Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: Evening Banquet Invitation
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The Merelrof Count dumped the precious items the butler had retrieved onto the table. Lady Rien, seated before it, began adorning herself with the jewelry one piece at a time, just as she had the day before. The problematic amber ring was no exception.
"Look closely. That guy liked it, so he might have pocketed it."
"Nonsense."
The count subtly probed while watching his wife's reaction. Was that suspicious atmosphere he had sensed then really just his imagination? At that moment, the butler cleared his throat to speak.
"Ahem. However, my lord Count. There is a problem."
"A problem? What problem?"
"As we were leaving Bratz territory, there were more territory folk than usual. I asked around, and it seems Lord Ian has opened up gula trading for the territory folk."
"Gula trading? Does that mean he's been controlling even our territory folk's share until now?"
The count was missing the point. Who could have imagined that gula trading among the territory folk would take off just one day after allowing sales?
The butler bit his upper lip in distress. The count's face gradually paled.
"...No, surely not."
"The Bratz territory folk were selling gula to the Merelrof territory folk. The rumor must have spread fast because it was booming."
"That damned mongrel of a bastard!"
Clang!
The count unwittingly hurled the teacup from the table. His wife, the butler, and the servants attending from behind all flinched and tensed up toward the count.
"Please calm down, my lord Count."
"Calm down? Did you just say calm down?"
"What they were selling was roasted gula. It's only edible and can't be planted, so it shouldn't cause major issues for territory management."
Thirty-five gold coins per sack. To recoup costs, there was no choice but to pass on the planted gula to the territory folk. Whether using it as an excuse to massively cut next year's tax rate or selling it for money.
"Right now, there's a food shortage in the territory anyway, so it's not entirely a bad thing. The problem is how sudden it was without consultation..."
Right. If anything, they should be grateful to Ian. It was keeping the territory folk alive until they could harvest their own gula. But without consultation, the count couldn't help feeling strong displeasure, and soon enough, he even sensed a threat.
"What if they flood the market with fresh gula after the planting and distribution period?"
Wasn't it obvious they were planning to screw them over? The count tapped the desk repeatedly, frowning. He should have been on guard ever since that talk of economic freedom.
"That little shit..."
"For now, as the butler said, it would be best to calm down. There's still plenty of time, and above all, we can't be sure of Lord Ian's intentions."
Lady Rien, who had been listening quietly, gave a glance to a servant. A signal to hurry and clean up the broken teacup. With something sharp nearby, someone might actually end up bleeding.
"And that... um. He made a personal proposal to me."
"What? Ian did?"
"Yes. He asked for help with training the manor butler during my personal time. I indirectly refused, saying it needed your permission, but he even offered separate pay and said he'd return Clark if I wanted."
"Ridiculous. What does he think he's going to do with one slave?"
The count dismissed it as nonsense, letting it go in one ear and out the other, but it hit home for Lady Rien. Send the butler if she wanted Clark back? Or after everything was done?
'I can't tell. Really.'
Previously, after sending gifts and a congratulatory message to Ian, the count had become extremely sensitive about sending letters. She had many questions she wanted to ask directly but couldn't act rashly.
"Send another letter."
"To Lord Ian, my lord?"
"Invite him to dinner at the manor."
It would serve dual purposes: outwardly expressing thanks for the gula trade, and inwardly delivering a proper warning. That arrogant behavior backed by the central government was far from ordinary.
"Understood."
"Prepare yourself as well, my lady."
"Of course."
As the count stood, the servant cleaning the broken pieces froze. Fortunately, he headed outside to check on the gula planting work, and a sense of relief returned to the room.
"Haa."
His wife and the servants exhaled in unison. They soon made eye contact and awkwardly looked away.
* * *
"No way."
Berik rubbed his eyes and muttered. It had been just one day since permitting gula trading in Merelrof. He had sensed the village outside the manor being noisy, but not to this extent.
"This is the money made in one day?"
"Everyone seems more capable than expected. Especially dealing with those who live off commerce."
Ian smiled at the chest full of coins. Mostly silver and copper, but gold coins were mixed in here and there. Probably taxes from those with large tenant farms.
"That's why unearned income is so great, huh?"
"Wherever you go, those with land and houses always get it. Though it's funny coming from me."
The revenue from the territory folk's trading had come in as taxes. Being the first day of implementation, there might be omissions or trial-and-error cases. But as side income, it was more than decent—it was substantial.
"And since it's the first day, it'll be like this. It'll decrease bit by bit going forward. Many territory folk bought in bulk, and their surplus will run out eventually."
The Bratz territory folk were setting aside their own shares for winter and profiting off the rest. Few had greenhouses. In case of gula shortages, Romandro's men were constantly patrolling the village to monitor trades.
"How much is all this?"
"Right? Berik, how much do you think?"
"Hmm? Don't we have to count it?"
"You're right. Go ahead and count."
"...Hey, master?"
"Separate the gold, silver, and copper coins into piles. If you need more hands, ask for help."
"From who?"
"Clark. I hear you're using him like a valet these days?"
"Ah, him? Nah. He's no fun."
They say those who have commanded people use them well, but since Berik had never had anyone under him, his enjoyment lasted exactly one day. The biggest issue was that he couldn't use him as a sparring partner for sword practice.
"By the way, Ian."
"Yeah?"
"When you go up to the capital, are you taking me with you?"
Berik crouched down and began sorting the coins from the chest one by one. His appearance was both funny and pitiful, so Ian sat across from him and helped divide the coins.
"That's up to you."
Ian and Berik's deal was simple.
Ian awakening Berik's Sword-Mage potential.
Berik protecting Ian's safety.
In truth, now that House Bratz was destroyed and allied with the Cheonryeo Tribe, there were hardly any threats to Ian's life. His status as a Mana User would serve as a shield in the capital too.
'Shield or not, who knows what'll happen once we go to the Magic Department annex. No need to drag a bunch of retainers along.'
"What else can I learn there?"
"Of course. Berik, it's the imperial palace. All the best of the best guarding Variel will be gathered there."
"Compared to the Cheonryeo Tribe? How strong are they?"
"Hmm..."
Ian pondered for a moment. There were too many criteria to judge superiority.
For starters, combat mages from the Magic Department were nearly unmatched without control stones, and physically, there was the Imperial Palace Guard.
"No comparison. When was it? It's fuzzy, but in the north..."
"In the north? Why stop mid-sentence?"
He almost slipped. He had mistaken a future event for one that had already happened. Berik asked irritably, but Ian clamped his mouth shut.
"Why! Why! Tell me!"
"They say even the northern warriors can't match the Guard Captains."
"Wow, that's so obviously made up."
"Busted?"
"I'd be an idiot not to notice."
"Sorry. I actually forgot."
An incident in the north of the Variel Empire. It was a huge shock to the empire, which had been almost free of monster attacks. Even though the descendants of the blood tribe, the Atan Tribe, greatly expanded their forces, they were defeated and killed by a Guard Captain—that was something he had studied.
'Right. That'll happen soon too.'
Along with various major wars, battles, and rebellions.
Ian began counting years instead of coins. Berik's eyes sparkled as fingers ticked off one, two.
"That many?"
"Huh? What?"
"That many captains?"
"Ah. There are three Guard Captains by principle."
Excluding chaotic situations like the emperor being dragged down. All the Guard Captains Ian remembered were seen from behind. Leaving him, or dying while protecting him.
"The imperial palace is amazing."
"It's not just because it's the palace. The capital is full of the elite. The border isn't called the border for nothing."
"You talk like you've actually been to the capital."
"...Picked up bits here and there."
"Then take me too."
Berik made a firm decision. Going to the capital felt like it would elevate him another level. After all, swordsmanship improves with stronger stimuli, just like muscles.
"I'm going! Take me!"
"Alright. Got it."
He looked like he hadn't thought at all about what to do once there, but it was good for Ian too. It meant a safer trip to the capital. If nothing else, he could trust Berik's skills. Just recently, the guy had cut down dozens even in an unexpected ambush.
'Putting him in the Central Army wouldn't be bad either.'
A Sword-Mage was an absolute treasure of talent from the empire's perspective. It would be a good choice for Variel's future and Berik's stable life.
Knock knock.
"Lord Ian. A letter from Merelrof."
"Again? That old man has too much time."
"Probably because of the gula trading permission. I thought he'd storm in personally, but this is unexpected."
Ian smiled as he took the letter. It requested dining together either tonight or tomorrow evening.
"What does it say?"
"Come eat dinner."
Ian handed the letter to Berik and stood.
"If you finish sorting the coins by afternoon, I'll take you along. Berik, it's a formal invitation, so there'll definitely be good food."
"Whoa. Leave it to me."
Berik quickly worked his hands, immersed in the task. But when Hanna brought two more heavy pouches, claiming additional revenue, he was doomed to despair.
"Lord Ian, you're going out this evening?"
"Yes. Got a dinner invitation from Merelrof."
"I'll prepare clothes to change into."
Hanna immediately fetched neat外出 clothes and laid them on the bed. As Ian changed, he suddenly realized he was wearing the necklace. He so rarely took it off that he often forgot about it.
"You're wearing the necklace too?"
"Yeah. Can't leave it behind; it makes me anxious."
"Then switch to a longer chain."
"Why?"
Hanna rummaged through the wardrobe as she replied.
"Didn't you say the Merelrof Count has a weird personality? Something like being pathologically jealous of his wife."
"Right."
"If he complains about you wearing the same jewelry as Lady Rien, it'll just cause unnecessary trouble."
"No way."
Ian smiled faintly, unconvinced. No matter how unhinged someone was, they wouldn't make a fuss over something so trivial. But Hanna was matter-of-fact.
"No way? The mentally unstable always go beyond no way. Wear this one."
Ian changed clothes as Hanna said and pondered her words.
"Hanna."
"Yes, Lord Ian."
"I'll take Clark. Get him ready."
"Right away."
Creak.
To Ian, Clark was a means to hold his wife hostage, but to her, he was the only ally in the manor. For safety, it seemed best to return him.
"Iaaaan! Done!"
Thud! Thud thud!
From afar, Berik's cheer echoed down the hall. Ian chuckled and neatly fastened the remaining buttons.