Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Rediscovery
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A few days later.
“Ian! Ian!”
Ian was reading a book in front of the fireplace. At Hanna’s call, he turned his head and immediately checked the letter in her hand.
A familiar design and seal. It was from Merelrof.
“Another letter from Merelrof?”
“Yes. They say this time they need an immediate reply, and the servant is waiting downstairs.”
“It’s only been a week.”
Berik, who had been lounging with his back to the fire, got up with a grumble. After all that chaos that day, he’d returned to everyday life as if nothing had happened. Fortunately, there were no aftereffects or strange symptoms.
‘What on earth is his body made of?’
Ian took the letter and glanced at Berik. Oblivious to the look, Berik hopped down and came over to him.
“What are you doing? Read it quick.”
“I will. Don’t rush me.”
There was a seal stamped on it. The handwriting wasn’t the butler’s either—it was unfamiliar. That meant the Merelrof Count had written and sent it himself. Berik squinted and craned his neck, but all he could tell was that the yellowish stuff was paper and the black stuff was writing.
“What does it say?”
“…They want to buy more gula.”
“I knew it. Who’s going to make do with just one bundle? And that was the smallest one, right?”
“Did the messenger say anything else?”
“It seems there was a break-in at the mansion.”
“A break-in?”
Of course, Bratz had its own intruders targeting gula. It was natural to think it could happen anywhere, but given his conversation with Lady Merelrof, Ian couldn’t help suspecting her handiwork.
“What about the messengers?”
“They went to the kitchen asking for the recipe.”
As Hanna whispered the addition, Berik snorted. They’d dismissed it as trash weeds before, but now it was like they couldn’t get enough. Ian folded the letter in half and placed it on the table.
“Fine. If they want it, we’ll provide more.”
“Shall I prepare the bundles?”
“Yes. But tell them this time, one servant’s worth won’t cut it. We won’t sell for less than fifty gold coins per bundle. Instead, convey that we’ll pack mostly the fuller ones compared to before. Add that with winter setting in, we have no choice either.”
“Yes, Ian.”
“I’ll write the details in a letter and send it. Where’s Lord Romandro?”
“He went out this morning. He should be back soon.”
Ian rummaged through the desk drawer with his left hand. It contained notes he’d made with Romandro while sharing Merelrof information earlier.
‘Back then, how much did he say to offer if they requested a reorder?’
Romandro, the reconstruction expert, had calculated it. Considering Merelrof territory’s size and overall situation, how much gula they’d need.
‘A hundred bundles: half for planting, half for the mansion to eat comfortably during the month of cultivation. The planted half will multiply enough to distribute evenly to the territory’s people after a month.’
‘Does anyone in Merelrof know gula dies in snow?’
‘Who knows. Maybe not. It takes interest to begin with.’
Recalling Romandro’s words, Ian spread out fresh paper. He wrote up a trade proposal for a hundred bundles at fifty gold coins each, totaling five thousand gold coins.
“A hundred bundles? That’s a lot. When are we moving them?”
“Once the bulk deal goes through, that’s the end. Merelrof will gain the ability to cultivate and consume gula on their own. Of course, after this winter, gula will overflow across all of Bariel.”
“So for the final deal, increase the quantity or hike the price? Grab one or the other?”
“Exactly. And judging by the Merelrof Count’s temperament, he’ll psychologically prefer a large purchase at a low price.”
Besides, Romandro’s calculations weren’t idle chatter. It was a proposal based on solid grounds. With the lady nudging from the side, it shouldn’t be too hard.
Ian carefully wrote the proposal and handed it to Hanna.
“Here you go.”
“Yes, Ian. I’ll deliver it right away.”
“Oh, and give the servant a bit of gula for the road, so they can snack on it.”
Outside the Merelrof couple, few would know gula’s taste. Once someone tastes the fruit, they get greedy. Hanna nodded at Ian’s words and asked,
“But will you keep banning trades among the territory folk?”
“Why?”
“It’s not a big deal, but our side’s getting a lot of headaches from Merelrof people demanding trades.”
Once they’re full and well-fed, they start wanting to fill their pockets instead of just the warehouse. Who wouldn’t feel bad refusing money when spring’s coming with endless places to spend it?
“Hm.”
Ian nodded as if he understood. If the deal with the Merelrof Count wrapped up well, opening trades wouldn’t hurt. Banning personal trades had been for this very day, after all.
If timed right, he could even gift the Count a bigger humiliation….
“How about selling just roasted gula?”
“Roasted gula?”
“Yes. If we roast the gula seeds and sell them, they can’t replant, so only for eating.”
Ian’s eyes widened at Hanna’s words. He’d just found a huge hint there. He smiled and patted her shoulder fondly.
“Got it. We’ll discuss it with Lord Romandro as soon as he’s back.”
“Yes. I’ll send the letter and return!”
As Hanna left, Berik tilted his head with a suddenly serious expression.
“But Ian.”
“What is it?”
“What if Merelrof bitches that fifty coins is too much and shows up with soldiers? Business stops for food, right? One blink, and it’s battle again?”
Berik’s eyes sparkled as he said it. His wounds barely healed, and he was itching for another hole in his gut.
“You look thrilled.”
“No way? I’m super scared! My heart’s pounding from fear. Or is it thumping?”
Berik chuckled low and deeply inhaled smoke from his burning gurut leaf. He looked like a predator warm at the back and full-bellied.
“Beast or man, they differ in many ways, but they share common points too. Know what the biggest one is?”
“No idea.”
“They instinctively know their limits against an opponent. ‘Not that far. Don’t cross that line. Life’s precious.’ Same for beasts and men.”
“Hahaha! True! I’ll hold the line firm. Damn right. Who’d dare charge here? We’ve still got some Cheonryeo warriors left. Uhahaha!”
Berik laughed uproariously, taking it as praise for himself. Kicking the cushion with his feet and puffing up—it was quite the sight. He seemed in high spirits, so no need to correct him….
‘What I meant was the center. The center, Berik.’
What Ian precisely meant was the imperial palace.
Nobles awaiting the emperor and his advisors to grant them a family name. Attacking Bratz at this timing? Perfect for misunderstandings. Like Merelrof striking central forces to absorb Bratz and boost influence.
‘Touch us, and they’ll get caught red-handed. They watched how Dergha and House Bratz got smashed when the central army came down, so they’ll avoid that at all costs, consciously or not.’
Thud!
Ian slammed the drawer shut noisily and settled back with his book. Probably late today or tomorrow at latest for a reply. His guess: not the servant, but the Merelrof Count himself would move.
Knock knock.
“Ahem! Lord Ian, I’m back.”
“You’re back. Hanna said you went out.”
“Bought some gifts for my wife and baby.”
Romandro entered with a jolly laugh, hands full of packages. Maybe Berik’s prank that day went too far—he kept sneaking glances pitifully whenever they met.
“Lord Romandro, I’m fine, see?”
“Who said otherwise? It’s your dead-fish eyes every day.”
“Eh? No way. Ian, are my eyes like that?”
“Sometimes they look off.”
“Think the Merelrof Count’s crazy temper’s from drugs too?”
“Doesn’t seem so. His wife’s been waiting for winter. She’ll probably start now.”
A hallucinogenic anesthetic to slowly infiltrate over a month, leading to death by hyperventilation. Romandro shook his head as if it were ghastly and muttered,
“Maybe it’s the border, but what a bold woman.”
“It also means she’s that cornered.”
Berik eyed Romandro’s gifts and asked,
“Doesn’t the center do this stuff?”
“The center? Way worse!”
“But why say ‘border’ then?”
The center, where over half the nobles gather. Naturally, scandals erupt every other day in the heart of high society. Romandro twirled his beard and grumbled.
“These days, they do it in villas or masked balls—secret spots only. Prince Gail once….”
Gail. Ian hadn’t expected the second prince’s name from Romandro. Urging him on, Romandro smiled awkwardly.
“I flinched without thinking. In the palace, you can’t even utter names lightly. Too many ears, easy to twist words.”
“I understand.”
Where faction wars rage fiercest. Not a name Romandro, subordinate to First Prince Marib, could drop easily.
“Anyway, Prince Gail—last year, was it?—at Duke Holin’s nephew’s party, he unleashed a bloodbath.”
“Bloodbath?”
A prince not heir needs noble connections first to hold power. Each one becomes strength. Yet he caused chaos at a duke’s nephew’s party? The man who’d later rebel for that power?
“High on drugs, couldn’t tell reality, slaughtered all the slaves there.”
“Was that possible?”
“It happened, so yes. You didn’t hear? Even on the border?”
Even if the world flips, some live detached. Ian had been like that. Emperor changes? So what—too busy surviving.
“Naturally, the houses went berserk. Their property, after all. Drugs are bad, but everyone did it openly. And imperial family acting against nobles? Like armed intimidation.”
“How’d they cover it?”
“Money.”
“Pardon?”
“Bought new slaves to replace the dead ones and sent them over.”
“Crazy bastard.”
Unlike Berik’s disgusted mutter, Ian was stunned speechless. Grasping the meaning, Romandro sighed deeply with a faint smile.
“I served Prince Marib a bit, but Prince Gail’s no ordinary either.”
Slaves are buyable goods since forever. Proper compensation? No issue. But the core: slaves from ‘Gail’.
“Impressive in every way.”
“That incident solidified his followers. Rumors Wesley, Magic Department head, funded it—his line grew firmer.”
“Why’d that boost his faction? I’d have fought back, calling him crazy.”
“Berik, be grateful you’re on the border. Palace walls have ears—even portraits.”
“So explain it.”
As Berik scratched his ear, Ian swallowed a sigh and explained. To put it boldly, even Emperor Ian would call it ‘a stunningly perfect political strike.’