Chapter 91: Because I Have So Much (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 91: Because I Have So Much (4)
Calian tapped his fingers on the table.
It was a habit of his, one that surfaced whenever he was deep in thought. Though the hall was full, the atmosphere was subdued. Calian kept his tapping silent, careful not to disturb the ongoing conversations.
He was in the middle of a regular meeting of the Central Noble Council.
Calian had been attending these meetings since his coming-of-age ceremony, and today, the youngest noble seated at the large, round table was speaking.
“I hear Tensil suffered heavy damage from the severe rains earlier this year.”
That spring, an unprecedented flood had struck Tensil.
Tensil’s priests claimed it was due to a lack of devotion to Serenti, but others said it was because the waterways had been blocked for canal construction.
To be honest, Calian didn’t particularly enjoy these meetings. It always made him uncomfortable when topics were raised that he alone knew the outcome of—a consequence of having lived this life once before.
“When a flood occurs, is food not the most scarce resource?”
Kairis had sent food aid to help, but Tensil rejected it.
Because of this, relations between the two kingdoms remained strained for some time.
This matter was no different. Calian was the only one in Kairis who knew what would happen because of the ‘food’ being discussed right now.
That was why he was conflicted.
“Therefore, to maintain friendly relations between our two nations, I believe it would be wise to provide them with wheat.”
Should he shut the insidious bastard’s mouth, or just let him babble?
Kairis and Tensil had different wheat harvest seasons. Even with the flood, Tensil’s wheat, which had finished its final harvest in January, was piled safely in the storehouses of each territory. What Tensil actually lacked was something else entirely. For Kairis to offer an abundance of wheat would be an insult to both the giver and the receiver.
In other words, this was a scheme by Brissen to drive a wedge between the two kingdoms and weaken Randel’s standing. Seeing the same events from his memory repeat, it was clear Brissen still had no intention of siding with Randel. They either had their eyes on Franz or still held out hope for Calian.
“If Your Majesty would grant your approval, I will appoint someone to oversee the matter.”
If it were merely a matter of Randel’s position being weakened, Calian would have let him talk. But he couldn’t. The Polun Trading Company, a major contributor to his personal coffers, was currently trading diamonds with Tensil.
Should I step in? Or should I leave it be?
Keeping Alan, Kyrie, and Melfir by his side and establishing the magic corps—that was the extent of Calian’s interference using his foreknowledge.
The future is already changing quite a bit just from those actions. Is it right for me to directly interfere in international relations just for the trading company’s profits?
Deep in thought, Calian’s brow furrowed.
But then, an unexpected voice rang out.
“That is unnecessary.”
It was Lemain.
What he said next was almost identical to Calian’s own thoughts. Lemain already knew exactly why sending wheat was the wrong choice.
Calian’s finger paused.
Then, it traced a small curve on the tabletop—the smile he couldn’t wear on his face.
In the past, His Majesty knew the proposal was wrong, but he couldn’t refute it.
Calian’s mere existence had already changed so much. With a lighter heart, he finally spoke up.
“If we are to send aid…”
As the Third Prince, who had been silent until now, spoke for the first time, everyone in the room turned to look at him. Calian delivered the correct answer in a relaxed tone.
“…I believe it would be better to send salt. Right now, Tensil’s salt pans and salt storehouses must be completely submerged.”
He saw Lemain give him a faint, knowing smile.
This won’t do.
Watching this unfold, Marquis Evan Brissen wore a displeased expression.
Whether intentional or not, that brat has interfered with Brissen’s plans yet again. Joining hands with him is out of the question.
Ultimately, Evan decided he would meet with Franz before approaching Randel, if only to sound out whether Franz knew anything about Aisha.
* * *
After the Central Noble Council meeting ended, Evan requested a meeting with Franz. He exchanged brief farewells with the other nobles and made his way to the designated location. Franz, who had no need for such pleasantries, would already be waiting.
In truth, Evan didn’t know much about Franz. Only that he resembled Silike in many ways, that his reputation was poor, and that he had recently joined forces with Calian.
For those reasons, Evan had thought he would never work with Franz. Furthermore, after what had just transpired in the meeting, his mind had been leaning heavily toward Randel.
However, the moment Evan saw Franz sitting in the reception room of Senyu Hall, his gaze steady and waiting, he realized one more thing.
I miscalculated.
There wasn’t a trace of ill will toward him on Franz’s face.
“I thought Your Highness would be reluctant to see me.”
“Is there any reason I should be?”
Of course, Franz had no reason to harbor any particular feelings toward Evan. It was Franz himself who had decided Silike must be ousted, so he had no cause to shun Evan for aiding in that endeavor.
However, Evan, who had no idea of Franz’s motivations, came to a very different conclusion.
Was Franz not on good terms with Silike? Did he temporarily join hands with Calian just to drive her out?
Evan’s mind raced, and he slightly altered his plans.
I should have met this one before Calian. If he truly harbors no hostility toward me, then joining hands with him—rather than Calian or Randel—would be the best option.
Evan briefly regretted having gone to Calian first only to be treated so dismissively. He walked over to Franz, offered a polite greeting, and sat down across from him.
“You must have suffered a great deal during this time,” Evan began, the words a product of his brief deliberation.
Upon hearing his opening line, one corner of Franz’s mouth curled upward. He had already realized that Evan viewed him as an easy mark to be exploited.
From that moment on, the clever Franz began to humor Evan—just enough.
* * *
Calian’s face was a clear mask of suppressed laughter. He had expected Evan to simply sound Franz out and leave. He had assumed that if Evan thought Calian knew the secret about Aisha, he would keep trying to get closer to Calian; if not, he would go to Randel. He never dreamed Evan would try to win over Franz, with whom relations were bound to be awkward because of Silike.
Yet, Brissen had chosen Franz.
“My thanks to your brilliant mind, brother,” Calian said with a smirk.
Franz had no intention of becoming king, but he had even less intention of letting the inscrutable Randel take the throne. To that end, he had captured Evan’s heart to prevent him from siding with Randel, subtly stroking the marquis’s ego as he secured his alliance.
Scoffing at Calian’s cheeky remark, Franz said, “The matter of Valkan. I’ll take charge of it starting tomorrow.”
“Yes. That will make it look as though you deliberately took control of Valkan after joining hands with Evan. I wonder how delighted Marquis Brissen will be, thinking Valkan’s power is now falling into his hands.” Calian nodded as he spoke, then continued, “After that, you and I will need to have a moderate falling out.”
“You say that as if we were ever on good terms.”
At those words, Calian grinned. “At any rate, within a few days, I’ll do something to sour my relationship with Brissen. Something that will make it look like I’m furious at my dear second brother for siding with them after all the help I gave him.”
“Fine.”
Franz didn’t ask what it was. He wasn’t particularly curious and figured Calian would handle it well enough on his own. Likewise, Calian gave Franz no specific instructions for Valkan. Franz would handle it.
Only Arsen, who would have to serve the man once called the Mad King, was in for a rough time.
Of course, that was none of Calian’s concern.
* * *
Once, in the past, Alan had looked at Kyrie and asked, “Do you intend to become the Sixth Sword?”
There was a reason for such an abrupt question. Eighteen hours a day—that was how much time Kyrie spent shut away in Calian’s training hall, practicing his swordsmanship. Whether learning from Calian, sparring with him, or training alone, Kyrie only ended his day after those hours were filled.
Calian had never ordered him to do so. He did it of his own accord.
“I was just curious,” Alan had clarified. “If you wanted to replenish the number of Sword Masters, which the Prince reduced by one.”
And then Alan had thought it a foolish question. Any man who held a sword would desire such a thing.
Yet, unexpectedly, Kyrie had shaken his head. A quiet, yet confident, voice delivered the answer.
“No. I only wish to become a sword worthy of the Prince’s use.”
A sword worthy of the Prince’s use. In truth, isn’t that far more difficult? Alan had thought. Calian was already a powerhouse in his own right.
“Yes. Because to be a sword worthy of the Prince, walking the Path of the Sword alone is not enough.”
As quick-witted as Alan was, even he found it difficult to understand Kyrie. Yan had served Calian for a long time, and Arsen had somehow gotten himself hooked. Alan, of course, knew very well why he himself was helping Calian.
Calian, as the former Bern, cherished Kyrie, but he hadn’t shared all of his past with the boy. Specifically, he had never told Kyrie why he had followed him in their previous life, or what had happened to him. Alan couldn’t understand what this taciturn boy had seen in Calian to make him dedicate his entire life to him.
“A useful sword. You have chosen a truly difficult path.”
But Alan was Alan, so he didn’t pry into Kyrie’s inner thoughts and merely left it at that.
“Kyrie.”
And now, Calian called upon that useful sword. He gave him instructions for the ‘matter that would sour relations with Brissen’ and asked, “Can you do it?”
It was the exact same question he had asked once before.
Kyrie knew that even if he answered ‘I cannot,’ Calian would not blame him. He replied immediately.
“Yes.”
Calian merely nodded, and Kyrie, after a brief bow, left the room without another word.
That night, a single brown horse emerged from the royal palace.
It headed toward a tavern with a rather peculiar name: Sispanian’s Deep Alcohol Smell.
Arriving alone, Kyrie drew the sword Calian had given him. Then, without hesitation, he stepped inside.
“Are you meeting someone?” the clerk asked, his eyes falling to the sword in Kyrie’s hand.
As the clerk took a wary step back, Kyrie pointed a finger downward. “Just open the door.”
The clerk nodded and hurried to open the room containing the secret entrance.
Entering the room that led downstairs, Kyrie opened the secret passage just as Calian had instructed. He bypassed the third floor and headed straight for the fourth.
A place filled with curses, shouts, and cheers.
Arriving there, Kyrie tightened his grip on his sword. He made his way toward the office Calian had stormed long ago to rescue him.