Chapter 185
Chapter 185
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 185
Chapter Title: A Private Word with the Elf
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"..."
I sipped the black tea the butler had brought, taking in at a glance my son—who was gazing at me with a subtle smile that seemed to say, "Did I do well?"—and the steppe-born elf shivering in utter terror. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to read the complex, subtle undercurrents flowing between them.
William had rubbed shoulders with all sorts of unexpected people more than once or twice, so it wasn't strange that he'd suddenly bring along someone unusual like this.
The boy hired and dealt with witches, wizards, beastkin, and even Her Imperial Highness on the grounds that they were necessary for his work. Adding one more to the mix hardly mattered.
But this time, the issue was that the person in question was a steppe elf.
It had been centuries since the Empire and the steppes had clashed fiercely, and though they'd largely buried the hatchet and now got along well enough, there were still awkward, prickly tensions between the Hume Earldom and the steppe elves that couldn't be helped.
And on a more personal level, there were still those who harbored grudges or resentments toward the Empire.
What they called resentment toward the Empire was, in truth, directed at the Hume Earldom—for generation after generation, it had been the earls of Hume who handled the steppe nomads' responses. Their animosity toward the Empire was almost certainly aimed at our house.
It wouldn't matter if this were a tribe we had dealings with, but judging by the elf's attire, he hailed from the far northern steppes, where imperial influence was faint indeed.
These folk were busy enough just surviving on their own—why would they seek out William here in the Imperial Capital, of all places, far from the borderlands or my own territory?
And over clothing, no less?
Highly suspicious.
Of course, given how casually the boy operated, it was possible they'd genuinely taken an interest in his clothes and tracked him down persistently. But there were too many red flags to dismiss it outright.
"William."
"Yes."
"I'd like to speak with this fellow alone, so if you could step out for a moment..."
I fixed the elf with a languid gaze as I made my request to William.
William's eyes widened briefly before he glanced sideways at the elf, then cautiously opened his mouth, gauging the mood.
"Um... is it really okay to leave him here alone?"
"What, you think I'll eat him alive? It won't take long, so don't worry."
"All right..."
William shot me an uneasy look but obediently rose from his seat without further protest and left the drawing room.
The elf watched him go with the pitiful gaze of a dog parted from its master, but William was long gone by then.
"Hic..."
With William gone, the only sounds in the drawing room were the elf's occasional gasps.
"..."
"Ugh..."
I wielded silence as my weapon, slowly pressing the elf.
Many steppe elves feared me, it was true, but none trembled this badly.
He'd warmed up to William quickly enough, so he didn't seem particularly timid by nature. Yet his demeanor was that of a condemned man dragged to the gallows—like a thief whose own foot had betrayed him.
"What's your name?"
"S-Stefan... of the Ice Moss Tribe..."
"Ice Moss Tribe, eh..."
The Ice Moss were among the northernmost nomads.
A small tribe, distant enough that we rarely interacted.
We crossed paths only occasionally, when nomad chieftains gathered for matters like succession or major affairs.
They weren't the sort we tangled with often, so I didn't have strong impressions of the tribe or their chief.
If anything, they struck me as unpretentious and hearty folk, led by a similarly straightforward chieftain.
"Is Grigori still the chieftain? It's not been that long, so I assume so..."
"Y-Yes... that's right. Grigori is still our chieftain."
"I see."
He wasn't the type to stir up trouble, so if the chieftain hadn't changed, nothing serious had befallen that simple tribe.
Which meant... had he really come here for clothes?
Did any of William's designs suit steppe nomad tastes?
"Hmm..."
"Eek...!"
If it truly was about clothes, then why did he flinch like he was having a fit at my every little movement?
I couldn't recall ever crossing paths with him before, so what could have happened between us...?
"Did something happen between you and my son?"
"W-What...? What do you mean...?"
The elf's eyes darted wildly.
So something had happened, after all.
"The way you're constantly watching me, acting like you've committed a mortal sin—it's more suspicious that nothing happened."
"..."
"My son doesn't seem bothered, so we could let it slide, but your behavior makes it impossible not to care."
I paused, lifting my teacup.
Slowly savoring the tea, I let the trembling elf stew in the suffocating silence.
"So, what happened?"
I fixed him with a firm gaze, my question laced with quiet certainty.
"Th-That... u-urgh..."
Legs shaking violently, the elf mumbled incoherently, lips twitching as if desperate to speak.
"Th-The truth is..."
Propping my chin, I waited leisurely, and finally, proper words emerged.
"I... I made a little slip about Hume..."
"Me? You insulted me?"
"Y-Yes..."
"Hoo..."
I'd taught my sons never to overlook insults to our house or family easily—yet he'd let this slide?
Or had he dragged the elf here precisely so I'd deal with it myself?
This was getting interesting.
"I'd like to hear exactly what you said."
"P-Please, no... even so, that's..."
"You said it in front of my son—surely you can say it to my face."
"..."
The elf drooped his head in resignation.
Then, drawing a deep breath, he squeezed his eyes shut.
"While negotiating a deal with Master William, we talked about what each side wanted... I said... since we don't have much to offer, please don't impose harsh terms... and that if we got too greedy, the... the Butcher of Hume would come for us..."
"...?"
His frantic, stammering explanation took a moment to parse.
'Get too greedy, and Hume will come for you.'
A proverb born because every greedy steppe raider had lost their life to the Hume Earldom's knights.
It wasn't wrong, nor meant as a deliberate slur—it was a cautionary tale using fools who'd overstepped as examples. I felt nothing particular about it.
The moniker "Butcher" was karma I had to bear, so it didn't bother me.
But to think he'd uttered that proverb of all things in front of William.
"Pfft—haha! Ahahaha!"
Once I grasped what had transpired, laughter burst out reflexively, shattering the atmosphere I'd so carefully built.
Judging by his terrified trembling, he hadn't known.
In the countryside, plenty didn't know their own lord, let alone the Emperor's face. The steppes were no different.
And who'd imagine the clothes that caught their eye enough to venture beyond the steppes were made by the son of the Earl of Hume?
Truly, outrageously bad luck.
"...?"
"Kkh, kuh... This is ridiculous..."
I barely suppressed my laughter and looked at the elf, still trembling in confusion.
"You."
"Y-Yes...!"
"It's none of my business what you say on the steppes, but be careful outside them. Though I'm sure you've learned that lesson to your bones already."
"Y-Yes... you're right..."
"Then we'll leave it at that. No second chances."
Neither William nor I were petty enough to take a commoner's slip seriously, so this was easy enough to overlook.
"Th-Thank you...!"
Smiling at the elf bowing so deeply he nearly headbutted the table, I picked up the bell at the table's edge and gave it a light shake.
"You called, my lord?"
"Fetch William for me."
"Yes, sir."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I had no idea what Father had done or said in my absence, but Stefan had undergone a remarkable change.
His complexion had brightened, his expression softened, and the fear in his eyes toward Father had transformed into reverence and faith.
In less than twenty minutes? Could a person change like that?
Was this the eloquence honed by politics?
Feeling a chill at Father's hypnotic oratory—as if he had some app for it—I took my seat.
"Well then, let's finish up the talk we were having."
"Yes."
The discussion resumed the moment my rear hit the chair.
"We'll hash out the details with the territory's staff on your way back."
"Understood."
And it wrapped up remarkably smoothly.
Whatever had happened while I was gone, Stefan responded to Father's words with near-unconditional agreement.
Of course, Father had proposed reasonable terms, making it possible...
But I'd never seen a negotiation end without a single haggle—just "How about this?" "Yes, perfect"—in my life.
He hadn't even questioned why Father offered such terms.
"Looks like we're done here. Mind if I take my leave?"
"Go ahead."
"All right, I'll head out first. William, keep up the good work. And you—keep building a strong partnership with my son."
"Yes, sir! I will!"
"Haha, no need to take it that seriously. Moderation is fine."
"Yes, sir!"
"..."
Watching Stefan bow so deeply his back threatened to snap in half, I sank into serious contemplation.
Did Father really have some hypnosis app?
It was starting to feel less like a joke, and that was genuinely unnerving.
No way, right...?