novelnext Chapter 805 - 441: The Current State of Dawn Port
Chapter 805 - 441: The Current State of Dawn Port
At the Red Tide train station, a pitch-black railroad cut across the snowfield like a giant black snake coiled on the ground, extending with the terrain and disappearing into the gray-white horizon.
Parked beside the platform was Louis’s private steam train.
Louis wore a dark outfit, with a long, cold-resistant cloak neatly fastened on the outside.
Two ladies stood on either side of the platform’s edge, seeing him off.
Sif was wrapped in a thick white bear fur coat, her breath turning into white mist in front of her.
She leaned in a little closer and whispered, in a voice only the three could hear, "Are you running off in a hurry because you’re afraid of tonight...?"
Louis paused for a moment, his ears barely perceptibly warming up, turned his head slightly, and coughed, as if he hadn’t heard clearly or simply did not want to engage with such talk.
Sif noticed this, her smile growing more apparent as she added, "Come back soon. Or I’ll go to the port to catch you."
Louis looked at her this time, his tone dropping a bit, "I really have things to do."
After saying that, he felt he might have explained too much and decided to stop talking.
On the other side, Emily adjusted Louis’s collar and fastened the topmost button tightly. "Ignore her, the wind at the port is strong, remember not to catch a cold, and... don’t overwork yourself, some things can be left to others to handle."
Louis nodded, "I’ll be careful. You two, while in the city, remember to take good care of yourselves."
The whistle sounded at this moment, white steam spouted from the valve, billowing over the platform, instantly obscuring the view.
Louis waved his hand and turned to step onto the carriage.
The connecting rod began to move, with a low and rhythmic clashing sound between steel.
The steel giant started slowly, driving forward with a steady force toward the distance.
......
Before the train had completely stopped, the wind at the platform’s edge had already rushed in first.
Eliot stood at the front of the platform, his face calm, but only he knew his Adam’s apple was uncontrollably moving up and down.
A Sun Medal pinned to his collar, simple in design but weighty, was the symbol of the highest administrative authority of the Red Tide.
A delicate pocket watch lay quietly in his left hand, while his right hand repeatedly adjusted his tie and cuffs.
The train finally came to a complete stop, and the position of the door perfectly aligned with the white safety line under his feet.
The pressure valve let out a short and low hiss, and the heavy cast iron door slid open to both sides.
A black long boot stepped onto the platform.
Eliot took a deep breath, suppressing all emotions swirling in his chest, and stepped forward.
He stopped three steps away from Louis.
Eliot straightened his body, his right fist clenched, pressing heavily onto his left chest over his heart, his left foot slightly stepping back, then he bowed his head, his actions clean and restrained.
This was the standard knightly greeting.
"Lord..." his voice was a bit hoarse, "Dawn Port has been waiting for you."
Louis looked at him, now sporting a few strands of gray hair, exuding a more steady aura, standing there like a ballast stone.
He reached out and brushed off a snowflake that had fallen on Eliot’s shoulder.
"Haven’t seen you in two years." Louis’s voice was light, with a hint of a smile, "You now appear more like a governor, Eliot."
He paused briefly, then added, "No need to be so tense. I’m not here to inspect the battlefield."
Just such a simple gesture.
Eliot’s eyes, however, uncontrollably reddened for a moment.
He quickly blinked, pressing his emotions back down, straightening his back once more, regaining that calm and competent demeanor.
But the excitement in his tone could not be hidden: "Lord, the changes in Dawn Port are tremendous. There’s so much... I really want you to see for yourself."
Louis raised his hand, gently patting Eliot’s shoulder, "Let’s go. Show me what you all have turned this port into."
The open-top steam carriage departed the station.
The wheels touched the surface without the previous jolting shake, only a steady rolling sensation.
The heartbeat of the steam engine was hidden at the back of the carriage, low and regular, like a tamed beast breathing.
Louis sat by the window, with the administrative report just handed to him spread out on his lap.
The paper was very thin, the handwriting dense, and the format was neat.
He originally only needed to glance at the conclusion, with a crime rate below 2%.
This was a sufficiently impressive number, but Louis had seen too many similar numbers.
He moved his gaze from the page and looked out the window.
He wanted to see with his own eyes what kind of port city this system, designed by him and refined by countless daily adjustments, had become.
The docks of the Southeast Province in the original owner’s memory were already considered one of the best docks in this world.
There were always three things: the stench of fermented fish guts, flowing black sewage, and drunken hooligans passed out in the streets.
The bustling façade felt like a deliberately polished coat of paint, while underneath was already rotting wood.
The slums clung like tumors to the shadows of mansions, refusing to fall off.
At night, if you turned into the wrong alley, the next day you might be fished out of the water.
And now Dawn Port spread out beyond the window.
The streets were straight and wide, the curbstones on either side of the road painted with neat black and yellow warning stripes, with lines so clean that they seemed measured with a ruler.
The road had a slight slope, allowing rain and snow to flow to the sides without forming puddles in the middle.
Louis’s gaze fell on the cast iron rain grates every ten meters along the roadside.
He knew what lay beneath was an extensive underground network.
While other lands on this continent were still emptying chamber pots onto the street, the Red Tide territory had already implemented sewage separation.