line, more lines were under construction. Like an octopus’s tentacles, these ‘telegraph’ lines would tightly bind Alda, Baylding, and Emden, with Lakeheart Town as the octopus’s brain. The brain’s signals would be promptly executed by the tentacles, and any sensation on the tentacles would be immediately relayed back to the brain.

The meeting’s agenda was to discuss whether to keep the Tirpitz fleet stationed at Port West, assisting the kingdom’s naval defense.

The debate wasn’t particularly heated.

“After nearly two years of sweeping, the pirates in Northwest Bay have been wiped out, and other coastal territories barely have any significant naval force, so we don’t face much defensive pressure.”

“Having the fleet face threats directly can hone their combat skills.”

“A good sword rusts if unused.”

“The fleet staying in the south can provide protection for our merchants.”

Thus, the matter was settled. Paul made the final decision to keep the fleet in the south.

“The only issue is the morale of the other commanders,” Austin said, somewhat troubled.

“You know, Tirpitz took most of the combat-ready ships, leaving Quik and Yarman… almost without a fleet.”

Paul rubbed his head, “Build new warships for the first and second fleets. Tell Quik and Yarman that I will build larger three-masted warships for them as their flagships.”

Austin spoke again, with some difficulty, “But, my lord, the shipyards in Port Fran and the one we bought in Lanaka are already filled with orders for civilian ships. Building new warships might take years.”

Paul waved his hand, “Then build a third shipyard. Ford, the Administration Council will be responsible for constructing it. If the finances are tight, we can issue securities through the exchange to raise funds from the public, sharing profits but keeping the management rights in our hands.”

“Yes, Count,” old Ford noted down.

Austin’s face lit up with joy, “Then on behalf of the Navy, I thank you, Count. In a few years, from Port Fran to Port West, even the fish in the sea will jump out to hail Grayman.”

With the matter resolved, Paul announced the end of the meeting. However, no one moved from their seats.

Paul looked up and saw, apart from the older Ford and Schroeder who were resting with their eyes closed, everyone else’s eyes were fervently fixed on him.

Those were eyes filled with hope and longing! Even Bryce, with his bushy eyebrows and big eyes…

Oh no! Paul internally exclaimed in alarm. Could it be that the news Hansel brought two days ago had already spread? There were quite a few people present then, and it was awkward to ask other lords to keep a secret.

Judging by their gazes, was this a push for a coup?