Chapter 102
Chapter 102
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 102
Chapter Title: If You Want Peace, Prepare for War
-----------------------------------------------------------------
102―――――
Helen left Claussen territory at dawn the next day.
While most of the castle folk were still asleep, she exchanged brief farewells with Margrave Lichten and promised to send regular shipments of food, with merchant caravans mixed in—asking him to take good care of them.
As she exited the castle, Helen spotted the owner of a gaze that had been fixed on her for a while. Her cheeks flushed slightly.
The events of yesterday came to mind, bringing a mix of embarrassment and guilt, as if her past nightmares had been shared with everyone.
“My apologies for yesterday, Young Lord.”
“Good thing you know.”
Arms crossed, Sion replied with a soft smile.
It was an incredibly early hour, but Sion showed no sign of minding.
He stepped forward to Helen and gazed at her for a moment before speaking.
“How’ve you been?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s been a while since your revenge ended, right?
And those smug fairies who tried to use you—they’re all gone now.”
“...”
“I’m asking how it feels to live without purpose anymore.”
At Sion’s question, Helen bowed her head, unsure.
It sounded foolish, but her mind was utterly blank—she had no answer.
No melodrama about the end of revenge feeling empty or uncomfortable.
The vile Kashgar Count family had crumbled entirely, and the slaves they’d secretly imported for the royal family were discovered, leaving Kashgar in irreversible ruin.
It had been exhilarating, refreshing, pure joy.
‘Yeah, I was definitely happy then.
But afterward...’
With her goal gone, she’d lost her way in an instant.
She still led the merchant company, but without anything to achieve, even her interest in it faded, along with any reason to keep it going.
Had she not joined this caravan, she might have stepped down as head.
She’d come to Claussen for a similar reason—no real need for her to go personally.
She wondered if Sion Claussen, that man, might teach her the answer.
But she hadn’t even broached the subject.
When she saw the Myoeun woman who’d nearly been captured as a slave yesterday.
Not treated cruelly like her, but standing happily beside a man, radiating bliss—it brought relief, sadness, envy.
A torrent of emotions had spilled out as tears, leaving her unable to speak.
“I don’t know.”
That was Helen’s answer: she didn’t know.
“You don’t know?”
“Yes.
I’m not trying to tease you, Young Lord. I really don’t.
Not anymore...”
“Then figure it out.”
As if stating the obvious, Sion continued in a casual tone.
“Beyond the food I demanded as payment, you’ve got info coming in from all over the kingdom as a major capital merchant group, right?
From the mundane to the sensitive stuff.”
“...We barely scrape by on trade alone.”
“Perfect.
How about I give you a job related to that?
You gather info, I buy it.”
Sion put it simply, but for a merchant company, it was a major, delicate matter.
Hynes was based in the capital by default.
To avoid weird rumors, they kept distance from other nobles.
Info gathering could easily be seen as spying—highly sensitive.
For Helen and Hynes, partnering with Claussen carried real risks.
“Why does Sion Claussen, heir to Claussen, want info across the whole kingdom?”
“Not the whole kingdom exactly.
Just the regions I want.
And the reason? Obvious.
To spot and prevent threats to the kingdom in advance.”
“...From my view, Young Lord, you seem more threatening, cozying up to demons.”
“Are you saying I’m like those radical fairies or the slavers?”
The last part was bait, provoking her.
As Sion expected, she frowned slightly and glared.
“Listen, Helen.
If Lily were the kind of demon you imagine,
if I’d fallen for her schemes and done crazy things, it would’ve been in the palace—or here in Claussen first. I wouldn’t have saved other-race slaves; I’d have bought a bunch and had fun with them.”
“...”
“As a merchant, don’t you judge by visible profits over fairy tales or myths?”
“That’s true.”
“Then judge.
Am I, Sion Claussen, someone who’ll bring you gain or loss?”
With that, Sion turned to leave.
Whatever she decided, he’d respect it—but accepting the deal was wise, he added.
“...That Myoeun woman.”
Helen spoke up, stopping Sion mid-step.
“She hasn’t matured yet.”
“Not yet.
She’ll grow soon enough.”
“...She looked happy.”
“She met a good man.”
Sion knew it sounded corny even to him, but he kept a straight face and flashed a subtle smile.
Helen watched him a moment, her expression hesitant, before speaking.
“I... I wished for a salvation like that too.
Though it’s too late now.”
“Helen Hynes.”
“Please take good care of that woman.
She seems more than a benefactor to you.
Myoeun are jealous—be careful.”
She did seem that way.
Helen forced a bright smile, bowed, and bid farewell.
“Caravans will arrive in Claussen regularly, so pass on any tasks or requests through me.
Of course, I’ll take payment—no freebies.”
“I’ve got money.
Don’t worry—just do the work diligently.”
Unprompted freebies were off the table here too.
As the ancient sages said, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.
“Helen.”
“Yes, Young Lord.”
“Watch the South.”
At “South,” Helen gave him a strange look.
Telling her to watch somewhere out of the blue was odd—especially the South.
“It’s been over three years since the pirates were wiped out.
The sea routes are booming now, full of peaceful trade cities. You want me to watch the South?”
“Put yourself in their shoes.
If you wanted to throw Hispania into chaos, after the capital and Claussen, where next?”
Helen swallowed thoughtfully at Sion’s words.
True, the South had stabilized trade by sea after purging pirates three years ago, becoming Hispania’s trade hub.
All threats gone, perfectly safe—but a hit there could cripple the kingdom.
“Got it? Start gathering info.
Discreetly—no slip-ups.”
“...Understood.”
Sion nodded, as if done, and approached Helen.
He lightly patted her shoulder.
“Safe travels.
See you next time.”
“Yes, Young Lord Sion.
Until then.”
“And... good job holding out this long.”
“...Pardon?”
When Helen looked up in surprise, Sion was already turning back into the castle.
Staring blankly at his back, she smiled faintly and whispered.
“Thank... you, Young Lord Sion.”
―
Jimmy Faker checked his body once more.
When injured, he’d thought he’d die on the battlefield.
But an unexpected savior stepped in, got him treatment in the rear, and now he was heading home.
‘...Still feels like a dream.’
Jimmy scratched his nape.
The other injured men he’d shared with were mostly healed and gone home. Only severe cases like him remained, plus caregivers.
“Whoa, you escaping the ward today too?”
A middle-aged soldier back from discharge checks grinned. Jimmy smiled back.
“Yeah, Uncle.”
“Congrats.
Rest up at home.”
“I’ve rested plenty already.”
“Brat?
Pushing too hard right after healing can kill you.
The fresh recovery phase is when you gotta be careful.
Don’t dismiss it as old-man nagging—take care of yourself.
Get sick young, suffer till you die.”
The usually playful man’s seriousness made Jimmy smile and listen intently.
“He’s right.
Get sick young, suffer forever.
Listen to your elders.”
A young man’s voice echoed from the ward entrance—like Jimmy’s.
Jimmy and the soldier snapped to attention, bowing deeply.
“Young Lord Sion Claussen.”
“Heading home at last.”
“Yes.
Thanks to your sky-high grace, Young Lord.
Truly grateful.”
“Good if you know.”
Sion chuckled.
He looked like a carefree, childish youth—but Jimmy and the soldier knew better.
This was his gentle side, reserved for those who’d fought hard for Claussen.
They couldn’t forget the young heir leaping through flames, charging enemies to save one soldier.
‘I’ll be in front of you, and behind you.’
‘No one gets left in that damn warzone.’
Rough and raw, but it proved he wasn’t the rumored flashy wastrel.
What noble dives into hell for one soldier?
“Let’s go.”
“Huh?”
“Forgot?
I said I’d escort you home once healed.”
“O-of course I remember.
But really...”
“You think I’d joke about it?”
Sion tilted his head, displeased.
Jimmy panicked, waving his hands.
It was the Claussen Margrave heir speaking.
“I saved your life—gotta deliver you home safe.
Plus, check on the territory folk.
Heard your home’s not in the castle town—some distant village.”
“Y-you even know that...”
Of course.
You don’t know, but your sister becomes the Black Flame Dragon that’ll torch this country.
Sion muttered inwardly, sighing in relief.
If he’d found Jimmy late, he’d have watched that future dragon-killer born right in his home turf.
“But this service? First and last.
Jimmy Faker.
Next time, be the savior, not the saved.
That’s why I fought to save you—for your fallen comrades.”
“Y-yes!
Got it!”
The fresh private bellowed like responding to a commander’s shoulder pat.
Sion led him out.
Jimmy freaked again—a splendid carriage awaited.
“Y-Young Lord!
W-what’s this!”
“Escorting a battlefield hero? Gotta do it right, or my pride suffers.”
“S-still...”
“Refuse, and I’ll knock you out and stuff you in the luggage.
Get in.”
At Sion’s cold advice, Jimmy stiffly boarded.
Inside, a hooded figure lounged slantwise—Jimmy couldn’t tell man or woman.
“Master.
Ready to depart.”
His guard, Risikida, reported politely.
Sion nodded, then addressed Lia, tail swishing atop the roof.
“You really staying up there?”
“Nyaang.
Hard to guard you inside.
And, well...
Being near you...”
Lia’s face flushed red.
She crossed her legs tightly, mumbling shyly.
“J-just looking at you makes me... wanna do it.”
“...Stay on the roof then.”
Her heat was over, catnip used up—yet she craved him.
Some protein theft kept life spicy, so Sion brushed off the temptation and headed to the driver’s seat.
“Take care again.”
“...”
Sion boarded after speaking to the seated man.
Risikida signaled departure; knights spurred their horses.
“...”
Kim Yu-hyun, today’s driver, hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head.
He, once called a supreme in the martial world—though not at peak, strong enough for high knights.
“Let’s head out, Sir Yu-hyun.”
“...Got it.”
Somehow, he ended up daily coachman for this carriage.
―――――――Author's Note―――――――
The coachman is too strong ver.