Big Bluff
Clop-clop-clop. Puff!---
On the well-maintained road, shrouded in perfect peace, there wasn't a single variable to speak of. No sudden rocks to trip over. No carriage wheels sinking into mud, cursing the world. No horses suffering from overdue horseshoes. Such mishaps rarely happened anymore. Even the horses' snorts came at regular intervals, peaceful as could be.
But that wasn't good enough.
"What do you think I called you here for?"
"Beats me... To grab a drink? Your Excellency Byeon Gyeongbaek."
"With you? Me?"
"Yeah, we're definitely not the type to start day-drinking from morning."
The road workers cleared protruding rocks between the lanes and repaired crumbling blocks. Wheelwrights fixed shattered axles caked in mud. Farriers trimmed hooves and fitted new shoes. They all needed to eat, didn't they?
So how were they supposed to make that happen?
"You met the emperor, right? Anything happen?"
"What would? 'I'll do my best.' 'Yeah, good, let's do that.' Toast and done."
"That so?"
The road, dulled by long peace, needed shaking up. Just like this conversation between Seolhwa and Manrmursk's Byeon Gyeongbaek.
'This guy's got some nerve. Do I really have to ask directly?'
What was an elector count? A position at the pinnacle of the nobility's food chain—noble among nobles, lord among lords. They'd spent their lives surrounded by people who anticipated their every cough and offered exactly what they wanted. To them, intentions were something others discerned for them, not the other way around.
Byeon Gyeongbaek of Manrmursk was no different, if anything more so. This situation felt downright awkward.
'No way I'm bringing it up first. Hell no.'
Even after rejecting an elector count's invitation once, here he was the next day. Coming in person to see Seolhwa. What did that mean?
'Byeon Gyeongbaek's way more pressed than I thought!'
The info from the pigeon seemed spot-on. Otherwise, why would he act so directly? Seolhwa held the informational edge—and the solution. The fish was hooked; now just reel it in. Nice and slow.
"Remember that thing you said last time? What'd you mean by it?"
"Huh... what're you talking about?"
"Aw, come on—that time you first came to my castle for greetings. Before heading to see the emperor."
Seolhwa put on his most innocent, utterly baffled expression. If there'd been a mirror in the carriage, he'd have asked to hide it. He tilted his head.
"Argh, seriously! Fine, you win. That uninvited guest thing. What were you getting at?"
The fat fish had bitten hard. But yanking the rod now might let it slip the bait and flee. Needed to let it sink deeper, confirm the hook.
“An uninvited guest? Oh, yeah, that certainly rings a bell, but I might have overdone the drinking yesterday to the point that my memory is feeling a bit fuzzy. If you could just provide a bit more detail, it might be exactly what I need to jog my mind and remember what happened.”
Thud!---
Neigh!
Byeon Gyeongbaek slammed his arm down hard enough to punch a hole in the carriage wall. His eyes shot flames, but his mouth grinned.
"You said the emperor visiting Manrmursk is an uninvited guest from my perspective."
The bastard had swallowed the hook whole.
"Ahh~ Yeah, that's what I said."
"Came to hear more about that."
The carriage kept rolling smoothly, horses barely flinching despite the roughness—or maybe Byeon always drove like this.
"Eh, nothing much... Though it might depend on what Your Excellency tells me."
"Like what?"
"What you talked about with His Majesty yesterday?"
'Not that I don't already know.'
How much could Manrmursk's Byeon Gyeongbaek trust Seolhwa? And vice versa, how far could Seolhwa use him?
"Brought up something real unpleasant."
"Unpleasant?"
"Yeah. Made my blood boil."
Neigh!---
As if eavesdropping, the horse whinnied uneasily.
"You know the size of forces Manrmursk maintains?"
"How would I? That's top-secret territory defense stuff, right?"
"Exactly. Even close lords or family don't discuss private troops. Unspoken rule."
Unlike conscripts who farmed peacetime and mobilized for war, private soldiers were hired purely for battle. Maintaining them showed a territory's power—and they were pricey. They flew the empire's flag on imperial call, but otherwise, each domain was its own mini-nation. So even allies never pried into troops. Best case, meddling in internals. Worst, spying.
"But the emperor and Sachsen come at me like they're in cahoots. Ha! I was floored."
Recalling it parched his throat; Byeon chugged straight from the jug, downing half without pause. He stared at the bottle silently, then spoke.
"What do you think when you see this?"
"Half-full water jug."
"Say you're traveling by carriage... or prepping one for someone. But the jug's only half full. What do you do?"
"Fill it up, right? Never know what might happen."
"No argument there. Prep well, sure. But get this."
His face twisted like a dried squid, fury barely contained.
"Some guy shows up demanding I stuff thirty jugs into the carriage. How's the owner supposed to take that?"
"Tell him no."
"Can't flat-out refuse. Politics and 'practical' excuses all tangled up. Owner can't say no right then."
"Move the jugs elsewhere, then. Nobody wants to ride with a carriage full of water."
"Storing them costs a fortune. Might not even have space."
The solution seemed obvious from outside, making it frustrating. If he'd rejected the emperor and Sachsen Duke yesterday? They'd have found another way to dump 3,000 extra troops. Raise tolls via their road monopoly, maybe. Direct pressure last resort, but it'd flow their way eventually. Elector vs. elector was one thing; emperor plus elector? No contest.
"What if... I took all those jugs off your hands, Your Excellency?"
Byeon's face screamed disbelief—prime contender for best 'absurd' expression.
"You? Since when are you filthy rich I never dreamed of?"
"Just jugs. How much could they cost?"
"Three thousand."
"Pardon?"
"Mercenaries and mages. Three thousand. That's the jugs—in this peaceful era."
Nothing to lose, so honest? Or Seolhwa seemed harmless? Unexpectedly, Manrmursk's Byeon Gyeongbaek spilled the emperor and Sachsen Duke's burden terms freely.
Not much payback, but Seolhwa raised the rod a touch more.
"Depends on skill, but average merc's a hundred gold a week. Veterans max two hundred. Mages? Miracles from nothing, priceless—but they won't hit muddy battlefields. Pricey, but doable."
"What? Wait, what'd you say?"
"Those jugs? About a million gold a month. I could take 'em, right?"
"Utopia turned you into a blowhard, huh? First thing you learned from the bread-heads? That's bare minimum math. Fine, say a million drops from the sky."
Doubt it screamed, mixed with faint hope—what if?—and panic—what then? His eyes shook audibly.
"What the hell you gonna do with those mercs?"
* * *
A clear sky, not a cloud in sight. Pigeons took flight busily, as if idling a day meant fleas under their wings. East, west, south, north.
Spreading eyes and ears across the world for their wingless master, the pigeons soared today too.
"Always a sight."
A bearded man, looking ready to hop on a Rudolf-drawn sleigh, approached. The woman seated in the room's center replied calmly, as if she'd known he was coming.
"My pride and joy—my children."
"Lady Cynthia?"
"Pardon?"
"Telling Suhwa Romanov Vice Warden about my 'hawk pouch'."
"Oh, what do you mean...? Won't fly, huh?"
Cynthia's dimples bloomed. Even after the peak, it stirred the heart. Age had stripped the freshness, filling her with dense allure.
"How far do you see his potential going?"
"Potential... Who knows? I'm just a pigeon lady."
Affirm a self-proclaimed 'auntie'? Deny? Stay silent? Perilous either way; Ilka Pavola fiddled with his beard.
"Should be fun for a while, at least."
"Fun?"
"You, Vice Warden Suhwa, former Prime Minister Ilka. What you're up to is huge."
She toyed with her necklace playfully. How far could he trust this woman? Would she vanish at the end, leaving a pigeon feather?
"Lady Cynthia. Good with ledgers?"
"Pardon?"
Who knew? But wasn't investment like that? High risk, high return.
"Lending big money to someone... Need you glued to my side, keeping the books."
Resolved, Ilka pulled a Gold Mountain-crested check from his lush beard.