Chapter 94
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: Scent of Money (4)
Scrrch— Scrrch— Scrrch—
The soldiers were sawing ice.
It was laborious work, turning large, solid blocks of ice into rectangular bricks with a saw—something slaves might do.
The reason the soldiers were doing such heavy labor was Federback's order.
"Cut them bigger."
Federback was also shirtless, sawing ice himself.
With a few pushes and pulls of the massive saw—capable of slicing through an ox's spine in one go—a chunk of ice broke off cleanly.
He hefted the enormous block, big enough to fill a cart, onto his bare shoulders and carried it away.
"Wrap the outer wall once over before the week's out. Fail, and there'll be no meals or sleep."
"Huuuuh..."
The soldiers sawed desperately, repeating the motion until they dropped.
This was a special training regimen Federback had devised.
'To attune their bodies to the North's mana, they need to adapt to the cold first.'
Federback was laying the groundwork to enable the entire force to wield mana.
'Once Garmelda's equation is complete, these soldiers will be the first to acquire mana. And if every one rises from soldier to knight...'
Federback turned to gaze at the snowy plain.
On the empty expanse, translucent ice bricks were stacking layer by layer to form a wall.
Halfway complete, the ice rampart revealed glimpses of embedded iron frames and timber through the semitransparent bricks.
The soldiers hauled ice bricks there, stacked them in two rows, filled the gap with snow and dirt, and packed it down.
The North's chill never relented even in midsummer, making such snow fortification possible.
Construction progressed at a speed and method unimaginable in warmer climes.
At this rate, the Meursault territory would soon be encircled by tall, sturdy walls.
That's why Federback toiled day and night without rest or food, harvesting lake-surface ice to build the wall.
'The North will become a battlefield someday. More castles, the better.'
Useful in war, useful in peace.
Plus, training the soldiers in the process killed two birds with one stone.
...Crunch!
Federback snatched a frost viper from beneath the pile of ice shavings scraped up by the sawblade and popped it into his mouth.
Crunch— Crunch— Crunch—
The soldiers gulped dryly at the sight of him chewing the wriggling live snake headfirst.
"Feels like the girl inside me is waking up."
"That's what it takes to be the Meursault heir."
"My boy's fifteen too, but he won't touch meat if it's undercooked—says it smells like blood."
"Idiot, you think your kid's on the same level as Young Master Federback? Their blood's from different worlds."
"Hey, let's do it too. Gotta show grit to catch the young master's eye."
"Yeah. He's skipping meals to work—can't sit around leisurely eating ourselves."
"Chewing snake heads might be a stretch, though. Better saw ice harder."
The soldiers snorted steam from their noses and redoubled their efforts on the ice.
Wall construction accelerated.
Then.
"Lord Federback!"
A knight galloped up from afar.
Scolseiji shouted toward Federback.
"A guest has arrived!"
"......"
Federback set down his saw.
Scolseiji grinned and continued.
"That merchant youth you mentioned before."
"On my way."
Federback mounted his horse immediately.
In the Meursault mansion's drawing room sat a handsome young man.
He was so striking that the maids vied for turns to bring tea.
"Move, my turn now."
"I haven't even seen him yet! My go!"
"Hey, you've refilled his tea three times already—what more do you want?"
"Jeez, just serve snacks instead of tea!"
But the maids' hopes were dashed.
Federback appeared at once, shooed everyone away, and shut the drawing room door.
...Click!
As Federback closed the door, the youth stood.
"Greetings to the Meursault heir. I've come with your change."
Portia.
He—no, she—beamed at Federback.
Federback nodded.
"Any reason for the male disguise?"
"Gasp, you noticed?"
Portia exclaimed in surprise.
Federback sat in a chair and said,
"The North's security is rough, but safe within Meursault lands. No disadvantages for being a woman."
"......Thank you. All thanks to your efforts, young master."
Portia peeled off the fake mustache under her nose.
Federback cut straight to business.
"I'm short on time. Keep it brief."
"Suits me too. Time is money."
"You're not here just to sell apples. Mithril too?"
"......!"
Even she hadn't expected such directness.
Portia gaped speechlessly for a moment.
Federback pressed on.
"I know you're no ordinary merchant. You made your fortune hauling salt from the eastern Salt Desert to the central inland."
"H-how do you know even that...?"
"I find out what I want. No time—get to the point."
Portia's eyes trembled at his words.
Federback thought,
'As expected. Compared to her pre-regression self, she's still green.'
The Portia once called the Golden Queen had blood as hot as molten gold.
She priced everything in the world and claimed most of it.
But even she couldn't buy one thing with money.
The Demon King's head.
Federback remembered clearly.
Portia had offered upfront support to the hero party to buy the Demon King's head.
Yet despite bankrolling them with her entire fortune, her end was miserable.
Assassins from the Demon King's army slaughtered her brutally.
If Portia had learned of the Demon King sooner and used her wealth and talent for all humanity, the future might have changed.
Thus, Federback aimed to bring her to his side as soon as possible.
"A few apples won't buy much mithril. I'll supply goods and markets."
"......I've heard Meursault controls northern mithril. You're opening that to me?"
"We sell excess after meeting armament quotas. Can't pour everything into military without drawing imperial suspicion."
"Is it safe to tell me that?"
"Of course not. Now you're with us."
"......Blackmail."
"But you'll make a fortune."
Portia gaped incredulously at Federback's words.
Right then.
...Thud!
Federback plunked a large sack on the table.
"I believe everything in this world has a price."
"......"
Federback quoted her pre-regression line verbatim.
Portia slowly nodded.
She opened the sack Federback offered.
It brimmed with gold coins.
Federback said,
"One million gold. Signing bonus."
"Goods, markets, and now a signing bonus?"
"Expect profits to match."
"......"
Portia fell silent, deep in thought.
At last, she spoke.
"Young master, I have a hobby."
"What."
"Raising centipedes and such as pets. Spiders, scorpions, centipedes mostly."
Portia's gaze fixed on Federback.
She continued evenly,
"I especially like centipedes. Their hunting is dynamic, primal."
"......"
"So I feed them nutrient-rich food generously. Beef, horse, chicken every few days. Expecting quick growth."
Federback listened quietly.
Portia went on, slowly but clearly.
"One day, they were all dead."
"......"
"Dissected them—undigested meat chunks clogged their guts midway. Intestinal blockage from overfeeding."
He got the point.
Federback nodded.
"You're declining."
Portia nodded with a refreshing smile.
"No such thing as free in this world. Great opportunity means great risk."
"......"
"I fear my skills fall short for your offer. Might cause blockage if I bite off too much."
The fortune before her, the endless markets to follow.
Hard for any merchant to walk away.
But Portia did.
It took confidence she could achieve even more on her own.
"I see. You can earn that much alone."
"No such thing. Just worried I'd harm you with my inadequacies..."
"I said no time—stick to the point."
Federback cut her off.
He continued in his usual dry tone.
"Stake too low? Here's more."
"No, it's plenty. Any more..."
"Who needs killing?"
"!"
Portia's eyes widened at Federback's words.
Her fists clenched tight.
Federback leaned back.
"You're hunting them. Your family's enemies."
"......Do you know 'Offspring of the New Moon'?"
"I do. Where they are, how many members, how strong, how secretive—all of it."
"Any connection to them...?"
"None. Just trimmed their wings a bit for straying into the North past the capital."
Federback propped his chin on his hand.
Recently, he'd sown discord between the 'Offspring of the New Moon' and Marquis Berserkir.
On Federback's order, Rorschach placed a commission with them, forging the client's info thoroughly.
But the unaltered original reached Marquis Berserkir, who assumed they'd allied with House Meursault.
'By now, the Offspring are probably wiped out. Berserkir's cunning and meticulous—likely slaughtered every last successor.'
Knowing this, Federback eyed Portia's face steadily.
Pre-regression, Portia had hounded the Offspring relentlessly.
The reason was simple.
Her father, running a small caravan, was assassinated by them.
Her mother and siblings, witnesses, were massacred too. Returning from a trip, Portia became a vengeful ghost.
Federback spoke.
"Swear loyalty, and I'll erase the Offspring and their backers from the world. Make you the North's—no, the world's—greatest merchant."
Portia dropped to her knees.
"......Command me as you will, my lord."
The master-servant bond was forged.