Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: A Devoted Reader's Reformation Life
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Word spread that truce negotiations would soon begin between the Klauzen Margrave Territory of the Hispania Kingdom and the Basura County of the Nudia Kingdom.
The site for the negotiation tent was positioned right on the border. To prepare for any contingencies, each territory's armies would accompany them, but the soldiers were to wait at a designated distance from the tent.
These two territories had repeated war and truce as regularly as meals, but it had been decades since a truce negotiation started this quickly.
The Basura Count's side from Nudia had proposed the truce first, claiming there was nothing either side could gain. The Klauzen Margrave Territory accepted the offer without much deliberation.
But both Nudia's soldiers and the Klauzen Margrave Territory's soldiers knew the truth.
They knew who had lost the war and was begging for a truce, who held the upper hand and who was at a disadvantage.
"Hoo."
Sion glanced around cautiously.
He looked on high alert, wondering if those bastards might be plotting some vile scheme.
Lichten Margrave had sworn up and down that it wouldn't happen, but Sion couldn't fully trust that.
The current Basura Count, Dishe, was nothing like the previous count that Lichten remembered—not even worth separating for recycling; he was trash so vile it was an insult to even burn.
"Young Lord."
Risikida, dragged to this meeting by that very Dishe Count, was fidgeting restlessly.
She had finally mustered her resolve, found a new master, and was on the verge of regaining his trust and affection.
But now her worthless former master was trying to drag her down with his pathetic antics.
"I told you.
Even if it's the king, if anyone touches my people, it's immediate treason.
I don't give a damn what some count from an enemy kingdom spouts, so don't worry, Risikida."
"...I'll trust only you, Young Lord. Only my master."
Risikida's address wavered between "Young Lord" and "master."
She seemed the type who wanted to pledge loyalty while basking in affectionate gazes. It wasn't explained at all in the novel, so Sion was only realizing it now.
'Not that it's bad per se, but it does feel a bit... off.'
Lily went without saying, but even Lucia jumped at the "master" bit.
The knights, and even the household maids, called him "Young Lord"—they never used some weird term like "master."
Sion worried that if this kept up, a demon-lord-level prospective father-in-law might come flying in with fists flashing.
'If Raido actually shows up... wonder if I could make a run for it.'
Just yesterday, a letter had gone out to Raido.
It was a handwritten note from Lichten Margrave stating that the entity leaked from the temple was none other than the Succubus Queen Lily, and that dream demon was currently contracted to him.
There was no hiding it anymore, nor should there be. Lichten had written in as tactful a tone as possible, but with Raido's piss-poor personality, Sion couldn't help but worry.
"Master.
No, Young Lord.
Over there."
At Risikida's words, Sion turned his gaze.
Someone from Nudia's side was approaching the tent on horseback.
"...What the fuck did that bastard do to his horse?"
"I-It's a kind of decoration."
"Decoration my ass, it's fucking funeral-level.
You dressed the horse in a jewel gown and passed out or what, you fuck?"
He could've understood clanking horse armor.
It was negotiations, but officially still wartime.
But no, this guy had decked his horse in a jeweled dress instead of armor.
The gems dangling from the horse glittered so blindingly it felt like club strobe lights.
'What the actual fuck, you piece of shit.
Fucking hell, I wanna shove a spike up his ass.'
Suppressing his boiling rage, Sion didn't wait for the opponent and strode into the tent.
It was solely for negotiations, so nothing that could serve as a weapon in emergencies—just a long table and chairs.
Step, step—.
"Young Lord."
As the sound of the other side entering reached from outside the tent, Risikida called out to Sion anxiously again.
Sion looked at his knight, then flashed a smile.
The tall, handsome young man's confident grin silenced Risikida for a moment.
Shortly after, a man entered with one escort knight.
"Ahh, sorry about that.
We said we'd be on time, but I didn't expect Sion Klauzen Young Lord to be so diligent.
Haha!"
"..."
It sounded like, 'I was late on purpose, and you came early 'cause you're scared!'—Sion's mood soured.
Anyone would think his side had begged for negotiations, grabbing at pant legs.
When Nudia was the one who proposed it.
"Anyway."
Thud!
Sion sank deep into the chair's backrest and propped both legs up on the negotiation table.
Beyond rude, it screamed 'fuck negotiations, let's war'—but unfortunately for Nudia, they were the weak ones.
"Let's hear the terms first. The conditions."
The opponent was an enemy noble, but a count.
And Sion was merely the margrave's heir.
There were courtesies to observe, so Risikida tensed at his brazen attitude.
"...As the rumors say, a rough one."
At least Sion Klauzen's reputation as an idiot was known in neighboring territories, so maybe they chalked it up to some malnourished fool's tantrum.
"But I heard you risked your life to save a single soldier.
Seeing your past behavior was all a facade makes me think, yeah, that's the Klauzen way.
Who'd have thought you'd spread weird rumors about the heir to lower enemies' guards."
What the fuck is this psycho babbling?
He's writing fanfic now.
"So I came personally to negotiate a truce with someone who values his soldiers.
Me, Dishe Basura, in person."
"Yeah."
So what? was the vibe.
For a split second, Dishe Count's eyes twitched sharply upward, then settled.
As said before, Nudia was the weak side, not the strong.
"Nudia's truce terms.
The border stays as is. Since we started the war, we'll pay 400,000 dir—Nudia's largest currency unit—as war reparations.
We'll also send a letter of regret from His Majesty the King directly to the Hispania royal family."
400,000 dir was a fair reparation amount.
Enough to replenish losses, compensate the dead and wounded, with plenty left over.
Nudia definitely wanted the truce.
"Surprised you proposed it so quickly."
"Pointless wars benefit no one."
"Maybe, but we were fine fighting more.
Right, Risikida?"
Sion slyly pulled Risikida into the negotiation table.
Dishe Count seized the moment.
"In exchange, the Klauzen Margrave Territory should show appropriate conduct for a truce."
"Appropriate conduct?"
"Returning the prisoners.
Not for free, of course.
We'll pay ransom, so no worries there."
"We didn't capture many Nudians?
Like seven knights and some wounded at most."
"And one high-grade knight."
Yeah, that's the real goal, you three-timing ballerina.
Sion's eyes chilled, but Dishe, staring at Risikida, missed the change.
"Knight Risikida Amshel was the pride of Basura County.
My heart ached hearing she'd been captured so unluckily, but meeting her like this is a relief.
Doesn't look hurt—good."
"..."
Should I flip the table?
Sion seriously contemplated it.
"We'll prepare generous ransom for Knight Risikida.
I've also a personal gift for the Young Lord, so in your magnanimity, please return her to her beloved homeland, her longed-for home territory."
Beloved homeland?
Longed-for home territory?
Does this bastard have astigmatism?
Or is he talking to another dimension's me and Risikida?
Solo-dimension-hopping mentally?
Or dissociative identity?
Sion glanced at Risikida, wondering if she'd turned.
But she just stood there, fists clenched, trembling in pathetic self-loathing at hearing more of this crap.
"If releasing everyone is hard, at least Knight Risikida, please.
She's a precious knight and friend to me."
Ah, sure.
Go ahead?
You call the guy who told you to go die a friend, huh.
Why not ask about your parents' health too.
"This should more than uphold Klauzen Margrave Territory's prestige."
"...What do you say?
To my proposal.
If you want more, name it."
Name it.
At that, Sion lowered his legs from the table.
Then slowly parted his lips.
"Bark."
"...?"
"Woof woof woof.
Woof woof.
Arf arf arf.
Arf arf.
Woof woof, woof woof woof."
For a moment, Dishe Count wondered if he was hallucinating.
At a truce negotiation, of all places?
The sheer absurdity made him swallow a rising roar.
"S-Si-Sion Klauzen Young Lord.
What the hell are you doing?"
"Huh, what?
You fucker can speak human after all!
Then why the dogshit till now!
I thought you were a dog, so nice-guy me spoke dog for you!"
"Wh-What insolence is th—"
"Anyone know where the shitter is?
Fuck, all this shit-talk's got me feeling full of crap.
Gotta go dump a massive load."
Dishe Count and even his standing knight flushed beet-red with fury.
Lucky no swords at their waists, or they'd have charged.
"Y-Young Lord."
Even Risikida was shocked and flustered by Sion's behavior.
But the culprit behind it all lounged leisurely.
"Not negotiating?"
"Eek!
After your behavior, you say that!
We're enemies, but nobles—I outrank you as a count!
Mind your manners!"
"So, not negotiating?"
"I thought you'd be reasonable, but disappointing!
Such vulgarity at the table!
Klauzen Margrave Territ—"
"Hey."
The tent's air grew heavy instantly.
Sion Klauzen's lowered voice felt like a beast growling low at prey.
"Last time I'm asking.
Truce?
Not doing it, mutt?"
Only then did Dishe realize he held no advantage here.
His territory's soldiers were nearly wiped out, the central reinforcements demoralized and useless in real combat.
Plus, high-grade knight Risikida Amshel captured.
No favorable angle anywhere.
"Negotiations... of course we must.
For everyone's sake..."
"Cut the crap and sit pretty.
We're granting the negotiation; you just take it."
Was Sion Klauzen always this guy?
Rumors said wastrel, reports said decent youth.
No mention of this chill vibe, pre- or post-change.
"First: reparations from 400,000 to 4 million."
"...Huh?
What did you just say?"
"4 million.
10 times 400,000.
No number sense?"
"Impossible!
400,000 dir is plenty!"
Dishe sputtered in panic.
But Sion cut in flatly, unconcerned.
"4 million."
"Out of the question!
Unacceptable!"
"4 million."
"You mocking me, Sion Klauzen Young Lord?
4 million dir equals Basura's yearly taxes!"
"Then flip it."
"Huh?"
Sion tilted his head cockily, voice casual.
"Flip the table, go to war.
Fight till one's dead."