Chapter 18
Chapter 18
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Haggling with the Marquis
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A short while later, Marquis Midas's servant came rushing in, clutching a parchment contract.
"Here, here! Young Master Jerome, after what happened yesterday, you're clearly a benefactor to our territory! I won't forget this, and I'll make sure to repay the favor!"
Marquis Midas thrust the contract toward me, his eyes bloodshot, as if urging me to stamp the seal right then and there.
I didn't rush. Instead, I slowly scanned the contract he held out, then furrowed my brow.
"Hmm, Marquis. You've kept calling me your benefactor... but it doesn't seem like you truly believe that deep down."
"What? What are you talking about?!"
Marquis Midas jumped up, denying it vehemently.
"Tell me. What part of this has our Young Master Jerome feeling so slighted? We need to talk it out to clear up any misunderstandings."
Marquis Midas fidgeted in front of me like a dog desperate to relieve itself. He must have been that eager for the mana cultivation method, which only made it more infuriating.
I jabbed my index finger at a specific clause in the contract.
"Why is the price set like this?"
"What? Wheat at 1 silver per sack... what's wrong with that?"
"Why 1 silver?"
"Well, naturally, it's based on the current market price."
"Come on, why are you doing this? I'm handing over this precious secret technique that could elevate Nile's status across the entire Philador Kingdom, and this is the price?"
"Hahaha! Well, why not? This is an emergency situation. Even the Sword Family offered 3 silver. Charging the fair market rate doesn't seem excessive, does it...?"
At my words, Marquis Midas's eyes darted around, trailing off.
The talk of money had him scheming for profit even now. Fine, then. Time to squeeze him harder.
"8 bronze."
"Huh?! That's too much! That's a 20% discount off the market price..."
"7 bronze."
"Hey, come on! Wheat is the most vital resource for the continent's people. Especially now, with its strategic value..."
"6 bronze."
"Eek... You're ruthless for someone so young! Fine, 8 bronze! Let's settle on that!"
"5 bronze. If you don't agree this time, we'll walk away. Sell it to the Sword Family for 3 silver."
With that, I stood up as if I had no regrets and slowly walked toward the conference room entrance.
'5, 4, 3, 2...'
Counting down five seconds in my head, just as I was about to push the door open, I heard Marquis Midas sigh.
"Damn it! I don't know which lunatic called you a worm. Or maybe, given this brazenness, it fits. Fine, fine. 5 bronze!! I absolutely won't budge beyond that!"
With Marquis Midas's surrender,
I walked back to the conference table beaming.
"Hahaha, a wise choice. Well then, shall we proceed with the contract again?"
"Wow! I knew Nile territory was prosperous, but I had no idea they had this much. If we'd had to transport it all ourselves, it would've been a nightmare, huh? Haha."
"……."
The mission was successfully completed. Marquis Midas had generously provided as much wheat from Nile territory as possible.
And since we'd bought it at half the market price, the savings were beyond words.
"Man, we wrapped up Father's orders perfectly. Gave the Sword Family a solid hit too. Ahh, feels rewarding."
"……."
And that wasn't all. Word of us handling(?) the orcs would have reached the family by now.
Plus, we'd picked up(?) Saladin along the way, so things were falling into place smoothly since my return to the past.
"……."
Ah, come on. You're getting on my nerves.
"Beskin, ease up that frown. You'll get wrinkles."
"Young Master Third, why on earth did you cause such a massive incident?"
Clearly ignoring my sincere advice, Beskin kept his grave expression.
"The Flower Wheel you handed over to Marquis Midas is one of the two foundational cultivation methods that uphold the Shield Family! No matter the famine, giving away such a precious secret technique from the family—no, the entire continent—for mere wheat..."
"Tch, then why didn't you stop me yesterday?"
"I did!! Fiercely!! But you wouldn't listen, you stubborn ass!!"
...Huh. This guy's image feels a bit different from the start.
"Oof, look at those furrowed brows. You're really aging yourself."
"This isn't the time for jokes! Leaking a mana cultivation method like that to a foreign noble is a problem in itself! If the Eldest Son or Second Daughter latches onto it...! Even if it weren't the mana method but something else, I could've made excuses for the family!"
Ah. I see.
"...Beskin, are you worried about me right now?"
"...No! I'm just uncomfortable that you pulled out a family secret like pocket change!"
"Hmmm?"
"...Anyway! What are you going to do about it?!"
Well, Beskin's concerns were perfectly reasonable—for now.
Maybe I should drop a little hint.
"So, what exactly are you planning, Young Master Third...? Hm? What's this?"
Thud!
I tossed something at Beskin, who was yelling nonstop beside me.
"What else? The card to resolve this mess."
When our group arrived in Banten territory, it was early winter, with light flurries of snow drifting from the sky.
Banten territory, at the kingdom's northernmost edge, bordered the beast forest to the north and the Holy Empire. Winters came earlier here than in other territories.
The snow signaling winter's approach in our territory meant that in a month or two, full winter would hit the southern kingdoms as well.
In other words,
the signs of the great famine would soon become apparent across the kingdom and its allies.
At the territory's gates.
After sending Saladin—whom I'd introduced as my guest—to his lodgings, Beskin and I completed the formalities and headed to Father Bacchus von Carviot's office to report.
Thud, thud.
In the quiet hallway, only our footsteps echoed.
"...When did you learn Pankration?"
"Out of the blue?"
"Well, tomorrow you'll be grilled in front of the lord and the retainers—including the Eldest Son and Second Daughter. If you want answers, now's the time."
"Hm, irreverent, but fair point."
I acknowledged Beskin's words, then answered after a pause.
"Not long ago. About a year?"
Three months would sound like a lie.
"Impressively advanced for just a year."
"Well, I'm pretty versatile."
At my response, Beskin paused in the hallway and asked cautiously.
"...Does that versatility include your Heterogenous Power as well?"
"Of course."
"May I ask why?"
It was a loaded question. Why bypass the Shield Family's myriad martial arts for an external power? Why Pankration over the 'shield' arts?
And Beskin's intent wasn't mere curiosity.
"Beskin, why does the eldest son inherit the family?"
"Obviously, by the principle of primogeniture..."
"No, no. That's not it."
I shook my head at Beskin's answer.
"The reason the eldest inherits is simpler than you think. He was born first, so retainers follow him for reasons like what you said. In short, he starts with a competitive edge over the others."
I turned the question back on him.
"So, for a latecomer to surpass the eldest, they need at least equal talent or achievements. It gets even more crucial the further back you are. Now, one more question."
I wasn't sure of my expression, but it probably seemed a bit cynical.
"In your view, did Wood Spirit suit me?"
"……."
"Did the Shield Family's martial arts seem right for me? Do you think I chose the 'worm of the Shield Family' label willingly?"
"……."
"I've said it several times: look far, think far. Just because I'm direct lineage means I must cling to family secrets? Why?"
"...That's."
"I'm the Third Young Master, Beskin. Third in line. That means two people ahead of me."
I placed a hand gently on Beskin's shoulder.
"I simply chose the options that best showcase my abilities, Beskin. And tomorrow,"
I stated firmly, looking at him.
"you'll see how I present those achievements."
Father looked unchanged even after three months.
He was still at his desk, handling paperwork while occasionally polishing his massive tower shield.
The Knight of Light guarding his back, Arandal, was the same.
"Good work."
Despite knowing about the endless procession of wheat carts entering from the gates, his comment was curt and simple.
But to me—who'd never received acknowledgment from Father in my past or present life—that single phrase meant more than any flowery praise.
"I gave a simple order to buy wheat, yet you made quite the spectacle."
He was referring to driving off the orcs.
"And you even clashed with the Sword Family's subordinate. You went all-in to outmaneuver them."
This was about handing the mana cultivation method to Marquis Midas.
"Do you understand why 'well done' doesn't come from my mouth?"
"Of course."
I agreed with Father.
"But I'm certain the value of this wheat far outweighs what I gave Marquis Midas, so I have no regrets. Even if I went back, I'd make the same choice."
Father replied calmly.
"You'll need to uphold that resolve at tomorrow's meeting as well."
I answered just as calmly.
"Gladly."
With Father Bacchus's words, I sensed the final test was upon me.
The retainers propping up my brother and sister would surely downplay my merits and inflate my faults.
If I couldn't hold the center there, it meant they wouldn't preserve my heir status, no matter the mission success.
It might seem harsh for a son who'd toiled three full months, but it was natural.
The Shield Family name was renowned across the continent beyond Ikenia Kingdom.
The heir's position wasn't light enough for someone who stammers without justification against internal retainers' attacks.
Father nodded briefly at my response.
"Good. I have many questions, but everything will come out at tomorrow's meeting, so no need to ask now. Rest."
As I bowed shortly and turned to leave,
"Ah, Sir Beskin, stay behind."
Unlike Jerome, Beskin left in the office sweated under the heavy silence.
Bacchus—the sturdy shield blocking the empire's ambitions while ruling vast Banten, the iron-blooded lord—stared at him wordlessly.
Arandal, the senior standing behind Bacchus, watched him too.
The atmosphere was intensely uncomfortable.
But he couldn't ask the lord's business first.
How long had he stood there?
"...He does seem a bit changed."
Arandal tossed out an enigmatic remark.
"Seems so. Tch, since when did that kid turn so sly? Did he hand that over because of it?"
Bacchus posed another cryptic question, and Arandal just shrugged.
"Must mean he's confident in his own way. Well, at this level, it's like he's handled the groundwork."
Bacchus clicked his tongue at Arandal's reply, displeased.
"Tch, looks like we're about to lose a promising knight."
"Your head will ache even more, my lord."
"Tch, don't tease. You'll have to worry too."
"It's outside my domain."
"Daring to refuse the lord's command?"
"……."
What were they talking about?
As Beskin listened silently, Bacchus stood and spoke.
"Sir Beskin, don't just stand there dazed. Let's chat. I'm curious how that fool spent the journey."
At Bacchus's words, Beskin unwittingly replied.
"Pardon, but didn't you say you'd hear it at tomorrow's meeting...?"
"Having the kid spill it himself wouldn't maintain a lord's dignity."
"Ah... Yes."
As Beskin awkwardly sat across from Bacchus, Arandal—intrigued—moved to sit beside him.
"Hm? What are you doing?"
"Obviously, hearing Young Master Third's fascinating exploits..."
"Listening to this stuff without a drink is boring."
"Yes, then shall I call a maid...?"
"Boring without a drink."
"A maid...?"
"……."
"……."
Bacchus stared silently at Arandal, who soon sighed and rose to prepare refreshments.
"Well, refreshments will be ready soon. Let's hear it leisurely."
"...Yes, then I'll recount what little I know, slowly."
Repeating to himself that he'd seen nothing, Beskin began slowly recounting the three months with Jerome.