Sell Everything Except Wife and Children (3)
Evening. At sunset, I stood before Gate 1 with Lady Mente. Not atop the walls, but right in front of the gate itself.
"Young master."
"Let's drop it, Master."
"What do you think I was about to say?"
"You're gonna tease me that my face is as red as the sunset."
"Tch."
I'd preemptively shut down her sly grin just in case, and sure enough, she clicked her tongue in disappointment.
"Finally had a good teasing opportunity."
"All an act."
"Nonsense."
"It's true."
"Why not just say every action of Saint Geo Nostrum is for this kingdom's justice and fairness?"
"...Just curse me out instead."
I bristled at being lumped in with the incompetent king, but I couldn't really argue back.
"Wrong teacher, huh?"
"Nah? It's 'cause it's me that I keep quiet about you secretly selling out the country. Anyone else, and Gibraltar or not, I'd report you on the spot."
"...Enough."
I stepped forward and reached out toward Gate 1.
Open.
Clunk.
The gate swung open. The first barrier facing the Empire—which should have been sealed tight—began parting to either side.
"Hi!"
A familiar woman's voice rang out the moment the doors cleared.
"Mommy's here!"
"Who's mommy?"
"Our daughter's mom!"
Chairwoman Erwin Iferia appeared in a black suit, complete with glasses.
"The knight who guards our little girl and shares her bed every night? Practically makes you my son too, Young Master Grey!"
"Yeah, yeah. Just show me the goods."
"So harsh. Did you miss me since we didn't cross paths in Seirene?"
"The crown prince showed up alone. No chance to meet."
If relations between the kingdoms were warmer—if Empire folk beyond just the prince could've disembarked—she'd have crashed the ball for sure. Probably looking like—
"Why the glasses?"
"They're cute."
"You're plenty pretty without 'em."
"Haha. Save that for the girl you like, Young Master Gibraltar?"
Erwin giggled and held out the black bag she'd brought.
"Ta-da! The sample. Wanna check it now?"
"I'll inspect it, but come inside first?"
"Oh, sure."
Erwin stepped in and stood right before me. I promptly sealed the Gibraltar Canyon gate behind her.
"Thorough as ever, huh?"
"Can't have some reporter sneaking pics of the canyon."
"I'd have tipped you off if there were any. Ah, Lady Mente! Long time no see."
"Likewise, Chairwoman Iferia."
"Sheesh. Erwin's fine. Grey, wanna look at the goods? I wanna catch up with Mente."
"Hm..."
Normally, I'd leave them to chat. Mente knew all about the Whites and Astasia, after all.
Which meant Mente was—
"Today, Grand Princess Astasia planted a kiss on Grey Gibraltar's cheek."
"......"
"We had a little bet, and you won it."
I'd been giving Erwin regular updates on Astasia's daily life, just like always.
"Hmm. A kiss, eh..."
Erwin eyed me meaningfully as I silently unlatched the black iron case.
"Has my girl already staked her claim? For real?"
"No idea."
"Young Master Grey. What do you think of my daughter?"
"Thinks she's gorgeous, just like her mom. A promising beauty who's gonna be the fairest in the Empire... no, the whole continent."
I gave a diplomatic answer and pulled the item from the bag.
"More importantly—"
"For real? Then you'll marry her?"
"...Didn't we meet to talk business?"
"Marriage is business!"
I wanted to dive into the sample, but Erwin seemed far more hooked on this topic.
"...If it's necessary, with her consent, and if it symbolizes peace between us? Sure, why not."
"Hmm."
"Won't unite our houses, but a ceremony symbolizing friendship? Plenty of meaning there."
"Such a talker."
Erwin leaned in, locking eyes with me.
"So, good or bad with Astasia?"
"Not bad."
"Love her?"
"What do you wanna hear?"
"Something pure Gibraltar?"
Erwin stared through her glasses.
"Seen plenty of Empire guys. You strike me as the best fit."
"As her shield?"
"Among other things?"
"Too much risk to just dive in with love."
"Dodging, or asking what you already know?"
"Taking it at face value."
I took her hand and guided it to my chest.
"Do I feel like a liar right now?"
"Some things don't land without words."
"That so? Record it and send to the palace, then."
I took a deep breath.
"Grey Gibraltar has a rational interest in Imperial Grand Princess Astasia von Tersian."
I laid out exactly what she wanted.
"Hmm..."
"This do it?"
"Feels like you're groveling, but thanks for saying it."
Erwin smirked and ruffled my hair.
"Master of deception, aren't ya? But I don't buy it."
"......Meaning?"
"Dunno? Layers, like your words."
"Fun messing with a 13-year-old?"
"Yep. Love it. Ahaha."
No real answer. Not even a hint.
"Got it. Guesses, but I'll shut up."
"Guesses? Hmm, on what?"
"Iferia Industries' funding source?"
Erwin's eyes darkened just a touch.
"Hmm..."
"If I'm off—"
"Nah! Probably spot on. Which is why it's gotta stay secret."
Erwin winked, finger to her lips.
"Lady Mente, play dumb?"
"...No."
Mente, who'd been watching quietly, snorted.
"Keeping secrets between yourselves—how's anyone supposed to get it?"
I felt a bit sheepish.
"Well, it's..."
"Young Master Grey? Nail it, and I'll kiss your cheek!"
"......."
Mente's lips twitched, and I had no clue how to respond.
"Oh dear. Hates an old lady's smooch?"
"...'Iferia' ain't Empire or Kingdom tongue."
Answer was fuzzy at best.
"Lady Mente. Where's a word like that from?"
"Guess right, I claim the cheek kiss? Beats me. You spill."
"...Check languages with similar sounds."
Not straight-up saying it.
"Matches traits of elf names in the histories."
"Heh."
"But elves got pointy ears. Yours are normal."
Just tossing out guesses.
"Some elf bought Empire land 500 years back. Weird."
"Not quite 500."
Erwin grinned.
"Half right, so prize time?"
She placed a hand on my forehead and planted a light kiss.
"Spirit's blessing."
Nothing happened.
"...Hehe, elf enough now?"
"Never seen one. How'd I know?"
This life, anyway.
"Legends paint elves beautiful like you, though."
"Not a word wasted. Start a company someday, you'll make a solid businessman."
"Solid?"
"Not brilliant! Gibraltars lean emotion over reason."
True enough.
If I were money-mad, I'd have backed the prince ages ago.
Pure profit? Past be damned.
Past was past. Vanished timeline.
No point dredging unrelated history just 'cause I remember—for this era.
"Like you said. Gibraltar through and through."
Couldn't shake it.
Saw the prince myself now. Even clearer.
"Head gets it, but heart calls the shots."
The emperor's shadow from my memories still flickered in him.
Sometimes, intense emotions paralyze reason. Love especially.
Fall hard for someone, and no matter how loud reason screams no, emotions take over.
"Father."
"...Yes."
This thing in Father's study right now? Perfect example.
"Sold for 3,000 thalers."
"...In gold?"
"Roughly 3.9 million gold."
"...This photo album fetched that?"
"Resold hand-to-hand after regular price."
Father picked up the lone booklet from the black box.
"Ah, got it."
The front of the magazine stamped 'Empire Women November Special Emergency Edition' featured a photo of one man astride a white horse: none other than our Crimson Gibraltar.
"Proof of a spy snapping the count up close in Gibraltar territory. Strategic value as a photo."
"No."
"...Right. This paper reeks of Empire—totally unlike parchment. That's gotta be the value. Photos captured so crisply..."
"Nope."
Not the paper, nor pure intel. The buyer wasn't Empire spies.
"Just sold well 'cause you're handsome."
"......."
"Empire women paid premiums. List price: 50 thalers."
"...So."
Father shook the Empire mag in his grip.
"Just a bunch of distant, sneaky shots of me bundled up and hawked..."
"Not just sold out—limited stock jacked prices way higher."
"......."
"Empire law? Sits on the illegal-legal line."
They had portrait rights, but only for citizens.
"If you became Empire folk someday, could sue the mag for unauthorized pics..."
"Can't put Chairwoman Erwin in a bind."
"Right."
Printed by one of Erwin's ghost companies under Iferia Industries.
"No matter how I turn it, can't grasp why it sold for so much."
Father kept tilting his head, rattling the magazine.
"Just a slim booklet of covert shots of me. Sure, they could mass-print like newspapers, but paying that?"
"You think your value's only that?"
"Not it. Kingdomers might get it, but Empire paying premiums for my photos? No sense."
Father stayed dead serious, brow furrowed deep in thought.
"Curse maybe? Black magic via photo—send spirits to torment the guy in the pic from afar."
"Nah."
"Then?"
"Straight up, 'cause you're hot."
"......The Empire?"
"Yep."
Didn't strike me as odd.
"Not some orc empire. People are people—eyes work the same."
Handsome face or pretty girl? Pure viewing pleasure.
"Say this was Mother instead—"
"Never selling."
Father's tone sharpened, face stone-cold.
"Academy days, your mother's portrait went for big bucks once."
Some backstory there.
News to me.
Only overheard snippets of their academy tales. First time hearing direct from Father, pre- or post-regression.
"How much?"
"Dunno. But the art club pres who painted it cleared his family's debts overnight and bought a castle. That I remember."
"...No way."
"Yeah. Only one guy shelled out that much."
"You?"
"......."
Father shot me a glare, but I read his face clear.
"Ah. Wanted it, couldn't snag?"
"...Official event with Carmen. Couldn't watch it. Little faster, it'd be mine."
"Buyer naturally—"
"Saint Geo Nostrum."
Called it.
"Raided his room once. Student council gig."
"Allowed? Even as prince then."
"Dorm vice scandal. He... haa. Don't even wanna speak it."
"Kissing the portraits or worse, huh."
"......Tsk."
Something.
"Tskkk."
Worse vibe, but dig deeper and Father's dragging me to the arena.
Could guess: slurping silver dust, ravaging the image in dreams.
"Anyway, Father. Makes your photobook even easier to get."
"Empire women kissing my pics like Saint Geo?"
"Kiss would be tame."
"Huh..."
"Straight-up worship you like a god, an idol."
"......."
Crimson Gibraltar: idolized, deified.
"Churchgoers tithing? They'll offer heaps to their icon. Thalers, or support for Gibraltar."
And religion-ified.
"Father. Wanna bet?"
I pulled a sample mag.
"This. How much for Queen Carmen?"
"......."
Father's face turned dead serious, more than ever.
"......Five million?"
"Then."
I shaped a gold coin with my fingers.
"Difference as my pocket money?"
Three days later.
Anonymous donor pledged another ten million gold to the orphanage.
"Love you, mo—not. Thanks for the donation. Will use meaningfully."
They'd slipped in a bonus photo of Father in a rain-soaked white shirt at the training grounds. Father's secret.