Chapter 202
Chapter 202
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 202
Chapter Title: Reunion with Marquis Midas
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A kindly-looking elderly nobleman who appeared to be well advanced in years approached me with a welcoming smile.
"Well, well! Haven't seen you in a while, and look at you—your face has gotten so much brighter! You used to look like such a green kid at first, but now you're a full-fledged young man! Haha!"
The old nobleman expressed his friendliness toward me in such an unpretentious way, but despite his casual demeanor, his status was anything but low.
"...Marquis Midas?"
That's right.
The old nobleman was none other than Marquis Midas, who had risen as the new power in Philador Kingdom after the rebellion ended, now reigning as the second-in-command.
He had never been a man of insignificant power even in the past, but after choosing harmony over rivalry with the newly ascended Queen Michelle Khan Philador,
rumors abounded that his house was transforming into Philador Kingdom's most prominent noble family alongside the royal house.
'They say he's about to be elevated to duke soon.'
"Hahaha! Come on, why the long face? Someone might think you'd run into a ghost."
"Ah, my apologies, Marquis. I didn't expect Your Excellency to come all the way here in person, so I was a bit surprised. Haha."
It wasn't mere politeness; it was genuine.
Of course, since I'd done something for Philador Kingdom, I figured a delegation of some standing would arrive. But I never imagined Marquis Midas himself would show up.
He hadn't been one to move personally even before, and now he was even less so.
"Oh dear, oh dear! If that's what you thought, I'm deeply offended! How could I not come in person when it's you—practically our kingdom's benefactor—receiving a title?"
With that, he pulled me into an embrace and patted my back. This guy had done the same when I'd visited Nile during the kingdom's rebellion. The overly familiar gesture gave me a strange sense of déjà vu.
'...He must have some agenda.'
As I whispered softly while hugging him back, sure enough, the marquis's true intentions came through cautiously.
'Cut me some slack. Ever since Her Highness ascended the throne, she hasn't let me anywhere near Nile. I've been buried in work, barely getting any sleep. I can't even remember the last time I was back in Nile.'
...In short, he was saying he'd run away to escape his duties.
'When I said it was to celebrate with you of all people, Her Highness let me go without a word. Heh heh, do you think I'd give up this sweet vacation to anyone else? No way.'
Marquis Midas chuckled slyly.
But I could easily sense there was more to his smile than met the eye.
This man wasn't the type to travel all this way just for a vacation in the first place.
And sure enough, as I stayed silent, the embarrassed marquis broke the embrace and grumbled.
"...Tch! Just like before, your demeanor doesn't suit your age at all. Like an old soul in a young body? Sometimes you even feel like my peer."
If you counted my past life, our ages might be roughly similar. A crafty old fox indeed.
"Well, Your Excellency and I both know what we know. No need to beat around the bush—let's talk while we walk. That's why you waited out here on purpose, isn't it?"
Exactly. Delegations from other houses had already headed to the grand hall to pay respects to my father.
A figure like Marquis Midas would be treated as an honored guest there, so waiting outside meant he had something specific to say to me.
"Sheesh, you're no fun. Might as well die right here."
Grumbling once more, Marquis Midas straightened his expression and glanced back.
Saladin, Dwayne, and Princess Seira were following not far behind.
I waved my hand as I watched the marquis's actions, and a faint golden glow briefly enveloped the surroundings before vanishing.
"No one can hear us now. Speak freely."
"...You've really become a monster."
Though he didn't practice martial arts, even Marquis Midas could tell I'd blocked sound with aura.
"Anyway, the more I try to figure you out, the more my head hurts, so I'll let it slide. Straight to the point: with Olivia territory—did you target it on purpose?"
With sound secured, the marquis cut right to the chase.
"What makes you say that?"
"Don't play coy. The iron ore and Philador farming methods you asked for as payment back then—I could never figure out why you'd want something so random, and it was driving me nuts. But hearing you'd taken Olivia as your fief? Suddenly, it all clicked."
Pretending ignorance didn't fool him one bit.
"Let's start with the Philador farming methods. Olivia territory borders the sea, so it's rich in maritime resources, but it's constantly raided by island pirates, making it a nightmare no one dares dream of. Solve that one issue, though, and it has the potential to become more fertile than most Philador fiefs."
Marquis Midas spread his fingers wide, then covered the gaps with his other hand.
"Cover up that tidal flat mess nicely, and you'd have vast plains. You're planning a land reclamation project, aren't you?"
His words—"land reclamation project"—made me flinch inwardly, but I didn't show it. He'd nailed the core. The old raccoon of Philador lived up to his reputation.
"Back to basics, then. The southern Ikenia nobles aren't idiots who left Olivia untouched. Everyone knew about those barbaric pirates rampaging nonstop, so they steered clear. But you wanted it anyway. You must have a solution. Something like... mass weapon production?"
...Sly old fox. No point pretending in front of someone who already knew everything.
"If you already know, why play dumb? Fine, I won't deny it. Just as Your Excellency says, I plan to farm Olivia using Philador methods. And yes, that means wiping out the island pirates. But surely you're not thinking of reneging on your promises."
"Hey now! Treating me like some petty schemer?"
The marquis feigned outrage at my words.
"Then why bring it up? Especially so secretly."
"Hmm, well."
He rolled his eyes, then seemed to steel himself and met my gaze directly.
"Let us in on this deal."
In the Eastern Osiris Kingdom, there's a proverb: "Blind men touching an elephant."
It mocks those who mistake their limited experiences and perspectives for the whole truth.
But I've always interpreted it differently.
One blind man touches only a part of the elephant. But if many blind men combine what each has felt and experienced,
then the elephant becomes the complete elephant.
"...The plan's coming together like a dream. Jerome—no, Baron Carviot."
"Cut the 'Baron Carviot' crap; it's embarrassing. Just keep doing what you've been doing."
"Very well, Young Master Jerome."
"Baron."
"Pardon?"
"Not Young Master. I have a title now."
"...Yes. Baron Jerome."
Dwayne grumbled softly as he corrected his address. His lips definitely mouthed a curse.
"When you first picked Olivia, it was just about checking the Sword Family and grabbing the islands—the big picture. But with everything you've done, the plan's getting more concrete by the day."
Thwack!
Dwayne smacked the continental map hanging on the wall emphatically.
"The royals are supporting us with massive supplies to check the Sword Family, and Marquis Midas's house is investing in Olivia's future with reclamation and adding military supplies beyond the iron ore for the island subjugation. It couldn't be better."
Dwayne, having heard my talk with the marquis, kept marveling in admiration.
"I was really shocked by Marquis Midas this time. Who knew he'd think of reclamation? That's a lesson in vision for me."
I felt the same. I'd figured Philador methods would work on fertile southern land, but reclamation hadn't crossed my mind. It was just a difference in perspective—not better or worse.
Just as Prince Julius had racked his brains over 'checking the Sword Family' to propose new options, Marquis Midas had pondered 'Philador farming methods' to reach his own conclusions.
That's what makes life interesting. Someone sees what I miss; someone dives deep into details while I skim the surface.
Ideas collide, and vague plans solidify into something robust and intricate.
Thus, the blind men's elephant gradually takes sharp form.
Saladin whistled as he eyed the kingdom map Dwayne had been explaining.
"Man, this island subjugation's blowing up. With two southern alliance kingdoms jumping in big."
"No, Young Master Saladin. This isn't subjugation."
Dwayne firmly rejected Saladin's wording.
"Words have meanings; words form sentences; sentences become group goals. 'Subjugation' implies punishing criminals from a position of superiority. We can't frame it that way."
Scribble! Scribble! Scribble!
Dwayne's chalk danced across the map, tracing sea routes from Elrunheim's ocean to Olivia, plus supply lines from Philador and Edirne.
Clack!
Setting down the chalk, he spun around again.
"What we're doing now is 'war.' The islands aren't just pirate rabble. Don't forget their ruler's epithet."
Pirate King Balak.
King.
A term for a nation's sovereign. Not even Father—called the Heavenly Card for vying for the throne—or Duke Camille the Radiant, the Holy Empire's top swordsman, or Duke Kaiser the Great Mountain, the emperor's guard captain, bear such a title.
Only Balak, alongside Forest Queen Paula among throne-holders, does.
In other words, Dwayne was saying this was a war: two kingdoms pooling strength against the maritime kingdom of the islands.
"...Got ahead of myself. I'll be careful."
Saladin, sensing the weight, humbly acknowledged his slip—unlike usual.
Ignoring the apologizing Saladin, I studied the routes Dwayne had drawn and noticed something odd.
"Dwayne, why detour to the Dragon Mountains before entering Elrunheim?"
"Why? Because of you, Baron. You haven't forgotten, have you?"
"What did I... Ah."
It had been four years since I first set foot in Elrunheim. Meaning, the year promised with Hatan—the High Orc—was this one.
"You need to tie up loose ends before heading to Olivia. I trust you'll handle it perfectly."
"...Ugh."
Looks like I'd be dealing with crap before Olivia.
"And at tomorrow's celebration party, talk to the envoy from the Sharon royals. They definitely want something. Figure it out and squeeze every advantage you can."
"...Dwayne, you sound like a thug."
Was he always like this? The unfamiliarity lingered, fueling doubts about our path ahead all night.
The next day, in the lord's office.
Knock, knock!
I knocked to formally report my return to Father—no, to Count Bacchus von Carviot.
"Come in."
Creak!
"Jerome von Carviot, just returned from the capital Edirne. I've received a title and a fief..."
As I entered and reported on the spring festival events, I saw Father silently inspecting his armor as always, with Arandal guarding him.
Yet, for some reason, Father's suffocating presence—which could repel a continental invasion—had softened lately.
'No, it's different.'
No one mistakes a boulder for a mountain, even if unaware mountains dwarf boulders.
A great boulder overwhelms; a tall mountain inspires awe.
Father's change was like that: from boulder to mountain.
'He's ascended another level.'
As I appraised Father, did he do the same to me?
Father nodded briefly.
"...Well done. This is enough to found your own house without shaming the family."
"My lord, aren't your standards too high? That's not just no shame—it's monstrous..."
"Tch."
"Yes, sir."
Sir Arandal tried interjecting midway but was swiftly silenced.
"You've accomplished much, it seems. Plenty of prominent houses among the guests. But."
As my report ended, Father turned to me.
"A request from the Sharon royals was unexpected."
Swish!
Father handed me a letter, unease washing over me.
His letters never ended with mere greetings.
-I want to eliminate Mercado. Can you lend your strength?
...As expected. My bad feeling never missed.