Chapter 89
Chapter 89
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Alchemist
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‘Good grief, to think it was right under my nose and I never noticed.’
Ian peered into the ring, letting out an incredulous laugh. He’d had no reason to scrutinize the countess’s fingers or her jewelry, after all.
The hand she’d used to signal earlier had been the opposite one, and the mysterious ring aside, the jewelry laid out on the table already numbered seven or eight pieces.
“Why do you ask?”
“The gem embedded in the ring—do you know what it is?”
The countess looked at Ian with a puzzled expression. Her gaze clearly asked why he was suddenly inquiring about that. But since she didn’t know the answer herself, the question swiftly turned toward Count Merelrof.
“No. He… the count gifted it to me, so…”
The more he examined it, the more certain he became. Wasn’t Ian wearing a necklace just like it under his outer shirt even now? It was the same type as the one hidden beneath the pot of silask flowers. A yellow gemstone, perfectly cut to capture the sunlight.
“Count?”
“Hmm, I don’t remember well, but I think it was a gift from a merchant group heading to the capital. It was the spring of our first year of marriage, so perhaps…”
The count tapped his temples, trying to recall the merchant group’s name. But oddly, it wouldn’t come to him, and he only let out a frustrated groan.
“Urgh. Anyway, it was from a merchant group, that much is true. I remember they had an alchemist with them.”
“An alchemist?”
“Yes. I told him to make gold, and he produced all sorts of strange… I couldn’t tell if they were failures or intentional. But they’re popular in foreign lands beyond Hawan Kingdom, so I kept it.”
Ian fell silent at the unexpected revelation.
An alchemist—a path he’d never even considered. Those who pursued nature’s truths through alchemy rather than magic, seeking to transmute base metals into gold. Some dismissed them as frauds or madmen, or worse, heretics aping mages.
“A merchant group traveling with an alchemist—how intriguing.”
“It’s not so surprising abroad. An alchemist is practically a walking mint, isn’t he? I’ve never seen a master alchemist myself, but half-finished products like this are nice to look at. They often contract with merchant groups to travel. You wouldn’t know?”
“How would I?”
“Well, fair enough. They wouldn’t exactly visit Bratz’s red-light district.”
Count Merelrof unwittingly spat out an insult, then flinched in surprise. Hadn’t Ian just asked to defer payment on the gula and offered collateral?
His tongue had betrayed him.
“Ahem.”
The count cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Ian, but he seemed absorbed in examining the ring.
‘So it was an alchemist’s work. But why was it hidden in my silask pot?’
The puzzle was starting to come together.
As Philia had said, Ian had obtained the pot after running an errand for a merchant group. It had to be the same one the count mentioned.
“I see. Thank you for telling me.”
“The ring…”
Ian and the countess’s eyes met. Ian wanted to buy it outright, and the countess seemed fine giving it as a gift—as long as Count Merelrof weren’t watching.
“Is this collateral sufficient?”
“Of course, my lady. If you send the check by sunset tomorrow, I’ll return your valuables. I hope our mutual trust remains unshaken.”
“Hmph. I wonder how you see House Merelrof.”
“If I’ve offended you, that was not my intent.”
Knock knock.
“My lord Count. We’ve moved all the sacks.”
Just then, a Merelrof servant announced from outside in a voice that sounded half-dead. A full hundred sacks. Now they just needed to cart them back and forth five or six times.
“Yes. Go on out. My lady, head back to the manor first. I’ll wrap things up here with Lord Ian and follow.”
“Yes. Understood.”
The countess gathered her coat and gave Ian a slight bow. It wasn’t intentional, but they exchanged a subtle glance shared only by those in on a secret. It was brief and faint.
“Lord Ian, thank you for today. You’ve made an excellent choice for the prosperity of Merelrof and this territory.”
“Not at all. I’m quite satisfied with the deal.”
The farewell seemed perfectly polite on the surface, but the count felt an odd prickling sensation. Was it because of that brief silence over the ring earlier? He glared at Ian unnecessarily as he followed his departing wife.
Bam!
“What’s with that look?”
The moment the door shut, Berik grumbled irritably. Ian just shrugged with an amused smile. He fetched a small pouch and gathered the countess’s jewelry into it.
“By the way, that’s not even a real gem.”
“What’s a gem if not something that sparkles and holds popular value?”
“What if the count promises the check for tomorrow and doesn’t deliver?”
“You worry about everything. If he does pay, we’ll be grateful.”
Ian handed the pouch to Berik with a grin, signaling him to take good care of it.
“We have a contract, so if he doesn’t follow through, we file a formal complaint with the imperial palace. Like most border counts, he’ll hate getting tangled with the palace and pay up just to avoid it.”
And if he didn’t? They’d take him to court and get the principal plus damages. It’d be like selling the gula for more than 3,500 gold coins.
“And the moment Count Merelrof and his group leave the territory, spread the word that we’re allowing gula sales in the territory. Roasted gula first.”
“Just the roasted stuff?”
“Yes.”
Timing and order were crucial.
“If we sell raw gula now, no one will buy roasted. They can buy raw and roast it themselves. Plus, in a month, once it’s self-sustaining, they won’t even want raw.”
But selling roasted first would force buyers to keep purchasing it.
Then, in a month, when Count Merelrof started distributing gula, they could undercut his price slightly and profit again.
“Above all, even with the contract, the count’s bound to make a fuss, so we need a pretext for immunity.”
They’d agreed not to interfere in economic activities, but dumping stock right after the deal—who knew how he’d react? His personality guaranteed headaches.
“Roasted gula doesn’t affect the count’s profits right away, and later on…”
“Later on?”
Berik asked curiously, but Ian just smiled and shook his head. No intention of telling.
“Never mind.”
“Hey, come on! Tell me!”
“Go help with the work. That way we can send them off quicker. Oh, and tell the territory folk we’ll levy a ten percent tax on roasted gula sales revenue.”
“Got it. Ten percent. One out of ten. I get that much now!”
How much it’d yield was unknown—it depended on the folk’s sales savvy. As Berik headed for the door per Ian’s orders, he paused.
“What about that guy Clark?”
“Ah, keep him around. He’s connected to the countess, so he’ll come in handy somehow.”
“Not even put him to work?”
Ian turned at Berik’s words. Berik clearly disliked the idea of Clark lounging all day. Clark must feel like he was in prison.
“Well, use him wherever you like. Just don’t let him get hurt.”
“Sweet!”
Crash! Clatter!
What on earth was he planning…?
With Ian’s permission, Berik bolted out excitedly. Ian drew the curtains; the gula sorting was nearly done.
* * *
“Lord Ian!”
“Yes, Haina. Quite the commotion today.”
“The steward from Merelrof came himself. He brought the gula payment.”
“Ah, I see.”
At Ian’s nod, the Merelrof steward entered the office. His refined gestures and gaze seemed superior to the count’s.
Creak.
“Come in.”
“Greetings, Viscount Ian. Here’s payment for yesterday’s gula we couldn’t settle. Excluding the 1,000 gold pre-paid, this is a check for 2,500 gold, guaranteed. Please verify.”
The steward placed the envelope on the silver tray at the desk’s edge. Ian checked the Haiman Bank voucher, then the count’s seal and signature.
“No issues.”
“Relieved to hear it.”
“Have them bring the valuables the countess entrusted. Haina, tell Berik to fetch them.”
“Yes, Lord Ian.”
“Have a seat and wait. In a hurry?”
“No. Then, if I may.”
The steward sat, flustered. He’d stated his business before tea was even offered—a breach of etiquette.
But the awkwardness was unavoidable.
Previously, the steward had sent a gula sales request in his own name. Naturally, Ian hadn’t replied, but on reflection, hadn’t that exposed Merelrof’s situation to outsiders? It was tantamount to yielding the advantage in negotiations.
If the count found out…
“Samen, was it?”
“Yes. You remember.”
“Of course. I pored over your letter several times.”
Damn. He’d caught it. The steward felt his heart sink but kept a straight face.
“Judging by your name, you’re not a hereditary steward. Where are you from? Long in service?”
The steward met the question with silence, probing Ian’s intent. Why ask that?
“Nothing else—just that we could use a steward here.”
“I plan to spend my life with Merelrof.”
“Hm. Fine, bury yourself there. But I’m looking for someone to train.”
“Pardon? Train?”
A recruitment attempt? Stewards were key manor figures, often poached among nobles.
“Of course, it’d need the count’s permission, but I wanted you to know our interest.”
“…I’ll discuss it.”
“Good. You seem diligent and sharp—training you would be rewarding. Pay won’t be stingy, naturally. Want Clark back? He’s got plenty of manor experience; he’d be useful.”
The answer was obvious.
The count would refuse outright. But this wasn’t about asking him—it was a message for the countess. After the deed, if she wanted Clark, lend us the steward.
“Yes. I’ll relay it as is.”
Knock knock.
“Lord Ian. Berik brought the pouch.”
“Ah, good. Haina, come here.”
“Pardon?”
Haina set the pouch on the table, and Ian smiled, introducing her to the steward.
“This is Haina.”
“Oh, hello?”
“…I see. Understood.”
The next steward of this territory would be Haina.
Unaware, Haina fidgeted awkwardly with her fingers in greeting. The steward verified the valuables in the pouch and rose.
“Then, I’ll take my leave.”
“Yes. Take care.”
“Ah, I’ll see you off!”
Creak!
Ian watched through the window as the steward left the manor. He chuckled at the 2,500-gold check on the tray.
Clop clop!
Meanwhile, Steward Samen’s carriage couldn’t pick up speed and proceeded slowly. The streets had grown crowded. Peering out the window, he muttered.
“It’s cold out, so what are they all…?”
Curious what they were doing.
The steward furrowed his brow, unsure if he was seeing right.