Chapter 81: Commonplace
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 81: Commonplace
Stephan asked, his expression looking as though he’d been struck across the back of the head.
"…Pardon?"
Ferda repeated himself, his composure perfectly intact. "I said you would be useless."
"W-what do you mean by that? To say I’m useless now, after everything we’ve..."
"I spoke with Ahmed Hashim privately," Ferda interrupted. "He offered me a partnership."
Hearing that, Stephan began to understand the gravity of the situation.
"A partnership… You’ve landed a truly massive deal, then…"
It was a proposal on a scale incomparable to the simple cooperative relationship between Stephan and Ferda. In the largest city of the South—a place where wealth would soon congregate even before the foundations were finished—Ferda had been offered equal status. Unless one was completely insane, it was a proposal so advantageous to Ferda that the Southern side was bound to lose out.
"Did you… accept the offer?" Stephan asked, trying his best to steady his trembling voice.
"If I accept that offer, there would be no need for me to maintain a relationship with you."
A surge of betrayal welled up in Stephan’s chest. It was only natural; he was the one who had invested aggressively, lured in by Ferda’s promises.
He spoke up, his voice thick with emotion. "Did we not have a contract? I have the exclusive rights to the Magitech products, and you even signed off on it. If I took this to court, it would be disadvantageous for you, Regent."
"True. And even if you won, the most you’d get is a few measly coins in compensation. Or rather, wouldn’t you be lucky if you could even recover those few coins?"
"On what grounds do you say that?"
"Because you are also failing to fulfill the contract."
Stephan recoiled. "When did I ever betray you? Are you talking about the explanation I just gave?"
Stephan mentally retraced his words. No matter how much he thought about it, there were no clauses intended to cheat Ferda. There were minor advantages, perhaps, but it was a fair relationship commonly found between a merchant and a lord—in fact, he had framed the proposal to be more favorable to the lord than usual.
"Do you remember what I said when I first brought you in?" Ferda asked. "I said that as much as you cooperated, I would cooperate in return. And I said I would make you the master of a merchant guild."
"That is correct." Stephan nodded. "Yes, you did promise that. But the need for it has simply vanished. The Pascal Trading Company is no longer necessary."
"How much value does the Pascal Trading Company hold?"
"It is influential enough that it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say half of all goods in the Empire's territories pass through its hands."
"Yes, a company like that. A company that wields true influence in the Empire." Ferda’s gaze grew even colder. "And yet, you said with your own mouth that you would give up such a company."
"If it's a company like that, I can build as many as I want! We are the pioneers in Magitech, and as long as we don't neglect our research—"
"Stephan." Ferda cut him off.
"Yes, Regent."
Ferda took three grapes from a fruit basket and placed them on the table. "How many grapes are here?"
"Three."
"Yes, three. They represent me, Burnell, and you." Ferda pointed to the grape he designated as himself. "I promised to provide you with connections. And I am currently working to build those connections."
"That is true."
Next, he pointed to the grape representing Burnell. "And Burnell serves as a warehouse of ideas, creating fresh products for you through research and development. Having finished successfully today, he will work just as hard tomorrow."
"Indeed."
"And finally, you." Ferda placed a finger on the third grape and rolled it across the wood. "You must provide the capital and manage the supply. In this system, we each have our roles, and we need to keep the gears moving."
"I see…"
"And yet, you are trying to give up the greatest company on the continent. Do you know what that means?" Ferda’s finger pressed down firmly. "It means you are nothing more than one of those common, ordinary merchants."
The soft grape couldn't withstand the pressure and burst, staining the table.
"A merchant who compromises and gives up even what they originally possessed is not the kind of merchant needed in this Archduchy."
Stephan stared down at the crushed fruit. Ferda’s finger was stained red. A chilling thought crossed his mind: Would I also be crushed like that grape? Would I die like a bug?
"Then… what must I do?"
"I am not asking for anything difficult. Fulfill the contract. Become the master of the Pascal Trading Company. That is your job."
Stephan’s head spun. It was happening again—the same suffocating pressure he had felt in his father’s mansion. Now, Ferda was the one exerting it.
"Must it… must it really come to bloodshed?"
For Stephan to become the master of Pascal, he had to dive into a vicious power struggle. He would have to face his older brother, Murchit, who ran the mercenary business; his younger sister, Tilda, who was expanding their influence through a political marriage; and his father, Herman Pascal. To take the lead, he had to either persuade or break them all.
Stephan didn't want that. Fighting his own family? In a world where people drew swords and fought until one side died, was he now expected to draw his sword as well?
"Whether you fight or not is not for me to decide," Ferda replied coldly. "I simply want you to prove that you are the talent needed by the Valdrova Archduchy."
* * *
Despite the earlier commotion, the exhibition concluded successfully without any fatalities. An auction followed in Halim, but nothing particularly caught Ferda's eye. However, one sword looked decent enough, so he bought it and handed it to Malcolm to encourage him.
He almost took it back when the boy looked like he was about to burst into tears the moment he received it. Even though Malcolm had passed the knight's exam in the Empire, he was a young man who felt far too lacking to be called a knight.
Well, that’s exactly why he’s useful. Ferda could decide what to do with him later, once his value as a sample diminished.
In any case, the business in Halim was settled. With the auction over, the scholars began packing up. Some were satisfied, while others sighed over their failures. Burnell, however, was not one to be swayed by such ups and downs. Inside the carriage, he was already reviewing the blueprints for the Magitech Rifle as if every second were precious. Perhaps inspired by seeing it in actual use, his mind was working even harder than it had during the exhibition preparations.
As they were preparing to leave Halim, Ferda caught a dazzling reflection of sunlight. Bernard Wayne, the President of Escoleia, was approaching.
"Did you enjoy the exhibition?" Bernard asked.
"Yes. There was an incident, but overall it was satisfactory."
"I'm glad to hear that. I'm looking for young Burnell; do you happen to know where he is?"
Ferda gestured toward the carriage.
"If you don't mind, may I have a word with him?"
Ferda looked into Bernard’s eyes. He could sense a faint trace of guilt for having provoked the boy earlier. Is he planning to apologize?
Burnell was currently in a state of high passion because he had been driven by anger; would Bernard throw cold water on that fire now? From Ferda’s perspective, it wasn't ideal. But doesn't he have a new driving force now? The successful presentation was his new motivation. Ferda decided that the anger toward President Bernard was no longer necessary and stepped aside.
Bernard entered the carriage and called out, "Burnell."
Burnell glanced at him and then turned his head away. "There’s no need for us to talk."
"I have something to tell you. I—"
"I already know. I know what your intentions were when you said those things, President."
Bernard fell silent. "How did you know?"
"I am a scholar too, am I not? I once took your classes. Everyone knows the President is strict with geniuses. So, I assumed you were being the same with me."
"..."
Burnell looked up at the ceiling. He recalled the past, but the memory no longer brought pain. "At that time… I was truly very angry. I was disappointed, and I felt betrayed. But not anymore. Because what you said was right."
A sense of wonder, felt long ago, seeped into Burnell’s voice. "Just as you said, I was a man with narrow vision. I focused only on the 1%, failing to see the 10%. Because you gave me this opportunity, I was able to broaden my horizons."
"..."
"So… next time, I will bring something so revolutionary that you will have no choice but to acknowledge it." Burnell spoke with a smile. "The Light of Truth—"
Hearing those words, President Bernard was inwardly startled. It was a phrase known to all students of the Veritas Academy. He smiled back and completed the motto.
"—shall set you free."
A complex mix of emotions remained between them, but the deep chasm of hatred was gone. Bernard patted Burnell on the shoulder. "May your ideals turn the world upside down."
"When that happens, I shall treat you to a cup of tea."
In the end, Bernard did not apologize. And Burnell did not wish for one. They were seekers of truth, pursuing their ideals. Confirming that they were united by a single conviction, they went their separate ways.
"We’re heading out!" Malcolm shouted from the front, blowing a horn.
The carriage began to move. It was time to return to the castle. It had taken ten days to get here, and it would take another ten to return. As that tedious time stretched ahead, Ferda’s heart swelled with thoughts of Valdrova.
My heart, what are you doing now?
Leaving that unanswered question behind, the carriage rolled on.
* * *
A dragon's daily life is closely tied to their nest—their lair. Thus, it was standard for them to flaunt their power, building structures that highlighted their unique characteristics. In that regard, Valdrova was different.
Valdrova’s lair was more like a refuge or a dungeon. Originally, it was a cave where damp, cold winds blew. However, since she had taken up residence, it had become a place where dry, warm winds drifted.
Coiled up and lying in the dark, Valdrova thought: I’m bored.
Even for an immortal who had lived for ages, the moment she felt the passage of time, boredom would envelop her. The only reason she had been able to live in such a dark place for so long was because of Ruri. And I didn't have anything else to think about.
The constant anxiety over when her blood energy would cause her suffering had left her no room for boredom. It was only after realizing she no longer had to suffer that the monotony set in. Whenever it seemed like it might hurt a little, Ferda would step in to help her. At those times, they always shared a brief conversation.
— I greet the Archduchess of Valdrova.
— Ah, g-glad to meet you!
— I shall begin.
— Y-yes!
No, that wasn't even a conversation… It was entirely one-sided. Ferda did all the talking, and Valdrova merely nodded or shook her head.
It couldn't be helped. Her daily routine consisted of going outside and killing monsters. What would happen if she made that the topic of conversation?
— I went out and killed monsters today.
— Is that so?
— One of them wouldn't die even when I ripped it apart with my claws, so I set a great fire inside its guts.
— Ah…
— There were monster parasites hiding inside, and they sizzled and burned quite nicely.
— I see…
He would definitely be disgusted. Ferda’s expression naturally formed in Valdrova’s mind. The thought that he would look at her and think, This is my fiancée? made her miserable.
I vowed to change… She reproached herself repeatedly for being someone whose vocabulary was limited to "Glad to meet you," "Goodbye," and simple exclamations. The suffering from the blood energy had lessened, but a new kind of social suffering had taken its place.
Should I ask to have Ferda sent over… Maybe this time she could pick a topic and talk? Of course, she had thought that eight times already, but nothing had changed. The reason was simple: Because there’s nothing to talk about. Just as a sprout won't grow from ground where no seed was planted, there was no conversation when there were no topics to begin with.
Besides, she realized belatedly that there was no need for that today. Ferda said he was going to a place called… Halim.
She guessed it wasn't a good place, whatever it was. When Ruri uttered the word "Halim," her expression had been grim, and she had let out a heavy sigh. Valdrova assumed it was something like a battlefield.
And there’s been more work lately. She also knew that an alliance had been formed with Iorga. Iorga… Valdrova found that name uncomfortable. The Blue Dragon, Iorga, particularly disliked her. Whenever Valdrova said anything, Iorga would frown, criticize her, and try to break her spirit. Valdrova knew she didn't mean any harm, but regardless, she was just too difficult to deal with.
Iorga… must be doing well. It had been a long time since she last saw her, so her face was faint in her memory, but she remembered her form. She was a Guardian Dragon who was smart, beautiful, and respected. She was a woman who would receive admiration rather than fear in any village she visited.
— Village…
Her thoughts flowed naturally to the next idea. Come to think of it… it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen a human village.
The final destination of her thoughts was curiosity. How many hundreds of years had it been? What did they look like these days? Did they look like the ones she last saw? Or had they changed?
That curiosity moved Valdrova’s body of its own accord. Her form began to shrink, eventually becoming that of a woman.
"I want to go…" she muttered, fidgeting with her skirt for no reason.
If she were to go out, she absolutely had to take a human form. Valdrova did not want to meet others in her dragon form. People will be scared… of a dragon. But she couldn't go out in her human form either. I’m scared… of being human.
It was a dilemma with no solution. Valdrova glanced to the side at the armor resting against the wall. With that armor, maybe…
Wouldn't it be okay? She had worn that armor when she met Ferda, so she was used to it now. Her eye level would be slightly higher, so she didn't think she’d feel as much resistance.
"But this is a bit scary…"
The armor was large and muscular, giving off an intimidating vibe. Above all, since it was sculpted in her own image, the helmet was shaped like her dragon head. It was the threatening appearance of herself that made everyone tremble.
"Can't it be… a non-threatening form…" Valdrova lamented.
It was then that the armor twitched, as if it had heard her murmur.
"Oh?"
Ssssss—.
The threatening shape of the dragon head began to blur. It wasn't just the head; all the elements created for draconic majesty began to dissolve. While she stood there flustered, wondering if something was going wrong, the armor transformed.
"Ah…!" Valdrova let out an exclamation of wonder. The final result was something familiar to her eyes. "It’s ordinary."
It was a set of half-plate armor that wasn't flashy and was moderately worn. It was an ordinary set of gear that anyone would take for a common knight's.
"It’s so ordinary…" Valdrova’s golden eyes sparkled. To her, ordinariness was a precious thing that couldn't be bought with all the gold and silver in the world.
As if possessed, she stepped into the armor. It was time to break out of her shell.