Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

An autumn rain last night had turned the newly quarried dirt road at the entrance of Newly Town into a soft, sticky mess.

Velin stood by the roadside, his expression calm. A simple, long linen garment made him look no different from the commoners craning their necks behind him.

Caroline stood by his side, the hem of her long, dark-green dress splattered with specks of mud.

The young woman furrowed her lovely brows. "To make a lady wait for so long... what an ill-mannered bunch."

She ground an unsightly little pebble under the delicate tip of her shoe, venting her impatience.

At the edge of the horizon, a column of dark shapes seemed to squirm up from the earth.

The shapes drew nearer. The dull thud of hooves shattered the morning tranquility of the swamp, growing from a distant beat into a thunderous roar.

Eight carriages, each adorned with the crest of a different port, slowly approached. But the one in the lead was not from any of the families Velin and Caroline had expected.

It was a magnificent, all-black carriage. A crest was embroidered on its door with Golden Thread: a three-masted merchant ship sailing upon waves, flanked by two symmetrical sheaves of wheat.

"The Banky Commerce Association?!" Caroline’s pupils constricted. "What are they doing here?"

The convoy halted, and the door of the lead carriage was pulled open from the outside by a servant.

A middle-aged man stepped down. He was thin, with a meticulously trimmed mustache and a monocle. His tailored silk clothes were immaculate.

The servant had already laid a small rug at his feet. He stepped onto it, his critical gaze surveying everything in Newly Town—the plain buildings, the muddy streets, and the lingering, damp, earthy smell in the air.

Velin had seen that look countless times in his past life. It was the look of a city elite sizing up their country-bumpkin relatives—a blend of pity, superiority, and undisguised impatience.

Garris’s gaze went right past Barrett, who had been leading the way, and settled on Velin.

When he took in Velin’s youthful face and plain attire, the disdain in his eyes deepened.

"Garris Bangji, advisor to the Banky Commerce Association." Garris’s voice was mild, but his politeness was condescending. "You must be the lord of the Grey Marsh Territory, Baron Velin Klein."

He gave a slight bow, a gesture that was perfunctory yet technically flawless.

Velin didn’t respond to his words, simply extending a hand in a gesture of invitation.

"The banquet is ready, Mr. Advisor, as are our guests from the Seven Ports Alliance."

His composure caught the entire speech Garris had prepared in his throat.

The advisor’s smile froze for an instant before returning to normal. He turned to the representatives emerging from the carriages behind him.

"It seems Baron Klein can hardly wait. Let’s go and see what sort of hospitality this plain and primitive land has to offer."

The atmosphere at the banquet, held at long tables hastily set up in the square, was surprisingly lively.

The rich aroma of braised chicken stew, the crispness of fried potato sticks, and the novel potato cakes made even these worldly nobles lower their guard. For a while, glasses clinked and laughter flowed freely.

Garris Bangji took only a few tentative bites before setting down his knife and fork, watching the boisterous scene with a mild smile.

He seemed to have little interest in the food, appearing more content to enjoy this crude but amusing drama.

A young maidservant hurried past, carrying a platter of freshly baked potato cakes.

Perhaps from sheer nervousness, she tripped on a raised stone. Her body lurched forward, and the platter flew from her hands.

The ceramic platter smashed on the ground. The sharp sound cut through the lively atmosphere as potato cakes scattered, rolling to a stop at Garris’s feet.

"Ah!"

The maidservant let out a short, startled cry, her face instantly ashen.

A hush fell over the boisterous banquet as all eyes turned toward the commotion.

The maidservant scrambled to her knees, trembling like a leaf, and stammered out an apology. "I’m sorry, my lord... I didn’t mean it... Please forgive me..."

The smile vanished completely from Garris’s face.

He didn’t look at the girl. Instead, he lowered his eyes to the cuffs of his silk trousers, now stained with grease. He said nothing.

Velin stood up and walked over to the maidservant. "You may go."

His voice wasn’t loud, but to the trembling girl, it was like a royal pardon. She scrambled to her feet and fled.

Velin raised his own wine cup and turned to Garris. "One of my people has been discourteous, Mr. Advisor. I will drink this cup as my apology to you."

He drained the wine in a single gulp, then showed the empty cup to Garris.

Only then did Garris’s gaze lift from his trousers. The mild smile returned to his face, as if nothing had happened.

He raised his own wine cup, swirling it in a small gesture.

"Your leniency is admirable, my lord Baron. Truly. In the Banky Commerce Association, dirtying a guest’s clothes isn’t a matter settled with a simple apology."

He slowly swirled the liquid in his cup, the crimson wine washing against the glass. His tone was as mild as if he were discussing the weather. "At the very least, she would be stripped naked and given twenty solid lashes in front of all the other servants, so that her body would remember the meaning of discipline."

Velin’s expression remained unchanged. He simply sat back down. "I will see to the matter."

The atmosphere of the banquet somewhat recovered, but an invisible rift now lay between everyone.

Caroline’s expression had turned sour.

Using the excuse of fixing her makeup, she quietly left her seat and made her way to a corner of the banquet. She stopped beside a familiar figure—the representative from Seagull Port, a portly merchant who had done business with the Channing Clan for many years.

"Uncle Martin," Caroline’s voice held its usual sweetness, "since when did the Banky Commerce Association become the leader of the Seven Ports Alliance? How is it that I was not aware?"

The portly merchant, his mouth glistening with grease, was in the middle of stuffing a potato cake into his mouth. He froze when he heard Caroline’s voice.

He struggled to swallow his food, then forced a greasy smile. His eyes, however, were evasive.

"Ah, Niece Channing... well... the Banky Commerce Association is now, uh, an important partner of our Seven Ports Alliance."

Caroline took a step closer. "Partners? As far as I know, partners don’t have the right to make decisions for everyone else, let alone lead the procession."

Beads of sweat broke out on Martin’s forehead. He subconsciously glanced in Garris’s direction.

"My dear niece, business is always changing. Advisor Garris’s proposal is to everyone’s benefit." He wiped his mouth haphazardly and hurried to make an excuse. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go try some of that roasted meat."

With that, he scurried away as if fleeing the plague.

Caroline stood frozen, watching Martin’s panicked retreat. She sounded out two other representatives, only to receive similarly evasive answers.

It was only then that she understood. ’This isn’t a negotiation between equals.’

’By some means unknown to her, the Banky Commerce Association had completely tamed the Seven Ports Alliance—a school of fish that had once been able to put up a fight.’

She returned to her seat. Watching Garris chatting and laughing amiably with Velin, a powerful sense of unease seized her heart.