Chapter 187
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 187
Chapter Title: Coveted Talent (2)
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"It's a trade secret, Your Majesty."
"Huh?"
Lloyd's clear voice rang out.
It wasn't the least bit rude.
His tone was bright, yet his expression brimmed with earnest desperation.
Even the look in his eyes toward the Sultan was utterly pleading.
Lloyd's moist gaze.
Seeing it, the Sultan suddenly felt as if he could read the young man's mind.
[I really want to tell you, but if I spill it here, I'll lose all my trade secrets and spend the rest of my life kicking empty cans around. Please, just this once, look the other way with your boundless mercy, oh exalted customer from the heavens.]
...That kind of imploring gaze.
"Heh, hehehe!"
The Sultan could only laugh.
It was so absurd.
A guy who already seemed half-mad was now sending him eyes like that.
Yet the content of his response was boldly audacious, utterly at odds with that servile look.
The absurdity bordered on the fascinating.
'Where the hell did this brazen bastard crawl out from?'
The Sultan inwardly clicked his tongue.
The man had talent.
He knew his own abilities well.
He knew exactly when to deploy them.
Yet he didn't get cocky just because of it.
No, he toed the line of cheekiness with chilling precision.
He knew how to provoke without truly offending those in power.
That was the impression the Sultan had formed of Lloyd from their meeting today.
From that response just now.
Greed flickered in the desert ruler's eyes as he regarded Lloyd.
'That's why I want him even more.'
He suddenly envied Magentano's Queen Alicia, who had a man like this under her command.
If possible, he wanted to steal him away.
Make him his own subordinate.
He wanted to see the look on Queen Alicia's face when she realized her prized talent had been snatched.
"Fine, a trade secret. Heh, hehehe!"
A smile tugged at the Sultan's lips as he looked down at Lloyd.
He asked as if watching a clever grandchild's antics.
"So, you're saying you won't reveal how to solve the drought until I accept your terms?"
"I apologize for my impertinence, but yes, O great and almighty Sultan."
"Hmm. Truly insolent and bold. Aren't you afraid of incurring my wrath and losing your head?"
"How could I not be afraid? I am terrified."
"Then how dare you speak such words?"
"Because I place my full trust in the boundless mercy of the great and almighty Sultan."
"Heh. Now flattering a monarch of an enemy state."
"It's not flattery—it's the truth."
"Why?"
"How could words spoken at the risk of my life be mere flattery?"
It was true.
This was a gamble of sorts.
He had calculated the odds and deemed it likely to succeed, but it was still a bold play against the Sultan.
'The one desperate about the drought isn't me—it's the Sultan.'
He talked of solving it with war.
Of diverting attention outward, letting the issue fade.
But what did the Sultan truly feel inside?
'Despite his words, he can't be relaxed about it.'
He must agonize over it every night.
How to end the drought.
Not with stopgaps like war.
A fundamental solution.
He'd pondered all day but found no answer yet.
'That's why he's talking about war to shift the issue.'
That was why.
Lloyd was confident the Sultan would bite when he offered a drought solution.
And he truly had a way to fix it.
"...Very well. I'm grateful you see me that way. Then I'll accept your terms."
"You mean...?"
"Lloyd Frontera, if you solve the drought, I will personally grant your request."
"You'll negotiate with the Magentano envoy?"
"Indeed. Though I can't guarantee the outcome."
"I wouldn't dare ask for that much."
The negotiation was between the envoy and the Sultan.
Lloyd could only arrange the meeting.
He had no ambitions beyond that.
"Then you can tell me now. This trade secret of yours."
"Of course."
Lloyd bowed deeply.
The Sultan had entrusted him with the drought solution.
From now on, the Sultan was his client—more precious than even the queen.
Armed with that service mindset, Lloyd spoke.
"If I may be so bold, I've heard that the Kandahar region of the Sultanate has few reliable oases, so even a slight drop in nearby rainfall often dries up the groundwater. Is that correct?"
"Quite so. So, what method do you propose to solve the drought?"
"My answer is the qanat."
"Qanat?"
"Yes."
"A name I've never heard. You'll need to explain."
"Certainly. A qanat is an ancient water supply system used by various desert kingdoms of antiquity."
"Desert kingdoms of antiquity?"
"Yes."
Lloyd's explanation flowed smoothly.
"The ancient kingdom of Persia called it 'Qanat,' while in neighboring regions like Pakistan and Afghanistan, it was 'Karez.' In Morocco, 'Lettara,' and in North Africa, 'Foggara,' and so on. But these were all the same facility, just with different names."
It was true.
Not from this world, but Persia was indeed an ancient kingdom.
The various names across regions were accurate.
Earth's qanats were still in use even in modern times.
Lloyd's words bubbled forth like an unending spring.
"The principle is the same in all cases. Deserts are scorching and dry, so surface streams often evaporate completely before reaching villages or cities. Thus, to transport water effectively here, it must pass through the cool underground."
"That makes sense. But groundwater has its limits."
"Of course."
Indeed it did.
Desert groundwater wasn't reliable.
Even oases, hailed as the desert's hope, had issues.
Aside from low volume, they often teemed with contaminants and deadly pathogens. That's why oases weren't life-giving only to humans—they sustained bacteria and all other life forms.
Desert groundwater and oases also often had excessive salinity, unlike normal freshwater.
Thus, the water was undrinkable without boiling and distillation to remove germs and salt.
"That's why the qanat's underground channel must never connect to existing aquifers. To prevent contaminated or salty groundwater from mixing with the qanat's pure water."
"The qanat's pure water. If not from groundwater, where does it come from?"
"The foothills of distant mountains."
"Foothills?"
"Yes."
Lloyd nodded.
"I've heard that the outskirts of the Kandahar region boast towering mountains. And that the foothills there abound with meltwater from eternal snows at the peaks."
"You're saying you'll bring that water underground all the way to Kandahar?"
"Exactly."
"That's an enormous distance. Is it feasible?"
"Isn't making it possible my job?"
Lloyd replied confidently.
Frown lines creased the Sultan's brow.
"I'm not sure that's possible. It must be dozens of kilometers at least. And where did you even learn of such things? An ancient desert kingdom called Persia? I've never heard of a nation by that name."
"I chanced upon it in an old, nameless book in a library."
"An old book?"
"Yes."
"...Hmm. Frankly, I don't fully trust your knowledge or its source. But I'll give it a chance based on your achievements and reputation in Magentano. The project's success will prove its validity anyway."
"So, O great and almighty Sultan, you're entrusting the project to me?"
"Indeed."
The Sultan nodded.
"As I said earlier, use this qanat you mentioned to resolve the Kandahar drought. If you succeed admirably, I'll honor my promise and sit at the table with the Magentano envoy."
The Sultan's solemn declaration rang out.
Lloyd bowed deeply, as if overwhelmed by the honor.
"I am deeply grateful for your benevolence. Then, may I borrow paper and pen here for a moment?"
"Paper and pen?"
"Yes."
"For what purpose?"
"To draft the project commissioning contract."
"Commissioning contract?"
"Yes."
Lloyd answered.
The Sultan's frown deepened.
"You're saying you'll draft a contract? With me, right now?"
"I apologize, but yes."
"No need."
The Sultan cut him off decisively.
"I understand the importance of contracts. But no matter how excellent, before me, it's just scrap paper. Have you forgotten where you are? Do you lack awareness of whose land you're standing on?"
His stern words continued.
"This is my palace, and all the desert lands my gaze and footsteps touch are my domain. Here, my single word outweighs a hundred or thousand such paper contracts—it's the absolute law and norm."
"But..."
"Are you saying you dare not trust my pledge?"
"No."
"Then why this stubbornness?"
"Because I don't trust myself."
"...What?"
The Sultan's scowl softened slightly in surprise.
Lloyd continued.
"How could I not trust the great and almighty Sultan? If you commanded me to turn sand to gold or boil water to make sand, I would believe it without question. But will Your Majesty trust me to the same degree?"
"...What are you getting at?"
"I wish to emphasize that contracts are mutual."
"Mutual."
"Yes. That's why drafting one is crucial. What if I secretly break my promise to you? What if I build a qanat that works flawlessly at first but deceives you later?"
"Shoddy workmanship, you mean?"
"Yes. And I have every ability to do so."
"Heh. Saying it outright like that."
"I'm merely pointing out the possibility."
Lloyd bowed even lower.
"If I harbored ill intent, such a thing could easily happen. To achieve only the goal of enabling the envoy's negotiation, I could deceive the great and almighty Sultan with shoddy work. Truth be told, the temptation is there. That's why."
"The contract prevents that."
"Yes."
That's why contracts mattered.
Lloyd, who had worked countless sites in Korea, felt it in his bones.
'No contract, no progress. Even with one, problems erupt left and right once work starts.'
It was true.
Buck-passing on design changes.
Construction halts from lien disputes.
Such issues were routine on sites.
Even with contracts.
Without one? Chaos guaranteed.
"Thus, I humbly insist that drafting the project commissioning contract is essential. Not because I distrust the great and almighty Sultan, but to give Your Majesty confidence in entrusting me with the task."
"Hmm."
Lloyd remained prostrated.
The Sultan gazed at his back with an odd expression.
'What a peculiar fellow.'
How did he spout such righteous words so neatly?
And why did they not grate?
The Sultan sensed the reason.
'He's being considerate. To me, of all people.'
A mere heir to a foreign barony.
Yet he was minding the vast desert ruler.
He could feel it from the cautious words and demeanor.
Like guiding a first-time customer in a strange shop with utmost care.
Ensuring the customer felt no pressure.
While subtly leading them to a wise choice.
Such considerate guidance, pinpointing facts delicately.
It was both infuriating and admirable.
'Daring to treat me like this... Should I be angry or grateful? Damn.'
In the end, the Sultan chuckled.
He accepted Lloyd's request.
They drafted the project commissioning contract together, and he signed it personally.
After Lloyd departed, having concluded all business.
The Sultan sank into deep thought for a long while.
Then, as night deepened.
He summoned one of his daughters to the main palace.
Among the dozens from his many wives, she stood out for her bold temperament and extraordinary swordsmanship talent—always his favorite.
"You called for me, Father?"
"Yes. My daughter Serazad. I have a task for you. From now on, disguise yourself as the escort for a man named Lloyd Frontera, dispatched to the Kandahar region, and accompany him naturally."
"Just an escort? What else must I do?"
"Make him yours."
"...Pardon?"
"Use any means. Subdue him with the sword if needed. Exploit weaknesses. Whatever it takes, make him your man and bring him back to Ahinsha."
"Then, Father, you mean..."
"Indeed. I intend to make him my son-in-law."
Because this talent was far more desirable than he'd imagined.
Before, he'd merely wanted to possess him.
It had been vague ambition.
But meeting him today changed that.
Lloyd Frontera.
The moment he took him as a subordinate—no, as family through marriage—the Sultanate's future would shift.
He was certain.
"I must keep him by my side no matter what."
The Sultan Samarqand thought of Lloyd.
Greed and longing for talent burned fiercely in his eyes.