Yes, Madam Prime Minister

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But Ambrina never expected that there was already someone in Ronan's room, and it wasn't Dinia, nor Ronan's two maids, but Agustina.

The two even talked about magic, so Ambrina had to leave.

Seeing Ambrina leave, Ronan smiled at Agustina, "Alright, your boring task is complete." Agustina coming to reserve a spot was clearly at Dinia's behest. Ronan hadn't expected Dinia to have such a girlish temper.

“The mission is complete, but there are still some things that haven’t been done.” As she spoke, Agustina began to unbutton her clothes.

"Are you serious?" Ronan asked.

“Of course, if I weren’t seasick, and if I hadn’t not reached level three before and was afraid of breaking you apart, I would have come much earlier,” Agustina said, taking off her shirt as she spoke.

Agustina, who was already close to the third rank, quickly broke through to the third rank after studying Victor's notes. Now she is a third-rank elemental mage who can externalize her elemental form.

Agustina was originally wearing a shirt, capri trousers, and officer's shoes, but now she was only wearing a red bra. Her breasts were also quite ample, similar to Ambrina's, but what was most attractive was her waist and abdomen with the faint outline of abdominal muscles, giving her a sense of strength.

She was wearing high-waisted black pantyhose, which were higher than her waistband. The pantyhose that went up above her waistband had a unique charm, which made Ronan stop her hand from taking off her pants and keep the image in his mind.

The next scene left Ronan stunned for two seconds: Agustina wasn't wearing underwear.

Through the semi-transparent black stockings, you could see that her pubic hair was a thick, dark vertical line, almost a long, thin diamond shape, with a line below it.

Ronan quickly stripped himself naked.

Agustina, looking incredulous, reached out and gently grasped Ronan's almost unreal large member, then asked with a hint of shyness, "What should we do next?"

"Ha," Ronan laughed, "Don't you have a lot of experience?"

Agustina, having removed her blindfold, sat there stiffly, completely at a loss for how to respond.

Chapter 313 Past, Present, Let the Bullets Fly for a While

After a long silence, Agustina suddenly asked in a very soft voice, "Am I not pretty?"

Ronan smiled again.

Agustina tilted her head. "Can't you stop smiling?"

“I just think you’re a very interesting person,” Ronan said. “You usually seem lazy and carefree, but when you do something, you’re incredibly confident and don’t care about what others think. You’re like a ball of fire. But at times like this, you seem to care a lot about others, or rather, in my opinion, you’re not confident at all.”

“I…” Agustina hesitated.

Ronan suddenly pounced on Agustina, saying, "Actually, you're very beautiful. I'm not just talking about your face, not just your faintly visible abs, not just your muscular thighs, but also here." Ronan pressed his hand against Agustina's chest.

"Chest?" Agustina asked.

"Hahahaha." Ronan laughed at her. "I was talking about the heart, a sensitive yet resilient heart. Uh, never mind, I'm not going to say that. Such cheesy words are definitely not for me."

"Hahaha." Agustina laughed too. "It doesn't suit me either." With that, Agustina sat up and immediately returned to her usual self.

“Looks like you’re all right,” Ronan said.

“You stand here, I’ll do it. I’ve been practicing with corn for half a month,” Agustina said proudly.

Ronan stood up, and Agustina immediately squatted down, leaning forward with half her feet on the ground. She placed her hands on Ronan's thighs and began to suck and lick. Ronan held her hair with one hand, not looking at her face, but instead shifting his gaze to the back. In the dim light, the semi-transparent black stockings appeared a glossy dark brown. In this position, the clearly defined muscles of Agustina's buttocks and thighs changed the sheen of the stockings with each movement, each change highlighting a vibrant and athletic sexiness. Her slightly thick thighs appeared especially sexy at this moment, making one wonder what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around one's waist.

Moving the gaze downwards, Agustina's calf muscles became more defined, but not at all bulky; they possessed a perfectly balanced strength.

Further down, her heels were suspended in the air, her forefoot was taut, and the black stockings on her toes were stretched thin, revealing her slender toes painted with red nail polish.

A few minutes later, Ronan gently pulled Agustina's face away and pushed her onto the bed.

Ronan bent down and, through her pantyhose, began to rub his nose against Agustina's genitals.

Agustina gently covered her mouth with both hands, unsure how to describe the feeling—repulsion, surprise, secret joy, emotion? It seemed like all of them, yet none of them.

That girl, who went from carefree to living under someone else's roof, with an incredibly inferior heart yet a tendency to feign acceptance of her fate, has become a part of her, ultimately inseparable.

At this moment, "she" came again, but this time, Agustina did not want to bury "her" again, because she had another half, the other half she liked. Although she liked him because he was handsome, strong, rich and powerful, wasn't she just a vulgar person?

If you don't pander to popular tastes, why would you need to pretend?

Ronan gently tore open a small opening, and his warm tongue pushed inside. The sudden stimulation caused Agustina's entire lower body muscles to contract. At that moment, she forgot and truly compromised with the past.

"Are you alright?" Ronan asked with concern.

Tears welled up in Agustina's eyes, but her expression didn't seem like she was crying.

“I’m fine,” Agustina replied.

Ronan spread Agustina's strong, muscular thighs apart with both hands. "I really like girls with tear ducts and those who get wet down there easily."

"A girl?" Agustina asked back.

“Isn’t that right? On the outside, yes, and on the inside even more so,” Ronan said. Agustina looked like a woman in her mid-twenties, but in some ways, she was even more naive than Ambrina.

"Can we not use this position?" Agustina asked.

Ronan replied, "This position is less painful."

“Then I want the most painful one,” Agustina said with a determined look.

“Okay.” Ronan agreed, grabbing Agustina’s ankles with both hands, lifting her long, black-stockinged legs high and pressing them tightly together, making her private parts close up tightly.

He then suddenly straightened up and thrust in completely.

"Oh!" Agustina cried out, but Ronan's hands were like clamps, holding her legs tightly together. Looking down, her firm buttocks and slightly thick thighs formed a sturdy, black-stockinged ball of flesh. Ronan's lust was aroused, and he began to thrust violently, without rhythm or control, just relentlessly fucking her.

It felt as if it were about to be pierced through, as if it were about to be torn apart.

After a while, when Ronan felt that Agustina's leg muscles were less tense, he lowered her legs. "Is that enough?"

“Mm,” Agustina replied.

Ronan began to control the pace, and only then did he realize that many of his black stockings had been torn by him, with threads coming out everywhere.

After a long while, just before he was about to erupt, Ronan pulled out, grabbed Agustina's feet, and sprayed more than a dozen streams of thick, white fluid onto her black-stockinged feet.

Agustina took a while to sit up. "Should I go change my clothes now?"

Soon, Agustina appeared, wearing a blue cavalry hat with red feather decorations, a blue coat, a wide black leather belt, a white long skirt, flesh-colored pantyhose, and black knee-high boots.

Ronan pinned Agustina against the wall from behind, roughly lifted her skirt, tore her pantyhose, and began the second round.

The next morning, after breakfast, Ambrina called out to Ronan, held out one hand, and spread out five fingers, "Five, including me, Ronan."

"Okay." Ronan indicated that he understood.

“The next one needs my approval first,” Ambrina said.

“No problem,” Ronan agreed.

He understood what Ambrina meant. There were two people on Dinia's side, while she only had one. She wasn't really trying to compete for anything; she just wanted to maintain a balance on the surface to avoid anyone gossiping.

"When are we going back to the capital?" Ambrina asked.

"The bullet has only just been fired; it still needs time to travel. And that's not all; there are still some things to do afterward. However, it won't be more than two months at the latest," Ronan replied.

As for Ronan and Dinia, Ambrina's attitude will reach the capital, but it's foreseeable that it won't cause any trouble.

Neither the retrogressives and young officers around Isabelle, nor the capitalists and old aristocrats of the post-war party, would make any immediate changes.

These people aren't ordinary citizens; do you expect them to take action just by talking? Ronan isn't that naive.

Moreover, even ordinary citizens wouldn't easily believe it; otherwise, how could the capital city have become a revolutionary base? The old Parisians are all known for their unruly nature.

Only a very small number of people would take Ronan and Dinia's words seriously. It's not that they are stupid, but that these people who cannot turn their lives around on their own have no other choice but to believe in the changes made above.

Chapter 314 Thoughts, Actions, Can't We Be a Little More Normal?

A few days later, news of Ronan and Dinia's words and actions, and Ambrina's attitude, reached the capital.

Pierre is 46 years old and has just succeeded his father as the largest shareholder and head of the public bank, Champaign.

At the same time, he was also a key member of the capitalist group within the post-party.

The Champagne Bank has no connection to the Champagne market from hundreds of years ago; it simply originated in the Champagne region, which connects to the Low Countries, and that's why it adopted that name.

Like most public banks, its business is mainly domestic, and its clients are primarily the powerful and wealthy with higher credit ratings, as well as wealthy businessmen closely associated with them.

Champaign is now Ambrina's largest creditor.

In order to establish a grain and oil cooperative and a postal system, Ambrina borrowed a lot of money from many bankers, the most of which was from this bank.

Pierre didn't think that being lent money meant he would be tied down. After all, Ambrina had signed a "debt-to-equity" agreement. If the third princess ascended the throne and Ambrina couldn't become queen and repay the money, he could just happily take the shares of the various companies under Ambrina's name with him.

He wished Ambrina would die soon.

But in the last two months, Pierre’s thinking has changed, because of what Ronan said in the third chapter of that book. The entire third chapter can be summarized in four sentences: “natural rights, protection of private property, spirit of contract, and establishment of democracy.”

If this can be achieved, the country's industry and commerce will flourish, and countless worthy lenders will emerge.

This is far better than acquiring shares in those companies, because even if he did, the new king would force him to give them up, and he would only get a small kickback. However, with the improved business environment, bankers like him have a lot of opportunities. They can lend money to small handicraft manufacturers and even to ordinary people with some skills.

However, although his thoughts had changed, Pierre had no intention of putting them into action.

Within the capitalist group of the post-party, whether in the inner circle or on the periphery, many, like him, have ideas but do not express any attitude, much less take any action.

The other group in the party was different. These were the old aristocrats who were all in name only. They couldn't stand talk about natural human rights and fair trade. They wanted to restore the country to its former order where everyone was in their proper place, thereby restoring the glory of the aristocracy.

However, these old nobles did not jump out to vehemently oppose it, not because they did not want to, but because they had just been disciplined by the king under some pretext not long ago, and were currently keeping a low profile.

On Isabelle's side, the young officers made no move. Compared to capitalists, soldiers are more cautious and only act after seeing the actual situation. They would never make a rash bet because if capitalists lose, they only lose money. But if they lose, it's not a problem that money can solve. They might even have their heads used by someone else.

As for the retro faction, they are quite enthusiastic, after all, they are a bunch of talkers, and their big mouths and pens are all they have to offer.

However, the retro camp is currently in a bit of a mess. To put it nicely, it's split up; to put it bluntly, these armchair critics were never really on the same page.

After all, retro style is just a framework; it contains their own ideas. What exactly do the ideas and systems described in those ancient works from hundreds or thousands of years ago mean? Aren't they just their own interpretations?

However, in the past, they stood under the same banner of opposing the church and the aristocracy, so even if there were differences, they would not have evolved into internal strife.

But things are different now. Ronan's two books have opened up two new battlegrounds for them: elite democracy and civil service politics.

A large portion of the retrogressive faction now supports Ronan; they want to promote elite democracy. Who are the elites?

But there is another group that is particularly combative, supporting Dinia, or rather, they strongly support the civil service system.

In contrast to the capital, which was already showing signs of chaos, Bretu City on the west coast was in perfect harmony.

Ronan and Dinah are leisurely fishing.

"Aren't you going to do anything now?" Dinia asked.

Ronan looked at the motionless fishing rod and replied, "Isabel and the Queen will probably make a move. Even if they can hold back, someone will eventually break the deadlock. Then we can take the next step."

"Can you predict their actions?" Dinia asked again.

"Of course not, but I can interpret their actions after they take them, or rather, I can label them," Ronan replied. He wasn't a psychologist or a prophet; how could he possibly predict his opponent's actions? He simply followed his plan and "interpreted" whatever actions the other party took.

“If a person doesn’t move or speak, you can’t label them. But once a person speaks or moves, you can label them. If we label them, it will take them several days to find out, and they can’t retaliate immediately because we are so far away.”

This is the advantage of not returning to the capital. I'm causing trouble outside, what can you do about it?

Isabelle is very strong; she has both guns and pens. The Queen is no less powerful; she has money and influence. But so what? Powerful methods can only be used in the capital.

“By the way, we’re leaving tonight,” Ronan said. “If I’m not mistaken, the team responsible for bringing Ambrina back to the capital has already set off. We can’t let them see us; we need to find another place.”

"Will it work? If we go to another place, the local officials will also convey this order and send her back." Dinia was somewhat skeptical.

“Ha, which local official dares to say that there is an order from above for Ambrina to return? He is a false messenger of the king's order. We’ll pin the charge of plotting to assassinate the princess on him and chop his head off on the spot.” Ronan had already prepared for this.

"So, will you do it or should I?" Dinia asked.

Ronan lifted the fishing rod, looking at the small fish on the hook with surprise. "It depends. I'm the democratic elite now, and you're the civilian faction. If the mayor jumps out, you kill him; if the secretary-general jumps out, I kill him. We can't kill our own people, right?"

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Dinia replied sarcastically.

"By the way, we haven't done anything for a week," Ronan suddenly changed the subject.

Dinia frowned slightly. "Aren't you leaving tonight?"

"Isn't the carriage perfect?" Ronan asked with a smile, his eyes glancing at Dinya's calves. The matte, almost oatmeal-colored silk gave off a calm and ascetic aura that only made him want to violate her, to remove her nude flat shoes and put her feet on his face.

“No.” Dinia objected decisively.

"Then give me oral sex," Ronan pleaded.

"Get lost," Dinia said rudely.

"Milk cannon?" Ronan asked again.

Dinia reeled in her fishing rod and looked at Ronan. "Are you trying to die?"

"This won't work, that won't work, tell me what you want!" Ronan threw a tantrum.

"Can't you be normal?" Dinia's tone softened.

“It’s normal on the carriage; it’s a missionary position, so there’s not much room for anything else,” Ronan said.