Eve of the Festival (4)
As the ground was packed down, the arena opened, and knights began honing their bodies one by one.
"Are you really going to include this in the festival?"
"Yes."
I had proposed to my father incorporating the games from the orphanage into the festival.
"Contests in the form of mounted combat, throwing objects to hit targets, and various other physical activities from the orphanage. We'll blend them into the festival and turn them into something like 'gambling.'"
"And the currency for that will be..."
"This token. 'Somnus Gold,' a currency used only during the festival."
I pulled out a round piece of wood with a Somnus flower embedded in the center.
"A special item worth 100 gold each, serving as festival currency."
"......."
"Rest assured. These are just games meant for use only during the festival. Production is already underway, and promotion has begun."
"I know. The reason I called you today is..."
"Did Malcolm the head butler give you an earful?"
"......."
The reason Father had summoned me amid my frantic festival preparations.
"You can tell me exactly as it was said."
"'Are you really going to spend this much budget on the young master's childish games?' That's what he said."
"You're quoting him verbatim."
"Malcolm wouldn't say that to your face."
True enough. No one in the mansion dares say such things directly to me.
"'The young master thinks that just because something worked well at the orphanage, it'll be a total success everywhere, but the world isn't that forgiving.' That's what he said."
Even if they did speak up, they'd phrase it as delicately as possible, then compile and relay it after filtering out the raw barbs.
"Grey. This is—"
"Is that so? According to what Sir Robert heard and passed on, someone said, 'That idiot Grey is squandering the count's castle fortune with his dogshit schemes.'"
"......Who was it?"
"Too late if you want to grab and interrogate them. I've already taken appropriate measures. More importantly."
I shrugged lightly and shook the Somnus Gold again.
"While they're watching us leniently, we need to observe how this Somnus Gold will be used."
"Observe?"
"Yes. Right now, Gibraltar territory is buzzing with merchants from out of town."
We're holding a modest festival in Gibraltar. Not a grand affair for nobles, but with night markets in the streets and all sorts of events, merchants can't resist showing up.
"We already sent word to neighboring territories on the day the festival was announced."
"Merchant caravans from Sevillea and Malaga arrived this morning and submitted their commercial permits."
Merchants flock wherever there's money to be made.
"Malcolm spoke to them about using festival currency and settlements. He asked if this was really okay."
"He's probably worried the count's castle assets will go bust. Malcolm truly has no equal as a loyal retainer."
No sarcasm—just the honest truth.
"All transactions at the festival will use Somnus Gold, and when they turn in the accumulated tokens at the count's castle, we'll pay out the equivalent in gold."
Father rubbed his forehead with his hand.
"I can already picture a dozen ways this goes wrong."
"In what sense?"
"Ways the merchants could scam us."
He held up three fingers.
"Inflating sales."
"Claiming Somnus Gold from sales that never happened."
"Counterfeiting currency."
"Some merchants will carve wood scraps and glue on Somnus flowers."
"...Sneaking around the gold requirement."
"They'll just trade in real gold from the start to avoid the hassle."
And there were plenty more petty tricks merchants might pull—
"Sounds like you want to see all that."
"Yes."
In fact, it was exactly what I hoped for.
"Aren't you curious? How creatively humans will scheme when chasing their own profit."
"Since it's not real gold, we can't punish them as criminals for crimes committed with it."
"I know. I'm prepared for losses, and I'll cover them from my own pocket."
"...I get that you're experimenting on the merchants, but what's your ultimate goal here?"
Father tapped the thick stack of plans I'd submitted.
"Do you really think everything will go exactly as planned?"
"Not everything. I'm no mind reader of the future."
"But you've listed every 'possible scenario' you could think of at the bottom of this plan."
"Yes."
Drawing from my experience as the traitor Grey Gibraltar, the margrave.
"If everything written here comes to pass, it'll prove myself to you once more."
I'd jotted down every conceivable way merchants might exploit this 'fake currency' to fleece Gibraltar.
"And if there's some ingenious, creative method I haven't anticipated..."
"We'll want to keep those people close."
"Yes."
Anyone operating outside those scenarios falls into one of two categories.
"A genius beyond even my foresight."
A being surpassing the vast experience and data accumulated by the traitor Grey— a master traitor of the ages.
"Or a genius surpassing genius Grey."
Or someone with innate commercial talent— a Nostrum specialty, different from my own path.
"The former deserves execution as a criminal, but the latter is a hero we must recruit."
"A hero of commerce, you mean."
"Such a person might appear, don't you think? When imperial currency floods in and the whole kingdom drowns in debt to the Empire, a hero who could wipe it all away in one stroke."
"Never thought I'd hear 'hero worship' from your mouth."
"Joking. Just hopeful."
I don't believe in heroes. They all ended up murdered by the emperor.
"You never know. Like tossing bait for Ethan Sezar and hooking a big fish."
"That's pure luck, so your real aim is the former."
Father finally pulled out his seal.
"Fine. If there are bugs crawling under the bed, and they're the kind that bite people, better to exterminate them."
Thud.
He approved it.
"Still, keep this in mind."
"You'll end up treated like a fool, and the jackals will..."
"See me as easy prey to exploit and approach accordingly."
"......."
"Just as mosquitoes think humans are oblivious giants when they suck their blood."
Unaware that the human is tensing the spot where the mosquito landed, lying in wait.
"Easier to handle than those who cling to the strong are the weak who think they're the smart ones, compared to the strong."
This was an investment and bait all at once.
"To root out the parasites clinging to Grey Gibraltar, sucking Gibraltar's blood, I'll gladly wade into the muck."
"......."
"Might dirty the house a bit in the process, but that's why I'm living separately, right?"
"Yes. Thanks to you living apart at the orphanage from the start... people call you the discarded child."
In truth, it was to divert eyes from the two princesses.
And also to train privately, far from Father.
"...Grey, it's not my place, but."
"Does it look like childish recklessness?"
"......."
"Like a kid ignoring adults, thinking he's a genius and showing off?"
I knew full well how people evaluated all my actions.
"The man running the show might feel hurt hearing it, but that's why the talk thrives behind his back."
"Grey."
"What do you think, Father?"
"...I think it's insufficient."
Father spoke heavily.
"Catching mosquitoes won't let you catch vampires."
"That metaphor escalated suddenly."
"Catch a few minnows and charge into the sea with a net, you'll end up kraken bait. Or shark food."
"......."
Father glanced at the box where the musket had been, tilting his head.
"Can we really face the Empire with this? I don't know much about such things, so all I can do is believe and support you..."
Even if he believed in me, Father couldn't ignore his retainers' words.
"They see your actions as child's play."
"A 13-year-old's playtime."
"...That's why I'm worried about you. You—"
"If you think I'll get hurt, you're greatly mistaken."
I'm fine.
"It's good, actually. They'll smell the blood from the wounds, approach to keep sucking, and feel safe."
That reaction is part of the plan too— perfect smoke to hide the truth.
"Unaware the blood is poisoned."
"Grey."
"Father. True poisoning, I believe."
Isn't instant death.
"It's dying suddenly when you're so addicted you never even notice."
Micro-doses stacking up until it's too late to do anything.
"Lost in self-made dreamlike illusions, never realizing you're dying."
Even if sharp parasites flee in secret, it'll be too late by then.
"Forever trapped in dreams, unaware their real selves are dead."
Late at night.
"Ugh, so damn noisy."
Arshen Gillarus, scribbling furiously with a quill by the light of a mana stone enchanted with light magic, felt irritation surge at the noise outside.
"Daring to interrupt this great mage for pocket change. Tsk..."
Outside the window.
Even late at night, people bustled about. Securing wooden pillars firmly to the ground so they wouldn't topple, unfurling tents above, assembling stalls below—hammering away.
"Trash who can't earn more than my daily wage even scamming all day, daring to waste my precious research time... tut tut."
He wanted to yell, but he couldn't.
"By order of the Gibraltar count! Merchants, finish setup within the hour! Make noise past dinner, and we'll haul you off for noise pollution!"
"Your voice is louder, you loudmouth low-rank knight."
Arshen muttered softly enough not to be heard, retorting to the booming voice outside.
"Damn. How much longer? One hour? Ugh. Driving me mad."
He knew he'd come for the festival too.
Not just lodging and travel covered by the Gibraltar count's family, but a bonus from the Morgania ducal house upon success.
Firing fireworks into the night sky on festival day for 5 million (plus bonus)— no way he could disrupt that.
"Sigh..."
But this was a problem. The ideas and basic theories filling the parchment held value not in 5 million, but 500 million—incalculable.
"If not for the contract..."
Knock knock.
Suddenly, a knock from outside.
"......."
Arshen hastily cleared his desk, smirked slyly, stood, and approached the door.
Creeeak.
"Oh, hello."
As the door opened, a woman with slightly faded grayish hair stood waiting with a flower basket.
"Grayish hair, brown eyes... Matches."
"Th-thank you for the referral...!"
Plain commoner clothes that looked out of place in a hotel. But distinctive: a pink scarf around her neck.
A type known only to those in the know.
"Um... Mr. Gillarus?"
"Yes."
"I-I'm Mayen, here to sell flowers..."
"Come in."
Gillarus licked his lips and ushered Mayen inside.
Creeeak, click.
Door shut, he placed a hand on her waist, guiding her toward the bed.
"First—"
Suddenly.
"Mmph?!"
Mayen tackled Arshen from behind.
"Gahk, urk...! Hey...! Rough play wasn't in the request, mmph?!"
As Arshen hit the bed and struggled, something shoved into his mouth made his eyes bulge.
"You won't cast magic. Resist, and you die."
"Mmph, mmph...!"
Beyond the gray hair cascading down.
"You'll be my limb tomorrow, shadowing me all day. For that..."
"El...f mph?!"
A pointed ear flashed by.
"Hah. Holding out like a proper mage. Won't do. Didn't want to use this."
Mayen pulled something from her cleavage, then clamped her pincer-like hand over Arshen's face.
"From now on, you're my thrall."
"Mmph, mmph!!"
His brown eyes slowly turned red.
"At least you'll have a good time before dying as a human. Oh."
Swish.
"Though it's a dream."
Mayen wiggled her fingers lightly, and white powder fell from her fingertips toward Arshen's nose.
The day of the festival dawned.