Chapter 108
Chapter 108
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: The Strategist's Oath
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"You acknowledge me?"
Two years ago, during the Spring Festival, after first laying eyes on Dwain and becoming convinced he was Kandarl, I'd knocked him out and hauled him straight back to Banten.
From that day on, the kidnapped Dwain had spent that long stretch of time doing nothing but eating.
Eating and eating and eating some more.
"Heave-ho."
Dwain struggled to hoist his jiggling belly fat as he rose from the chair.
"Oof, this body's gotten so heavy."
His stamina and looks both ruined from two years of nothing but gorging, Dwain grimaced.
Then, peering at me through eyes reduced to button size by his layers of fat, he spoke.
"Young Master Jerome, let me ask you just one thing."
"Ask away."
"Why, after bringing me here, did you never give me any orders?"
"Because I believed you'd handle things on your own."
"Even after I spent two years pigging out like a hog?"
"There must've been a reason for it."
"……."
"……."
His eyes, tiny as buttonholes, brimmed with a piercing sharpness that seemed to see through anything, scanning my sincerity.
"...You're serious, Young Master."
The owner of those wise eyes let out an exclamation after reading my true intent.
"Why, though? I was furious at being dragged here by force, so I kept stuffing my face on purpose. Why didn't you cast me out?"
"Because I trusted your insight. I figured there was some reason I hadn't thought of. And crucially..."
I poked his wobbling belly and continued.
"You gave me answers to those nagging issues I couldn't resolve on my own now and then. That more than covered your keep."
"...Ha, hahaha! You really are a riot, Young Master!"
Dwain burst into incredulous laughter, then composed his belly and expression before speaking.
"Truth be told, I've spent the last two years mulling over all sorts of things about you, Young Master. Wondering if you were just another empty-talking 'expert' like those so-called scholars. Or maybe a petty lord who couldn't trust the people he brought in."
Over the past two years, Dwain had tested me in two ways.
First, whether I had the drive to turn broad knowledge into action.
"In the last two years, you trained relentlessly every day to make your words reality. And this Philador rebellion? You handled it perfectly, despite all the variables on the ground."
Second, how I'd react if someone I brought in fell short of expectations.
"You never once complained about me wasting away on food with no plans whatsoever. A man who can't show mercy to subordinates who disappoint can't be a lord worth serving."
I grinned!
Dwain's chubby cheeks jiggled as he smiled and said,
"You've proven yourself splendidly through it all, Young Master. So now, it's time for me to give my answer."
Dwain's bloated belly and knees, which seemed too fat to bend, slowly dropped toward the floor.
His face twisted in strain from the effort against his heavy frame, but he finally knelt on one knee and spoke.
"Do you still remember the conversation we had two years ago, Young Master?"
He meant my ambitions regarding the Holy Empire's war preparations.
"Of course. I haven't gone a single day without thinking about it."
"Then, do you intend to stop it from unfolding as we predicted?"
"Naturally. That's why I've been busting my ass, sweating buckets."
Dwain's lips curved upward at my words.
"In that case, I'll do my utmost to support your endeavors, Young Master."
This was the moment the genius strategist—who'd spent two years in Banten devouring food supplies and killing time—Kandarl, no, Dwain, officially became my advisor.
"Welcome to the family for real, Dwain. And..."
I clasped his hand and smiled.
"I'll take responsibility for helping you shed that weight."
Dwain's face twisted into an ambiguous expression—joy or reluctance unclear—as he replied with effort.
"...An honor."
After swiftly forging this lord-vassal bond in short order, I returned to the main topic.
"Alright, Dwain. Let me ask again: why exactly do we need such massive publicity?"
"Simple."
After pledging his loyalty, Dwain stopped eating as if by magic.
All that remained before him was a cup of tea to aid digestion.
"...Sigh."
He took a small sip and continued his explanation.
"What you need right now, Young Master, is fame."
"Fame?"
"Yes. Fame spread across the continent, like Young Master Ares or Lady Mercy have."
No matter my brilliant exploits in recent years, reality was I paled compared to Ares or Mercy, who'd long been hailed as geniuses and consistently met expectations.
Dwain was pointing out exactly that.
"Why do I need fame?"
Dwain answered without hesitation.
"Two years ago at the Spring Festival, your friendly exchange with Prince Julius stuck in many minds. His Highness is shrewd; he won't keep inserting you—a man from constrained Banten—into the succession picture forever."
Perhaps from exhaustion after talking so much, Dwain gulped down his tea nonstop.
"He must've planned to nurture you somewhere outside Banten. So where would that be?"
Clink!
Like the teacup settling perfectly on its saucer, his deduction fit perfectly.
"The east or north? That'd be cutting his own flesh. No need to raise another tiger in regions firmly held by the royals and Shield Family. The west? Hardly. That'd be a dagger to his heart; the Sword Family wouldn't sit idly by. Therefore..."
Dwain eyed the lower part of the kingdom map hanging on the wall.
"The south, still not fully under Sword Family spittle. No other option. And if it's as you said, Young Master... hmm..."
Dwain's gaze drifted further toward the coastal areas.
"Olivia. Perfect, with the archipelago nearby."
Spot on. But that didn't explain why I needed fame.
"Oho, that look. You want more on why fame matters?"
Dwain grinned knowingly.
"You, inside the massive bulwark of the Shield Family—one of the continent's top powers—might not feel it keenly, but fame is power and authority."
True enough. Higher fame meant the same words yielded different results.
"And crushing an opponent's fame lets you claim even greater fame."
Overcoming the great famine, bonds with the prince, trade with elves, quelling Philador's rebellion...
"You've already built much fame at a young age, Young Master. And you'll stack even more before heading to Olivia."
Dwain turned the question on me.
"So, which faction would most desperately want to trample your fame?"
Olivia's location.
Our conversation with Dwain.
My future path.
Putting it all together, only one answer emerged.
"The Punish Archipelago."
"Exactly."
Dwain looked pleased.
"The Punish Archipelago wants to spread their ferocity far and wide. By brutally crushing the continent's rising young hero, they'll amplify their own 'ferocity' fame."
"That'll naturally create chances to capture their pirates?"
"Precisely. And that opens the path to the archipelago."
Dwain was even eyeing variables for the empire war via the distant archipelago from this incident.
"Excellent."
"No need to say."
"Then, to meet Sir Dwain's expectations, I'd better get moving too."
"Hm? Planning something else?"
"Ah, yeah. Need to develop something for war prep. Gotta gather materials for it."
Dwain nodded eagerly at my words.
"Oho, if it's for that, by all means. So, where do I source the materials? I'll direct the family merchants..."
"No, I have to go myself."
"Hm? You personally, Young Master?"
"Yeah. The materials are in a spot ordinary folks can't easily reach."
Dwain's face grew more puzzled.
"Mind if I ask what the material is?"
"Wyvern wing scales."
"……?"
Dwain's sharp mind blanked momentarily, eyes going dumb, before snapping back.
"...Wyvern? Then the place you have to go..."
"Right where you're thinking."
I put the period on Dwain's dawning realization.
"The heart of the Dragon Mountains, the wyvern nest."
"...Wyvern nest, huh... Yeah, wyvern nest..."
After barely calming Dwain—who'd tried to cut ties with 'I take it back. Can't pledge to a corpse.'—we headed to the training grounds.
Unlike Dwain's fresh flopping like a live fish, the one looking half-dead, utterly resigned, was Saladin.
"...How did I ever think tagging along with a lunatic like you was fun..."
Saladin pulled out paper as if he'd given up on everything and started scribbling.
"Dearest little brother. Your big bro's about to die because of this Shield Family punk. Carry on the family well..."
"Quit the nonsense."
Snatching his pen, Saladin finally started yelling.
"Hey, you mad bastard! Think wyverns are backyard sparrows kids snipe with slingshots? How're you, me, and Sir Beskin supposed to hunt a wyvern nest? Plus, it's deep in the Dragon Mountains— we'll die on the way!"
"That's why Lady Aria and Young Master Set are coming too."
Saladin clutched his neck at my innocent counter.
"Y-you... you psycho! Those are Duke Wendinel's and Marquis Vulcan's heirs! If anything happens to them helping us, it's an inter-alliance diplomatic disaster!"
Beskin, listening nearby, backed Saladin.
"Young Master, this time Sir Saladin's right. Not the Beast Forest—the Dragon Mountains with just five people? Your lives could truly be at risk. Please reconsider."
"Hm."
With even Sir Beskin saying that, I nodded somewhat to appease Saladin's outburst.
He wasn't wrong. House Wendinel and House Vulcan were continent-renowned noble houses.
Any mishap wouldn't end quietly.
Moreover, with this lineup, hunting wyverns themselves might not be an issue.
But penetrating deep into the Dragon Mountains, as Saladin said, was the problem.
The Dragon Mountains were a demonic realm, leagues above the continent's other forbidden zones.
Entering with just five? High chance of annihilation.
Even surviving meant certain injury.
That's why, despite massive growth over two years, Saladin and Sir Beskin opposed it.
'Guess I need to explain in detail.'
I squatted before Saladin, sprawled on the ground throwing a tantrum, and said,
"C'mon, calm down and hear me out. You hate going because the group's too small and the mountains too brutal, right?"
"Yeah! You get it! So why the reckless bullshit?!"
Shoving cake into a crying Saladin was proving tricky.
"Saladin, what'd we gain from elf trade?"
Saladin scowled at my out-of-left-field question.
"What're you on about? Elf specialties."
"Right. And why only possible these last two years?"
At that, Saladin seemed to catch on, sitting up.
"Well... the elves changed their trade attitude, and... ah."
He turned to me, realization dawning late.
"Yeah."
Saladin's gaze fixed on the dagger in my hand.
"For this wyvern nest hunt, I'm allying with orcs and lycanthropes."