Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Introducing
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“Then let them prepare a meal while we discuss. We won’t get a proper bite to eat on the way back, will we? I hope you fill up well here.”
Creak, slam!
“That, that nobleman…”
As soon as the door closed, Romandro grumbled while clutching the back of his neck. At this rate, he might really give the border counts a bad first impression.
Ian picked up the documents he had been reviewing and checked them one by one.
“The price is one thing, but this list just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Exactly. There’s hardly any famine crops.”
With a harsh winter on the horizon, what they needed were crops with short growing seasons and relatively high yields. But what Merelrof had offered were only the luxury ingredients that nobles typically consumed.
“It’s ridiculous. Were they on bad terms with Dergha or something?”
“I don’t know about that far. But setting that aside, they probably wouldn’t welcome the trade itself.”
They barely had enough food for themselves, and now an imperial advisor had shown up demanding provisions. On top of that, hadn’t they suffered some losses, knowingly or not, due to the battle in Bratz territory?
“Some of them tried to flee to Merelrof during the fighting. The Bratz estate steward even got his head chopped off here. They locked the gates during that time and couldn’t go outside…”
With the forest right in front of them, they couldn’t gather firewood, hunt, or pick fruits. Trade must have been disrupted too. It was impossible to know exactly what inconveniences they faced while isolated, but he could guess.
Romandro groaned and clutched his head.
“Advisor.”
“Hm?”
Ian tapped the table a few times before slowly calling out to Romandro. In truth, even without procuring food here, Ian had a way.
“If I may be so bold, I estimate the support funds at around 3,000 gold coins. Am I right?”
“That’s a sensitive matter, so I can’t say.”
“I know a way to use that money far more valuably than buying cream or olives here. If you trust me and follow my lead, Advisor Romandro.”
Gula, the crop that eradicated Variel’s great famine, called the blessing of the gods. Ian had four sacks of Gula seeds.
Compared to other famine crops, it had an overwhelmingly short growing period, abundant yield, and excellent nutritional value.
Why spend this money on such things when they had the perfect food?
“What do you mean?”
“We can’t squander the precious support funds from the palace like this. It’s a waste—and extravagance, no less.”
“I agree, but what’s your plan?”
Ian flipped over the documents as if there was no need to look at them anymore and pushed them aside. He asked Romandro’s subordinates to check for any eavesdroppers. Once they stepped out into the corridor, Ian whispered quietly.
“We’ll buy something else here.”
“Something else? Like what?”
“People.”
Romandro blinked in surprise at the unexpected words, his eyes widening.
“…Slave markets are only held in the capital. Is Count Merelrof hosting one?”
“No, that’s not it. I mean buying labor.”
Even without spending all 3,000 gold coins, it would be enough, Ian whispered. Romandro, completely baffled, alternated between looking at Ian and the trade proposal documents, deep in thought.
“Lend me your ear.”
Ian smiled faintly and whispered the existence of Gula into Romandro’s ear. Romandro’s expression shifted to one of disbelief, but only for a moment.
* * *
“Just leaving?”
“Yes, my lord. They say the deal is off.”
Count Merelrof glanced at the food laid out on the table. Unlike his earlier boast of a lavish spread, it was centered around boiled meat stew—a commoner’s dish where not a drop of meat juice could be wasted.
This was his way of showing his displeasure with the trade proposal itself. The count stroked his beard and wrinkled his nose.
“They must be full.”
“Shall I see them off?”
“No need. Make some excuse.”
Outwardly, he hadn’t refused to help. They simply chose not to take it. Count Merelrof had been worried what he’d do if they actually agreed to the price.
‘The Cheonryeo Tribe won’t last the cold much longer and will head back soon. When everyone’s starving to death, they’ll have no choice.’
The reason Merelrof reigned like a king in the borderlands was largely because it was so remote, out of the imperial palace’s sight.
No matter what happened, the palace wouldn’t know—such physical and psychological distance.
But what if a palace man sat in the Bratz lord’s seat?
‘Damn. Just thinking about it…’
Neighboring Merelrof would effectively come under the palace’s gaze too. In that case, it would be better for Merelrof to take Bratz. There was the burden of dealing with barbarians geographically, but it was far preferable to having the palace as a neighbor.
The count strode to the window and looked down. Near the main gate, in front of the carriage, he saw Ian and the advisor standing and talking, facing forward.
* * *
“They might just hate the idea of a palace man being in Bratz at all.”
“Too burdensome as a neighbor, huh.”
“It’s not just ethical issues; something like that, right? Once you’re dead, ethics and all that are meaningless.”
Because it was so far away, Count Merelrof didn’t realize Ian had seen right through him. Romandro pondered deeply, then nodded in agreement, as it aligned with practical worldly wisdom.
“Right. Yeah. I hadn’t thought that far.”
“By the way, the steward’s taking a while.”
“Probably busy finishing up with the count.”
“I don’t know. From what I saw, I don’t think he’ll come see us off.”
Ian muttered while clicking open his pocket watch. Having gauged Merelrof’s stance, all that was left was to return to the territory and introduce Gula to Romandro.
“Oh my.”
At that moment, a woman emerged from the back door of the garden. She was a noble lady with platinum blonde hair tied up in one elaborate style, adorned with all sorts of flashy ornaments.
“…Lady Merelrof?”
“Ian! So you’re Ian?”
“Pleased to meet you.”
Ian hid his surprise and lightly kissed the back of her hand in greeting. Unlike Count Merelrof, she was a vibrant woman. He’d assumed she was around Mary’s age since they were friends, but she was much younger than expected.
“I am Lien Merelrof. I heard you were here, but you’re already leaving? At least have a meal before you go.”
Though young, she outranked both Ian and Romandro in status and position. It was only natural for her to speak down to them, and Ian knew it, so he felt no offense—just that her manners were a bit lacking.
“The count kindly offered, but with mountains of work, I must decline. Hopefully next time.”
Whoosh.
The lady fanned herself with an ornate fan, wearing an enigmatic smile. Ian and Romandro exchanged glances, sharing some unspoken look. Why was this countess acting like that? Come to think of it, the atmosphere felt off.
‘A dress out of season, and that somehow misplaced gaze…’
She gave off the vibe of someone you’d turn around and avoid if you met in an alley. An impression you wouldn’t easily get from a beautiful countess.
“Advisor?”
“Ah. Romandro.”
“What an honor. I thought I wouldn’t even get your name.”
“My apologies.”
“Is this your entire entourage?”
She twirled her fan with a soft gesture as she asked. Half of their group had already gone ahead to the central district beforehand. To buy the ‘people’ Ian had proposed.
“They left early since it might take time. We’re just waiting for the steward.”
“Ah, I see. And Bratz territory? All sorted out? My husband won’t tell me a thing about it.”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“Ohoho. And one thing I’m curious about.”
“Please, madam.”
The countess covered the lower half of her face with her fan and stepped closer. The servants seemed to have their ears and eyes shut, heads bowed.
“By any chance, who’s using Mary’s room now?”
“Mary’s room?”
“There’s something I lent her that I never got back.”
Shh. As if signaling to lower voices, Lady Merelrof’s tone dropped. Ian recalled Mary’s final moments and let out a gasp.
“Ah.”
Countess Mary had said there was something in Merelrof she could use. She hadn’t specified what, but since she mentioned it right up to leaving the estate, it must not be something easily lost.
Lady Merelrof’s eyes sparkled as she pressed Ian.
“Hm? The room’s intact?”
“…It should be. No one goes there much. Visit anytime if you’d like.”
“Really? I can?”
“Of course. Who would object to the lady of the empty room?”
Satisfied, the countess curved her eyes in a smile. At that moment, the steward came out carrying a small box, and she turned her head as if nothing had happened.
“Madam?”
“The guests are leaving, and the count?”
“Ah. He says he can’t step away due to sudden business. He asks for your understanding, and this is a small token of sincerity from Merelrof. He also conveys that if there’s anything your neighboring territory can assist with, feel free to ask anytime.”
The steward bowed politely, and the countess covered her mouth with her fan, sneering. The steward had a talent for rounding off the count’s sharp words. Ian nodded as he took the box.
“Please convey our thanks.”
“Then, we’ll be off. Ahem.”
Romandro gave a curt farewell and boarded the carriage. As they passed through the main gate, the countess kept her eyes on them until the end.
Clop clop.
“What’s that token of sincerity?”
“Smells like dried meat.”
“Well, damn. The rumors about the borderlands had some truth to them.”
He referred to the high society prejudice that border counts were vulgar and barbaric. Ian smiled softly upon understanding, and Romandro confirmed the estate was out of sight.
“The lady was pretty strange too.”
“I didn’t expect her to be so young. I thought she was the same age as Countess Mary.”
“The count looked older. Second marriage?”
“I’m not sure about…”
“Never mind that. Now, tell me in detail. A crop that harvests in just over a month?”
Romandro scooted right up to Ian’s side, his voice full of anticipation. To think such an unheard-of miracle crop existed here!
This must be why they say go to the capital to see the world’s center, and the borderlands to see the world’s changes.
“Where’s it from? The Great Desert? Yeah, a desert crop must be hardy. What’s its name?”
“You know it too, Advisor.”
“Huh? Know what?”
“Gula.”
“…Gula? That weed I know?”
Unlike the softly smiling Ian, dismay spread across Romandro’s face. It was clear his mind was filled with thoughts of utter failure.