Chapter 76
Chapter 76
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Making a Big Haul
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Lord Ian! Lord Ian!”
Haina shouted as she crossed the garden. Ian, who had been trimming gula shoots, turned his head, and she thrust a single letter at him, panting for breath. There was no seal, but the envelope was made of tough, high-quality paper.
“A letter from Merelrof!”
“Oh. I see.”
Ian took off his gloves and accepted the letter. It didn’t seem to be from the count...
Which meant the only person in the manor who might pick up a pen was a given.
“It seems the steward sent it.”
“Huh? Not the count?”
“No seal, so it can’t be. Even if it were from the count, he wouldn’t have given it to you.”
No matter the situation, he would have made a show of it at the main gate, telling Ian to come receive it himself. The count’s position as a noble who hadn’t even held an investiture ceremony for his viscountcy was all too clear.
Ian elegantly tore open the envelope and checked the contents right there. Haina, illiterate, rolled her eyes, watching his expression closely.
“Is it the news you’ve been waiting for, Lord Ian?”
“...Not exactly what I was waiting for, but welcome news nonetheless.”
Ian lightly folded the paper and patted Haina’s shoulder. Then he gave instructions to Berik, who was lounging idly in the shade of a tree.
“Berik. Enough lounging. Let’s head to the basement.”
“The basement? Why there?”
“Fetch Lord Romandro too. And tell the kitchen to mix some flour with whatever’s handy and make a dough ball.”
The steward was inquiring, on behalf of the count, whether gula trading was possible.
-Greetings, Viscount Ian. Forgive me for addressing you so casually by name and for taking up the pen in place of the count. He currently lacks the capacity to reply.
Addressing him casually by name was because Ian hadn’t yet received a family name. Lacking capacity to reply was an obvious lie. The first letter to Merelrof had reported the assassination plot by the conspirators, yet there had been no formal response.
‘Probably the steward who drafted the telegram about the viscountcy too.’
-Regarding the conspirators you informed us of, Merelrof is conducting a thorough investigation. Please wait just a bit longer. The reason I’m writing this letter is to ask if you might allow gula trading.
I’ve heard rumors that you strictly prohibit gula trade with outsiders. I respect that intent, but considering the winter fast approaching, I’ve taken up the pen.
This is my personal proposal, unrelated to the count. But if you permit it, I will ensure a satisfactory deal for both sides.
I earnestly hope for your generous understanding.
Merelrof Manor Steward, Sammen.
Ian slowly shook the letter, quietly mulling over the steward’s name at the end. Sammen. Even in diverse Bariel, territories each had their distinct flavors. This didn’t sound like a typical Merelrof name.
“What the hell is this even for?”
“You move fast. Good job, Berik.”
“Making a dough ball? How hard could it be?”
In the brief moment, Berik held a dough ball the size of a thumbnail. Its bizarre color made it impossible to guess what they’d mixed in.
Not that he particularly wanted to know.
Crash!
“Gah! Ian!”
“Lord Romandro. You’ll fall.”
“Oof, that hurts. A letter from Merelrof? A gula trade proposal? I came running the moment I heard.”
“No. Regrettably, it’s from their steward, not the count. Seems the count isn’t hungry yet.”
Ian handed the letter to Romandro with a smile. He quickly scanned it, eyes darting. If there was still a hill to lean on, it meant there was a source for food supplies outside Bratz.
“...Sheiron?”
“Probably. They’ll send people to Hawan Kingdom too, but didn’t bandits show up and cause a stabbing incident? They won’t send many, and there won’t be volunteers.”
“Right. After all, dying by the sword hurts more than starving. That route’s blocked. By the way, Su, was it? That Cheonryeo Tribe woman?”
Ian knew every detail of what had happened in the gorge at midnight, thanks to Su’s messenger bird. And right on cue, fantastically timed, Erika had appeared.
He wasn’t sure if she’d died, but rumors were rife that Hawan Kingdom had dispatched troops to suppress the bandits. For the time being, no one who valued their life would go near there.
“Anyway, the Cheonryeo Tribe handles things better than expected.”
“Especially when it involves their bodies, right?”
“It’ll take ten days to reach Sheiron, maybe twelve... But coming back will be the problem. The altitude’s high there, so snow falls early.”
Ian, Berik, and Romandro headed to the basement, reviewing the situation. Then they simultaneously glanced at the closed door. It was the room holding the sole survivor among those who had rushed to kill Ian.
“Open the door.”
Creak.
At Ian’s command, two guards unlocked it. The man huddled on the bed inside bolted up and prostrated himself on the floor. Collin. His bushy beard and rough skin indirectly revealed his ordeal. Living like livestock in a windowless space, it was only natural.
“Collin.”
“Y-Yes...”
He peeked up, trembling as he replied. What was this about? Were they finally going to kill him? His body shook like an aspen leaf.
“Eat this.”
“Huh?”
“Eat it, and I’ll send you home.”
Ian nodded to Berik with a smile. No idea what was going on, but if told to eat, he would. Berik held up the rice cake ball, then roughly pried open Collin’s cheeks. He flailed reflexively, but couldn’t win in strength.
“Gah, wh-what is this! Mercy, mercy...”
“Worried it’ll kill you? Don’t be. You’ll die anyway if you don’t eat.”
Berik forced the ball down his throat. He pinched his nose shut to prevent spitting it out and tilted his head back. Collin grimaced at the foul taste, rolling on the floor.
“Urk... Blech...”
“All eaten? Ian, he got it all down.”
“Good. Collin. I’m sending you back to Merelrof now.”
“Huh? Th-thank you...”
“But you have a job to do.”
Ian crouched before him and straightened his hair, like petting an obedient dog.
“Have you ever been to Sheiron?”
“Sh-Sheiron? N-No, never.”
Ian gave Collin a faintly disappointed look. But it didn’t matter. His role in Merelrof wouldn’t be as a guide, but the opposite.
“Listen carefully to what I say from now on. When you return, you must keep everything that happened here a complete secret. No one must know of your movements or mission.”
It was a fair deal for Collin too.
If word got out that he’d tried to kill a noble—even a half-baked one like Ian—he’d surely face trial.
“In return, you must volunteer for the group Merelrof Manor is recruiting to go to Sheiron.”
He didn’t know if there’d be many or few volunteers. It would depend on the territory’s mood. But a sturdy young man like Collin could probably join the trade caravan somehow.
“And somehow prevent the group from reaching Sheiron. Or make sure they return empty-handed. Break the wagons if you must, tie the whole group up—do whatever. Just ensure they’re delayed by at least a fortnight.”
Collin blinked, not grasping it at first. So he was to act as a spy now? He shook his head reflexively.
“H-How could I...”
“Didn’t you take money to kill people? This should be easy for you.”
“P-Please, Lord Ian. I-I’m truly sorry.”
“If you don’t follow orders, you’ll die.”
“What do you...”
Zing.
Ian’s eyes turned golden, faintly emanating mana. In the windowless room, his hair fluttered. Collin’s body stiffened at the mana he’d never felt before.
“What you just ate will dissolve inside you, becoming blood and flesh. The moment I confirm the plan’s gone awry, I’ll release this energy unchecked. Your blood will turn to poison, your body melting into the ground.”
“Urk! Blech!”
Ian’s soft, whispering warning was chillingly menacing. Collin started dry-heaving, but Berik immediately clamped his mouth and bound him.
“But if you succeed, I promise you freedom. I’ll remove the spell I’ve cast myself. Compared to your dead comrades in the afterlife, isn’t that fortunate?”
So don’t get any funny ideas. Collin nodded vigorously, face pale with fear. The thing sliding down his throat felt like it would choke him any second.
Creak.
“Come on out.”
Ian opened the door and stepped aside. Through the half-open gap, the stairs were visible. Bright light poured down from above. Daylight, after so long.
“How can you go home looking like that? Berik. Clean him up.”
“I’m a bladesman, so my shaving’s top-notch.”
“Not the neck.”
“Eek!”
“Kidding. Just kidding.”
At Ian’s joke, Collin clutched his throat. Berik chuckled as he dragged him out. Collin, tasting outside air after nearly a month, felt intoxicated. He’d been on death’s doorstep moments ago, now acutely aware of being alive.
Romandro, watching, murmured to Ian.
“Just in case, we should tail him with someone.”
“Yes. Assign someone suitable.”
“Hmm. Let me think, I’ll find one.”
It was only natural. What he’d fed Collin was just crude dough. Putting a real safeguard in place was prudent.
“But if they’ve decided to go to Sheiron, it means they’re at the end of their rope.”
“A guy who calculates every penny... Ahem. No. For that stingy count to pay premium to go all the way to Sheiron? Yeah, they’re desperate.”
“Let’s start gathering the gula.”
A crow crossed the sky. Against the high blue, its black seemed especially deep. Time to gather their last hope and face winter.
“If the deal goes through, how about one gold coin per sack of gula?”
Romandro, leading the way, turned and asked.
He was curious what price Ian planned for the gula if the trade happened. Wild plants from mountains and fields—pricing them was luxurious, but they’d already set a baseline of one gold per three sacks.
“One coin?”
Ian waved dismissively, as if it were absurd.
“I’m thinking at least ten gold coins per sack. Minimum, absolute minimum.”
Opportunity knocked once.
He’d already reported to Prince Marib that gula was edible. Rumors in the capital had central nobles eating it as health food—possibly true up top.
After this winter—precisely after the New Year’s ceremony—gula’s value would spread across Bariel.
‘By then, supply will flood the market, and we won’t be able to sell. So we cash in big this time.’
If he could, he’d empty Merelrof’s warehouses entirely. Caravans would return to Merelrof eventually, and spring would come too. Would their manor’s stores stay empty forever just because they were sparse this winter?
“That’s too steep. Think the count’s personality will allow it?”
“On the brink of death, even Count Merelrof will realize: no matter how much you have, you can’t eat gold.”
Ian smiled brightly, glancing at the stacked boxes in one corner of the garden. Gula lumps collected as taxes.
Romandro felt an inexplicable pressure from Ian’s radiant smile. He thought that crossing such a man would make life miserable.