Chapter 230
Chapter 230
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 230
Chapter Title: The Risks of Investment
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Investment always comes with risk. The greater the risk of an investment, the sweeter the rewards that follow.
That's why so many people, especially merchants, can't escape the allure of high-stakes gambles.
But investment is a double-edged sword: success brings immense rewards, while failure can crumble not only the effort poured into it but the entire tower of hard-earned achievements built up over time.
And right now, in the heart of the Albans Ducal House...
Fortuna, who had risen to become a merchant titan wielding influence across the continent without a single failure in his long life, now faced the greatest crisis of his twilight years.
A crisis that threatened to strip away all the unimaginable wealth and power he had amassed.
"Th-this... this is a dream."
Just moments ago, he had been flaunting his hidden claws before Duke Albans.
For years, he had sold Sharon Kingdom's secrets to the Empire, proving his loyalty.
He planned to eliminate both the king and the duke, then hand the chaotic, leaderless Sharon Kingdom to the Empire before they could recover.
In doing so, he believed he could shed his merchant roots and ascend to nobility.
No amount of gold could change one's bloodline. To him, this reward was worth any fortune—it was something he had to seize.
And he thought that dream was within reach. The Empire had dispatched a full three-star knight order, after all.
Yet that elite force had crumbled. It defied all reason. Fortuna simply couldn't accept the reality before his eyes.
"It's no dream, old timer. You picked the wrong side."
Thud. Thud.
Saladin's voice, seizing Fortuna's fleeing soul, echoed through the garden.
'That was close.'
It was no wonder the old man was rattled.
If Saladin hadn't intervened—if he hadn't rescued the Ein tribe children held captive in the ducal house—the Sharon royal family would have been swept away by the Empire's reinforcements, just as the old man boasted.
"Part of me wants to toss these guys to them right now..."
Saladin glanced at the elves and lycanthropes behind him, then shook his head.
"But this is their house, so we should leave it to the master of the house. Let's tie them all up and escort them to the royal palace."
The old spy for the Empire, and Duke Albans too.
Their fates should be left entirely to King Peter. That was Saladin's line in the sand.
Drip!
A foreign sensation at his mouth made Saladin wipe it absentmindedly, his hand coming away streaked with red.
The shockwave from his fierce battle with Juda had reopened the wound.
Saladin wiped the blood from his lips and turned his gaze south.
"No matter how I crunch the numbers, the payout doesn't add up. Five adamantium ingots aren't enough—I'm billing for extras, you bastard."
While Saladin was spilling blood and rolling through Sharon Kingdom, I was swiftly establishing order in Olivia Territory.
Old man Delro had laid the foundation for the Olivia Navy in the blink of an eye, as if he'd been waiting for this moment, and Dwayne was appointing administrators to handle the territory's governance.
"...Hoo."
Dwayne leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.
"Tough going?"
I asked out of concern, but his response was sharp.
"Damn it, I'm about to drop dead. Never envied Sir Beskin more than lately."
Despite his irritable tone, all I could muster was an awkward smile.
When we first headed to Olivia, I thought building an army would be the top priority—and that alone would take ages.
But Delro's unexpected arrival had accelerated the navy's formation beyond belief, shifting the territory's focus.
Self-sufficiency and prosperity for Olivia Territory were crucial for preparing for the endless war ahead, no matter how long it lasted.
Soon, Saladin would send a massive influx of personnel through Sharon Kingdom.
To place them effectively, we needed the territory's organizational structure finalized in advance.
"I'm seriously going insane with envy for Sir Beskin. Why does he have an ally like Old Man Delro... while I... haa."
Dwayne finally let out a deep sigh. Truth be told, I had nothing to say watching him like that.
Sir Beskin and the Blizzard Knight Order were swamped too.
Sure, Jean was handling the ships and Delro aiding naval training, but adapting to sea battles required nonstop learning.
These were uncharted waters compared to his past battlefields—no room for slacking.
Still, compared to Dwayne, who had no such help, it was undeniably easier.
But there was no helping it. Dwayne's mind operated on a level beyond ordinary folk.
I could be his hands and feet, but no one shared his vantage point.
'...If only that guy were here right now.'
Just as Kandar had been the backbone of Golden Cross in my past life, Stigma Mercenary Corps had its own genius with a knack for commerce.
Having witnessed both, I was certain: even if he fell short of Dwayne in strategy, tactics, or foreign affairs, his domestic governance would outshine him.
That genius was why Stigma had made its name, even without a master strategist like Kandar.
He'd even taught me the merchant's way.
Back when I couldn't find a use for the 10,000 gold from Father's honey sales, I'd scoured everywhere for him.
But no trace.
'He said he was from our kingdom. Hiding out in some remote mountain village, studying alone?'
Seeing the dark circles deepening under Dwayne's eyes day by day, I considered searching again. At this rate, Dwayne would collapse first.
Creak!
As I rose to leave, Dwayne fixed his bloodshot eyes on me.
"Where to?"
"...Sapan Territory. If things go as planned, Saladin will send reinforcements there in a few days. No delays—straight there and back."
Or you'll really drop dead.
I swallowed the afterthought. Dwayne's eyes softened, realizing I was doing this for him.
"...Take care. Just in case, go with Rampang. Lord Karma's stabilized, bored out of his mind lately. Haha... Bored, of all things."
Dwayne retreated into his own world mid-sentence. It was starting to get scary.
'Yeah, time to track that guy down again.'
For Dwayne's sake, but also because he'd turn Olivia into a land of milk and honey overnight.
Years had passed since I searched upon returning to the past, yet not even a tail to follow.
Where the hell was that guy now?
Clink! Clink!
A muscular man with bronzed skin.
As he thrust his hips roughly, the only sound filling the room was the metallic jingle of his earrings clashing.
Beneath his movements, a frail woman's unfocused body swayed limply, unable to withstand his brute force.
"Hmph!"
Ignoring her plight entirely, the man—Pirate King Ballak—continued for a long while before finally stopping.
He repeated the process five times with different partners before exiting the room.
Creeeak!
"Hoo..."
Ballak draped a large towel around his waist and sank into the chair in his office, the Sea King Hall.
Before him, South Spirit Martel had been bowing at the entrance since she arrived.
"Tch, so rigid. I clearly said come later."
"...No, my lord."
Martel's bowed expression was grim. Though she was one of the four royal guards protecting the king and a terror of the southern seas, she was still a woman.
She knew what Ballak did after training and couldn't view his habits favorably.
The old king hadn't been like this. Back in the savage days when the archipelago devoured itself, he'd charged forward single-mindedly to impose order.
But absolute power and time corrupted even the firmest resolve.
With the seas feeling confined and sharks caged, they lost their wild instincts, reduced to rote hunts and obsessive breeding.
'...He needs a new toy.'
Jerome, the rising young hero of the continent, might pique his interest. Or more precisely...
The one behind Jerome would draw Ballak in.
Sorting her thoughts, Martel slowly spoke.
"It's about the Neptune Pirate Crew handling the Ikenia western sector. There's been... an issue."
"Neptune? Oh, that crew led by the brat Samuel. But why the problem?"
Interrupting her, Ballak pressed. Martel shelved her main point to answer.
"They're up for sale at Mercado, Sharon Kingdom's slave market."
"What? Say that again?"
A flicker of interest sparked in Ballak's previously disinterested eyes.
Samuel was a greenhorn, but from the archipelago's view.
Neptune Pirate Crew, massive enough to stand out even there, was infamous on the continent.
So it lingered in Ballak's mind, even as "brat."
And now, enslaved at Mercado?
"Bacchus is busy fending off the Holy Empire. Did that geezer Braum pick up a sword himself?"
He dismissed the idea, yet a strange yearning burned deep in his eyes.
South Spirit Martel didn't miss it.
"No. But Bacchus von Carviot's son has taken over as lord of Olivia."
"What? His son? You're saying a pirate crew got wiped out by some kid, not Bacchus himself?"
The spark in Ballak's eyes died as quickly as it ignited.
"I have no interest in lion cubs, let alone losers thrashed by one."
Ballak waved dismissively.
On the map of the southern seas before him, the red-hooded skull marking Ikenia exploded in an instant.
"Let them rot as slaves or hunt them down—handle it. Starting tomorrow, Cybele Pirate Crew takes the Ikenia west."
Martel bit her lip at Ballak's firm stance.
As expected, a mere cub couldn't stir the king.
As Ballak rose, Martel called out desperately.
"It might not be just that."
Pause!
Ballak halted mid-rise.
"The cub... might not be just a cub."
"...Ho."
Light gleamed in Ballak's eyes. Martel, who never questioned his judgments, suggesting otherwise? Intriguing in itself.
Thud!
That spark halted his body.
"Interesting. Explain."
"Jerome is the young hero whose name echoes across the continent right now. He's surpassed the fame his siblings built over decades—in under three years."
"Not enough."
It wasn't sufficient to snag a king who had unified the wild archipelago two decades ago.
"What if Jerome joins forces with 'that one' in Olivia?"
"What?"
"Olivia is where 'that one' resides. Couldn't he turn a mere cub into a mighty lion?"
Surprisingly, Ballak didn't answer easily. He tapped an armrest slowly.
Tap. Tap!
The weight of 'that one's' name forced even the Pirate King to ponder.
"...Tell me more."
Martel's fists clenched at his reaction.
Yes, the wind of change would finally blow. A gale to uproot the rotting archipelago.