Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: A Matter of Beer
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Carlyle awoke in the dead of night.
"Zzz, zzz..."
The hatchling was curled up by his head, sleeping soundly.
Why is he here...?
Carlyle wondered how the hatchling had managed to find him.
Grrr. A sudden pang of hunger made Carlyle open the door to his room.
Food left by the innkeeper sat in front of the door, but it had grown cold, as it was well past mealtime.
'I'll just go downstairs and eat.'
Carlyle pulled his hood down and left the room.
Inns in this world generally had a restaurant and tavern on the first floor, with guest rooms starting from the second, so he had to go downstairs to eat.
It was dinnertime, so the first floor of the inn was quite crowded.
"Ah! You're down? I left a meal in front of your door..."
As Carlyle sat at an empty table, the innkeeper dropped everything and rushed over.
"It was cold. I guess I woke up too late."
"I-I see."
"Warm bread, soup, and beef. Just a few vegetables."
"And what would you like to drink?"
"Hmm."
Carlyle thought for a moment before answering.
"Beer."
“...”
The innkeeper was taken aback.
The bustling tavern fell silent in an instant, as if doused with cold water.
"What? Beer?"
"He's drinking beer?"
"What kind of bastard drinks beer?"
The atmosphere suddenly turned hostile.
"Um, sir?"
“...?”
"Asking for beer here might be a bit of a dangerous thing to do."
"Ah, right."
Carlyle realized his mistake.
Beer was a specialty of the Schwerin territory, ruled by the Lauren family—one of the Sigmund family's rivals.
The problem was that Northerners hated the Schwerin territory as much as they hated the savages.
No, Northerners despised Schwerin.
Schwerin had once been an ally of Decaron.
Back when Cain, the third head of the Sigmund family and the Chaos King, was still alive, Schwerin was a member of the Northern Alliance, a coalition of three northern territories. Their bond was as strong as a blood oath, even sealed by a political marriage.
However, when the Chaos King Cain led the Northern Alliance in a rebellion, Schwerin was the first to betray them.
They committed the despicable act of attacking the North while Cain was leading the main force toward the capital. Thanks to them, the Northern Alliance collapsed, and Decaron was devastated.
As a result, the rebellion failed, and Decaron and the Sigmund family were forced to kneel and surrender to the royal family.
Afterward, Schwerin was hailed as the chief contributor to quelling the rebellion and received the royal family's favor, being granted vast, fertile lands that made them the kingdom's largest food producer.
Furthermore, they had served as the royal family's loyal dogs ever since, constantly pressuring and keeping Decaron in check, making them the root cause of the Northerners' miserable lives.
The beer enjoyed by the people of the continent was made from barley grown on those vast lands gifted by the royal family, so it was no wonder Northerners gnashed their teeth at the mere mention of it.
Besides, Northerners had always preferred cheap, strong vodka, while the people of Schwerin had long been beer drinkers.
"Make it a vodka."
"Yes, sir. I'll bring it right away."
Only after Carlyle ordered vodka instead of beer did the hostile atmosphere ease somewhat, and the focused stares scattered.
'So much for trying to get a beer.'
Carlyle gave a bitter smile.
He figured they probably didn't even sell it in the first place.
As he ate, Carlyle listened to the conversations flowing between the other patrons.
It wasn't that he was trying to eavesdrop; the tavern was so small and the tables were so close together that he couldn't help but overhear.
"Things are a real mess these days. Have you seen the black officers walking around?"
"They're all over the place, at every house."
"I can't imagine how many are dying on the front lines. I wonder if they'll issue a conscription order at this rate."
The [black officers] the patrons spoke of were messengers who delivered news of a soldier's death to their families.
'Looks like there are a lot of casualties outside of my unit, too.'
It was probably the aftermath of the command headquarters forcing mana stone mining operations on every unit.
Deciding to listen in, Carlyle focused on the ongoing conversations.
"Those damn royals."
"Why the sudden cursing of the royal family?"
"Haven't you heard? They say the royals have raised the taxes to an absurd level."
"Really?"
"The amount of mana stones they're demanding is so huge, the combat engineers are apparently going through hell."
"Fucking hell. How long do we Northerners have to be exploited like this?"
"You said it."
The patrons vented their indignation as they spoke.
'So that's why command headquarters forced the mana stone mining.'
But why would the royal family raise the taxes?
Especially now, when the savages' movements were so unusual and a large-scale war could break out at any moment...
'Could it be... because of Evangeline?'
It was possible.
The royal family, the House of Parnassus, was anything but merciful.
They had never resorted to outright tyranny, but that didn't mean the past kings were benevolent rulers.
They ruled with a strict logic of carrot and stick and were famous for not tolerating the slightest challenge.
They were the type to retaliate in one way or another if their authority was questioned.
'If that's the case... does that mean all those people died because of my stubbornness? Just because I refused to send Evangeline to the royal family?'
His heart went cold.
A chill ran down his spine at the gruesome thought.
'It can't be. It's not possible.'
Carlyle downed the vodka in one gulp.
Thud. The empty glass hit the table.
A few patrons glanced over, but Carlyle paid them no mind.
Tremble...
The hand Carlyle had wrapped around his glass was trembling faintly.
***
For three days, Carlyle holed up in the inn and did nothing but drink.
Not that he drank until he was blind drunk.
He just sat by the window, occasionally sipping a glass of vodka, lost in thought.
His mind was in turmoil, plagued by the thought that the recent surge in casualties at the front might be his fault.
"Butler."
"What."
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
"Just something."
Carlyle gave a bitter smile at the hatchling's question.
"Is it something you can't talk about?"
"No, it's nothing."
"Come on, tell me. I'll listen."
"You?"
Carlyle scoffed.
"What would you know?"
"Are you looking down on me, Butler?"
"It's not that. You're a newborn, you said. You don't know anything about the world, so how can I talk to you about it?"
"You're definitely looking down on me."
"When did I?"
"I'll have you know, I'm a dragon."
"So?"
"Do I really look like a newborn to you?"
"Well... no."
"So tell me."
"Hmm."
Carlyle, unsure where to begin, thought for a moment before speaking.
"Well, what happened was..."
"Hmm."
The hatchling listened quietly to Carlyle's story.
"If this tax hike is because of Evangeline... then the deaths of those soldiers are entirely my responsibility."
"Why is that your responsibility, Butler?"
"If it's not my responsibility, then whose is it?"
"Thinking one-dimensionally, it might seem like your fault. The royal family wanted her, and this is their retaliation for your refusal. But that's not the fundamental issue. The real problem is the exploitation by the royal family, isn't it?"
“...!”
"Butler, this kind of problem will keep repeating itself, one way or another, as long as the unequal relationship between your family and the royals isn't resolved."
In this world, dragons were considered very wise beings.
It seemed the hatchling was no exception.
"But you can't just hand over an earth spiritist to the royal family. You said she has high strategic value and a strong identity as a Northerner."
"That's right."
Carlyle recalled what Evangeline had said before.
- Because I am a Northerner.
She had clearly stated her identity as a Northerner and had refused to go to the royal family.
"Besides, is there any need to feel guilty when you're not even sure if this is the royal family's retaliation?"
"That's also true."
"Whether you feel guilty or seek revenge, the circumstances need to be confi—"
The hatchling dozed off mid-sentence.
Having eaten not long ago, it seemed sleep was overtaking him.
"A newborn is a newborn, after all."
"Zzz, zzz."
Carlyle watched the sleeping hatchling and chuckled.
'Then I'll start by figuring out the full story. If this really is retaliation for Evangeline... I'll make them regret it.'
A cold glint shone in Carlyle's eyes.
***
Two days later.
"Butler, when are we going home?"
"I don't know. If there's no reason to go, I'm not planning on it."
"Then can't we go live somewhere else?"
"Somewhere else?"
"This place is too small, smelly, and dirty."
The hatchling wrinkled its nose in clear displeasure.
"Somewhere else, huh..."
"Can't we just buy a house?"
"Should we?"
He had plenty of money.
Wasn't his high-capacity spatial inventory packed with gold coins, gold bars, and various jewels looted from Antiros's and Crowley's dungeons?
"Right. We can't live here forever."
"So let's go look for a house!"
"Alright, then."
Carlyle put on his cloak and pulled his hood down.
"Let's go, house hunting."
"Hehe."
As if it had been waiting, the hatchling slipped right into Carlyle's cloak.
'Where do you go to buy a house, anyway? There's no way this world has anything like a real estate office. There must be something similar, though. What was it?'
As he was thinking this, he went down to the first floor, where someone was waiting for him.
"Coming down now, are we, Young Master?"
"Huh? What the..."
Maranello was smiling.
"How did you know I was here?"
“...!”
When Carlyle took off his hood and spoke, the innkeeper and the patrons were all startled.
To think the suspicious fellow who kept his hood pulled down even indoors was the infamous scoundrel...
"You already knew and have been watching me, haven't you?"
"Yes, Young Master."
"What about my father?"
"He had no particular message."
"Really?"
A faint smile touched Carlyle's lips.
"His Grace the Grand Duke said he has no intention of forcing you to do anything, and that you should stop wandering around and come home."
"He said that? My father?"
"Yes, Young Master."
"Hmm."
"Young Master, let's just go peacefully. This is against common decency."
"Common decency?"
"Rebellion requires some sort of pressure or coercion, doesn't it? But you, Young Master, ran away from home without any provocation..."
"Think of it as me setting the tone in advance."
"Pardon...?"
"I have to make a preemptive threat so he won't even think of bothering me."
As if that made any sense...
"Heh heh."
Maranello could only let out a hollow laugh, dumbfounded.
A son who plays dead and tells you not to touch him...
Maranello felt his fists clench unconsciously and had to force himself to calm down.
"So, will you be going?"
"I have to. He said he won't bother me. Surely he won't go back on his word."
"Let us go."
"Alright."
Carlyle nodded and said to the innkeeper.
"You can keep the deposit."
"Th-thank you! Young Master Carlyle!"
The innkeeper nodded, looking as if he'd just seen a ghost.
Outside the inn, the same six-horse carriage from before was waiting.
The one bearing the Sigmund family crest.
"Maranello."
"Yes, Young Master."
"I have a question..."
Just as Carlyle was about to say something.
"Heeeeeigh!"
"Heeeeeigh!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
In the distance, a massive six-horse carriage was racing toward them at a terrifying speed.
The crest engraved on the carriage was...
'Schwerin!'
The six-horse carriage belonged to the Lauren family, the rivals of the House of Sigmund.
There was a problem.
“...!”
Right in the path of the carriage, which was charging like a runaway locomotive, a small child was picking up a dropped candy wrapper.
In a few more seconds, the huge, heavy carriage would be upon the child.
'No!'
Just as Carlyle was about to leap forward.
Flash!
Maranello's figure vanished first.