He felt no pity for this land's decline; what pained him was the sudden shrinkage of the figures in the family's monthly ledgers. "Last month's revenue was only fifty million Beli."
He prodded the broken wood beneath his feet with the tip of his cane. "Looks like I misjudged the steward here."
A few cautious figures suddenly emerged amid the deathly silent ruins.
When their eyes fell on the Double Dragon Flag flying atop the mast, a suppressed commotion quickly spread.
Soon, a man clad in full armor and carrying a massive shield hurried to the docks, surrounded front and rear by dozens of muscular guards armed with blades and guns.
"Welcome, my lords!"
A muffled, hurried voice came from beneath the armor. "Your subordinate has longed for this moment day and night-"
"Enough."
Trebol waved his cane, cutting off the flattery the man had rehearsed countless times. "Bring me all the detailed accounts for these past few months."
He paused, looking past the armored man's shoulder-two more people were approaching: an old cook wearing an apron stained with grease, and a white-haired, white-bearded elder walking with a cane.
They were the representative of the island's culinary guild and the most respected elder among the villagers.
"Hand over your respective records as well."
Trebol lowered the brim of his hat and let out a brief, cold snort. "If all three accounts are identical... you can go keep the fish and shrimp company at the bottom of the sea together."
Having three factions jointly administer this place had been a stopgap measure for the family.
The family had only a handful of core members. Apart from Bolkin and Wesker, far away in the North Blue, the rest could hardly be called loyal.
After reading the three reports, each written in