Chapter 199
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 199
Chapter Title: The Sly Fox's Survival Method (2)
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Rustle! Crumple, crumple!
Lloyd's hands moved busily.
He stuffed all sorts of clothes, gloves, boots, and a hood into his backpack.
He packed bags for food and a line of canteens one after another.
He hadn't said a word the whole time.
As if there wasn't even a moment to waste on speaking.
As if not a single second could be spared.
With a truly ferocious and single-minded intensity, he devoted himself entirely to packing the backpack.
And that was probably why.
"...What are you doing?"
One of the special envoy's attendants approached and asked cautiously.
Only then did Lloyd look up.
He glanced at the attendant.
"As you can see, I'm packing."
"Packing? Packing what?"
"Luggage for a midnight escape."
"Midnight... escape?"
"Yes."
Rustle, rustle. Crumple, crumple.
Having answered, Lloyd's hands grew busy again.
In the meantime, the attention of everyone who had been laughing and celebrating in the VIP guesthouse reception room turned toward Lloyd's room, attached to one side of the parlor.
"Midnight escape? What do you mean by that, Young Lord Frontera?"
Before long, Special Envoy Count Ventura himself approached and asked.
Lloyd glanced at the count, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"Just what I said. What else could a midnight escape mean?"
"You're saying you're going to run away? From here? Tonight?"
"Yes."
"Why on earth?"
"Because a reason to do so just came up."
Even as he answered, Lloyd's hands didn't stop.
He efficiently packed grain oil for use as sunscreen in the desert, blankets to endure the harsh nights, and more, all while speaking.
"Didn't you just tell everyone? About how the negotiations turned out far better than expected."
"I did."
"That's why."
Lloyd continued.
"You said the Sultan acknowledged responsibility for the monster domino incident, readily accepted our demanded reparations amount, and even proactively proposed and pushed through an agreement to prevent recurrence, right?"
"Of course. What's the problem with that?"
"Yes. It's a problem only for me."
Lloyd's wry smile lingered even as he kept packing.
"This Sultan isn't that generous a person. And he's certainly no fool. So if he nodded along to such outrageously favorable terms, doesn't it stand to reason he's aiming for something?"
"Surely... you're not saying the Sultan's aim is related to you?"
"Yes. I know it's hard to believe."
"No, I'll hear you out. Go on."
Count Ventura's gaze turned serious.
He had come to fully acknowledge Lloyd's abilities by now.
It was only natural.
Without Lloyd, could they have even held these negotiations?
Absolutely not.
Today's monumental diplomatic achievement would have been nothing but a pipe dream.
And this was the man who had earned such tremendous merit speaking.
The count knew he couldn't dismiss it lightly.
"I may not know about others, but I'll trust what you say. Tell me more."
"Yes, thank you for saying that."
Lloyd's wry smile deepened.
"This is just my gut feeling, but it seems the Sultan wants to tie my feet down."
"Your feet?"
"Yes. He wants me as a son-in-law."
"...Hah?"
"It's true. He already assigned one of his daughters as my bodyguard when I went to the Kandahar region."
"Was there such a thing?"
"Yes. It was a personal matter, nothing to broadcast publicly, so I didn't mention it."
"I see. So you're saying the Sultan accepted all these negotiation terms so readily just to make you his son-in-law?"
"That seems to be the case."
"Why?"
"To show off his generosity, probably."
"His generosity."
"It's just my personal speculation. He wants to emphasize his broad-mindedness as a ruler and his outstanding virtue through these negotiations. If my hunch is right..."
"If it is?"
"As soon as tomorrow morning breaks, the Sultan will summon me to the palace."
"To boast about that broad-mindedness and virtue you mentioned?"
"Yes. And on top of that, he'll try to saddle me with some new task."
Count Ventura tilted his head at Lloyd's words.
"A task? What if you refuse?"
"He'll probably threaten to overturn today's negotiation results to pressure me."
Lloyd stated it matter-of-factly.
Count Ventura's mustache twitched.
"To get one man, he'd overturn a diplomatic agreement? Does the Sultan covet you that much?"
"Well, it's a bit embarrassing to say it myself. It sounds absurd. But no matter how I think about it, that absurdity feels all too real, and that's the problem."
The wry smile on Lloyd's face reached its peak intensity.
It was genuinely troubling because his insane hunch felt like it might actually happen.
The Sultan's behavior so far only made it more so.
'That Sultan guy acts all cool on the outside, but he's got some serious obsession issues.'
It had been the same yesterday.
He'd gone to report the completion of the Kanat construction.
And the Sultan had blatantly shown his greed toward him.
Yet that same Sultan had pulled off this seemingly reckless giveaway in negotiations?
Somehow.
Really.
His premonition that the Sultan would summon him and apply some bizarre pressure kept nagging at him.
He'd use the generous terms from the negotiations as leverage.
Take on my tasks.
Or else I'll scrap the deal.
And pin the blame for the failed negotiations on you too.
It felt like he'd even try that ridiculous frame job.
Then what could they do?
'We'd have no choice but to swallow our pride and accept the tasks. To keep the negotiations alive and maintain peace. To prevent the Frontera Territory from getting dragged into war.'
Once caught in the Sultan's web like that?
'It'd be an ant hell. Would one task be the end of it? No way in hell. Absolutely not. Finish one, then another, then another. He'd keep me pinned down indefinitely.'
Game over at that point.
He'd be stuck here, feet bound.
Enduring the Sultan's endless recruitment attempts.
No, after a few years trapped like that, even he'd start wavering.
Then one day he'd wake up settled in.
Realize it wasn't so bad after all.
That's how it'd go.
'It's a baseless hunch, totally unhinged speculation, but damn if these instincts don't hit the mark.'
They were honed through countless real-world trials.
Especially back in his gosichon days.
Rent would sometimes fall just short.
When daily wages got delayed.
He'd have no choice but to put off paying for a few days.
Timing was everything then.
'Track the gosichon manager's movements perfectly. Gauge if he was nearby just from other tenants' tone shifts or behavioral changes.'
Heading to the communal bathroom at the end of the hall.
Or boiling ramen in the shared kitchen—those were prime times.
Fail the vigilance check and bump into the manager?
No escape from the grilling: "When are you paying up?"
Have to beg pathetically for just a few more days.
That cockroach-like street smarts, forged through endless such "battles."
It was kicking in full force right now.
'Ugh, no thanks.'
Lloyd shuddered at the vision of his future if ensnared by the Sultan's schemes.
He shook off the chills crawling up his spine and spoke.
"That's why. If they're playing hardball, we've got to hit back just as hard. As swiftly, simply, and efficiently as possible."
"...So you're bolting at midnight?"
"Yes. Our business here is done anyway. Even if my hunch is wrong and the Sultan doesn't come looking, there's no loss from sneaking out."
That much was true.
No downside to a midnight escape.
It dodges any potential Sultan shenanigans if they happen.
And if wrong, no harm done.
"So, Count. I need one favor from you."
Thud.
Lloyd turned, having finished packing his escape backpack.
He slung it over his shoulder and smiled at Count Ventura.
The count found himself nodding before he knew it.
♣
The next morning.
Magentano's special envoy, Count Ventura, received a summons from the Sultan as soon as dawn broke.
Or more precisely, he went to meet the Sultan in Lloyd Frontera's stead—the man the Sultan had called to the palace.
"Special Envoy Count Ventura. Why have you come here when We summoned another?"
The question rang out in the gleaming black marble throne room.
Count Ventura swallowed dryly at the Sultan's voice, laced with puzzlement and displeasure.
And he thought.
'The Frontera heir, that young friend—his prediction was spot on.'
Lloyd's words from the night before came back to him.
The Sultan would summon him to the palace in the morning.
If it really happened, that meant his prediction was correct.
'What a sharp kid.'
A wry smile escaped him.
Then the count recalled.
The favor Lloyd had asked right before executing his midnight escape.
"The reason I came in response to Your Majesty's summons is nothing grand."
"Nothing grand? Speak it plainly, special envoy of Magentano."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Lloyd Frontera, whom you summoned this morning, is already en route back to his homeland."
"...What?"
The Sultan froze.
Count Ventura continued.
"To be frank, regrettably, Lloyd Frontera has contracted a severe local illness. Likely from being away from home too long, we had no choice but to send him back ahead of schedule."
"You're not trying to pass this off as some excuse for convalescence, are you?"
"Regrettably, he truly needs rest in his homeland."
"Do you think We would swallow such a flimsy pretext?"
"It is regrettable, but..."
"Enough. That's sufficient."
The Sultan waved him off.
A bitter smile already played on the desert ruler's lips.
'Lloyd Frontera. Did he see through Our intentions?'
What a shame.
He had deliberately accepted most of Magentano's demands.
Used it as pretext to assign Lloyd a new task.
Threatened to void the deal if refused.
To bind his feet.
Force him to stay.
Make him Our subject by hook or crook.
'And he sniffed it out just from yesterday's negotiations? Even pulling a midnight flit under the guise of illness?'
What kind of cockroach is this guy?
The more he thought, the more bitterly he smiled.
At the same time, he couldn't deny defeat.
'We lose. Illness excuse to a foreign subject—how do you drag him back?'
Reckless moves could work.
Issue a kingdom-wide manhunt.
But that would look awful.
Forcing a man home for recovery to stay.
And then holding negotiation results hostage for tasks?
His intentions would be laid bare.
Lloyd's position would become awkward too.
If he accepted under duress, it'd scream to the world he'd abandoned Magentano.
A reckless move hurting both sides.
'Hah.'
A simple midnight escape had stripped his plan of all justification.
Even erased the practical benefits for both.
Impossible to hold on now.
No reason left to even try.
Such a situation.
'How could I not covet him?'
The Sultan let out a hollow laugh.
He gestured for Count Ventura to withdraw.
Alone on his throne now.
He sank into deep thought.
'We'll let you go this time. But don't think you can shake Us off forever.'
Lloyd Frontera.
One day, he'd make him his own.
Son-in-law or second only to the crown prince in power.
He'd harness that arrogant talent to lay the foundation for the kingdom's millennium.
The Sultan vowed it again and again.
But one fact escaped the talent-hungry Sultan entirely.
While he burned with ambition to recruit.
While he swore to claim Lloyd.
Unbeknownst to him.
The kingdom's most promising talent had slipped his grasp. Had set off on a long journey precisely to meet Lloyd.
The Sultan wouldn't realize it until the next day.
"...What? Serazad? She's gone?"
His most potential-rich child.
The daughter expected to surely become a Swordmaster someday.
Clutching the letter she'd left, the Sultan gripped the back of his neck hard without realizing.