Chapter 36
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Sabotage
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"So, these are all the people displaced by the Ice Dragon?"
"To be precise, the Golden Bear Tribe was pushed out first. They lost their territory to the Ice Dragon. When they moved south, smaller tribes like ours got chased out in a chain reaction."
It was a domino effect.
When a massive tribe comes marching, smaller ones have no choice. Step aside or get trampled.
Sir Heinrich approached.
"What will you do, young master?"
"We'll take them in."
"That's 5,000 people. Too many to house inside the legion base. Food, space—not to mention security. Even if we just count the warriors, there are easily a thousand. Letting a group like that loose..."
Jobe, the staff officer, spoke up.
"You think it's insane?"
"..."
"I know."
He turned his gaze.
Far off, the tribesfolk stood. Sunken eyes. Knuckles protruding from bony hands. Mothers clutching their children tight.
All their eyes fixed on him.
Waiting for a single word from a ten-year-old boy.
"We're barely scraping by on rations ourselves, and you want to feed 5,000 barbarians?"
"I'll cover their food from my personal funds."
"...Your personal funds?"
Jobe's eyebrow twitched.
"May I ask how much you have?"
"Two months' worth. Three if we ration carefully."
"You think 5,000 people can become self-sufficient in three months?"
"..."
"And if they can't?"
He didn't answer.
He couldn't.
If they couldn't, his entire fortune would vanish.
But... even with his recent momentum, he was still the underdog, no question.
If Ernst was a large-breed dog like a Jindo or Shiba Inu, he was just a feisty Chihuahua or Pomeranian.
If reconciliation was impossible. If he had to win no matter what...
He'd need to keep creating variables, and gambling couldn't be entirely ruled out.
And this one... had real potential.
"If they can harvest the Crimson Herb, we'll break even fast. With the southern mountains burned out, a new supply source is like striking gold."
"'If they can'?"
"Yeah. If they can."
Jobe stared straight at him.
"What if they fail?"
"Then..."
He trailed off.
He almost said, Then there's nothing for it.
Nothing for it?
Take in 5,000 people, stake his whole fortune, and if it fails, just shrug it off?
Ridiculous.
"Then we'll find another way."
Jobe stared at him for a long moment, then bowed his head.
"...Understood."
He stepped back. No more arguments.
"We'll build a pioneer village."
He turned to Kuuruk.
"A place for your tribesfolk to settle. Outside the legion base. We'll provide the land and let them build homes."
Kuuruk's eyes widened.
"But there are conditions. You'll deliver the Crimson Herb supply as promised. And cooperate on warhorse breeding. Can you do it?"
"..."
Kuuruk dropped to his knees.
His forehead touched the ground.
Thud.
"Thank you, young master."
His voice trembled.
"We will never forget this grace."
Murmurs spread from behind. The interpreter relayed from front to back, back to further back.
Then cheers erupted.
Shouts of joy.
He thought as he listened.
Three months.
Results in three months.
Succeed or fail.
**
About a month passed.
The pioneer village was taking shape.
Half a day's ride from the legion base. Tents and makeshift huts dotted the gentle hills. What had been barren fields now looked like a proper village.
And the most crucial task.
Crimson Herb harvesting.
"You found a colony faster than expected, and this isn't even your homeland."
"Our herbalists scouted around. They heard there were similar conditions in the nearby mountains, so we checked it out..."
He pulled something from his bosom.
A red-tinged grass. A unique scent pierced the nose—sweet yet bitterly astringent, strangely alluring.
"The real deal."
Sir Wolfram picked up the herb.
He sniffed it close. Rubbed the leaves between his fingers to draw out the sap. Checked the color, touched the tip of his tongue to it.
"How's the quality?"
I asked.
"...Not bad. A touch below Strab Mountain grade, but still very marketable."
"Scale?"
"We found three sites. Combined... it's substantial."
"Specifically."
"Nearly half the amount that used to circulate across the entire Empire before Strab Mountain burned."
Sir Wolfram's eyes widened.
"Half? That much?"
"Yes. The quality back in our homeland is even better. Once the Ice Dragon pulls back, we can harvest there too."
Ice Dragon.
The air in the room grew heavy at the name.
A month ago, Kuuruk brought word. The Ice Dragon was moving south.
If that monster really showed up, Crimson Herb deals would be the least of our worries.
Fortunately, no further news yet. Maybe its pace was slower than expected, or it veered off course.
Either way, it wasn't an immediate problem.
The immediate problem was elsewhere.
Lize closed the ledger with a sigh.
"Still in the red this week too~ If this keeps up, the coffers will be empty by next week~"
The gamble wasn't over.
We needed to sell the Crimson Herb. And fast.
"But now we just have to sell it~!"
"That's the problem. Having the goods doesn't help if we can't find buyers."
Crimson Herb.
Demand was rock-solid. Nobles, wealthy merchants—plenty wanted it.
The issue was distribution.
No connections with apothecaries, no network, no credit.
Just advertise "Crimson Herb for sale"?
Perfect recipe for being labeled a scammer.
Plus, the established apothecaries would stonewall us.
So for now, we were pursuing partnerships with existing merchant groups.
"Oh yeah, it's today~. The day we meet the first merchant~."
"Yeah. Today."
I straightened my clothes.
A ten-year-old could only do so much, but we had to show sincerity.
Today's merchant was the first of three.
A deal with even one would solve our cash crunch.
"Nervous~?"
"Not really."
A lie.
I was a bit tense.
**
The first merchant.
A portly man in his mid-fifties. Curly mustache, silk vest, gold rings.
The picture of a typical merchant.
But something was off.
"You've come a long way. Well met."
I greeted first, and he startled, bowing deeply.
"N-no, not at all! It's an honor for Young Master to contact me personally!"
His voice shook.
Did he really need to be this nervous around a ten-year-old?
"Let's get to business. You've seen the Crimson Herb sample?"
"Y-yes! I have!"
"Quality?"
"Excellent! Not quite Strab Mountain level, but plenty of market value..."
The merchant trailed off.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes weren't on my face, but fixed on Sir Heinrich behind me.
More precisely, on Sir Heinrich's sword.
"So, shall we discuss terms...?"
"Um, Young Master. I'm sorry, but... I can't do this deal."
"...What did you say~?"
Lize spoke first.
"I'm sorry. Truly sorry."
The merchant bowed repeatedly, backing away.
"Circumstances arose... really sorry..."
And he fled.
I blinked.
"...What the hell was that?"
**
The second merchant.
A lean middle-aged man. Beady rat-like eyes, constantly rubbing his hands.
But unlike the first.
"Fine by me. Let's deal."
"Quick answer."
"Of course. With Crimson Herb so scarce, who'd pass up this chance?"
The merchant grinned slyly.
Still rubbing his hands, but his voice brimmed with confidence.
Good.
I relaxed inwardly.
"Then let's discuss terms. First, volume..."
Then a man entered and whispered to him.
"Boss! Boss! Emergency news."
"One moment."
The merchant raised a hand.
"Excuse me briefly. Need the washroom..."
"Ah, sure. Go ahead."
The merchant stood and hurried to the door.
And didn't return.
"...He's not coming back~."
Lize muttered blankly.
Sir Heinrich checked outside and returned.
"Packed his bags at the inn and left in a hurry."
He'd bolted.
Unlike the first, though, this one had agreed to deal.
A breach of promise.
Liquidated damages applied.
"This'll... buy us a week or two~."
Lize said, calculating the penalty fee.
Lucky, in a way.
But suspicious.
Agree to a deal then run?
No matter how I sliced it, it was weird.
**
The third merchant.
This one was different.
The head of the largest guild in the area. Burly build, sharp eyes. Exuded the savvy cunning of a seasoned trader.
This caliber wouldn't shake easily.
I thought so inwardly.
And indeed, unlike the previous two, he didn't flinch at the sight of me. Cautious, sure—but that was natural with a duke's son.
But...
"...Sorry, Young Master. This deal won't work."
Lize drooped, head down. The eye visible below her eyepatch stared at the floor.
Sir Heinrich's face hardened.
Perplexed, unable to grasp the situation.
Sir Wolfram muttered low.
"All three? This is..."
I closed my eyes briefly.
Sorted my thoughts.
First merchant. Refusal from the start.
Second. Agreed, then fled.
Third. Refusal.
All three satisfied with the product's quality.
All three cited "circumstances."
All three gave no reasons.
Coincidence?
Absurd.
Crimson Herb.
Women's beauty, men's virility. Those two markets sell across eras and worlds. Same in my past life, same here.
Plus, Strab Mountain burned.
Most supply lines wrecked.
Goods scarce, demand overflowing.
A new source appears, and all three pass?
Doesn't add up.
One conclusion.
I opened my eyes.
Stared straight at the guildmaster.
"Who threatened you?"
The guildmaster's shoulders jerked.
"Th-threatened~?"
Lize gasped, asking back.
I didn't respond.
Kept my eyes locked on the guildmaster, waiting.
His lips quivered. Clearly didn't want to say.
I waited.
No pressure needed.
Sir Heinrich's hand slowly rose to his sword hilt.
That sufficed.
The guildmaster's face went sheet-white.
"...Not a threat, exactly... a warning."
"Warning?"
"If I keep dealing with Adrian Young Master, I'd have to shut down all business in the North... It's a family trade passed down three generations. My father, grandfather—they all built it here. I can't... lose it all in an instant..."
His eyes reddened.
A middle-aged man in his fifties on the verge of tears before a ten-year-old.
I kept my expression neutral.
"Name."
My voice lowered.
"Pardon?"
"Who made the threat?"
The guildmaster swallowed hard.
His gaze dropped to the floor.
Shoulders slumped.
Finally, he spoke.
"The Mueller Guild."
Mueller Guild.
The merchant group run by Ernst's maternal family.