Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Winterheart Colony Project
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The princess spoke to me.
"...Explain."
So I explained everything.
Whew.
The princess let out a long sigh after hearing the full story.
She turned to Hans and Marcus.
"Raise your heads. You two are not guilty."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"My apologies, Your Highness."
The two men lifted their heads.
Hans and Marcus's faces were still slick with cold sweat.
Was this the normal reaction of commoners facing the princess?
I recalled my first meeting with her.
-'How could we serve ordinary tea when Her Highness the Princess has graced us with her presence?'
They must have found me utterly repulsive...
I need to be more humble from now on.
Princess Izolde spoke to me.
"I... temporarily doubted your actions. As your superior, that's a failure on my part."
"No, Your Highness. If our positions were reversed, I would have misunderstood as well."
"..."
"Ah! I mean, assuming I'm part of the imperial family would be irreverent, not that—"
"Enough. I understand fully."
A smile tugged at the princess's lips.
"Isaac, you even have a gentle heart."
"..."
Gentle?
Was that something you could say to a man in his twenties?
It sounded like asking, "What's the temperature in degrees Celsius?"
The unit for heat is calories or joules.
Not Celsius.
Likewise, a strapping adult male couldn't be called "gentle."
A chill ran down my spine.
I glanced around subtly.
The assassin who'd lost a finger and passed out was skipped for now.
Marcus was nodding vigorously, while Hans was desperately holding back a laugh.
"..."
"..."
My eyes met Hans's.
The next instant, Hans's expression froze solid.
I asked the princess.
"So, what will you do about the Winterheart family?"
"In wartime, friendly fire can warrant collective punishment, so we could wipe out the Winterhearts. Is that what you want?"
"..."
She didn't sound like she was joking.
Lives hung on what I said here.
I told her.
"I don't want collective punishment."
"Why not?"
"Only the patriarch and his son committed the crime. I don't want the rest of the family spilling blood."
"Noble, but soft-hearted."
I didn't back down.
"No, Your Highness. I'm not soft—I'm just savvy about profits."
"Explain further."
"Smashing the Winterheart family now and looting them, or keeping them alive and squeezing them for steady yields forever—which is more profitable?"
"...The latter."
And from a losses perspective, sparing Winterheart was even better.
Destroying them now might feel good,
but it would create problems.
Eventually, you'd need a new governor for the territory—who would handle that?
It was a huge hassle.
Better to outsource to the ones already doing it well.
Put a leash on the Winterhearts and collect payment for the assassination attempts bit by bit.
Keep collecting.
Even after the patriarch dies. Long after.
This was their story—they started it.
The princess asked me.
"You seem to have a concrete plan."
"I've prepared a draft."
I pulled a bundle of pre-prepared documents from my robes and handed them to her.
"Hm..."
The princess slowly read through the document.
The core was simple.
Make it look like an "investment" for Winterheart territory's development on the surface.
This would minimize backlash from other noble houses.
We'd invest in modernizing their outdated production facilities and reduce taxes for the territory's people.
Of course, all profits from those investments would be tax-exempt—and go straight to us.
"...Buy the people's loyalty while strangling the family's finances."
The princess saw right through my intent.
"The compensation isn't so massive they'd declare bankruptcy, but just right."
"That's crucial."
Too much, and they'd go all-in defiantly.
The princess shook her head with a weary expression.
"Anyone who earns your grudge should tread carefully. You plan to end their line without spilling a drop of blood."
She continued.
"Very well. I distrusted you earlier, so this time, I'll trust you. Proceed your way."
And so, the "Winterheart Colony Project" began.
A few days later, Senior Giuseppe returned from his business trip.
"Junior! Did you manage well while I was gone?"
"...Yes. Of course."
Let's keep it secret that I barely showed up at the lab during his absence.
Giuseppe said.
"I properly reported your achievements to Professor Dolloren."
"What was her reaction?"
"She said not to lie."
"..."
...What kind of person is she?
"She gave me an earful about how, no matter how lonely you get alone in the capital, you didn't have to bring fabricated data."
"So how did you convince her?"
"I didn't. Most of your exploits are unbelievable without seeing them yourself."
"Pardon...?"
"She'll come see for herself later."
Giuseppe grinned and changed the subject.
"So, what happened with Kaien?"
"Thesis defense failed. No master's degree."
Heh heh heh. Giuseppe chuckled.
"I hated seeing those school jerks anyway—well done! So, the Winterhearts just sat quiet?"
"That's being handled now."
"Hm. If you're on it, it'll sort itself out."
He patted my shoulder and added.
"The semester's ending soon anyway, and there won't be much to do for a bit, so rest up."
"...Pardon?"
No work?
What did that mean?
Didn't grad school national rule mean drafting next semester's research plans and budgets at semester's end?
"...Does the Magic Tower actually have breaks?"
Giuseppe looked at me like I was some weirdo.
"Of course. Even mages need rest."
"..."
As Giuseppe said, the Magic Tower's atmosphere was markedly different.
The grad students' faces, which should have been dead tired, brimmed with energy.
I recognized those expressions.
That was the "end-of-semester undergrad face waiting for break."
Vacation was coming.
I watched the scene blankly while eating "hangover soup" with Liam.
"What are you staring at?"
Liam asked.
"Liam... vacation. We're getting a vacation."
"Yeah. Less than a week left."
"..."
This felt awkward.
Vacation for grad students?
Never had winter sunlight felt so warm.
Liam smirked.
"That happy about it?"
"You wouldn't get it, Liam. I come from a world where grad students have no breaks, no vacations, no human rights."
"...Pardon?"
"Sounds crazy, right? I wish it was."
Sometimes a caste society beats liberal democracy.
I asked Liam.
"Where are you going for break, Liam?"
"Thinking of helping with my dad's business."
"Family business. Sounds romantic."
Somehow I figured Liam's family was warm. Like they run a ranch or something?
"Nah, we supply timber to the military."
"Oh."
Not some small merchant—supplying the army...
Liam's a rich kid, huh.
Should get closer to him.
I asked everyone I'd gotten acquainted with what they'd do for break.
Ellara said she'd earn some money during vacation.
So I recommended Hans's mercenary band. They could use a mage's hands—perfect fit.
"Everyone's leaving."
I sat on a bench in the Magic Tower's central garden, gazing at the sky.
But why did the Magic Tower send students home?
Keeping them chained to labs during break could squeeze out more results...
Then, Gwendolyn suddenly popped into my view.
"Whoa!"
"Isaac, got some serious worries? Your brow's all furrowed."
I asked honestly.
"I just can't wrap my head around grad school having vacations."
Gwendolyn stared blankly at me for a moment, then burst out laughing, clutching her stomach.
"Pfft! Ahaha! Isaac, you're hilarious."
"...That funny?"
"Think about it. Who are most Magic Tower students?"
"Nobles... ah."
"Right. Tying noble heirs to the capital indefinitely isn't education—it's imprisonment. Think the provincial lords would stay quiet?"
Now I got it.
Come to think of it, Earth's history had similar things.
Gwendolyn asked me.
"Got plans for break, Isaac?"
"No. Staying in the capital even during vacation."
"Oh. Want to visit my territory?"
"..."
Her territory.
That place with Count Ludwig?
-'Was the wine my daughter offered to your taste?'
Going for real might spell disaster...
I gave a vague reply.
"Actually, I've got someone to wait for in the capital."
"I see."
This wasn't an excuse—it was true.
Gwendolyn smacked her lips regretfully.
"Can't be helped then. See you next semester."
The Winterheart family's northern castle.
Patriarch Alcade Winterheart opened a small box from the capital.
Inside lay a severed finger, displayed like a trophy.
"Oh. Finally here."
Alcade chuckled as he lifted the finger from the box.
The finger's condition was poor.
Drained of blood, it was shriveled and wrinkled—impossible to identify whose it was.
Still, this was more than satisfactory.
"Gotta reward that assassin handsomely."
Alcade muttered while holding the severed finger.
But beneath the finger was a small folded note.
Something felt off...
"..."
Alcade silently lifted the parchment scrap.
[Come to the capital. We have business. Ignore this, and more pieces will follow.]
[P.S. - Sorry your son can't wear his wedding ring anymore.]
"More pieces? Wedding ring...?"
No way...
His hands trembled.
He hastily shoved the finger back into the box.
His son's wedding.
The finger for the wedding ring.
Left ring finger.
"Ah... aah..."
A horrific assumption formed in Alcade's mind.
What if this wasn't Isaac Uphills's finger?
What if that insolent brat had cut off Kaien's finger in the capital and sent it?
His eyes darted back to the note.
[...Ignore this, and more pieces will follow.]
'More pieces.'
His son's other fingers.
Toes. Ears. Nose. Eyes.
Just imagining it made his blood boil in reverse.
His jaw chattered.
"No... no! You devil!"
Alcade lost his reason and roared.
He wanted to rush to the capital right now and snap Isaac Uphills's neck.
[Come to the capital.]
"Fine, I'm going... I'll go...!"
Muttering like a half-madman, he immediately prepared to head to the capital.