Chapter 160: A Futile Measure
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 160: A Futile Measure
Olivia approached Ferda, a faint smile playing on her lips.
For the sake of appearances, Ferda offered a polite greeting. "Greetings, Your High—"
"Shh."
She pressed a slender finger lightly against his lips. Her touch was soft, and the heavy, cloying scent of flowers drifted from her.
"I am no princess here. I have come as a simple believer, a member of the relief corps."
"Is that so?"
"And what brings you here, Mr. Ferda?"
Since he couldn't exactly admit he was there to meet a subordinate, he opted for a lie. "A beggar made off with one of my gold coins. I was merely giving chase."
"No matter how frustrated you were, how could you venture so deep into the slums?"
"Indeed. I wonder why myself."
"There are many who would target the Regent. You shouldn't leave yourself so exposed." Olivia let out a soft chuckle and gestured behind her. One of the men following her pulled out a robe and handed it to her. "Accompany me as my guard."
Ferda stared down at the garment. Normally, he would have ignored her and walked away. But wasn't the primary reason for his hours of internal conflict standing right in front of him? As Garnet had suggested, asking her directly might be the only way to find his answer.
"Understood." Ferda donned the robe.
"Stay by my side. A little closer."
Ignoring her other escorts, Olivia kept Ferda right at her elbow. Feeling the intrusion on his personal space, Ferda asked, "Isn't this a bit too close?"
"I thought you might have something to say to me. Isn't that why you accepted such a ridiculous request?"
She was incredibly sharp.
"But before that, help me with a little work."
"…Very well."
Ferda wasn't particularly curious about why Olivia was here, but since the topic he needed to broach was a heavy one, he was willing to play along for now.
She headed toward the heart of the beggars' territory.
Skin was blackened by layers of grime. The air was thick with a stench far from fragrant, and the rhythmic wailing of children sang a chorus of despair. In such a place, Olivia looked like a single, misplaced ray of light.
The listless, hollow-eyed beggars stirred at the sight of her. Even the children who had been hidden away were lined up and made to kneel.
Did they realize she was the Princess? No. They were the Untouchables—people who would never even lay eyes on royalty. To them, the "heavens" were merely local thugs or the relief corps of the Alte Faith. Based on Olivia’s attire, they assumed the latter.
Olivia had entered this place with that exact intention.
The guards following her carried relief supplies. As they produced freshly baked bread and cups of water, Olivia handed them out one by one.
"This is the grace and mercy of Alte, the Almighty Light."
Olivia spoke the ritual words, and the beggars responded mechanically. "We thank the great Alte for his grace."
She tended to them individually. It was a time-consuming and, above all, foul-smelling task. Some tried to sneak a touch of her fair fingers, desperate to feel even a hint of her grace. Yet, Olivia showed no sign of disgust or horror.
By the time the last of the bread and water had been distributed, her delicate hands were covered in stains.
"Is this part of your training to become a Saintess?" Ferda asked.
Olivia wiped her hands with a perfume-scented handkerchief. "Would you believe me if I said I’ve been doing this for a long time?"
Ferda answered bluntly, "Hardly."
She was a princess, after all—and one whose mind was constantly weaving schemes. It was difficult for Ferda to believe she harbored genuine goodwill toward the dregs of humanity.
"I suppose so," Olivia laughed, as if his reaction was only natural. "As I’ve told you, there are far too many people in this Empire. Because there are so many, people forget how precious a single life is. They treat people like replaceable parts in a giant machine."
Even if thousands died, the capital of the Empire would remain standing. Olivia had previously mentioned a solution to this problem.
"That’s why you said a second capital is necessary."
"Yes. People only realize the value of something when they are on the verge of losing it."
This, too, could be an act to garner political support. However, even those nobles famous for being "champions of the people" did not help others as actively as Olivia did. Even Waldemar Golt, the so-called hero of the masses, did not treat the Untouchables as human beings.
This was only possible because she possessed a conviction that transcended mere politics.
Watching her, Ferda made up his mind. "Grand Duke Golt made me an offer."
The smile vanished from her lips. "What kind of offer?"
Ferda replied calmly, "He promised to guarantee the safety of the Far East in exchange for me handing you over."
"Did you accept?" Contrary to his expectation that she would be shocked, she moved straight to the point.
"I delayed my answer. He was the one who pushed for it."
"He’s giving you time to think. That means he has something he’s relying on."
"It seems so."
An uncomfortable silence followed. He couldn't read her expression, hidden as it was beneath the hood of her robe. A pang of regret for asking a pointless question nagged at him.
As they walked, she suddenly stopped. Her gaze was fixed on a specific spot.
There, an old woman and a gaunt child were begging. The child lay weakly in the woman's arms, and the old woman held up a wooden bowl, pleading for mercy.
"Do you know?" Olivia began, her eyes fixed on the pair.
"Know what?"
"Grand Duke Waldemar Golt once implemented a policy for the extreme poor. It was free education. He allowed children who couldn't even find clean water to wash their faces the chance to learn how to read and do arithmetic."
Literacy was the exclusive domain of the upper class. Being able to read and write was the only stepping stone to rising from the commoner class.
"Don't you think that’s a policy worthy of a hero of the people?"
"Isn't it?"
"No, it isn't. He implemented that policy because he knew it was a futile measure—one that only sounds good on paper." She gestured with her chin toward the child in the old woman's arms. "For them, immediate food is more important than an education for the distant future. It’s more efficient to use a child as a tool to garner sympathy than to bet on their future. That’s why businesses like 'child rentals' exist."
Child rentals.
Hearing her words, Ferda looked closer at the old woman and the child. Indeed, they were strangers who shared no family resemblance.
"So, if you truly care about the future, you must not give money to beggars like that. If you prove that renting out a child is profitable, they will spend their lives as tools for adults and pass their poverty down to the next generation."
It was a cruel but rational statement.
He thought she would simply ignore them and turn away, but Olivia crouched down and placed a single silver coin in the bowl. The old woman bowed her head in gratitude, weeping at the mercy.
No matter how rational her logic, she was still human. In the end, she was an emotional being who could not turn away from the tragedy right before her eyes.
"…About Grand Duke Golt’s proposal," Olivia said.
A flicker of emotion touched her lips. It was an expression Ferda knew well—a cold blade forged from deep sorrow and burning rage.
"Accept it."
It was time for revenge.
* * *
The morning of the second day in the Empire.
The tranquil morning sun was put to shame by the storm that broke over Ferda.
In front of the luxury inn where Ferda was staying, a group of people moved busily, erecting a platform. Once the stage was complete, a middle-aged man in noble attire ascended.
"Citizens of the Empire, please lend me your ears!"
With the help of a mage using amplification magic, he captured the attention of the morning crowds.
"I stand here today to denounce a murderer!"
At such a shocking statement, a crowd naturally gathered.
"My name is Peri Yurei. I am a Duke of the Heinkel Kingdom, a noble who does not belong to this Empire!"
The rank of Duke was a position nearly equal to that of a king. For such a man to stand in the street and address commoners with such humility was a profound shock to the onlookers.
"Today, I stand here as a father! My son was Marcus. Unlike his pathetic father, he was a young man with a bright future. He was a child who surely would have led our territory far better than I ever could! Such a child…!"
Duke Yurei’s hands trembled. The sorrow of losing a child was an emotion that transcended social status.
"That child participated in the Start of Spring Festival, was attacked, and vanished. Until now, I thought it was the work of monsters. But beneath the light of the great Alte, there is no darkness that can hide forever."
His voice cracked with emotion. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense.
"I have discovered who killed my son, and I am here today to accuse him!" Duke Yurei pointed toward the luxury inn. "Ferda Valdrova, the Regent and fiancé of the Archduchess of Valdrova! He is the criminal who murdered my son!"
* * *
Everything proceeded as planned.
Duke Yurei gained immediate sympathy as a grieving father, and the rumor spread like wildfire. They say rumors lack feet but travel a thousand miles; this one covered the entire city in just two hours.
Undoubtedly, someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes.
But the schemes didn't matter to the public. To the people, the only things that mattered were that Duke Yurei had lost his son and that Ferda Valdrova was a murderer.
Ferda set out to attend the Golden Council once again.
As soon as he stepped out the door, stinging glares were directed at him. The public condemnation that was supposed to begin yesterday had finally arrived.
"I will escort you safely."
Count Consilus’s expression was as grim as a man heading into a lost war. He knew that if so much as a stone thrown from the crowd touched Ferda, the situation would become irreversible.
Mounted on his horse, Ferda observed the crowd.
Anger and loathing, is it…
Ferda showed no emotion. He had no desire to understand those who were angry without knowing the truth, nor did he wish to make them understand him.
He entered the Golden Council.
Ferda, the "devoted fiancé," had now become a criminal and a subject of scandal. The security search by the marshals had become noticeably more rigorous.
"Regent."
Before he could enter the council chamber, an old man called out to him. The architect of this chaos.
Waldemar Golt stood there like a high justice. "Are you ready to give me an answer regarding my proposal?"
Everything would end if he just sold out Olivia. She had even volunteered to be the bait. He could hand her over and settle the matters of the Far East with ease.
"Yes," Ferda replied. "Regrettably, the heart is not something I can sway."
"…I see." Waldemar did not cling pathetically, nor did he show anger. He simply nodded as if he understood. "I understand your intent well."
The silence before the storm.
He thought knowing what was coming would keep him from being agitated, and he was right. His mind grew preternaturally calm, and it felt as though all the worries that had been shaking him had finally fled.
Ferda quietly took his seat.
"Since everyone is seated, I declare the session open." The chamber fell silent at the words of the Chairman, Akad. "Before we address the acquisition of Magitech, there is one unpardonable crime we must deal with first."
Everyone knew what that crime was.
"Regent Ferda, would you please take the witness stand?"
Ferda stood up and walked to the stand as if he had been waiting for this exact moment.
"Regent Ferda, as you are aware, the son of Duke Yurei has been murdered, and you have been identified as the killer."
Rumors move fast, and so does the paperwork.
"Furthermore, Duke Yurei has filed a formal protest with the Empire. To address this situation, which could hinder diplomacy between our nations, we have permitted a lord of the Heinkel Kingdom to attend this Golden Council."
With those words, Duke Yurei entered.
It was the first time Ferda had seen his face since the Grand Council. However, the flustered and powerless Duke Yurei from that time was gone. He was exactly as Waldemar Golt had described.
The face of a man with nothing left to lose.
A gaze that craved revenge, having lost everything in the world and now prepared to perish along with his enemy.
…It’s not enough.
Ferda needed certainty.
"Regent Ferda, do you admit to the murder of Young Lord Yurei?"
The Chairman asked the question, and Ferda prepared to answer. His eyes turned toward Duke Yurei.
"Young Lord Marcus Yurei…"
Ferda did what he did best.
"Committed a crime for which death was the only fitting end."
He ignited Duke Yurei’s rage.