Chapter 301
Chapter 301
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 301
Chapter Title: Can One Who Has Seen the End of the World Plant an Apple Tree? (6)
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****
“It looks too difficult to go any further. The airship’s too heavy to keep pulling with spirit power alone.”
“Yeah. We’ve come pretty far already. Good work, Yggdrasil.”
The Professor inhaled the dry air he could faintly feel while preparing to jump down from the airship.
In the end, Dana hadn’t returned to the chat room since that day. After hearing all sorts of stories, he’d been suddenly terrified that something might have gone wrong at the hospital, but luckily Holy, who’d seen her, said everything was fine, so he could finally relax. The contact from someone who could drop dead at any moment had suddenly cut off, leaving him powerless, unable to do anything or even know what was happening. That must have been the feeling Dana had endured.
His once-slackened mind tightened up without him realizing it. Time to go. Save everyone in this 3rd World, and save his own life in the process. Get out there, buy Dana some clothes, and show her there was nothing to worry about.
Those thoughts spurred on the group’s journey toward the desert.
After parting ways with Astraad’s group at Storm Hill, the airship, which had been gradually descending as it crossed the Blue Line ridge, was landing much farther than its original drop point, thanks to Yggdrasil’s wind spirit support and some lucky favorable winds.
“Yggdrasil. You sure it’s really okay not to stop by your homeland? With such a big incident in the Empire, the matriarch must be worried.”
“Do you miss someone you saw at breakfast by lunchtime?”
“Huh?”
“A mere few months. For humans whose crumbling lives turn into memories, that’s enough time to build longing. But an elf’s life is slow and wears thin. Sorry, but even in this moment, I can recall the order in which I watered the bonsai I left behind that morning when I departed from Carnelan. If memories don’t wear away, longing doesn’t build either.”
“Hmm... If you’re fine with it, whatever. We’re about to land, so go wake Ottoman and Notum. Might be a bit bumpy.”
“Yes.”
Clack—
As Yggdrasil headed to the living quarters in one corner of the airship to wake the two, the Professor lowered a thick rope and carefully scanned the land unfolding beneath his feet in the dim dawn light.
Fortunately, there were plenty of spots to land without hitting villages or roads.
“Good thing it’s early spring.”
The place they’d arrived at was Teldrat, the nation famous for its golden breadbasket plains.
Thud.
Squeeeak, rrrrumble rumble!
As the Professor jumped from the airship and grabbed the connecting rope, his feet, dragged by the momentum, carved two long furrows into the still-frozen, soggy cold field.
The hurried alarm cries of sleepy guards and barking dogs shattered the peaceful dawn of Kalasan, the city in Teldrat.
****
“My thanks for the hospitality, Lord.”
“Hahaha! Hospitality? It’s only proper for a noble to treat a distinguished guest like you accordingly! It’s a shame I can’t properly show Teldrat’s bounty right after winter! Ah, this is just an appetizer, so please, just to whet your appetite—”
“More than enough. For a nation at war, there’s an excess of food. Lo Haram teaches us to shun luxury.”
“R-right you are! Ah, we’d already prepared too lavish a spread, so the leftovers were for the street rabble... Ah, no! I meant to share with the people!”
Slurp—
The Professor nodded solemnly, pretending to be stern, as he watched the flustered lord before him.
Splash—
[Ottoman, this wine’s really good.]
[Hmm. Indeed. Restrained enough to feel refined.]
[Slurp. Wanna snag a few bottles. I’m playing frugal to rile him up, so not right now... Gotta whisper to the butler before we go.]
[Meat’s good. Ask for another white cow to offer to the ancestor who helped the Empire.]
[Yeah, yeah. Let’s take it all. Yggdrasil, what’re you writing at the table?]
[A record of humanity’s not-so-evil duality.]
Of course, inwardly, he was marveling at the “downgraded” appetizer of amazing steamed fish and wine, plotting to plunder supplies for the desert.
If Lordric stretched thin southward from its vast northern territories east of the Blue Line like a funnel, the city-state alliance sat in a broad triangle near Lordric’s upper right, with Teldrat occupying the rest of the continent’s east below it.
In short, while Lordric bordered the northern tundra, Teldrat abutted the eastern desert regions.
Having landed the airship and surrendered to Kalasan’s guards, the Professor’s group boldly declared themselves saints, now testing just how far that name carried weight in Teldrat.
“Thinking of the city’s people splitting single grains of wheat to prepare for the hungry gap makes it hard to swallow rich food.”
“Th-the saint, sir. As the one managing this city’s finances, if I may—last year’s harvest in Kalasan wasn’t bad, so they’re not starving that badly...”
Smack—!
“Egad, the treasurer! Dare to contradict the saint? Your faith must be lacking! I was already planning to open the granaries and distribute relief grain!”
Well now.
“Hmm. A true believer indeed. Ah, thinking of those who’ll eat their fill and rejoice makes me want to give thanks to Lo Haram. Given the occasion, perhaps after a short wait, I could pray privately in my room—”
“Cl-clear the table! The saint’s prayer! No need to go far—this very spot will do! A saint’s prayer is no different from a blessing upon the castle!”
Oh ho.
“...It’ll take about five hours. You sure? Hogging the reception room that long would disrupt the baron’s duties—”
“It’s fine! More than fine! Hey, you! Clear the table now, bring scriptures and offerings—no! Summon priests from the nearby Church of Light to assist the saint’s prayer!”
Would you look at that?
Even for slightly excessive, borderline rude requests, Kalasan’s baron acted like there was no greater joy, ready to grant anything. The Professor struggled to hold back laughter as the reception room swiftly transformed into a prayer hall.
[Feels like he’d do anything if I asked. What else to order... ‘Generous’ donation maybe? Heard Teldrat lords are loaded.]
[An incomprehensible reaction. Confirmed Kalasan’s lord is a faithful of the Church of Courage, given the border with the Empire. His territory has only Courage temples, no Church of Light.]
[Obviously. You think he’s treating me like this out of overflowing faith?]
Even from those constantly clapping in delight, you could tell by the darting eyes.
This guy wasn’t fawning because he was a saint.
Precisely, it was because he was ‘the saint who got tangled with Lady Lucilla Aedran lately and turned that family’s daughter into the Empire’s Empress.’
When Lucilla had run away from home, opinions pegged her as ‘just the daughter of the somewhat wealthy Aedran house, destined for a political marriage as some lord’s second wife.’
But then she joined the saint’s group? Soon rumors swirled of the last gamble for unsellable ladies, [Teldrat Suitor], prompting ‘Oh no, even Aedran’s Golden Caravan must be declining!’—only for her to become a true legend and snatch the Empress throne!
The baron and treasurer, out preparing the prayer space, could be heard whispering about the ‘Empress Maker’ and which of his three daughters was objectively the best match.
Hmm. A wealthy noble with three overgrown daughters, and a saint who turned a socially low-rated lady into Empress in months. If I were the baron, I’d be desperate to impress too.
If it were just random gossip or a lucky fluke, a territory lord wouldn’t stoop so low—but by cold noble logic, my position was prime real estate. Even setting aside the suitor talk, I’d witnessed the Emperor’s coronation.
Someone fated to befriend Emperors for generations → Someone Empire nobles must curry favor with → Someone connected to most Empire nobles.
Just a casual intro from me lands matches way above average social circle nobles. Especially here, practically on the Blue Line border, they’d crave Empire marriages even more.
So even if I acted picky, they’d bend like a tongue in the mouth.
Test results: Saint Professor is invincible—nay, a god—in Teldrat noble lands with daughters.
[No worries on supplies.]
[Was gonna lean on the Church of Light if needed, but they’re pouring money like water into the front lines now. No noble who sold everything post-harvest to fatten up through winter could match that. Good call coming here.]
Now alone in the reception room after the baron’s people cleared out, the Professor gulped down the holy water—now just water—left on the makeshift altar and thought.
[Might as well scrape up everything we can while we’re here.]
[Hmm. You’ve been oddly fired up lately...]
[Gotta hustle. Lives are on the line.]
Smack!
Having drained the water bowl clean from the holy vessel spot, the Professor surveyed Kalasan territory with eyes burning with resolve.
As the baron said, he planned to sample the appetizers moderately to fully enjoy the rest later.
Over there, beyond. Territories several times richer in breadbasket plains than here.
It’d lengthen the desert route a bit, but since they were in Teldrat, the Professor intended to swing by Aedran territory.
****
“Oh dear! You were headed to Aedran territory!”
“...Yes. Thought I might get some cooperation on military supplies.”
“Hmmmmm... Military supplies. You seem to be handling important Church business—troublesome indeed.”
“Some issue?”
He could’ve pushed harder and emptied Kalasan’s warehouses, but rumors of saints bankrupting every lord they passed might make Aedran wary. So he stopped at moderate looting, accepted the lord’s tea invite out of pity for the freebie, and took it.
As expected, it turned into tea with the three daughters. He’d planned to smoothly deflect and nod along, but the destination talk hit a snag.
“Issue... Yes. There’s something quite mysterious about Aedran.”
“Mysterious?”
“Indeed. Rumors lately say the Aedran house’s fortunes have declined sharply. Even with the Golden House prestige, they could handle personal saint business, but frontline supply duty? Ehhh. Wouldn’t want a precious Light proxy wasting a trip...”
Crack!
“Oh my, the teacup...!”
What nonsense was that?
Aedran. The Aedran whose cash alone outdid Teldrat’s royals. Whose third-gen head joked about buying a hatchling with money, got dragon-napped, skinned alive financially, and got his ashes back with ‘Hard to call it a lie, so house spared.’ That Golden House Aedran—broke? Fortunes declining?!
To the Professor dreaming of storming Aedran soon for Lucilla-matchmaking fees, it was bolt-from-the-blue news.
“Good heavens, what to do! Saint, are you hurt anywhere—”
“I-I’m fine, miss. The teacup was... brittle. Anyway, the baron’s rumor sounds hard to credit. Perhaps swayed by jealous gossip? With Aedran’s daughter now Empire’s mother, envy’s natural.”
“I thought the same at first—just cheap social gossip tripping at my feet. Until a letter came asking if the house could borrow funds in its name. Didn’t believe it, checked—turns out even that famed Golden Caravan liquidated nearly a third, flooding the market with prime horses and carriages. Numbers so huge Teldrat horse prices plummeted—”
Crunch!
“Th-the table!”
“Er... Table seems soft too. Slipped from the shock.”
As servants bustled cleaning shattered cups and the daughters poured tea, the marble table under the Professor’s light hand carved out in his finger shape.
Anything else, fine—but liquidating the caravan? Undeniable fact.
Dragon-endorsed richasses suffering cash crunch. The money-devil house that could rebuild every Teldrat wall with dwarf-forged ones without drying up—how’d it happen?
‘Any playthrough where Gold Guide Caravan went bust?’
[Not in your memory.]
‘Then something I did in this world caused it?’
[Yep.]
‘What? Only Aedran link is Lucilla. System balancing for her Empress gig? Game’s not that arbitrary.’
No matter how he thought, no direct ties or influences on Aedran.
Aedran bankrupt. Sold caravan, taking loans. Where’d that mountain of gold go? Rich. Absurdly rich going bust. All that money vanishing like smoke...
“Ah.”
Lightning-flash past memory—
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Goldman Sucks: Hahahahahaha
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The guy silent in chat forever, suddenly popping up cackling in joy.
“No way...?”
---------
- Goldman Sucks: Hahahaha. That’s the guy. Wealth doesn’t vanish in a blink. If bought something, value just shifted—no great house turns debtor like that. Only one who can blow money beyond economic logic... That bastard! Should grind his bones to carbon diamonds and sell ’em! That filthy beggar-blanket scum!
---------
“Roman... Roman Garcia Manson?”
“Ah, you knew too, Saint? Lately Aedran’s head’s been ranting about massive social investments like possessed, poor response led to some secret venture. So hush-hush they’ve locked the lord’s castle, no outsiders, rigorously checking entrants. Tsk tsk. They say even the rich last three generations, but Golden Aedran falls so easily...”
After that, the lord blabbered about military merchants, his Kalasan’s bumper fall harvest handling Church supply deals—but it fell on deaf ears.
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- Goldman Sucks: In the end, mighty Aedran head fell to that demon too! Serves ’em right! Kalsted Aedran! I couldn’t surpass you as merchant! But you couldn’t escape that damned curse either! Hahaha! To see Aedran liquidate and beg loans in my lifetime! Hahahahahahaha!
- Take a Look: Classic 3rd World self-destruct button. Merciless to anyone!
- Deer Drug Please: True! Real gacha has no pity cap! Losers lose forever!
- Goldman Sucks: Heh heh heh... He’s no ordinary devil. Sharper business eye, clearer his visions dazzle, pouring money in! Then, bust! Miserably! Amid failures only he and players value, and rare metals infiltrated by new mana forms costing original price, mana-drained mana stone husks!
- Goldman Sucks: Come on, Professor! Rush to Aedran! Show me their head staring blankly at truck-crushed meteor/earth-heart gem toys worth millions per large mana stone shell piled like mountains! Now! Hahahahaha!!!!
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Roman Garcia Manson. Aka Romangacha Man.
Infamous NPC hero unit, inventor class bringing era tech singularities, infamous for bleeding territory players dry.
‘Hahaha! Hahahahaha! Success! I’ve finally succeeded!’
Recalling him maniacally laughing, hoisting [Prototype Airship No. 1], the Professor genuinely worried for Aedran territory.
‘...Guy who bankrupted Gold Grandpa-scale territories in half-doubt dev phase. How monstrous has he become charging full-confidence at lifelong masterpiece?’
Kicked from house, drifting casinos, couldn’t quit pricey magic metals like public mana stones, even stole. No brakes in his field.
Imagining Aedran crumbling real-time and their head watching, the Professor told the baron, face full of worry and anticipation.
“Going to Aedran... will have to wait.”
“Wise choice. Desperate Aedran count might exploit Church aid.”
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- Goldman Sucks: No! Won’t go to Aedran! I must see that bastard crash with my own eyes! H-how much? What bribe to hurl silver in his face sneering?!
- Professor: No amount gets me there.
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The Professor easily pictured arriving at Aedran lord’s castle: Manson beaming, yelling ‘Friend!’ like before. Beside him, Aedran head, haggard, glaring murderously at the ‘friend’ enemy.
‘Not my problem. Lucilla’ll handle it. Golden Caravan. New Empire Empress. She’ll figure it out? Probably? Somehow?’
Facing the disaster he’d birthed, he chose to look away and step back.
Sorry to Lucilla and Aedrans, but he had to hurry to clear and return to reality ASAP.
Just nearing would glue leech-like Manson; desire to go vanished.
“If Aedran’s out, I’d like the way to the desert.”
“The desert. Land of scorching sun and mysteries. A little help from you, Saint, and I won’t stint support for your path.”
“Hmm. You’re a reasonable man, Baron. Ehhh... Ratara. Surely Light’s guidance.”
“Hahaha. Ratara. Well said! Why not discuss over drinks?”
“Music to my ears. Speaking of, with Empire capital chaos and headship vacant, I know families rushing heir marriages...”
“Oooo!”
Like turning from filth, saint and baron dove into the warmest chat, eyes off ‘Aedran house.’
Lucilla staying in Empire was a blessing. She’d get dragged in otherwise.
Manson was good, great friend, capable—but...
Too many priors in that department to trust.
****