[The Sleeping Forest (2)]
His intuition had become a certainty.
'Viscount Lontes...!'
A weary voice, yet an overbearing posture. Cereban thought he could bet his own wrist that the man who had ordered him to be dragged here was none other than Viscount Lontes.
It was quite fortunate that a sack had been placed over his head. He felt like he might burst into laughter at any moment.
He had expected to spend at least a few more days spreading the bait, but—
'He took the hook much faster than I anticipated.'
He had received intelligence that not only had the Viscount received secret support from the Second Prince’s faction, but the merchant guilds had also provided resources. It was clear that the balance of power in the internal struggle against his vassals had tipped in the Viscount's favor, but it seemed this had become a poison rather than a cure.
Sometimes, there are people like that.
The moment they finally see the light—the moment when others would say their hardships are over and happiness is beginning—they become so anxious that they don't know what to do with themselves.
Before he had infiltrated the Lontes territory, the ruler of the North, who had called him in to offer this opportunity, had said exactly that.
Cereban had nodded at his words. Cereban had been a master at reading people’s thoughts and emotions from the very beginning. He knew exactly what Aiden was implying.
"I asked if that mushroom, the one said to grant a deep, restful sleep, truly exists in the North."
"Th-that is...!"
Viscount Lontes’s weary voice reached him once more. As Cereban quickly feigned a terrified tone and stammered, the Viscount continued, as if he already knew everything.
"I looked into it, and I heard that you’ve been spreading rumors here and there, and whenever someone showed interest, you’d secretly sell them that mushroom?"
It was true.
Cereban’s plan wasn't just about spinning a tall tale. It was about smuggling in a significant quantity of Nightmare Mushroom, which Aiden had supplied, and slowly leaking it into the Lontes territory.
Cereban’s role was to act as a shill, a smuggler, and a drug dealer all at once.
"And what if Viscount Lontes really doesn't notice?"
"The people who took the money will handle the work for us."
It wasn't just the vassals who stood in opposition to him who had signed contracts with Aiden’s North to fleece the Viscount. Even among those who remained on the Viscount’s side, there were those who had dipped their hands into his private coffers, hoping to make a quick buck.
He wasn't even telling them to stop investigating; he was providing them with "tips" to help the investigation, which, from their perspective, was a way to earn merit. There was no reason or justification to refuse.
"This mushroom you’ve been selling—they call it the Nightmare Mushroom in the North, don't they?"
"Th-that is...!"
The result was inevitable. Viscount Lontes had not only dragged Cereban before him, but he had also accurately identified the very mushroom Cereban was selling at such a high price. Of course, it was as if Aiden had fed him all the information on purpose.
"I heard the Northern barbarians don't even touch it because of the side effects."
"They’re barbarians! They wouldn't know how to resolve the side effects, that’s why!"
"A way to resolve the side effects?"
"There is a medicinal agent that solves the side effect of being unable to control your sleep duration. It’s the truth!"
The sack covering Cereban’s face was removed. Finally facing the man who had dragged him here, Cereban glanced around nervously before prostrating himself on the floor. To anyone watching, he looked like a pathetic criminal. Reassured by this stereotypical display, the Viscount sank into his chair and asked slowly, convinced there was no reason to doubt him since he was saying exactly what his own investigation had uncovered.
'Those who took the mushroom also took an unknown medicine, he said. Clearly.'
It was said that those who took the medicine the man in front of him had provided, along with the mushroom, woke up in less than a few hours. They said that after waking, they felt as refreshed as a young child who had slept without a single worry.
"Hand over the formula for the medicine."
"Oh, my lord! I’m just a middleman! I’ve never made medicine in my life, so how could I possibly know the formula!"
At Cereban’s words, the Viscount clicked his tongue in visible disappointment. In truth, he had expected as much. He never truly believed that a low-life peddling stories in the back alleys would be the one to create a medicine that eliminated side effects. Still, disappointment was disappointment.
"If that is the case, you can at least hand over the medicine you have on you. Ah, and the mushrooms, too."
The Viscount intended to at least seize the goods this low-level peddler possessed. He hadn't slept properly for days. The sluggish power struggle with his vassals, which had dragged on for several seasons, showed no signs of ending, and it was slowly eating away at the Viscount from the inside. Sleepless nights had become his daily routine. No matter how fine the bedding he used, no matter how much tea he sought out for sleep, or even if he poured wine down his throat, the nights spent with eyes wide open only increased.
Even when he finally drifted off, he could never fall into a deep, worry-free slumber. The king of a region who had never once failed to get what he wanted began to grow obsessed with the act of sleeping. That obsession crossed the threshold of the lord's bedroom, passed through the gates of the castle, and finally reached the ears of his political rivals, the old vassals.
And now, back to the present.
"Waaah, waaah!"
Cereban disappeared into the darkness of the back alleys, stumbling away after being stripped of all the mushrooms and medicine he had hidden in an abandoned house.
That was the end of the first phase of the plan.
Chirp, chirp—.
Flutter—.
"Ugh..."
The Viscount woke up to the sound of birds. He blinked his eyes, feeling the texture of the newly acquired pillow filled with duck down. A smile spread across his face at the sensation of the high-end cotton against his skin.
"...This is insane."
And finally, he reached the point of exclamation.
Last night. After taking the medicine and mushroom he had seized from the smuggler, the Viscount had fallen into a sleep as deep as death. Having slept for over six hours, he felt so refreshed—as if he had slept for twenty—that goosebumps broke out all over his body.
Had there ever been a time recently when his body felt this light? When his head had been this clear? When he hadn't felt irritable from a body that felt heavy and eyelids that kept drooping?
"Congratulations, my lord."
"Haha."
The personal chambermaid, who had entered the bedroom cautiously, tensed at the sign of her master waking up, but upon seeing his satisfied face, she bowed deeply. Having endured the master's wrath every morning when he couldn't sleep, she was currently offering silent prayers of gratitude to the gods for a morning where she hadn't been whipped for the first time in ages.
"Good, very good."
Watching his own face glowing in the mirror, the Viscount looked lovingly at the mushroom fragments and the mysterious blue pills sitting on the side table. In truth, after getting his hands on them, he had resolved to use them only on days when he was truly exhausted or facing important decisions, given the small quantity. According to his investigation, the blue pill helped prevent sleep duration from becoming excessive, but it didn't resolve the addictive nature of the mushroom. However, like most early addicts, the Viscount was overconfident in his own self-control.
'Shall I take it again today?'
But why would the Northern natives, the original inhabitants, trample every single one of these mushrooms they saw? Addiction is a part of human nature that cannot be solved by willpower alone. The medicine and mushrooms the Viscount had obtained didn't even last a week.
"Immediately! Bring me that supplier right now, immediately!"
The first night after the medicine and mushrooms ran out. The insomnia returned like a ghost. The next dawn, the chambermaid suppressed her screams as she was whipped, and the royal knights, with bloodshot eyes, scoured the back alleys like they were hunting for lice, trying to find Cereban to appease their rampaging lord.
"I will make it for you since it is the Administrative Officer's request, but you must be careful."
"Yes, Lapisha."
Aiden, who had visited Lapisha’s clinic, was handed a small pouch. Peeking inside, he saw about twenty blue pills filling the bag.
"While it does help prevent the food or other medicines taken with it from being absorbed into the body, like all medicines, it is not one hundred percent certain. If it were a poison capable of killing a person, some part of the body might become paralyzed, and if you eat it with completely spoiled food, you should be prepared for a mild stomach ache."
"Of course, I remember."
Lapisha’s eyes were calm. Aiden felt as if those eyes were piercing through everything.
"Use it only on others."
"You aren't telling me not to use it. I was prepared to be scolded."
Lapisha, who offered tea to Aiden as he scratched his temple with an awkward expression, answered in a flat, emotionless voice.
"I am not a healer who sees patients coming in with gold in well-decorated clinics. You know my nickname, don't you?"
The White Warrior. The Canary of the Battlefield.
"Since you’ve already gone as far as to mobilize my medicine, win. No matter what it takes."
That way, you can save more people. Ask for forgiveness afterward. Oh, not from me. You know what I mean, right?
At the words of a healer who was like a mad scientist—one who didn't fear seeing blood and didn't believe her abilities had to be used only for good—Aiden couldn't help but bare his fangs and laugh. It was because he realized that those who settled in the North all had a slightly crazy side to them, contrary to their outward appearances.
Fortunately, Aiden liked that very much. After all, people who were only "good" could not protect this harsh land.
"Are you leaving right away?"
"I’m thinking of stopping by the hot springs. The expansion has been confirmed, but I can't get a good feel for it just by looking at the documents."
"Let us go together. I have things to research."
"If you’ll be my company, I’d be grateful."
Felix, dressed in clean clothes with his hair oiled back to reveal his cool forehead, quietly stepped outside and prepared the carriage. He had judged that if he were going with the healer, a carriage would be more comfortable than riding a horse.
The carriage Aiden rode had recently been refurbished. It was now a black base, making the crest of the white wolf stand out even more. Whenever the residents saw Aiden’s carriage, they would quietly stop what they were doing, remove their hats, and bow their heads. Aiden remained kind to the residents, but without him even realizing it, a sense of gravitas was beginning to grow around him.