Chapter 242
Chapter 242
Clack, clack.
A young man walked down the palace corridor lined with dazzling works of art.
The handsome youth looked impeccable in his ornate robes embroidered with golden dragons in lavish gold thread, but those who crossed his path hurriedly bowed their heads in surprise.
Black hair, black eyes, and golden skin—these were the hallmarks of the imperial bloodline, and the golden dragon insignia was something only those of imperial standing were permitted to wear.
Thus, even those who didn't recognize his face instinctively bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle upon encountering him.
"Gah! M-my apologies, Your Highness!"
"What an honor to be in your presence!"
"Ah, it's quite alright. Carry on with your duties."
Despite the stiff reactions of those around him, the young man responded with a smile, and once he had passed, the attendants and nobles left behind exchanged hushed murmurs as they watched his confident, composed figure retreat.
"Was that the Second Prince?"
"Indeed. They say he's a strong contender for succession..."
"Truly, his bearing is extraordinary."
Though they whispered among themselves, thinking their voices too low to be overheard, the Second Prince's ever-present covert magic relayed every word directly to his ears.
Heh.
Sometimes, this magic helped him identify targets for purges—other times, those deserving of rewards. It was a habit that had formed over time, and today, it gifted him a faint smirk.
Yet that self-assured expression and unwavering stride began to shift subtly as he approached a certain destination.
A slightly tense expression.
A more cautious gait.
Standing before a door adorned with golden dragons, the Second Prince nodded silently to the knight guarding it, who then announced his arrival.
"His Highness Varos van Ares requests an audience."
—Enter.
A deep, resonant voice granted permission, and the door swung open. Second Prince Varos van Ares took a deep breath before stepping inside with measured steps.
And then, he laid eyes on him.
A massive frame that dominated the throne, a sharply angled face, and black eyes that gleamed with an eerie light.
The moment those eyes fixed upon him, Varos immediately dropped to his knees in prostration.
"I pay my respects to His Imperial Majesty."
"......Raise your head, Varos."
"As you command, Your Majesty."
"Hm. You have something to report?"
"Regarding Grandia—no, the kingdom that has now renamed itself the MacLaine Kingdom—our neighbor to the east."
"Ah, you mean that boy Logan's land. But the MacLaine Kingdom?"
"Recently, Logan MacLaine staged a coup, overthrowing the previous dynasty."
"Hah......"
A soft chuckle escaped the Emperor.
"......I see. So he's become king. That complicates recruitment."
Even now, after all this, you still regret not securing him?
Internally, the Second Prince clicked his tongue at his father's insatiable greed for talent—though outwardly, he dared not show it. Instead, he calmly recited another piece of information he had gathered.
"Immediately upon ascending the throne, he significantly raised taxes. Furthermore, he's using those funds to raise a royal army under his direct command."
"......Oh?"
"Judging by his swift actions, he appears to be a typically ambitious young monarch. If left unchecked, he may become a considerable obstacle to 'the plan' in the future."
He deliberately omitted the possibility that Logan's reckless policies might lead to self-destruction.
When preparing countermeasures, one must always account for the worst-case scenario.
Now that it was clear Logan could not be brought under their control, the Emperor's sole concern was 'the plan'—whenever that might unfold.
Fortunately, the mention of it sparked a glimmer of interest in the Emperor's previously indifferent eyes.
"Hm. So?"
"I wish to proceed with the strategy I previously proposed. I seek your permission."
Two pairs of identical black eyes locked in silent appraisal.
Then, the Emperor nodded impassively.
"......Very well. Proceed as you see fit."
"My deepest gratitude, Your Majesty."
Bowing deeply once more, the Second Prince exited the Emperor's study—his steps noticeably lighter than when he had entered.
"The atmosphere these days is rather grim."
"The commoners are struggling to survive and cursing the king openly."
"Public sentiment has grown so harsh that fights break out at the slightest provocation..."
Not a single kind word could be found in the murmurs that filled the room.
Yet, when the speakers exchanged glances, their faces bloomed with smiles.
Pfft—hahaha!
"Truly, dealing with mindless commoners is so much easier. We collect the taxes, while the king takes all the blame."
"And it's not just the commoners. The king is no different. Taxes, armies, winter construction projects—there's a limit to how recklessly one can govern."
"Well, it's all working out splendidly for us, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is."
Once again, the reception hall buzzed with cheerful voices.
Yes. For me—for us—this is the best possible outcome.
Jacques Juan concealed his true thoughts and responded with a smooth smile to the two men grinning before him.
Ivan Claude, who had been siding with him, and Mike Teroda, who had been raising objections.
Though their attitudes differed, Jacques had chosen to ally with them—both were counts with nearby territories, making them useful for rallying more noble support.
Of course, since he had orchestrated everything, even within this alliance, the lesser nobles would naturally regard him as their leader.
The two men laughing before him as equals would one day bow their heads to him as well.
"Still, there is one minor concern."
"Oh? Do share, Count Teroda."
"This dam construction project. I've heard the MacLaine territory has already profited from it multiple times. If completed properly, won't the royal demesne's output increase significantly? Wouldn't that eventually allow the king to sustain his army?"
Ah, so you're not a complete fool after all.
Jacques Juan took an elegant sip of tea, masking his sneer before responding leisurely.
"A wise observation. It's certainly possible that eventually, things may unfold that way."
Perhaps sensing the barb in his words, Mike Teroda's expression stiffened slightly as he scratched his hooked nose.
"Are you implying you have another plan?"
"The dam project reclaiming wasteland into farmland is indeed impressive—I won't deny that. But aside from MacLaine's efforts, no other territory has seen tangible results yet."
"But MacLaine is currently—"
"Have you heard about the wages they're paying the laborers?"
"What?"
"They're offering wages 30% higher than standard manual labor rates—despite it being winter and grueling work. They're even providing food and lodging. All while mobilizing nearly ten thousand workers."
"......That's absurd."
Pfft.
"Indeed. The king is engaging in such absurdity. With that level of investment, even if the wasteland is reclaimed, the harvest from those lands won't be enough to recoup the costs immediately. The first year's yield will be modest—it'll take at least several years to break even. Unless, of course, they've resorted to some kind of magic."
"But that still means stability will come eventually."
"My intention is to leverage the collective power and public opinion of the nobility to demand the disbandment of that army before that happens. And as for the elite soldiers the king has painstakingly trained—we can simply take them for ourselves."
"Ah...!"
Mike Teroda, who had been skeptical until now, let out a genuine exclamation of admiration. Jacques Juan savored his petty triumph as he raised his wine glass.
"The king's self-destruction is paving the way for a new era—our era. All we need to do is follow the path he's laid out for us. Don't you agree?"
His words, delivered like a toast, were met with laughter and agreement from Ivan and Mike.
A new era—my era—is dawning.
Feeling the long-suppressed desire writhing deep within his chest, Jacques Juan smiled darkly.
The winter before the new year was an arduous season for the people of the MacLaine Kingdom.
Due to the taxes raised by the new king, many commoners found their granaries emptier than usual, forcing them to worry not just about surviving the winter but also about how they would feed themselves come planting season.
Yet, amid this hardship, there was one place brimming with unexpected vitality.
Contrary to the grim rumors circulating, the dam construction site in the western wasteland—where water would soon flow—was alive with activity.
"Dig deeper over there!"
"Good! That's enough! Just a little more!"
"Leave the oversized rocks to the mages!"
Nearly ten thousand laborers, digging canals and hauling stones at the foot of the mountain range, worked with palpable enthusiasm.
From a distance, their vigor seemed inexplicable.
The frozen earth had hardened to the point where digging was several times more difficult than just a few months prior, and the biting wind punished anyone who stood still for even a moment.
And yet—
"I've sent plenty of food home—my family's secure! My daughter even sent a letter saying they're eating well!"
"If I just work hard, my family can get through winter comfortably. Honestly, this is less stressful than farming."
"They said we'll get extra pay if we finish ahead of schedule! Let's wrap this up before next planting season!"
"Right! Let's keep at it!"
The laborers encouraged one another as they worked—not because any overseer demanded it, but of their own volition.
Hearing their voices from afar, Logan's lips curled into a faint smile.
"I don't see the mages or Hamar the Workshop Master. Shall I send someone to escort them?"
"Don't waste time on pointless formalities. Finishing construction even a day sooner is the priority. We'll find them ourselves."
"......Understood."
One of the inconveniences of kingship was the endless rituals and protocols that ate up his time.
Some formalities were unavoidable, but outside the palace, Logan had no interest in upholding them.
"Take the least crowded route so we don't disrupt the workers."
Must you go this far?
Though dissatisfaction flickered across the faces of his knight escorts, now was the time to push for the dam's completion—no matter how slight the advantage.
Logan detoured through the least populated areas, approaching the mountain's base.
Of course, no matter how indirect their path, the laborers couldn't miss the royal banner fluttering prominently in the distance.
Yet none dared approach the vicinity of such an exalted presence, so the first to react to Logan's arrival were the dwarves and mages of the Golem Tower working on the dam's floodgates.
"T-the King?!"
"Halt all work!"
"His Majesty is here!"
Screeeech—
Amid the sudden commotion, Logan, who had been walking briskly, came to a stop.
Then, a familiar-faced mage emerged, looking somewhat fatigued.
"Your Majesty. You didn't send word of your arrival."
"No need to halt construction, Grick. Carry on with your work. Where are Clayton and Hamar?"
"They're conducting an internal inspection inside the mountain."
"Good. I'll head there."
"I-I'll guide you—"
"Didn't I say to keep working?"
Leaving a flustered Grick behind, Logan proceeded toward the tunnel carved into the mountainside.
The unfamiliar-yet-familiar sight of the construction site softened his hardened expression into a faint smile.
Back when we first built the dam in MacLaine, I remember being genuinely excited.
Hamar, who had suffered through the ordeal back then, would have fainted if he'd heard that thought—but Logan truly felt that way.
The immense pressure weighing on him as the deadline approached.
The unfamiliar burden of the crown, which still felt awkward atop his head.
It all made smiling increasingly difficult.
—If you rise to a higher position, I fear you'll only suffer more.
His longtime attendant's words echoed in his chest once more.
But—
This is the path I chose. The final hurdles are just a few years away. I will overcome them—and then, I'll laugh to my heart's content.
Steeling his resolve, he soon caught sight of familiar faces ahead.
There's still so much left to do.
This winter, the new king's duties were far from over.