131. Flamethrower

The whiskey. His fading vision focused on the crystal decanter where he'd poured his untouched drink. The amber liquid seemed to mock him now, its surface catching flashes of lightning like some malevolent spirit laughing at his demise.

His chest constricted in one final, shuddering gasp. The last thing Ethan Flask saw was his own reflection in the poisoned bottle - eyes wide with the terrible knowledge he would never deliver.

Ravenna’s Office, Lord Castle, Jola City, Jola Island

Ravenna's study buzzed with organized chaos, parchment blueprints cascading across the table that dominated the room. Hughes squinted at the technical schematics, his calloused finger tracing the flamethrower's fuel chamber design. "So this... contraption... will spew fire like a mage's spell?" he asked, the skepticism in his voice warring with reluctant admiration.

"Without requiring flowers or mages," Ravenna confirmed, her nail tapping the map's western beach where jagged rock formations hugged the coast. "Take fifty workers from the quarry crews. The petroleum seepages there should feed this weapon once extraction begins."

She turned to Sarah, who stood rigidly attentive with her ever-present clipboard. "Nille's forge must prioritize these steam-powered drills." Ravenna slid a detailed schematic across the table, its edges signed from prototype testing. "The blacksmiths know the beam pump design from the mining operations—they'll adapt quickly."

Sarah bowed sharply. "Understood. They've been awaiting your orders since perfecting the ore carts."

"Alice—" Before Ravenna can even finish.

"Initial funding allocated," the accountant maid interjected, her abacus clicking faintly beneath rapid calculations. "Though the petroleum project will strain our reserves until the mainland casino revenues arrive. Defensive measures need to be prioritized"

Marie hovered near the arched windows, absorbing every detail as Ravenna shifted focus.

"Newspaper report" Ravenna demanded, fingers drumming the table.

Sarah produced a leather-bound dossier stamped with the Kim Island crest. "Distribution exceeds projections—ninety-three percent household reach. The fabricated execution articles reduced marketplace pickpocketing by forty percent this week alone."

Ravenna's lips curved faintly. The strategy worked precisely as intended—circulating lurid and entirely fictional accounts of thieves being fed to the island's newly established public execution had proven more effective than actual patrols.

"Printing press operations?" Ravenna quickly fired another report request.

"Running at twenty-five percent capacity despite daily editions," Sarah reported. "The steam-driven mechanisms could handle triple the output once we launch the book printing initiative."

Alice cleared her throat. "Current weekly expenditure stands at ten gold coins—ink imports from Ronin Town account for sixty percent of that. Costs should decrease once our squid-ink harvesting operation begins next month."

"Tolerable for now," Ravenna conceded. "The railway delay?"

Sarah's shoulders tensed. "The fishermen's department grows restless. They see the steam carts transporting limestone from the quarries and demand their promised 'iron horses' for North Port."

"I delivered the locomotive blueprints weeks ago" Ravenna snapped.

"Manpower shortages," Sarah explained. "Nille's smiths are stretched thin between weapons production, mining equipment, construction equipment and more. We lack enough trained engineers to—"

"Understood." Ravenna massaged her temples. "I'll... assess alternatives." No immediate solution presented itself. Alice shuffled her papers. "Livestock acquisitions complete—two hundred dairy cows, fifty goats, three hundred chickens. The husbandry pens near the eastern aqueducts are nearing completion."

"Security during these shipments?" Ravenna's gaze sharpened.

Hughes stepped forward, armor clinking. "My knights inspected every crate and merchant. No outsiders breached the port perimeter." His jaw tightened. "Though we couldn't prevent them from seeing the apartment towers from the port. The six-story structures are... noticeable."

"And the port itself?"

"Our rebuilt docks are clearly visible even for passing ships," Hughes admitted. "No more rotting planks or beggars crowding the piers. They'll know we're not impoverished anymore."

Ravenna stared at the city model occupying the room's corner—its miniature towers casting long shadows in the sun's light. "Let them report about buildings and clean streets. That reveals nothing of our current defenses or resources."

The momentary silence that followed was broken by Sarah clearing her throat. her usual composed demeanor showing rare signs of unease.

"Your Highness, there are... growing tensions among the population." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "The former slaves from the mainland—most being devout Solious followers—are struggling to adapt to certain aspects of our... local customs."

Alice nodded in agreement, her abacus momentarily forgotten. "Despite the anti-discrimination laws you implemented, these conflicts run deeper than simple prejudice. They're matters of fundamental belief."

Marie, who had been quietly observing from her perch by the window, suddenly stepped forward. Her usual cheerful expression was clouded with concern.

"Master," she began, her voice unusually solemn, "during my patrols yesterday, I saw a mainlander mother forcing her young daughter to wear heavy woolen garments in this sweltering heat." Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her tunic.

"When questioned, she said she'd rather her child suffer heatstroke than dress in what she called 'Herptian sultry.' The girl collapsed shortly after... and the mother refused treatment from our Herptian Priests."

A muscle twitches in Ravenna's jaw as she listens. She reached out, gently patting Marie's head in silent acknowledgment before the girl retreated back to her seat.

Sarah picked up the thread. "While many former slaves have adapted well, a significant portion remain vehemently opposed to our ways. Just last week—"

"—A former slave murdered his lover in the marketplace in broad daylight."Alice interjected bluntly. "He caught her flirting with another man and claimed it violated Solious teachings on fidelity."

The weight of the problem settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. Ravenna exhaled slowly through her nose. As Herptian's Apostle, she couldn't, wouldn't compromise the goddess's tenets.

Yet these cultural clashes were escalating beyond simple disagreements into violence.

"We'll address this matter thoroughly when High Priest James joins us," Ravenna declared, her tone leaving no room for debate. With deliberate motion, she turned the discussion. "Hughes—your report on the southern free cities?"

The knight straightened, armor clanking as he produced a leather-bound dossier. "I've made contact with the Merchant Association and gathered substantial intelligence!" he announced, eager to shift to more martial concerns.

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