"You should've seen those nobles' Expression. Their mouths were wide enough to swallow a Dragon Egg—"
Francois launched into a breathless account of his revenge.
He hadn't seen their faces either, but he could imagine them well enough. After spending all that money on a pile of ruins, the nobles must have looked as though they'd eaten Goblin shit.
Francois had enjoyed every moment of it. He'd felt like the hero of a story, punishing those damned Villains, and hoped Annan would come to him again if anything like this happened.
Annan sent Francois away. Closing one Commercial Street was painful enough. He didn't need more of that.
Closing the Commercial Street hadn't been part of Annan and Olmedo's original plan. But the Windmill Grand Duke was insatiable: give him an inch, and he'd take a mile. Too many concessions would make the other commercial streets restless, so they had to make an example of him.
The next day, the New Issue of "Voice of Freedom" went on sale. Still smarting from his heavy losses, the Windmill Grand Duke read its scathing condemnation of the Duchy for tearing up the Contract and nearly coughed up blood.
It would have been one thing if he'd come out ahead. Instead, the Shops he'd just bought had become a pile of ruins. They'd rather destroy them than leave them to him. The Windmill Grand Duke ground his teeth with hatred.
In its first clash with the Orr Empire, Free City had taken a small loss—after all, to Annan, failing to make money counted as losing it.
But viewed in terms of the broader situation, it was another matter entirely.
It was like an Apprentice Mage fighting an Evil Dragon and coming away with a scrape.
He had lost, but he had also won.