"...Only Britain remains."
As Severus passed a room inside Saint Luke Palace, he heard people speaking English within.
So he stopped and peered inside.
The two people speaking were not British. Though they dressed much like eighteenth-century Britons, wearing wigs and stockings, they were not as pale as people who lived beneath Britain's perpetual clouds, and their accents were different as well.
"Once Britain surrenders to Bonaparte too, who will be able to stop him?" said the middle-aged man sitting on a wooden crate.
"The British won't negotiate. Just wait and see," said the man dressed as a worker opposite him. They were using wooden crates as a table while drinking. "Napoleon owns the land, but the sea belongs to Britain."
"That's right. The French Navy can't cross the Atlantic Ocean," said the middle-aged merchant. "This is a good opportunity."
Severus, eavesdropping outside the door, raised an eyebrow.
"What opportunity?" the worker asked.
"Both Britain and France need food now. The Mississippi produces abundant food and fuel. We can make a fortune from this."
"I don't have as much capital as you do," the worker said with a cold laugh.
"But you know the dockworkers. Aren't you worried that smuggling cotton yarn is too risky?" the middle-aged merchant said to him. "I know some friends who have asked Napoleon Bonaparte to keep blockading British goods. I guarantee that business in this area will become harder to do."
"What do you want?" the worker asked.
"How about bringing your friends to work for me?"
"What can I do for you?" the worker sneered.
"I can find warships to transport grain, but I can't find anyone to unload it. The United States Navy won't allow Frenchmen aboard their ships, but you're American."
"I'm a criminal," the worker said.
"Do you think Napoleon