Chapter 217: Count Rondon (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 217: Count Rondon (2)
A First-Class assassination target.
His very existence was the Kingdom Alliance's greatest vulnerability.
If the Drake family of the Umberto Kingdom was the military core supporting their nation, Count Rondon of the Redford Kingdom was truly his nation's last hope. The moment he gave up and let go of everything, the debts of Redford—which he had somehow been holding at bay—would rapidly drag the kingdom down the path of ruin.
Standing on the precipice, Count Rondon's voice had been desperate.
He had sought out a complete stranger, and despite being a tycoon of great renown, he hadn't hesitated to bow his head.
'The debt to the Golden Bank is only the beginning. Once they start pressuring Redford in earnest, other creditors will inevitably follow suit. Since the collapse of a nation renders its debts meaningless, they will scramble to salvage whatever they can before the country's pillars are completely torn down.'
A kingdom.
A single pillar named Rondon had been holding up that vast territory.
Looking at this pillar swaying in the fierce wind, Roman Dmitry spoke once more to the dazed man.
"As you suggested, Count Rondon, I will accept collateral as a minimal safety measure. However, both you and I know that this transaction is not particularly beneficial to Dmitry. Therefore, do your best. Just as Cairo drove out the remnants of Kronos and regained stability, Redford must also hold out by any means necessary."
One hundred thousand gold.
This was no simple act of goodwill.
For the sake of the continent's balance, he had bought Redford time.
Roman Dmitry judged that the longer they held out, the more time Dmitry would have to prepare.
Count Rondon was lost for words.
He didn't know how to respond.
He had run himself ragged seeking external help, but he never expected to receive a positive response from the Dmitry family. Even those with whom he had maintained close relations had turned their backs on Redford's crisis with cold indifference. Yet Roman Dmitry understood his plight and readily extended a hand.
Of course, he also knew the truth.
Redford's collapse would be the signal flare that accelerated the war, and Roman Dmitry wanted to avoid an all-out war with Kronos. But even knowing those underlying motives, a surge of emotion still welled up inside him. In truth, as he ran around until his feet blistered over the past few days, Count Rondon had genuinely feared that Redford might crumble just like this.
'...It is not over yet.'
His father—a man who always prioritized the nation's welfare—had once told him that as long as one did not give up, an answer would eventually present itself.
The real end...
...only began the moment one bowed their head in defeat.
His father had planted something firm in Count Rondon's heart. He taught him that when a person could no longer face reality and believed there was no way out, that was when things truly became irreversible. The boy who had once squandered his family's wealth in his youth had now inherited his father's burden. He looked at Roman Dmitry, his face full of resolve.
"I will never forget this day. I will overcome Redford's crisis by any means necessary, and I will surely repay the Dmitry family's grace for reaching out to us."
His last chance.
Count Rondon tightly gripped this lifeline of opportunity.
* * *
Five days before the debt repayment deadline.
Having returned to Redford, Count Rondon quickly prepared to settle matters with the Golden Bank.
The money was ready. But...
...that was only the beginning.
To stand on their own feet after resolving the issue with the Golden Bank, they needed to address their other problems one by one. What mattered now was self-sufficiency. Since they couldn't rely on external help forever, he explored various ways to expand the Rondon family's businesses and earn money legitimately.
In that process, Dmitry was truly a savior.
Commercial cooperation with them opened up a smooth channel for exporting Redford's resources.
Two days later, Roman Dmitry visited Redford.
He came to deliver the promised funds and, at the same time, to see the reality of Redford with his own eyes.
"Welcome, Lord Roman Dmitry!"
Count Rondon beamed at Roman's arrival.
Though they had been complete strangers at first, Roman had now become such a precious guest to Redford and the Rondon family that the Count welcomed him with open arms. The mansion doors were thrown wide open. A lavish banquet had been prepared in Roman Dmitry's honor. Upon entering, soft classical music and the aroma of a magnificent feast captured the senses.
"I have prepared a banquet for you, Lord Roman Dmitry. I hope you and your companions can relax and enjoy yourselves."
"Thank you."
Roman nodded.
Sipping his champagne, Roman Dmitry surveyed his surroundings.
'Redford has found a clue to solving its national crisis. For the Kronos Empire, Count Rondon's existence can no longer be tolerated. They will certainly try to eliminate this First-Class assassination target. While the exact timing is unclear, they will definitely make a move at least once before the negotiations with the Golden Bank.'
This visit...
...was not without reason.
If it were merely to deliver the money, he could have handed it over on the day they first met or sent a subordinate. Instead, he had visited Redford in person. He intended to personally ensure Count Rondon's safety, at least until the day of the negotiations. If the Count were assassinated before then, Redford would collapse into an irreversible state.
"Chris."
"Yes, my lord."
"Familiarize yourself with the layout of the Rondon estate. If the situation we are worried about unfolds, Count Rondon's safety is the top priority."
"Understood."
Stepping back, Chris disappeared outside the banquet hall with the troops they had brought along. Meanwhile, Roman Dmitry quietly savored the aroma of his champagne. It was the calm before the storm. Although the people of Redford were in high spirits, looking forward to a bright future, the Kronos Empire was undoubtedly preparing a dagger right at their throats.
Redford.
And Rondon.
They were assets worth utilizing.
Once they overcame this crisis and got back on track, they would become a reliable pillar of the Kingdom Alliance.
Count Rondon's expression and the look in his eyes...
...proved he was worth helping.
The reason Roman had traveled this long distance was to secure a reliable ally for the chaos to come.
However, on one side of the banquet hall, the servants carrying food watched the laughing guests, their expressions gradually hardening into cold scowls.
* * *
That evening.
A man sitting in a shabby pub slammed his beer mug down irritably.
Slam!
"Those dog-like noble bastards. The country is in such a mess, yet they're throwing a party, laughing over piles of expensive food."
The man was Jacklin, one of the servants from the estate.
This banquet...
...had been excessively lavish.
Count Rondon had prepared the absolute finest to express his gratitude, and the food and alcohol provided boasted astronomical prices. Jacklin was merely temporary help hired from outside just for the party. Knowing nothing of the inner workings between Dmitry and Rondon, his stomach churned with resentment as he clutched his own starving belly and watched the happy faces of the nobles.
"Jacklin, what's wrong?" asked the pub owner.
Often lamenting his own difficult life just like Jacklin, he looked at the man with curious eyes.
"What do you think? I went to work at the Rondon estate's party today. They had laid out enough food to feed ordinary commoners for years, just laughing and chatting away. Does that make any sense? The Redford royal family forces taxes on us and oppresses us, claiming the country is struggling, while the nobles enjoy a luxurious life we can't even imagine!"
He gulped down his drink.
Even as the cold beer poured down his throat, the burning anger inside him refused to subside.
"And what? A celebration of harmony with the Dmitry family? Fuck that! When Count Rondon swallowed up the businesses in the capital, so many people lost their jobs. And what has that bastard ever done for the country? We're living like this because of a money-grubbing, greedy pig. Seeing him cozy up to Roman Dmitry and laugh made my blood boil."
"That's just how nobles are," the owner sighed. "When have they ever cared about the well-being of the people?"
"But there's a limit! If the country is struggling, they should take care of us first, not some outsider!"
Encouraged by the owner's agreement, Jacklin vented his anger even louder.
As his voice echoed through the pub, other patrons began to gather in small groups, reacting with the same indignation.
"He's nothing short of a traitor! Count Rondon is hoarding the nation's wealth and committing treason by handing it over to people like Dmitry. How long are we supposed to clutch our starving bellies? If we keep going like this, we'll die of starvation long before the Kronos Empire ever gets us!"
Gradually, the intensity of the conversation escalated.
The remarks crossed a dangerous line, and a murderous glint flickered in Jacklin's eyes.
Just then, the pub owner signaled an employee to lock the door. He leaned in and spoke in a hushed, secretive voice.
"Jacklin. Just as you said, we'll surely starve to death at this rate. Didn't your wife just give birth to your third child? She can't even breastfeed because she has nothing to eat. If that's the case, let's overturn this situation. If we raid Count Rondon's estate, steal his treasures, and leave Redford, we can survive this famine."
"...W-What do you mean by that?"
Jacklin was taken aback.
Even though he was furious, attacking a noble was a completely different matter.
However, the reactions of the others were different.
As the gathered crowd eagerly voiced their agreement, Jacklin found himself swept up in their fervor.
"Yeah, fuck it. We can't just keep taking this forever. Let's gather people who agree with us. Then we'll go to Count Rondon and demand our rightful dues."
What had started as a small grievance was swept up into a raging fire, and finally, it exploded.
* * *
Whoosh.
Crackle.
Flames flared.
Torches illuminated the dark night as a mob marched resolutely toward Count Rondon's estate.
Clank, clank.
Their weapons clashed, ringing out with metallic chimes.
They were not proper armaments, but mostly agricultural tools like farming scythes and pitchforks.
Before long, the massive estate came into view.
The guards stationed at the main gate raised their weapons in sudden panic.
"Halt!"
"Step any closer and we will attack!"
There were only two outer guards.
The commoners vastly outnumbered them.
As Jacklin raised his voice, hundreds of people swarmed forward, creating a spectacle that visually overwhelmed the guards. The soldiers swallowed hard and aimed their weapons, their trembling eyes betraying a desperate hope that the mob would not attack.
Then, Jacklin stepped forward as their representative.
"Call Count Rondon out here right now!"
"He is not someone you can just demand to see!"
"Demand? Cut the bullshit! Count Rondon is a traitor selling out our country! While the people of Redford clutch their starving bellies, and a man doesn't even have a single loaf of bread to feed his wife so she can nurse their child, he invites outsiders and throws a lavish party! If you had given us the money spent on that banquet, we would have had warm nights for over a month, not just a day or two! So call Count Rondon out right now. I need to look him in the eye and tell him what's right."
Murderous intent rippled through the crowd.
The original plan had been to kill the guards and plunder the estate.
However, the conscience of ordinary citizens did not easily permit such outright violence.
Jacklin had chosen to call Count Rondon out to talk. But to create such a situation as a commoner, he needed a voice backed by force. That was why he had gathered the people. Though they were initially taken aback by the idea of confronting a noble family, once they heard what had been happening, they all expressed their fury.
Redford was a country teeming with the impoverished.
In a place where beggars lined the streets, the people no longer possessed the patience to quietly watch the luxurious lives of the wealthy nobility.
It was a touch-and-go situation.
Jacklin gritted his teeth.
If things went south, even his last shred of conscience would crumble, and he would drive his scythe right into the guards' necks.
It was then.
Creeeak.
The heavy gates opened.
Was it Count Rondon?
As everyone's attention locked onto the entrance, contrary to their expectations, Roman Dmitry stepped out through the doors.