Like Lock and Erwin, President Zachary treated Yelena and her Volunteers with great importance. His tone remained measured and diplomatic, which allowed the negotiations to progress smoothly. By the end of the meeting, both sides had secured exactly what they sought.
Paradis Island needed Yelena's technological expertise—knowledge they could not acquire alone after a century of isolation.
And Yelena sought a foothold—a staging ground close to the Marleyan mainland where the Anti-Marleyan Volunteers could build strength, train troops, and prepare supplies for campaigns yet to come.
In other words, both sides had found the ideal partner at the perfect time.
Over the next several days, accompanied by Lock, Yelena toured every region of Paradis Island—from the wall districts to the newly reclaimed southern territories. Erwin, now bearer of the Cart Titan, handled transport personally, carrying Yelena back to the coast after each round of inspections.
On top of Wall Sina, watching Erwin disappear into the distant horizon, Lock exhaled slowly.
"I hope everything goes smoothly. Right now, what we need most is a quiet external environment. If the Mid-East Allied Forces can hold Marley back longer… all the better."
According to what Lock remembered from the flow of history, even two years later, Marley had still not fully subdued its conflict with the Mid-East Alliance. Most of Marley's military power remained tied down in that war, leaving them unable to focus on Paradis Island.
If the timeline had not shifted too drastically, Paradis now had at least two years of breathing room.
Two crucial, irreplaceable years.
"Lock," Petra called softly beside him, "let's return. Several reports are waiting for your approval."
Erwin's silhouette had faded beyond the line where sky met land.
Lock gave a faint nod and mounted his horse.
A thought suddenly resurfaced.
"By the way—has Dina returned to the mainland?"
"She returned three days ago," Petra replied. "She's staying at Dr. Grisha's former home for now. She's waiting for further arrangements."
Petra's tone stayed respectful, but she could not hide her discomfort regarding Dina Fritz. Petra trusted Lock, not Dina.
Lock acknowledged her answer with a quiet sound.
"Then let's go back. We shouldn't keep Zachary waiting."
They rode hard and reached the interior in a short time.
Zachary had already prepared for the meeting. The moment Lock entered his office, he spread out a large map of the northern coastline and said directly:
"Lock, the construction of the northern port cannot be delayed any longer. Yelena made that very clear before she left. But the problem is this—there are still many Titans outside the northern gate. Transporting materials will be extremely difficult."
Lock's answer came without hesitation.
"That part is easy. The Pure Titans won't attack the transport caravans. Prepare the materials and the personnel you'll need. When the time comes, I'll lead the expedition myself. That northern coastline will host the first true harbor of Paradis Island—and after that, we'll have steel warships that can sail the open ocean."
Despite the ambition in his tone, Lock's expression remained clear and controlled.
"But before that," he continued, "we need a dedicated steel industry. With the formulas Yelena provided, combined with our own research, it won't be long before we can refine steel worthy of shipbuilding."
Zachary nodded, energized.
"This is within reach. We've already begun steel refining based on her notes. The quality is lacking, yes—but with skilled craftsmen and scientist oversight, we can improve it. The island's development prospects… Lock, it's like watching a masterpiece take shape."
His voice carried a kind of delighted awe.
As an artist at heart, Zachary found a strange joy in watching Paradis transform—piece by piece—into something greater than it had ever been.
Lock let him bask in the vision for a moment before shifting the topic.
"How are people responding to the outside world information?"
Over the past months, Lock had quietly used the now-centralized newspapers and journals to introduce subtle mentions of the world beyond the Walls—snippets of geography, references to foreign nations, hints of technology beyond their comprehension.
Nothing drastic.
Just enough to test receptiveness.
Zachary's excitement dimmed.
He let out a heavy sigh.
"From the reports sent in by the Military Police, the Garrison units, and our own internal informants… the response is mixed at best."
Lock wasn't surprised.
"For more than a century, the people were raised under the false history of the Walls. Their minds were deliberately kept small. A society trained to fear change won't accept new ideas quickly." He folded his arms, thoughtful. "It will be slow. Very slow. But it's a war we can win."
At least there was no active resistance—merely uncertainty.
That alone was enough for Lock to count the effort as progress.
Zachary tapped the map again, returning to business.
"Back to the port," he said. "The coastline is long. Where should we build?"
Lock's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the terrain.
"The draft depth is critical, as well as natural shelter. We can't decide purely from the map… but we can narrow down a region. After that, we can survey it properly."
"That makes sense," Zachary agreed. "But who should lead the expedition?"
Petra opened her mouth as if to volunteer—but Lock answered before she could speak.
"I'll take command. The north is unpredictable. I feel better handling it myself."
Zachary bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you. I won't waste your trust."
He had expected to be a puppet figurehead when he joined Lock's government. Instead, Lock had strengthened his authority, expanded his responsibilities, and entrusted him with the direction of the island's governance.
In his heart, Zachary admired him deeply.
And Lock, without dwelling on subtlety or ceremony, simply uncapped a pen, drew a firm circle over a bay-shaped section of the northern coast, and said:
"We'll start here. I'll take a team to scout it personally."
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