Unconscious Flirting (1)
"Isn't that country you're talking about Varkan?"
The woman fell silent.
As I waited for her answer and tried to stab another piece of meat, my fork kept missing its target.
Am I drunk? Why does the meat keep dodging like it knows body duplication jutsu?
Strange, considering I'd barely had anything to drink.
Only after spearing a piece on the third try and getting it into my mouth did the woman's voice finally reach me.
"I'm not talking about Varkan."
"Oh, come on. One look and I can tell. How many countries in the South even have conditions like that?"
A nation in the south, bordering the Monster Mountain Range, surviving on hunting and monster byproducts.
That's Varkan, alright.
But the woman kept denying the facts.
"I told you, it's definitely not Varkan."
Like a teenage girl who comes to you for love advice but insists the story is about a 'friend.'
The way her face flushed bright red was honestly kind of adorable.
"Yes, yes. We'll say it's not Varkan. Hic."
Varkan, hm.
Even I, someone who couldn't care less about gossip, had heard of that kingdom a few times.
To be precise, it was the kingdom's princess who was famous.
"I hear the princess over there is terrifying."
"What kind of rumors have you heard?"
The woman's ears perked up.
"Oh, this and that. Tore an ogre's head off with her bare hands. Shaved a diplomatic envoy's beard off with her sword. Apparently she once got so angry she cleaved a castle wall in two."
The Tyrant of the South. The Scourge of the Jungle.
A wielder of the sword whose name alone commands respect even from the Empire's finest warriors.
"A barbarian southern princess who does whatever she pleases, just because she's handy with a sword."
Crack.
At the sound of something folding, I looked down to find the fork in the woman's hand bent in half.
Sheesh. My eyes are playing tricks on me again.
"Could you say that one more time? For me?"
"But they also say she's drop-dead gorgeous. Have you seen her, the princess?"
The woman grimaced the moment I started bad-mouthing the princess — so she really was from the South.
My interest, however, had already shifted elsewhere.
When I stared at her intently, the woman made an unreadable expression and cleared her throat.
"Ahem. The people do tend to praise me rather excessively."
Crack.
Yep. Definitely seeing things.
When I lowered my gaze, the fork was proudly back in its original, perfectly intact shape.
"I'd like to see her someday, honestly. Even those snobby high-and-mighty nobles acknowledge the princess's looks."
Those diplomatic envoys ran their mouths until their lips wore out, so some of the descriptions got stuck in my ears.
About 171 centimeters tall, auburn hair that blazed like fire when touched by sunlight.
Eyes like melted rubies, full lips kissed by the southern sun.
The real descriptions were far more elaborate and cringe-worthy, but I'd only remembered the essentials.
Why does that sound like a description of the woman in front of me?
Hair cropped bluntly along the jawline, red as a ripened pomegranate.
Eyes like jewels that shimmered mysteriously depending on the angle of the light.
A slender face, bronze skin without a single blemish — beautiful.
Truly, alcohol is humanity's greatest invention.
Liquor, that magnificent invention of mankind that applies beauty filters even to a stranger you just met.
Sleep it off, and she'd probably look perfectly ordinary.
"Well, she's just the princess of some small nation either way. All that publicity is just them trying to marry her off to a good house. That fiery personality is probably part of the marketing strategy too—"
Swish.
A blade of wind whistled past, and suddenly my forehead felt refreshingly cool.
"You will consider yourself fortunate that this is Imperial territory."
Holy crap. That sobered me right up.
I set down my meat and spread both hands in surrender.
"Whoa, whoa. My bad. Poor word choice. Let's just calm down first, shall we?"
"What was that supposed to mean? You'd best choose your next answer carefully."
I hesitated, then opened my mouth.
"...Our former Director of Personnel was in line to be sold off too."
I had no intention of mocking or belittling anyone.
It was simply that my former superior had come to mind.
"The Director of Personnel... You mean the Second Princess?"
The woman's eyes sparkled.
"So you've heard of her. Our princess is famous indeed. Though these days she's locked away, practically under house arrest."
"The new Emperor confines someone as troublesome as the Second Princess? It seems he's firmly resolved to consolidate royal authority."
At those words, I hastily pressed a finger to my lips and lowered my voice.
Fortunately, the tavern men seemed to have no interest in our table — but still.
"Shh. Keep talking like that and you'll get dragged off."
Me? Who would dare. I could go toe-to-toe with an ogre and not lose. Unless the Empire's Greatest Sword took the field personally, no one could touch me."
"Ha. Listen to you, talking like you're Princess Adelheid of Varkan herself."
"Oh-ho. How did you know—"
"I get it, so shh. You're strong and pretty, so keep it down. I'd rather not have the person who drank with me get hauled away."
Once I confirmed no one was paying attention, the tension drained out of me.
And the alcohol's warmth came creeping back.
The woman looked like she still had more to say, but she let out a wry laugh and leaned back in her chair.
I studied her for a moment, then offered her my cup.
The drinking resumed.
The cheerful clink of cups rang across the table.
"Enough about the princess."
"Agreed."
"In return, I'd like to hear the rest of what I asked earlier. If Varkan wanted to build its fortune by means other than marriage alliances, what should it do?"
She really was curious, it seemed.
She looked desperate to hear my answer, so I set down my cup and organized my thoughts.
The South. Constantly threatened by monsters. A nation that leans on individual martial strength. Outdated technology. Livelihoods dependent on exports and hunting.
How would you develop a country like that?
Time for some audacious dealing.
"Let me ask you one thing. Is there any other country besides Varkan that borders the Monster Mountain Range?"
"None. Everyone else crumbled and fell — they couldn't hold the line like we did."
"Then everything harvested from the mountains has to pass through Varkan, doesn't it?"
That's right. Specialties of the land.
And goods from the Varkan Kingdom circulated as prized commodities even in the Empire.
"So who sets the prices?"
The woman opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"Whatever the merchant guilds buying the goods offer, I suppose?"
"The guilds closed ranks and spoke with one voice. There was nothing we could do."
The vicious cycle of a developing nation.
Thinking about it that way, Korea really was a struggling country.
"Buy low, sell high. The merchant guilds hit the jackpot, huh."
I tapped the table with my finger.
"Consolidate the selling channels into one. The crown grades the goods and stamps them with an official seal — anything without a seal gets treated as contraband. Slap a tariff on it, and let Varkan set the sale prices. Long-term, the finished products should be manufactured in Varkan too."
"And if the guilds turn their backs on us?"
"Then tell them to go into the mountains and harvest the goods themselves. In that sweltering, humid jungle, while arm-wrestling with orcs."
The woman's pupils dilated.
It sounded simple enough in words, but without Varkan's unique circumstances, it would've been impossible.
A monopoly on supply, and the raw strength to withstand foreign pressure.
If not for the Monster Mountain Range, Varkan might have ended up as this world's version of the Bear Nation.
"One more thing. Don't collect payment after the monsters are caught — collect it before they're caught."
"How do you sell what hasn't been caught yet?"
"Have them sell the hides, scales, and herbs that will be caught next season in advance — at seventy percent of the market price. The guilds win by buying cheap, and Varkan uses that money to buy spears and army provisions first."
"And if they fail to catch anything?"
"Sell only the amount that gets reliably caught every year. It'll all be in the ledgers anyway. The point is to get the capital circulating smoothly first."
Introduce the concept of advance payment here.
"Then charge protection fees to the neighboring countries and tribes that benefit from Varkan."
"Protection fees?"
"Yes. Protection fees. Where in this world does anyone get a free ride? If Varkan keeps you safe, you pay up."
"They'll never pay. If anything, they'll push back and tell us to stop being greedy."
"Then open up your own defensive line."
The woman made a baffled expression.
"You mean... monster drives?"
"...That would work. Evacuate the nearby civilians and have Varkan's warriors coordinate the routes. Yes, that's possible."
"Exactly. So collect the protection fees. Don't do volunteer work."
Peace has a price.
The neighboring small nations and tribes living comfortably off the land must have felt like lightning had struck out of a clear blue sky — but that was their problem.
"If Varkan falls, where do you think the monsters will go? Spread out a map, draw a line up to their own border, and show them. Then let them compare — the cost of building new castle walls versus the cost of paying Varkan a protection fee. Which is cheaper?"
"So we play the rampart, and they pay us a wage?"
"Castle walls don't stand for free either. If they're short on coin, take grain or craftsmen instead — and in exchange, grant them the right to purchase the mountain's specialties first."
That's how you develop while turning the surrounding nations into vassal states.
That was the picture I'd drawn in my head.
"What was your name again?"
"Rael. Former Section Chief of Personnel at the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and current stablehand Rael, at your service."
"Ha. I want you."
"...Excuse me?"
What did I just hear?
"But is that something a former Imperial official should be saying? If the neighboring countries grow stronger, Imperial interests suffer, no?"
"Don't ask me. The Empire threw me away, so the Empire can rot."
She clutched her belly at that and burst into roaring laughter.
It was a refreshing laugh, like a summer downpour.
I laughed along with her and belatedly raised my cup.
The alcohol tasted better than before.
"Once the money starts flowing a bit, you fix the roads, maintain the fortresses, that sort of thing. While the princess holds the line, you build the systems one by one."
"The princess already suffices."
"You want her sprinting around for all of that?"
The woman answered by running her finger along the rim of her cup instead.
"The princess can't stand at every single gate, can she? If the soldiers just held out a little longer, she wouldn't have to rush off in such a panic every time."
"I suppose not."
"She can get injured too. She'll grow old too. And there's no guarantee the next Swordmaster will come along."
I'd heard that the Varkan Kingdom once held far more territory than it does now.
But there were eras when no exceptional talent emerged — no Swordmaster to speak of — and each time, their borders shrank and shrank.
"You have to prepare while she's still here. So the country can hold even without her."
The woman said nothing for a long while.
At some point the bard had changed songs, and the men at the next table started drumming their fingers on the table and singing along.
I turned my head toward them without thinking, but she was still staring down at the table.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
Heat rose to my face — probably the liquor.
"Still, don't trust me too much. Just chalk it up to a drunk man's nonsense. I've never even seen the ledgers, and if I actually went there, I'm sure plenty would need revising."
"What is wrong can be corrected. But the fact that such thoughts occurred to you at all..."
Who knows. Is that really so?
Nobody else has ever thought of this?
Yeah, right. The country's just full of thieves, that's all.
But I had no obligation to say that part out loud.
She looked like Varkan's high nobility, so they'd figure it out on their own.
"You said you worked in Personnel. Did you study this sort of thing too?"
"You have to know which posts are suffering and how before you can decide who to send. You can't send a swordsman to a seat that needs a merchant."
"And that's how you ended up like this?"
"Why are you hitting me where it hurts all of a sudden?"
I laughed and held out my open palm.
Then I withdrew it when her gaze settled on the blisters there.
"The Empire is truly rotting from within."
"Hey, hey. Don't go saying stuff like that so carelessly."
Still, it felt good to have someone to bad-mouth the Empire with.
I figured I could order another bottle or two and was looking for the tavern keeper when a wholly unexpected words came from across the table.
"Would you come south with me, Rael?"
At those words, I turned my head.
"The South?"
"You could put everything we just talked about into practice. And there would be people to back you to the hilt."
"Pfft, no thanks. You said it's hot and humid. I'm living out my days right here."
"Doesn't it feel like a waste, letting talent like that rot away in a stable?"
"You think I'm going to shovel horse dung my whole life? I've got some savings put away, and if I hang in there, another position will open up eventually."
Assuming my back holds out until then, anyway.
When I drained my cup, the woman refilled it.
She really was someone to be grateful for.
If only the new Director of Personnel had been half the person this woman was.
"I'll make sure you want for nothing."
"There's plenty I can't stand, actually. I hate the heat, I hate bugs. I hate monsters most of all."
"Monsters, I can hold back for you."
"You're not planning to be glued to my side every single day, though, are you?"
The woman studied me for a moment, then picked up the bottle.
"It seems we're short on drinks. Have another first."
"Oh, thank you."
I held out my cup meekly, and our eyes met.
Lamplight caught in her auburn eyes, turning them a honeyed gold.
I hadn't noticed before, but the way the corners of her eyes curved slightly when she smiled was rather pretty.
Those eyes, really...
I was staring blankly and nearly spilled my drink, hurriedly righting the cup.
"You drink quite well, for someone who refused to follow me."
"I said I hated the South, not that I hated you."
The woman's hand paused for just a moment.
I raised my cup in thanks and took a sip.
The burn sliding down my throat felt almost sweet by now.
"Don't drink on an empty stomach."
The woman pushed the remaining meat toward me.
I reached for my fork without thinking, then noticed her own plate — the sliced meat sat there untouched.
Come to think of it, I'd been the only one eating this whole time.
She'd listened whenever I rambled, refilled my cup whenever I emptied it, and yet hadn't put more than a few pieces in her own mouth.
I pushed the plate back to the middle of the table.
"You should eat too."
"I'm fine."
"Not to your taste?"
"That's not it."
"Then let's eat together. Eating alone makes me self-conscious."
Still, she showed no sign of picking up her fork, so I speared the best-cooked piece and held it out in front of her mouth.
"Here. Say ahh."
The woman froze.
Her red eyes, darting between the fork and my face, blinked a couple of times.
"My arm's getting tired here."
Only then did the woman open her mouth.
She carefully accepted the meat and ate it, then silently picked up her own fork.
Seeing that, I finally reached for the rest of the meat myself.
"Are you always this attentive to people? Pouring drinks, telling me to eat. When you yourself have barely touched a bite."
"It's... a habit."
"What kind of habit?"
"When I drink with my subordinates, I can't just leave them be. Some hide their injuries and keep drinking, and some get drunk and tear their wounds back open."
"You fight alongside them and then do the aftercare too?"
"They're my people."
The woman answered as if it were nothing and reached for the bottle.
I hurriedly brought my cup over, then found myself asking, quite without meaning to.
"Then who looks after you?"
At those words, the woman's eyes went round.
As if she had never once heard such a question in her entire life.