Round Table Meeting (4)
“Was that the only demand from His Majesty the Emperor?”
Seolhwa leisurely scanned the elector counts with a relaxed gaze.
If my guess is right...
“The Emperor's human too—think he'd make two demands of us? Obviously just the one!”
“Same for Moribwe.”
“Sukan as well, same boat.”
As if he'd been waiting for their words, Seolhwa spread his arms wide and shouted.
“Exactly! It has to be just one. It must be just one!”
Unlike moments ago, his commanding presence made Francis's black beard quiver.
By the time two question marks appeared on Lady Moribwe's mask, Seolhwa continued.
“Unless he was trying to provoke you elector counts, there's no way he'd allocate resources like this! Not even His Majesty the Emperor!”
“Uh... yeah. Right.”
“So just accept the proposal.”
Muyul Ihyeon, who had been keeping an awkward silence, and Lady Moribwe, who had been playing shadow puppets over her pure white mask, both looked at Seolhwa in surprise.
“Getting mad at obvious provocation is third-rate. Ignoring it consistently is second-rate.”
Like the grand finale of a play, Seolhwa's exaggerated hand gestures swept toward the elector counts' bewildered faces.
“Brushing it off with a smile as if it's nothing, leaving your opponent flustered—that's true first-rate.”
“And you all are nobility among nobility. Elector counts who truly live up to the title of first-rate nobles!”
“So accept the burdens His Majesty is foisting on you without a care. And then!”
Knights who had proven themselves across countless battlefields, mages who had pursued the limits of magic and finally grasped the edge of miracles. Seolhwa emanated a fragment of the aura only such figures could exude.
“I'll 'rent' them all from you. Of course, for a fee.”
Clap clap clap!
The sound echoed like fireworks shot by traveling mages at a village festival.
As soon as Seolhwa's proposal ended, Francis slapped his bear-like palms together and boomed.
“I'm in! Those land beasts were a pain to house anyway—if you're taking them off my hands? No reason not to! Hah hah hah!”
“An excellent decision, Duke Fraia! As expected of the lord of the Split Archipelago—your spirit is unmatched!”
“Damn right! But kids, what's this 'paid rental' mean?”
“It means paying to borrow the beasts the Emperor entrusted to the captain.”
“What!? Taking my land beasts and paying for the privilege!? You an angel or something? This won't do. Get your ass to the Split Archipelago the second this meeting's over! I'll tie ribbons on those beasts and hand 'em right over! Hah hah hah!”
His booming laughter threatened to shatter the Round Table.
Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek, who had been eyeing the beast-like Francis with contempt but was clearly pleased by the unexpected gold, spoke up.
“Hate agreeing with that animal, but yeah, I'll hand 'em over too. Three thousand mercenaries and war mages. Three thousand ain't like naming the neighbor's dog—where the hell am I supposed to put them in my territory?”
Francis was one thing, but even Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek was on board with Seolhwa's idea.
Now all eyes turned to Sukan's Muyul Ihyeon and Lady Moribwe.
“I... I'm just here as a proxy, so I can't decide right now.”
Sukan's magic tools are a no-go, huh... Can't be helped. It'll just take time, but I should get them eventually.
Still, it was disappointing. In battles with equal numbers, victory often hinged on the quality and quantity of war mages—mages were top priority on any battlefield. In that sense, Sukan's magic tools were higher priority than even Moribwe's cold weapons.
Seolhwa licked his lips with regret, nodded, and turned to Lady Moribwe.
“What about you, Lady Moribwe?”
The situation was the complete opposite of the meeting's start. Lady Moribwe had been the one pressing the elector counts on the Emperor's unreasonable demands.
But now, she had to respond to Seolhwa's proposal.
Mages loathed uncontrollable variables as much as they hated sunlight. And Moribwe was the cradle of imperial magic, with Lady Moribwe reigning at its pinnacle. She couldn't be thrilled with this turn.
Yet.
“Mm... sure.”
“Pardon? Ah, yes. Thank you for your bold decision!”
Lady Moribwe accepting this easily? No way...
Seolhwa's proposal could be seen as provocation toward the elector counts. A mere sub-baron no one had heard of, brought by Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek, dismissing the Emperor's request and telling them to hand it over.
Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek might have coordinated beforehand, but Francis Fraia jumping right in was odd. The best response should have been brushing it off like Sukan.
“Moribwe will also rent the cold weapons entrusted by the Emperor to Sub-Baron Seolhwa Romanov, for a fee. But.”
No expression showed on Lady Moribwe's pure white mask.
“One condition.”
“And what might that be, Lady?”
“Sub-Baron Seolhwa Romanov must visit Moribwe in person.”
For a fleeting moment, it seemed a seductive smile ghosted across the mask.
From between shadows swaying like a cat's tail came Lady Moribwe's rich voice.
“That's the only condition for handing over the cold weapons. Oh! And since it's paid rental, we'll charge market price.”
“To the successful close of the Round Table Meeting—cheers!”
“Cheers!”
Ding~ ding~ ding~
The clear bell tones echoed, just like the opening chimes.
“Hah hah hah! Never thought I'd hear those bells and feel this good! Seolhwa Romanov, right? You got the guts of a sea dog no matter how I look at ya. Why not come over here? I'll treat you hotter than that scrawny bastard.”
“You? Yeah, right. Smugglers crossing the ocean from a thousand miles away are lucky not to end up fish food.”
“The hell you say!?”
“Ahaha...”
Smaller than the Palatium where the Emperor had stayed for his tour, but this ancient fortress was a castle through and through.
To celebrate the Round Table's close, the servants brought wine and food in lavish display—no less splendid than Palatium's, if not more so. Hosted by magic-renowned Moribwe, it brimmed with elements to captivate eyes and ears.
Bang! Boom! Whoosh!
Fireworks burst endlessly outside the windows, painting the sky in vibrant colors—one such delight.
The servants, brought from Moribwe, all wore masks etched with geometric patterns.
“You're too eloquent to be tied down by a mere sub-baron title.”
Unlike at the Round Table where she'd used only shadows, Lady Moribwe now displayed various shapes on her mask to match the fireworks' colors.
“You're too kind. I only worry if I offended the elector counts.”
“You're well-versed in noble etiquette.”
“Guess it rubbed off from the Academy.”
“Ah~ from the imperial capital, then. So you must have some talent for magic?”
“Who could claim magical talent before Lady Moribwe?”
Clink! Bang!
Champagne glasses chimed amid the fireworks.
She raised her glass to where her eyes would be behind the mask, then tilted it smoothly to her lips.
Fairy's Tears hits different every time, damn.
“Busy eating and drinking, but may I bring up the Round Table again?”
“Of course, Lady.”
“Moribwe's cold weapons total about 2,700—swords, spears, longbows, crossbows, all combined. At imperial capital prices, roughly 300,000 gold...”
Damn... talk about highway robbery.
A well-forged sword or spear went for about 50 gold. A good longbow and quiver, 100 gold. A top-quality crossbow with bolts, 200 gold.
But those were wartime prices. In these peace-bloated times, any smithy charging that would be bankrupt in a month.
“300,000? Fine. Platinum coins or check—which do you prefer, Lady?”
But he wouldn't point that out.
Lady Moribwe wasn't just squeezing a few extra coins, after all.
Oh ho...? A sub-baron with deep pockets, huh?
“Platinum's easiest, but it depends on the check issuer, doesn't it?”
Unable to hide his grin, Seolhwa smiled broadly.
Probably the most confident moment of the entire Round Table.
As a question mark in fireworks-matching colors appeared on Lady Moribwe's mask, Seolhwa spoke.
“How about a Gold Mountain check?”
Shock rippled across Lady Moribwe's mask—she clearly hadn't expected Gold Mountain.
But only for a moment. She continued in a soft voice.
“A Gold Mountain check will do. You're more capable than I thought.”
“A toast to Lady Moribwe for accepting—cheers?”
Clink!
The glasses chimed crisply, mirroring mutual satisfaction.
Tap tap tap.
“Ahem... excuse me, Lady.”
In this festive hall of laughter and drink, an elderly man with a grave expression approached, glancing around cautiously.
“Yes, what is it?”
“A word in your ear...”
Her mask revealed no gaps—turning to the old man exposed no skin to Seolhwa's view.
“Excuse me a moment, Sub-Baron.”
“Of course, Lady.”
Lady Moribwe left the hall with the old man after the whisper.
Where've I seen that old guy before...?
Not someone he'd known long, but definitely recently.
The nagging sensation prickled his brain, raising goosebumps—then someone called him.
“You really a Round Table newbie? Or do top graduates just got that edge?”
Muyul Ihyeon approached, cheeks flushed red from several drinks, clown-like.
“Ah!”
“Ah? What 'ah'?”
Got it. That old man's Sukan's chief steward.
The man who'd sat behind Muyul Ihyeon the whole meeting. When Sukan's Yayuldaesok Taiji had a fit, he'd supported him out.
The image flashed in Seolhwa's mind.
Why would Sukan's steward whisper to Lady Moribwe instead of Muyul Ihyeon...?
One puzzle solved, another knot tied itself.
“Huh? What? Oh, nothing.”
“Lame. Know what—cheers anyway. Let's drink like Academy days!”
“Like back then? No girls here.”
“You man-whore.”
Clink!
The Academy—where they'd arrived fleeing or pushed from families. Similar straits meant few questions asked. If anything, that forged a bond among the effort-forbidden, poured into the toast.
“By the way, where's that grandpa by you... the steward? Drinking alone's cheating.”
“Ah, come on—who's gotta watch Father? I gotta drink. What can ya do—go noble if you're jealous.”
“So the steward's still tending the Khan?”
“Yeah, probably? He'd tell me if something came up.”
Sukan's steward tending the Khan whispers to Lady Moribwe instead of Muyul Ihyeon?
Boom boom!
A serpent-shaped firework bloomed brilliantly behind Seolhwa, lost in thought with an ambiguous gaze at Muyul Ihyeon.