Chapter 121
Chapter 121
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 121
Chapter Title: The Money-Eating Witch
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It was right to leave as soon as possible, even if just one day sooner, but there were far too many pressing matters piling up.
Among them, the most urgent was...
“Milord, this is starting to get...”
Brans sent over a circle mark with his finger.
It meant they were out of money.
“Where did all that money go?”
They’d had roughly fifty thousand gold.
Fifty thousand gold was more than enough to cover a decent territory’s annual taxes with room to spare.
And yet, that massive sum had vanished in just three months?
“That money-eating witch...”
Brans growled, eyes blazing.
Following his pointing finger...
Beatrice stood there, chest puffed out proudly.
“Please give me some research funds.”
“Why do you keep wandering around half-naked?”
“I’ve covered all the important parts, haven’t I?”
“Don’t walk around in just a slip.”
“I’m wearing a cardigan too.”
That cardigan was far too thin.
With so many men around, how could she strut about dressed like that?
There weren’t many places to rest one’s eyes.
“...So, all that money went to research expenses?”
“Yes.”
Brans seemed uncomfortable around Beatrice, barely able to meet her gaze.
She, in turn, looked at him with utter contempt, as if something had happened between them.
But that was none of my business.
“Show me the ledger.”
“Here it is, sir.”
It was all there.
Expanding the mansion, building Beatrice’s workshop.
And most of it went toward purchasing research materials.
Everything had proceeded as agreed.
The problem was the scale.
Beatrice had gone on a mad buying spree for research items and materials, enough to make fifty thousand gold evaporate in mere months.
“...”
With Kallias saying nothing, Beatrice began averting her eyes.
“I-I haven’t overspent or anything. I’ve produced proper results too. If we just commercialize this and release it...”
A sigh escaped me naturally, but I couldn’t blame her. I’d anticipated expenses on this scale from the start.
In the end, what mattered was how much they could recoup.
“When will commercialization happen?”
“Hmm, about five years?”
“Milord!! This witch is going to bankrupt us!! We need to strip her naked right now, hang her from the ceiling, and spank her until my rage subsides!”
“Hmph, you come sniffing around with flowers, talking nonsense without knowing your place.”
“W-When did I!”
“Both of you, shut up.”
Beatrice’s research couldn’t be delayed. The TD Potion had to become an elixir made from minimal troll blood and dragon blood.
‘Five years is too long. If it’s completed in two or three, it could play a big role in the war against the Empire.’
It wasn’t quite an elixir yet, but long-term consumption had been confirmed to strengthen the body.
They were gathering data through the Sixth Cohort, so it should improve in one or two years.
Beatrice pursued perfection, hence the five-year estimate, but the data would likely suffice in one year.
“One year.”
“Pardon?”
“Commercialize it within one year.”
“But the current level is...”
Not satisfactory, no doubt.
But even that unsatisfactory result was vital for Carpe.
“What we’re feeding the Sixth Cohort already has plenty of value. Start mass-producing that first.”
“Hmm...”
“And more data for improvements is always better, isn’t it?”
“Well, sure.”
“We could test the potion not just on the Sixth Cohort, but across the entire royal army.”
“Ah... that does make sense.”
Profit and data, both secured.
Research and experiments ultimately came down to money.
With money, more research and more experiments were possible.
Money shortened time.
So, everything ran smoothly only with sufficient funds.
It had to be done.
‘Besides, we’ve already verified it has no harmful effects on the body.’
It wasn’t too late to scale up now.
The royal army needed to grow stronger to face the Empire.
This would benefit her too.
Sacred alchemy went without saying; it was a prime chance to solidify her position in the kingdom.
To establish a church in Carpe after Cedric, she needed commensurate value and proof of her qualifications.
“Alright.”
“Good. Brans.”
“Yes!”
“Bring Helena here.”
“Pardon?”
Why Helena? his face seemed to say.
“Shut up and bring her.”
“Yes, sir!!”
No need to explain.
* * *
In the mansion’s drawing room.
Helena, her red hair swaying, sat across from him with a distinctly displeased expression.
“So, you want money. Right now?”
“It’s for Carpe.”
“That’s why—right now? After not seeing you for ages, the first thing you say is give me money. Now?”
“Exactly.”
Helena glared venomously at Kallias again before picking up her teacup.
She sipped the black tea, startled, then glared at him once more.
“Why does it taste so bad? Is this on purpose? Did you poison it?!”
“It’s tea brewed by Emily.”
“Just kidding. It’s delicious... But do you always drink this?”
She didn’t look remotely pleased.
Kallias answered calmly.
“Occasionally.”
She brewed tea for him now and then. The black tea leaves, which sweetened with just hot water when he made them, turned sour like an unripe lime in the hands of House Jervan’s lady.
It was a talent, in its own way.
“...”
“Why are you staring like that?”
“Being a father sounds tough.”
“Treat your own father well.”
“You don’t.”
“My thriving is treating him well.”
“...Good grief.”
She let out an incredulous chuckle.
Kallias found it faintly amusing too, his lips curving slightly.
“So, how much money do you want? Seeing you after nearly three months, and it’s all about cash—kinda depressing.”
“...I want to recover the money I invested.”
“Oh, that twenty thousand gold? Hmm... How about letting it sit a bit longer? Profits aren’t huge yet.”
“How much is it now?”
“Right now... about 43%?”
“...And that’s not huge?”
“We need 70% for it to be profitable.”
Was it her merchant savvy or something special about Helena?
70% on twenty thousand gold was roughly twenty-eight thousand—quite a sum.
At this return rate in just three or four months, leaving it longer seemed fine.
“Let it sit another year? You’ll double it at least.”
“Then that settles it. First, look at these along with this potion.”
Behind Kallias lay a pile of miscellaneous items; in front, a potion had appeared.
“What’s all this stuff?”
“Relics from the Vera tribe.”
“Vera? What’s that?”
“An ancient minority from the old north. Their artifacts surpass sacred alchemists’ works effortlessly.”
“Hmm... yeah. Clean these relics up nicely, and sacred alchemists will come running with fire in their eyes.”
Not for nothing had he gone to the trouble of bringing them.
Their value was whatever the buyer was willing to pay.
Sure, some were utterly useless, but to sacred alchemists or scholars, they’d be worth more than gold.
“And this potion is an elixir made from troll blood and dragon blood. Consuming it sheds one layer of the body’s limits.”
The potion Kallias had taken upon waking.
It was quite effective.
Kallias figured it qualified as an elixir.
Honestly, it was more recovery potion than elixir, but not wrong.
“Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?”
“It heals wounds and boosts physical abilities slightly. I recovered fully after taking it, so it’s no lie.”
The transparent potion.
Helena uncorked it, startled by the rich fragrance filling the room, and quickly resealed it.
“No lies, right? We could sell it at a premium in your name?”
“It’s that good.”
“Commission? 30% possible?”
“What nonsense. 10% max.”
“10% is too low! I’m busy!”
“Then forget it. Items like these? People will fight over them. Plead your case to the Queen in audience, and she’ll welcome it with open arms. This elixir too.”
‘Fair point.’
If Kallias was right, that potion would fetch any price.
‘Sell to masters sequentially at escalating prices...’
Elixir or not, it could fill the void left by holy water in Carpe’s potion market. At that recovery speed, it was like carrying an extra life.
‘Start with masters, then talented knight captains and nobles...’
Its value defied simple assessment.
Drool gathered at Helena’s mouth.
*Sniff.*
“Ahem. 20%?”
“15%. No more.”
“Fine. I want to verify a sample first, so I’ll take one?”
“Do it here.”
“Huh? How do I verify here...”
“Brans.”
“Yes!”
As he rushed over, Kallias drew Jornik’s dagger from his bosom and slashed Brans’s arm.
“Argh!”
Grabbing the fussing man’s arm, Kallias dripped a few drops of elixir onto the wound.
Sizzle.
The wound began to heal.
Slower than holy water, but visibly closing—definitely elixir-worthy.
“Call it an elixir.”
“Elixir... Not bad.”
*Clap.*
Sealing the deal with a handshake, Helena pocketed the elixir.
“But why call me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the Queen’s knight; you could’ve just told her?”
Her face brimmed with eager anticipation.
“The royals might monopolize it. Fine for the nation, perhaps, but not for individuals.”
“Ah... So keep the source secret?”
“Best that way.”
Most traitors were dead, but caution was wise.
Beatrice’s existence was best shrouded for now.
‘Until the time comes.’
* * *
On the way to the Queen.
He’d gone to teach swordsmanship but stopped by the academy on a whim.
“This is it.”
The Royal Academy.
Admiring the impressively built exterior, he strolled slowly down the corridor.
There, he spotted a sour-faced, bespectacled man.
“Who... Ah! Could you be Count Jervan?”
A nasty-tempered fellow, but he bowed fawningly upon seeing Kallias.
“That’s me.”
“An honor. Here for Lady Emily, I presume?”
“Where’s Emily’s class?”
“Class C. Ah, they’re probably in sparring practice now. Shall I show you?”
“Lead on.”
Ignoring the man’s prattle about morning theory and afternoon training curricula, they arrived at Emily’s training area.
Emily sparred under the warm sunlight.
Her opponent: some noble’s son.
A boy a head taller than her, but no match.
“Damn!”
Victory in the blink of an eye.
She set down her wooden sword with a blank expression, then startled and turned this way.
Spotting Kallias, her lips curved loosely as she waved.
He waved back lightly.
Nearby, Lini and Flora waved too.
Lini made sense, but Flora? Whatever.
‘All four in the same class.’
Coincidence or design? Unclear.
But no harm done.
As he thought that...
“No need to worry about your daughter.”
“...”
“I plan to take her as my disciple.”
The Pope had appeared beside him unnoticed, watching Emily.
The nameless noble instructor bowed reverently.
After Sullivian’s death, he’d secluded himself—or so the rumors went—but he’d already moved past it.
“You’ve taken disciples before?”
“Never. No child with the talent worth teaching, and I lacked the leisure or will.”
But after Sullivian.
A change of heart.
“I didn’t die this time, but one day I will. My sword will aid the kingdom, yet I wish to leave my will behind.”
“If Emily wants it, I don’t mind. Do as you please.”
“Thank you.”
“Why not teach those children too while you’re at it?”
“Who?”
“My nieces and nephews.”
“Not that one, though?”
Flora.
“She’ll be a great one.”
The Pope’s eyes narrowed.
Then, spotting something in Flora, they sparkled. He chuckled amusedly.
“Hmm, a commoner?”
“Yes.”
“I like her.”
The next three years.
When he returned after three years.
It would be fun to see how much the children had grown.
“Time has passed already. How’s the Queen’s swordsmanship?”
“Coming along smoothly.”
The Queen’s talent wasn’t bad.
Not exceptional, but her passion for learning made teaching easy.
“However...”
Kallias pinched his brow, looking pained.
“However?”
“She keeps tripping over her feet.”
She often stumbled, requiring his support.
“...”
As he pondered if she had balance issues, the Pope stared at Kallias like he was an idiot.