It’s a Misunderstanding. It’s a Team-Building Event. (2)
To anyone watching, it looked like something akin to an execution.
Yet, the people watching this "execution" were cheering, laughing, and enjoying it as if it were a festival.
'Mad savages!'
If the man hadn't been blinded by deep-seated prejudices against the North, or if he had been just a little less cowardly, he might have realized that the signs posted in front of the screaming, fist-pumping crowd read "Department of Commercial Development" and "Department of Educational Enlightenment."
But unfortunately, fear narrows one's vision, and imagination only serves to fuel that fear.
Either way, it wasn't a good situation.
Ultimately, the uninvited guest swallowed a dry lump in his throat and began searching for a way to escape this atmosphere unscathed.
That was when he made eye contact with a man kneeling by the hearth beyond the makeshift stairs.
"Th-th-the former adjutant...?"
The man on the stairs was undoubtedly Roland, his predecessor.
That’s right.
The uninvited guest was none other than the new adjutant of the Lontes territory.
He was a lucky man who had snagged the long-coveted position of adjutant after Roland had supposedly perished in the North along with the soldiers.
'Roland, why is that guy there? They said he was attacked by a swarm of rats!'
Hadn't the treasurer and the knight who had taken fifty soldiers to the North said exactly that?
That they had been surrounded by a swarm of monster rats and only two of them had managed to escape on a single horse.
Since the North had only bothered to collect and return the soldiers' armor, the Lontes vassal group had assumed that the fifty soldiers who couldn't escape, along with Roland, had simply become a meal for the rats.
But for some reason, Roland was sitting there, perfectly alive.
'...Right, that's it. They collected the soldiers' armor, but there wasn't a single one of Roland's belongings among them.'
Even in his terror, the adjutant, Jefferson’s, brain was spinning furiously.
Unfortunately, that furious mental gymnastics wasn't because he had pierced the truth, but because he was interpreting his suspicions to suit his own convenience.
'What if all the soldiers died, but Roland was the only one rescued?'
Roland must have been in the safest place, protected by the fifty soldiers, and when all the soldiers died and Roland’s life was in danger, he was luckily rescued by the North.
'It fits.'
If you look at it that way, it makes sense.
But if this was the truth, it was no good for him.
'If this fact comes to light, what happens to my position?'
Why had he come to the North in the middle of a snowy winter in the first place?
Ever since he took the adjutant position, he hadn't produced a single decent result, and his seat was in jeopardy. He had come to secure the logging rights for the Northern forests to overcome this crisis.
But here he was, facing Roland—whom he thought was dead—without even being able to bring up the logging rights he desperately needed.
Far from securing his position, the threat had just doubled.
Chatter, chatter.
His teeth were clattering together before he even realized it.
It felt like the cold he had forgotten was seeping deep into his bones.
Meanwhile,
'What’s wrong with him?'
Aiden was dumbfounded. The uninvited guest who had barged into the venue was scanning the crowd, looking terrified, and now he was trembling like a leaf.
"Our guest seems to have caught a chill and can't even introduce himself. Jamie!"
"Yes!"
"Bring our guest to the Lord's Castle."
"Uh, Administrator. Then what about the festival...?"
"...The festival must go on."
At Aiden's words,
"Wooooooah!"
"He said to keep going!"
"Don't stop! Go all the way!"
The first match had only just begun; he couldn't stop it just because of one unknown guest.
However,
"Hiccup! Hiccup! Ugh, uuuuugh!"
The guest, perhaps thinking of something, was hiccuping incessantly with a face as pale as a sheet, and was now even retching on his own.
There was no guest more troublesome than this.
"Administrator."
"What is it? Why are you following me instead of staying at the team-building event?"
Roland was trailing behind Aiden as he headed toward the Lord's Castle.
"That man is the Director of Administration for the Lontes territory."
Just as the former Director of Administration, now an adjutant, had recognized Roland at a glance, there was no way Roland wouldn't recognize Jefferson.
"Since I disappeared, he must have snagged the adjutant position. He was the most likely candidate for the role before I was appointed."
"Is that so?"
"He is a greedy man. Compared to that, his ability is lacking. He’s lazy and has a loose tongue."
"And they actually promoted a guy like that to the real adjutant position?"
"He’s a man who doesn't hesitate to spread bribes in all directions, so it was possible."
"That territory sounds like a mess."
Aiden clicked his tongue.
"If a lazy man like that barged in here on a cold day like this, he must be in a hurry for something."
"He’s likely here to demand logging rights. One of the reasons I came to the North with the soldiers last autumn was to get those rights approved."
"Hmm."
Jamie had mentioned it once before.
The Viscount of Lontes was known for frequently trying to siphon resources from the North, and logging rights were always at the top of the list.
"Looking at the records from a while ago, the demand for logging seems to be increasing."
"That’s probably because they’ve expanded their pastures significantly."
"Wool is certainly profitable."
"Though the forests will shrink."
"It’s not like Lontes has mild winters."
"That’s true, but it’s likely to build ships."
"Ships?"
This was a new fact.
"Viscount Lontes is putting a lot of effort into encouraging commerce in his territory."
"Logistics, then."
Building ships requires a massive amount of timber.
But if they had already cleared the forests to raise sheep, it would be even harder to find the thick, dense, and straight trees needed for large ships.
"So he’s past the stage of being able to give up on the wood."
A faint smile played on Aiden's lips.
This wasn't just simple demand.
It was the demand of a business that a lord was staking his life on.
Until now, they had bribed the administrator for a few pennies to slash the price of timber, but that wouldn't work anymore.
"Before that, Roland, can you act?"
"Pardon?"
If we’re going to grill him, shouldn't we at least be prepared on our end?
Creeeeeak-.
The heavy door of the reception room, which refused to improve no matter how much oil was applied, opened.
It was grating to the ears, but to Jefferson, who had arrived first, even that sound felt like terror.
"Administrator!"
"Affiliation."
"...Pardon?"
He had intended to speak with his chest puffed out, as he was here on behalf of the Viscount of Lontes, but Aiden’s indifferent first word caused his plan to crumble.
"Affiliation."
"...Ah! I am Jefferson, serving as the adjutant of the Lontes territory—."
"Lontes' adjutant. What is your business?"
Jefferson was trying to greet him with a dashing posture, but Aiden was a rude man who sat in the seat of honor and asked for his business as if his name didn't matter at all.
'The treasurer was right.'
The day the five rat carcasses arrived.
The treasurer had been absolutely furious, shouting, "I told you that guy is like that!"
Saying he was rude, arrogant, and had no manners.
At the time, Jefferson had scoffed, thinking the treasurer was just exaggerating because he had nothing to say after failing his mission so spectacularly. But experiencing it firsthand, he started to think the treasurer hadn't been making things up.
"I have come because there is a matter where the North and our Lontes can seek mutual benefit—."
"Business."
"Please grant us the logging rights in the North. The compensation will be generous."
"Compensation, you say."
Aiden leaned back on the sofa as if lying down and slowly crossed his legs.
It wasn't the look one should show in front of someone who came to discuss business on behalf of a lord, but he didn't seem to care at all.
"That doesn't sound like you intend to pay a fair price."
If he had any intention of paying a proper price for the timber, he should have used the word "contract terms" instead of "compensation."
When he pointed this out, Jefferson's expression turned servile.
"Wouldn't it just complicate the accounting between us if the timber price goes up? I thought it would be simpler to deliver the cost of the timber directly to you, Administrator... Hehe."
"You want to give me a gift, so I should give you a cheap price?"
Aiden retorted with a smirk.
"If I receive a measly gift in a backwater like this and it causes trouble, it seems like my return to the central government will become a distant dream."
At the same time, he slipped in a lie.
He was acting like a typical "capital-seeker" who wanted to return to the center at any moment.
'The center?'
And Jefferson took the bait beautifully.
A flush of color instantly returned to his face, and his eyes rolled around—it was clear he was thinking about how to use this information.
'Right. The previous administrators of the North were all desperate to return to the center.'
Jefferson, recalling the faces of numerous Northern administrators who drank, caused trouble, and accumulated bribes while claiming they were talents who didn't belong in a place like this, finally began to understand why this arrogant young man was acting so haughty and proud.
"Of course, since you have a bright future ahead of you, Administrator, it is only natural that you would have your sights set on returning to the center to swim in bigger waters. However, to do that, wouldn't it be better to fill your own wallet for your future rather than filling the coffers of the Lord's Castle? It goes without saying that it is to our advantage at Lontes to build a connection with a talent who will soon be heading to the center."
"I don't think I'd be able to sleep at night if I were to be collared after coveting some measly blind money."
"The Northern Development Fund! Why don't you use that?"
A word that had appeared while the treasurer was drinking and cursing suddenly flashed in Jefferson's mind.
"The Northern Development Fund. You seem to know quite a lot."
Fortunately, it seemed to be the right answer, as a satisfied smile appeared on the administrator's face.
Form is important for bribes and gifts alike.
Slip it into a pocket, and it's a bribe.
Package it stylishly and give it openly, and it's a gift.
And even more honorable and confident than that is a donation.
"Alright, if I give you the logging rights, how much of a fund do you intend to contribute to the development of the North?"
The treasurer had said they had extorted 30 gold.
"One hun—."
"One hundred days of logging. Hmm, that’s quite long."
Jefferson's mouth, which had been about to call out one hundred gold, was blocked.
He clearly didn't like that price.
"Haha, ha, ha-. That’s right. It’s one hundred days of logging, so how should we handle the fund... Haha, ha..."
Jefferson started to break into a cold sweat.
He couldn't easily come up with a larger sum of money right now.
This was because his available cash had temporarily dried up due to spreading bribes everywhere to secure the adjutant position.
It was also difficult to talk to the Viscount to get the money.
If he asked, the Viscount wouldn't refuse, but,
'If that happens, the success of this negotiation won't be my achievement.'
Then this adjutant position? It would be on shaky ground.
Because Jefferson was momentarily speechless, Aiden, who had been waiting, opened his mouth instead with an annoyed expression.
"You don't necessarily have to fill the fund right away. There's no reason for you to empty your own pockets, either."
"Pardon? Administrator. I am dull, so I don't understand well; would you please enlighten me?"
"There is a solution where you and I can both benefit."
"What could that be...?"
Clap, clap.
When Aiden clapped twice, the door creaked open, and Roland appeared with a face full of terror.
Then, in a half-kneeling posture, he answered with a trembling voice.
"G-grant the logging p-permission, but limit the laborers to residents of the North, and if you receive the wages from the Lontes territory, you can deduct a c-commission from the wages paid."
In short, it meant he would take his cut from the money the Viscount of Lontes paid.
"Even so, how much could the wages of mere day laborers be? I’m a bit disappointed that you could only think of that much, adjutant."
"Eek!"
At Aiden's cold words, Roland fell onto his backside, trembling all over, and began to rattle off words like a machine gun again.
"T-transportation! If you say the North will take responsibility for transportation, you can take more commission! You can smuggle exports while moving the timber to the Lontes territory, and conversely, you can smuggle imports like wool! I-if you wish, you could even capture, I mean, procure slaves, no, laborers from the Lontes territory! O-of course, this requires an accomplice..."
Jefferson, watching the scene, guessed the situation.
'There are no capable officials in the North, so they must have been captured and are living like slaves!'
Jefferson almost burst out laughing.
Since he was being held by this greedy Northern administrator, if he just kept his mouth shut, his biggest rival for the adjutant position would disappear.
"How about it?"
"Y-yes?"
Jefferson, who had been lost in thought, blinked at Aiden's question.
Aiden's expression crumpled violently.
"You’re not focusing."
At that moment,
- Aaaaaaaargh!
A blood-curdling scream echoed from the vacant lot in front of the Lord's Castle.
It seemed another bizarre game had ended.
"Hiccup! Hiccup!"
Jefferson, despite having started hiccuping again, nodded his head vigorously.
"I will use Northern people as laborers and pay their wages. I will write a contract so that logging and transportation are all done by Northern people."
"And our laborers can transport the timber to Lontes' land, too?"
Aiden asked, his voice subtle.
"Of course! I would be grateful for that!"
"Very good."
The soldiers who had naturalized from Lontes had been wanting to see their families anyway.
It seemed a reunion of separated families would be possible soon.