HTLCCBFT Chapter 153

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 153

Summer, Day 13.

The early summer morning weather was still barely considered cool, and aside from late autumn, it was the season most beloved by traveling merchants throughout the year.

A cool breeze blew gently, the sunlight was bright and beautiful, and occasionally a thick cloud would bring them some shade…

For the merchants who had stayed in Albury for an unexpectedly long time, their mood at this moment was as excellent as the barrels of mellow, fragrant fine wine behind them.

Especially when they thought about how much profit the strong liquors and fruit wines that had emptied their purses could bring them elsewhere, it made them so excited they could hardly sleep.

The vast majority of merchants chose to head to the three mining cities, wanting to be the first to sell these rare fine wines; while a very small number chose to go to Gregor City.

The former were small merchants unfamiliar with Gregor City, unable to find channels to quickly sell their wine, preferring to take the trouble to retail it in the three cities.

But for major wine merchants like Wynn and Bir, of course they had to sell these wines as soon as possible to those noble lords who would be hosting grand social banquets during the Summer Market.

And they had to do it quickly—after all, Count McKenna was famously obsessed with hunting, spending almost three out of the four seasons away!

“His Highness the divine messenger is truly remarkable.”

Wynn fanned the slight sweat on his face with a straw hat as he marveled to Bir: “When we came, this road was still full of potholes and scars—now I can barely recognize it!”

Although he knew that due to the short time and limited materials and manpower, the road construction progress had inevitably been slow.

He had initially even thought that being able to repair half a day’s worth of road would already be impressive. But in reality, counting from the day he left Albury City, he had already traveled a full day’s journey.

And now, he still hadn’t reached the end of this partially repaired road section!

If Oliver could hear Wynn’s admiration, he would certainly be unable to resist a satisfied smile.

The reason for the fast construction pace certainly didn’t lie with the craftsmen themselves—although skill level did provide some help, its impact wasn’t significant enough to make overall progress leap forward.

He had simply personally inspected the site and developed specific road construction methods: the original road surface ran straight upward, with excavated earth on both sides. During rainy days, it essentially became an oversized drainage ditch, easily forming trap-like puddles in surface depressions.

People might still manage to pass through with difficulty, with only their boots and water-wrinkled feet paying the price.

But for merchants who never returned empty-handed—always carrying specialty goods from various cities both ways to facilitate trade and maximize profits—it was an absolute disaster: When Wynn and Bir traveled by carriage from Gregor to Albury, they used the old road surface and unfortunately encountered continuous rainy weather.

Not only did the carriage drivers constantly worry about jolting too violently on the uneven ground and damaging the precious cargo on their carts; those riding horses also had to be extremely careful to prevent horse hooves from stepping into small puddles.

At best, it would splash them with filthy mud; at worst, it could cause a horse’s leg to fracture on the spot, sending the rider tumbling down in a most undignified manner.

One of Wynn’s long-serving key attendants had nearly lost his life in a similar accident.

When designing the road, Oliver built this broad route—wide enough for two freight wagons to pass side by side—along the ridge and at the brightest, most open parts of the terrain. The mountainside was then cut into S-shaped switchbacks that climbed upward in winding curves like a sinuous serpent.

During construction, he ordered the steward to lead workers in selecting turning points on the slope. They employed a half-cut, half-fill method to facilitate drainage toward the valley during rain. Tree stumps and topsoil excavated during road work were left on the shoulders, while large trees remained along the roadside. Finally, they used a topsoil block stabilization technique to prevent road surface erosion during rainfall or collapse.

What amazed Wynn as efficiency was, in Oliver’s eyes, painfully slow.

But there was no helping it.

In this era, everything relied solely on human labor and simple tools—there were none of those incredibly convenient excavators.

However, after deducing Count McKenna’s intention to launch a surprise attack, Oliver’s enthusiasm for road construction diminished significantly.

If he rushed to build the road too well, wouldn’t he be shooting himself in the foot while giving Count McKenna—who would eventually attack with cumbersome siege equipment—an advantage?

The reason he insisted on having slaves complete a small section was primarily to demonstrate Albury’s commitment and capability in infrastructure development to merchants, thereby boosting their confidence in the city.

It also served as a reminder to himself… not to forget about road construction after getting caught up in other matters.

“If only the entire road to Gregor City were this smooth and wide!” Wynn sighed gloomily almost the moment his horse stepped onto the familiar, dilapidated path.

Though he’d never heard the saying “luxury is hard to give up, but frugality is easily forgotten,” he profoundly understood this contrast in experience.

After traveling on such a well-paved road… the old route’s poor condition became almost unbearable.

“Be careful with our wine! I’d rather go slower than risk damaging the barrels!” he repeatedly emphasized to the coachman, almost to the point of neurosis.

This put tremendous pressure on the driver.

Every time the wheels accidentally hit a larger stone, he’d anxiously glance back at the wine barrels, fearing the vibrations might spill or break the precious cargo.

When Wynn was halfway through his journey, he suddenly spotted a familiar figure in the distance.

Of course, “familiar” only meant they’d crossed paths a few times—their acquaintance was so slight they couldn’t even be considered ordinary friends.

“That’s Booke, right? The bookseller,” Wynn confirmed quietly with Bir before watching the flustered man—who’d mysteriously lost his carriage—with puzzlement. He wondered: Had he sold his goods so quickly that he was already returning to Albury for more wine?

“Hey there,” Wynn called out, waving from a distance with a mix of envy and jealousy. “Why do you look so panicked?”

“Is business good in Gregor City? It’s selling out too fast!”

Even if the liquor was popular among those men, the price of the reprocessed rice wine alone was definitely not something the freedmen, who coveted these treasures the most, could easily afford—they’d have to tighten their belts for several months.

Booke had clearly spotted them too and immediately began frantically whipping his horse’s hindquarters to reach them as quickly as possible.

“What’s happened to him? His clothes are torn, his attendants are gone, and all his goods have disappeared.”

As he drew closer, Wynn’s heart sank when he got a clear look at his disheveled appearance and attire.

As a merchant who’d traveled extensively for years, he could easily discern the other’s general condition—this was far from the “ecstatic about selling out early and eager to buy another batch of wine for resale” he’d initially assumed. Instead, Booke resembled a terrified bird that had narrowly escaped with its life, completely shaken to the core.

“Are you alright, my dear Booke?”

Though filled with grave foreboding, Wynn still clung to a sliver of hope as he asked, “May the great Cat God protect you. You look like you’ve been through some terrible ordeal.”

“Water, please give me water.”

Pale-faced with cracked lips, these were Booke’s first words to them.

With a wave of Wynn’s hand, an attendant immediately brought a full waterskin of clean water.

It must be said that water stored for several days in an animal-bladder waterskin had an unusually peculiar taste.

Wynn, Bir, and the others only forced themselves to swallow a few mouthfuls when desperately thirsty, trying to ignore the slightly nauseating flavor.

But Booke clung to it like a lifeline, showing no disgust for the water’s poor taste, and gulped down the entire contents of the waterskin on the spot.

“Ahh—”

He finally caught his breath, but his black pupils still trembled with fear: “Turn back to Albury immediately! If we don’t hurry back now, it’ll be too late!!”

Hearing his warning, Wynn and Bir still hadn’t fully processed what was happening.

While he was desperately drinking, they’d been staring in shock at his utterly wretched state.

Only after a long moment, prompted by his repeated urgings, did they tentatively ask: “My good friend, did you encounter bandits?”

“What bandits?” Booke said with a bitter laugh. “It’s Count McKenna! His army is about to march, and the entire route is under strict martial law—damn it all, my goods, my men, everything’s gone!”

Running into a fully mobilized army was no less disastrous than encountering bandits—in fact, it was even more hopeless.

If you managed to escape from the latter, as long as you lived long enough, you’d almost certainly see your enemies’ heads mounted on the gallows within your lifetime.

But with the former…

People being detained or killed was justified under the lofty pretext of protecting “military secrets.”

Goods being forcibly seized were claimed as military supplies.

If he hadn’t noticed something wrong before reaching the city gates and turned to flee quickly enough, what he’d have lost to Gregor’s forces wouldn’t have been just his precious cargo—with horses as mounts, at least some of his servants might have escaped too.

“Count McKenna? Are you sure you saw correctly?”

Upon hearing that the old Count—notorious among nobles for his opportunism, cunning, and exceptional skill at self-preservation—was mobilizing troops, Wynn and Bir couldn’t help doubting their own ears first.

“He’s just a Count!” Wynn exclaimed in astonishment: “How dare he march against His Grace the Duke! He’s—”

“Don’t forget, that one…” Booke vaguely reminded them, “harbors hostility toward the great divine messenger.”

Though their political instincts were far less sharp than those of politicians, merchants—who were undoubtedly better informed than most—quickly grasped the underlying implications.

The three abruptly fell into silence.

“Back to Albury.”

Though merchants ought to remain neutral and stay as far away as possible, Wynn gritted his teeth and made the boldest decision of his life: “I’ll return first to inform His Grace the Duke at the fastest possible speed, so he can prepare promptly—damn it, how could they do this?! You two try to follow with the goods as quickly as possible, but if there’s no time, abandon the cargo immediately and run desperately toward Albury!”

Losing this shipment of goods or being permanently barred from Gregor City would surely pain and torment him for years.

But if he stood by indifferently, knowing full well that the noble and gracious Duke was about to be wronged by villains, while choosing not to report what he knew…

He would regret it for the rest of his life!

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