Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 209: Chapter 204: The Marquis’s Second Son’s Observation Manual

In the early morning of the Royal Capital, the mist from the canal district had not yet fully dispersed.

Velin walked down a small alley paved with uneven stone slabs.

Craftsmen carrying toolboxes and street vendors pushing wheelbarrows of breakfast brushed past him.

He followed a young man from a discreet distance.

The young man wore a well-tailored linen jacket. The material was of good quality, but its style and color were so unremarkable that he blended perfectly into the crowd.

This was Tristan, the second son of Marquis Lorenzo.

Velin had obtained Tristan’s itinerary for the day from an informant at the Mercenary Guild. He had decided to personally confirm the value of this intelligence.

One after the other, they entered the Royal Capital’s artisan district.

The clang of blacksmiths’ hammers, the buzz of carpenters’ saws, and the clatter of looms from textile workshops merged into a symphony of industry.

Velin leaned against a fruit stall, picking up a green-skinned ’hard-shell fruit’ and feigning interest while keeping his full attention on Tristan.

Tristan entered a rather large saddlery.

The shop was hung with hides and half-finished goods, filled with the distinctive odor of a mixture of tanning agents and leather.

He ignored the shop assistant who approached him, walking instead to a corner of the workshop.

There, a master craftsman and his two apprentices were working on a horsehide just pulled from the tanning pit.

He was particularly interested in the dynamic between the master craftsman and the apprentices.

Velin tossed a Copper Plate to the vendor and stuffed the hard fruit into his coat.

The description from Lilia’s letter surfaced in his mind.

"...He’s different from other nobles. He has no interest in banquets or poetry, yet he’ll spend an entire afternoon studying how a group of workers divides their labor to build a waterwheel. Lady Audrey says Marquis Lorenzo considers this a dereliction of his duties—an odd quirk resulting from the lack of Magic Power in his blood."

Velin watched Tristan’s profile.

’This isn’t a quirk.’

’This is a man who cannot wield aether, trying to find strength in other ways.’

Tristan remained in the saddlery for a long time.

Only after a piece of cowhide had been fully cut did he ask the owner a few questions.

Velin was close enough to overhear snippets. The questions weren’t about prices, but about how long it took for an apprentice to complete their training and what their wages were.

At noon, Tristan turned into an even narrower alley and entered a commoner’s eatery with only three long tables.

The eatery was packed with laborers and porters, their morning’s work done. They were all eating a thick stew with dried vegetables and minced meat from coarse earthenware bowls.

Tristan, unfazed by the noise and smells, queued up, bought a bowl of the same stew, and found an empty spot to sit.

He ate slowly with the wooden spoon provided by the establishment, listening to the conversation at the next table.

"Did you hear? The ’Stone Fist’ gang took the shipment over at the South Wharf warehouses again."

"How much did they pay off the foreman? Our Gray Rat guys can’t even get a taste."

Tristan’s spoon paused for a moment, then he resumed eating as if nothing was amiss.

Velin sat on a stoop across the street, gnawing on a hard roll he had bought that morning.

He recalled the informant’s verbal report from that morning.

"The target is extremely cautious, which is related to his past experiences. He’s been swindled twice, at great loss. The first time, he paid a fortune for a fake potion that claimed to activate his bloodline. The second was an investment in a so-called ’automated alchemical loom’ project, which turned out to be a complete fraud."

"Ever since, he’s refused to trust any opportunity that comes looking for him."

’He’s been burned, so he no longer trusts a silver tongue.’

’He chose to go to the very bottom, to see with his own eyes and hear with his own ears, to gather information from the source.’

’The smart thing to do after learning a hard lesson.’

「Afternoon. The Royal Library.」

The magnificent building was one of the few public facilities open to anyone ’literate.’ For the price of a single Golden Sun, one could stay inside for the entire day.

Tristan was clearly a regular.

He expertly bypassed the popular fiction and poetry sections, heading straight for the History and Geography wing on the third floor.

The shelves here were coated in dust, and the acrid scent of moth-repelling herbs hung in the air.

From two tall bookshelves away, Velin could see Tristan’s figure.

He wasn’t flipping through scrolls that chronicled glorious wars or the biographies of great kings. Instead, he was dragging out a dusty stack of parchment archives from the depths of the stacks.

Velin peeked through a gap in the shelves.

*Analysis Report on the Failure to Colonize Black Water Bay, Duchy Calendar 374*

*The Thirteen Crucial Points of Logistical Failure for the Sealand Duchy Navy During the ’Battle of the Mists’*

They were all historical archives about failures.

’What is Tristan doing, studying these?’

Velin leaned against a bookshelf. All the information he had gathered today was being re-sorted, categorized, and analyzed in his mind.

A profile of the man was gradually taking shape.

Tristan. The ’anomaly’ in a noble family of Magic users, born without any magical talent.

He was intelligent and diligent, desperate to prove himself by building a secular legacy that didn’t rely on Magic, a way to fight against the ’original sin’ of his deficient bloodline.

But his past failures had left him sensitive, suspicious, and extremely cautious.

’So, what should I do?’

’Walk up to him now, introduce myself, and propose a joint venture to develop the southern archipelago?’

Velin ran the scenario in his head.

’An obscure Pioneer Baron suddenly approaches the son of a Marquis, proposing a partnership for a project the council of nobles has shelved for decades.’

’It sounds even more ridiculous than the "automated alchemical loom" scam.’

’Tristan would just see me as scammer number three.’

’Even if I did manage to convince him, with his desperate need to prove himself, he would inevitably demand a controlling stake and the final say in everything.’

Velin didn’t need a partner who would boss him around.

What he needed was a reason compelling enough to make the Marquis himself willingly champion his cause before the council.

’So, I can’t approach Tristan directly.’

’I have to make him come to me.’

’Isn’t Tristan looking everywhere for an opportunity to realize his ambitions?’

’Then what I need to do is build a stage, one grand and novel enough, and shine the spotlight on myself so brightly that he can’t possibly ignore me.’

’Once he’s drawn in, I’ll toss out the bait he can’t refuse: a personal testament from a former "unblooded" and the possibility of transforming his own bloodline.’

Velin was confident that by then, the initiative for the partnership would be entirely in his hands.

’And the first step to building that stage is to make some noise.’

’I need to create a platform for the "unblooded" and the common folk.’

Velin walked out of the library, and the cool evening breeze seemed to blow away the scent of old books clinging to him.

He returned to Count Leman’s residence.

The butler greeted him, about to inquire about his dinner arrangements.

"Make the preparations," Velin instructed directly.

"I need you to leverage the family’s commercial connections in the Royal Capital. I’m going to host an event."

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