Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: What Losing a Country Means (2)
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Parfe, his expression softening, spoke up.
"How did they describe his appearance?"
"He looks exotic, but his skin is fair and delicate, strikingly handsome, and he was dressed in fine attire all alone, so they said he really stood out."
"I see."
The circumstances made it highly likely he was a noble.
Parfe nodded and patted Wilson on the shoulder.
"Good work."
A satisfied smile played on his lips.
This could be a great opportunity to connect with a noble.
Hadn't some of his seniors returned home without issue thanks to even minor ties with nobles?
Finally, such a chance had come for him too.
* * *
No sooner had morning broken than a clamor of footsteps echoed through the hallway.
From the texture of the sound alone, I could easily guess who it was.
The walls weren't well-insulated anyway, and if I focused, I could even hear intimate whispers from the next building over.
The door burst open, and Allen appeared, his face drained of color.
In a frantic but hushed voice, he cried out.
"Lord Jenes! This is bad!"
I'd already grasped the situation outside, so I scolded him first for his rudeness.
"Who told you to throw the door open without knocking?"
"This isn't the time to nitpick over something trivial! The Imperial Army's swarming the downstairs!"
Even under my rebuke, Allen's eyes bulged as he strained his neck veins, keeping his voice low.
"I know, you idiot."
Thwack!
"Argh!"
I smacked the impudent Allen on the head and stepped out the door. Clutching his skull, he crouched in front of the room, swallowing his pain.
I descended the stairs slowly.
I'd anticipated something like this.
I even had a plan for how to handle it.
In situations like this, it's better to go bold rather than play it half-assed.
I've done it plenty of times before.
As I reached the dining hall down the stairs, Imperial soldiers filled the room.
One of them approached me.
A man with short red hair and a long scar across his right cheek.
He looked to be in his early thirties, rank of sergeant.
He seemed to be the commander.
Pretending ignorance of why he'd come, I asked.
"What do you want with me?"
"Last night, an Imperial soldier was assaulted. I'd like to discuss the incident."
Slap!
A sharp crack rang out through the hall.
The sergeant's face twisted, one cheek flushing bright red.
When the soldiers in back started to step forward, he raised a hand to hold them off.
I continued calmly.
"I'm not one to tolerate rudeness."
"......May I have your name?"
One slap, and his momentum crumbled instantly. I stared him down. He yielded far quicker than expected.
No evidence presented, yet he bowed his head right away.
What kind of guy is he?
It was unexpected, but I didn't falter and gave the name I'd prepared.
"Creon Bastis."
At my words, the hall stirred faintly.
The Bastis family name carried that much weight.
One of the top ten prestigious houses in the Empire, naturally.
It's still etched in my memory, after all.
"That is my name."
As I finished speaking, I unleashed my presence, dominating the space around us.
A heavy aura crushed everything nearby.
The soldiers' faces paled in an instant.
The overwhelming pressure bearing down on them made even breathing difficult.
The sergeant, sweating profusely, bent at a perfect right angle and bellowed his greeting.
"I am Sergeant Parfe, captain of the Northern Mobile Unit of the Nertelsi Guard! I deeply apologize for failing to recognize you!"
As expected, revealing my presence had the desired effect.
He fell for it completely, without a shred of suspicion.
I said.
"I'm here on family business. I don't want to make a big fuss."
"It's my fault for not managing my men properly. If it's not too much trouble, may I treat you to a meal and apologize properly?"
Parfe's red eyes gleamed with greed.
Eyes desperate to forge a connection.
I saw right through it.
He reeked of money.
I've got a nose for that scent.
I nodded readily.
"Fine, let's have lunch then. Tell me the place, and I'll get ready and head over."
My old tricks from swindling officials back in the Central Plains were shining through.
As they left and I headed back upstairs, three guys scurried after me.
"Lord Jenes, what are you planning? If this backfires, we're in real trouble."
Allen whispered urgently, sticking close.
I shoved his face away and said.
"No need to worry. I'll earn us some travel funds, so just sit tight."
I shook my head at the trembling trio.
I'd saved their lives, and now I was earning them fare too.
Who was serving whom here? It was anyone's guess.
But what could I do? Couldn't let talent like mine go to waste.
Having too many skills is a real burden.
A short while later, preparations done, I made my way to the address he'd left.
Exiting the alley of rundown buildings, a neatly paved street appeared.
The structures around looked recently built and impeccably maintained.
Just a few steps made the difference stark—from buildings to people's expressions.
Most walking this street weren't Francia folk.
Ridiculously, clothes and faces alone distinguished them.
"Here it is."
A rather stately building caught my eye.
'Slean Restaurant.'
The kind of upscale place only the well-off would patronize.
Obvious where a sergeant on government pay got the money for this.
Heading inside, staff bowed in greeting.
"Take me to Sergeant Parfe."
The server, already briefed, led me straight to a deep, private room.
As I entered, Parfe the sergeant rose to welcome me.
"Have a seat."
A round table sat at the room's center, a silver candelabra and small vase adding ambiance atop the pristine white cloth.
No sooner had I sat than an array of appetizers filled the table luxuriously.
He'd clearly put real effort in.
We ate leisurely, exchanging banal chit-chat.
Recalling the dining etiquette I'd drilled endlessly as crown prince, I maintained a noble air effortlessly.
"Wine?"
"Sure."
A female server poured red wine into an empty glass.
Deep, robust aroma.
"Wine from the Rheinhao region. I hope it suits your taste."
Parfe said as he cut into his steak.
I savored a sip and nodded.
"Not bad."
"Glad it suits you. You're heading back to the main house soon, then."
The small talk veered toward the point. Both he and I knew what we wanted.
"Yeah. Took longer than expected."
"I imagine sleeping in such humble digs last night left you unrested. If I'd known sooner, I'd have hosted you properly."
"Can't be helped on official duty. As I said, it had to be discreet."
Parfe signaled a server attending from behind the moment I finished.
She handed me a small box.
"A modest token for your journey, to help however little."
"No need for this."
I slid the box closer, gauging its weight—quite hefty. He'd already figured I was short on funds.
Just from last night's dinner menu, it was easy to tell.
No elaborate schemes needed; Parfe bought it hook, line, and sinker.
Proof of how blinded he was by ambition.
I met his gaze with a friendly nod.
"I'll remember your gesture even after returning home."
"If I can be of even slight help to Lord Creon, it's my honor."
"I could use a sharp fellow like you."
His eyes widened with interest at my words.
Wiping my mouth with the napkin, I bestowed the favor casually.
"You'll hear good news soon enough. I guarantee it."
"Thank you!"
Parfe bowed so deeply his nose nearly hit the table.
His face flushed red as he lifted his head.
Letting his imagination run wild, no doubt. But that joy would turn into a dagger piercing his chest later.
He'd dry up waiting for word that might never come.
"Then we'll prepare dessert."
The female server cleared the plates one by one.
Parfe, unable to hide his excitement, turned as he spoke.
"It's nothing special, but I prepared something extra—"
He collided with the server, who dropped her plate.
Crash!
It shattered, food splattering everywhere.
Pale-faced, she flailed in panic; Parfe scowled at the stains on his clothes.
"You damned bitch!"
He shot up and swung at her mercilessly.
But his hand sliced through empty air.
I'd tugged her hem lightly.
"Wh-what?"
He stared dumbfounded at his missed swing.
"S-sorry!"
The server prostrated herself, trembling violently.
Though she'd done nothing wrong.
She'd come over and bumped into him—who was she blaming?
Yesterday and today.
Innocents apologizing for no fault.
"You lowly wench, how dare you."
I stopped him as he moved to strike again.
"Sergeant."
At my call, he quickly calmed his rage and bowed to me.
"My apologies. I'll handle this outside."
He snatched a decorative sword from the wall and reached to grab the prostrated woman's hair.
"As if you don't know what kind of place this is."
Spouting such drivel.
He seemed furious that this seat—tied to his advancement—had been sullied.
Click.
I rose quietly and gripped Parfe's shoulder.
"......Is there a problem?"
Parfe looked up at me with flustered eyes.
I asked.
"Not an Imperial citizen?"
"Ah, ha ha, no. No need to worry. Aside from the chef and manager, everyone working here is Francia trash."
He answered my question with a beaming smile.
As if grasping my intent.
I hadn't asked out of ignorance that she was Francia.
My question was: what if she were Imperial?
Parfe's bright smile gave the answer.
Just as I'd expected.
The world runs on the law of the jungle.
That's the way of things.
The strong trample the weak.
Law is the fence that restrains that nature and protects the weak.
But for citizens without a nation, that fence is gone.
"Please, please spare my life......"
I gazed at the server, hands clasped in desperate plea on the floor.
What wrong had she done to grovel like this?
If she had any sin, it was being born in a fallen kingdom.
Just like how I was executed for once being this country's crown prince.
Right now, Francia's people were sheep loosed on the plains.
Ravenous wolves tore into them at will.
Their lives hinged on the wolves' hunger.
Even with a nation, injustice abounds.
For people without one, life can only be brutal.
Naked prey before savage predators.
That's what it meant to lose a country.