Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Merchant Bonds and Royalist Plots
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“E-Eugene. All that…….”
“From doing a bunch of subjugations that weren’t in the plan. Here, this too.”
Prechella hurriedly opened the leather pouch Eugene tossed her after returning after a full month.
‘Ecstasy!’
Her eyes glazed over at the sight of hundreds of mana stones gleaming brilliantly inside the hefty pouch.
“Deputy Manager, drool.”
“Y-Yes. Huh?”
“You’re drooling.”
“Ah! Sorry. Please, come inside, Sir Eugene.”
Prechella frantically wiped her mouth and guided Eugene in with utmost courtesy.
Once they reached her office, she composed herself and said,
“Sir Eugene, if I may be so bold, could you tell me what happened?”
“Nothing special.”
Eugene calmly recounted everything that had gone down in the Archibolt Marquisate.
And as she listened, Prechella’s expression underwent dramatic real-time changes.
‘No way that’s “nothing special”? Are you insane?’
The knight she’d recruited had become a real lord. An independent lord recognized by the new marquis of the Kalsbagen Peninsula, no less.
He’d even gained ownership of a silver mine and taken on seven knights—not mercenaries—under his command.
Even thinking of the lords around Maren, few had territories as vast or forces as strong.
And he called that “nothing special.”
“We sincerely congratulate you, Sir Eugene! Far from nothing, you’ve accomplished something monumental.”
“Is that so? Anyway, it wasn’t in the plan, but since the subjugation succeeded, that ends our contract, right?”
“Ah… Yes.”
Even as she gripped the edge of her seat through his thrilling tale, the topic that had kept her anxious finally came up, and Prechella nodded glumly.
“Um, sir. Any chance you’d consider extending the contract? Just twice more…….”
“Let’s end it as originally contracted.”
“……Yes.”
A true merchant shouldn’t show their emotions lightly, but Prechella couldn’t hide her regret.
“How about a new contract instead?”
“Yes!?”
Her head snapped up like a chick greeting its mother returning with food, her earlier despair forgotten.
“Half the silver from the mine, and all the mana stones and byproducts I get from now on, handled through the Feilin Merchant Group. In exchange, the commission…….”
Before Eugene could finish, Prechella spat it out.
“Ten percent! Just ten percent on everything! Mana stones, byproducts—all of it! And for the silver, just transport fees. In return, whenever you head out on a subjugation—or any expedition, anything grand—please let our Feilin Merchant Group follow quietly behind.”
Prechella meant every word.
Eugene’s incredible track record so far, combined with a merchant’s instinct, told her:
If they could just stick by his side, the Feilin Merchant Group would grow far beyond its current size! They couldn’t let this chance slip!
That’s why she could blurt it out without her usual complex calculations or haggling.
“We treat customers like family! On the name of Feilin, passed down four generations on honesty and trust, we want to keep doing business with you. Please, Sir Eugene! You won’t regret it.”
“If the deputy manager insists that much, sure.”
He played it gracious, but Eugene was genuinely surprised. They’d offered far better terms than expected—and they’d proposed it first.
‘That Delmong punk thought twenty percent would fly? Maybe he’s not as competent as I thought. We’ll settle up later.’
Even as he plotted to squeeze Delmong harder, Eugene feigned nonchalance and said,
“Then I should have the new contract ready in four or five days? Would be nice to pick it up while my armor’s being repaired.”
No, even now, casually tacking on armor repair costs too!
Amazed anew at Eugene’s ironclad thoroughness, she stuck out her tongue and replied swiftly.
“Leave it with us. I’ll make sure it’s repaired like new. We’ll deliver it with the contract.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, that’d be great.”
Eugene, thinking all the merchants he’d met in Maren and Mopern were good folk, nodded readily.
“See you in a few days, then.”
“Yes.”
Prechella jumped up and opened the door for him herself.
“Hm?”
As he descended the stairs under her guidance, something caught Eugene’s eye.
Among the merchant group workers diligently hauling the monster byproducts he’d brought, a familiar face stood out.
It was Pellid, his hair neatly trimmed, wearing a crisp navy vest over an ironed shirt.
“How’s my squire doing? Useful?”
“Oh? You mean Pellid? Of course. He’s very smart and hardworking. Shall I call him?”
“Kiek! Lemme see him, master! Been ages since our old-timer, huh? He’s subordinate number one—gotta check in now and then.”
Mirian, who’d been listlessly slumped until now, poked his face out of the leather pouch with glee.
Fair enough—Pellid was the first human he’d bonded with, and the one who’d taught him to read.
And circumstances aside, he’d taken the kid on as a squire himself; maybe he’d been too neglectful.
‘Neglectful?’
Eugene paused for a second. The thought felt foreign coming from himself.
He watched Pellid haul boxes diligently, sweat pouring but no slacking.
Then, unbidden, faces of others floated up: the rough, hearty knight; the somewhat dim mage; the greedy, rude spirit.
‘Odd.’
Eugene felt flustered.
But not in a bad way.
“Sir Eugene?”
“Nah, it’s nothing. Don’t wanna interrupt his work, so I’ll head out today. Anyway.”
He gave a slight nod to Prechella, who was peering up cautiously.
“Thanks for taking good care of my squire, Deputy Manager Prechella.”
“……!”
He hadn’t even thanked her for proposing the best possible deal, but now this—actual gratitude?
And moreover.
‘H-He’s… smiling?’
At the faint smile on the lips of the cold-blooded knight she’d thought had no blood or tears, Prechella was left dumbfounded.
* * *
Eugene stayed in Maren for three days.
In that time, the mayor and various notables hounded him relentlessly.
It stemmed from his role stabilizing the Archibolt Marquisate alongside Essendra, earning him a silver mine and a sizable territory from her.
Word had also spread that Mopern’s guilds were rolling up sleeves to build his castle.
Fearing they might lose him to Mopern, the mayor and merchant guildmaster grew desperate.
Leading the charge—alongside mercenary and blacksmith guildmasters—they threw endless banquets and feasts with the notables, showering Eugene with praise.
And as always, where people gathered and drowned in drink, tales flowed freely.
Vague rumors and exaggerations piled atop confirmed facts over days, even swaying those who’d doubted Eugene’s feats before.
Namely, the royalists.
“We need to pull Yann Eugene to our side.”
Composed of faded nobles and a handful of merchants tied to the king by vested interests and convictions, the royalists were a risk to Maren—unpredictable turncoats in the city’s eyes.
Their goal: stir chaos to draw royal intervention.
Yet tied to the city, they couldn’t openly clash with the watchful leadership.
“Do we really need to? What’s one knight?”
“Name a noble with sway in both Maren and Mopern—someone the guilds all favor.”
“…….”
With no one but Eugene fitting the bill, the skeptic shut up.
This knight, popping up out of nowhere to wield major influence in Maren, had all the makings of a prime chaos agent—if they could recruit him.
“But didn’t he become a lord under the Archibolt Marquis house? Isn’t that a lost cause?”
“Not a vassal—an independent lord.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. And his right-hand knight, Galpredic, took a squire in the Kalsbagen Peninsula. Turns out she’s Duke Gabriel Archibolt’s daughter.”
“Isn’t that the guy the king wanted to ennoble?”
“Exactly. The daughter of the peninsula’s only great noble with royal ties is now squire to Yann Eugene’s most trusted knight. Meaning, at minimum, he’s no foe to the crown.”
“Oho!”
“Makes sense.”
In a dim room with a royal-crested banner on the wall, the gathered figures nodded to each other.
“Say it’s possible—what’s the plan? The mayor and guildmaster are glued to him like flies on shit. We move directly, and those snake-eyed lackeys sniff it out instantly.”
“Who says we have to approach?”
“……?”
“Sir Eugene’s entering Viscount Winslon’s knight tournament.”
“And?”
“We contact the capital. Send a reliable man to Winslon’s territory to sway him. The crown and Winslons aren’t on bad terms, right?”
“Ooh!”
“Smart! Whether as congratulatory envoy or tournament entrant, no one’ll suspect a royal emissary.”
Maren’s royalists rejoiced.
But soon, another snag.
“How do we even reach the capital? Surveillance aside, our connections are shot. Even if we pull it off, before the tournament?”
“…….”
“Everyone, how about this?”
A noble stepped forward cautiously with his plan.
“Let’s use the Evergrow Viscountcy. Because…….”
His brief explanation lit up their faces.
“Not bad. They’d profit from Maren’s chaos, one way or another.”
“Exactly. Quick—let’s write the letter and sign.”
Elated at the unexpected fix, the royalists eagerly drafted and signed.
Next day, a royalist errand boy and Eugene left Maren’s gates at similar times.
* * *
“Why bring this to me?”
Jevin Evergrow, fretting over his botched schemes, was surly.
“T-The little man’s just Sir Cyranosa’s errand boy, milord. Only told to deliver this letter.”
“Fine. Get out.”
“Y-Yes.”
The trembling messenger, prostrated on the floor, kowtowed repeatedly before fleeing.
“Cyranosa…….”
Recalling the distant kin who’d settled in Maren generations back after a family split, Jevin slit the seal with a small knife.
Planning to send knights to thrash the sender if it was some loan nonsense.
“Hahaha!”
Reading the contents and the messy signatures below, Jevin burst into laughter.
“What does this fool think he knows, sending this to me? No, impossible.”
Like Cyranosa, Maren’s royalists were mostly has-beens with severed ties—narrow networks.
Maren’s poor royal relations for five or six years meant no direct capital links.
Unable to act themselves, they sought a proxy to relay to the capital fast: nearby top noble Evergrow Viscountcy, still loosely tied to the crown.
“How to play this? Royalists… and the capital…….”
Pondering, Jevin soon looked up brighter.
“Right. Just tweak the contents a bit. No—add a postscript.”
With all signatories on it, differing handwriting wouldn’t raise flags.
“Hahaha! Feels good. Now I can teach that arrogant punk a real lesson.”
This time, the knight wouldn’t even spot his hand.
“Heh. Even if he does, knight tournaments see deaths all the time.”
Since hearing of Eugene’s Kalsbagen exploits, Jevin’s gloom finally lifted into radiance.
(To be continued in the next installment)