Real Estate Investments Require Caution
Before the Imperial Prophet Tournament was held, on a certain day in the past.
Wimark Lakatus, the Imperial Prophet, received a piece of news from his informant.
"What? They're suddenly holding a prophet tournament spanning the entire Empire?"
"Yes, my lord. His Majesty the Emperor has issued the order personally."
They're holding a tournament to select the Empire's greatest prophet...
And the Emperor himself had ordered it.
Wimark began rapidly turning the gears in his head.
If a prophet tournament is being held, I'll have no choice but to participate. I could invent an excuse to skip it, but the consequences would be terrifying. You don't casually sit out something the Emperor is doing.
Why would the Emperor suddenly hold a tournament like this?
There had to be a reason.
After a moment of thought, he found the answer without much difficulty.
The problem was picking the wrong hunting dates...
Wimark let out a deep sigh.
The Emperor's favorite hobby—and practically his only one—was hunting animals. In particular, the Emperor loved traveling far from the Capital to enjoy hunting at his personal favored spots. Which meant the weather on hunting days was extremely important. Since these were days when the Emperor went on expedition to enjoy his hobby, the weather absolutely had to be clear and pleasant.
And for such important days, the Imperial Prophets would forecast the weather and set the hunting dates.
Who could have known it would pour rain eight times in a row! Even the gods wouldn't have known!
Wimark cried out in injustice inwardly.
On the hunting days set by the Imperial Prophets, torrential rain had poured down. Eight times in a row, no less. His only hobby had been canceled eight consecutive times. At the time, you could practically watch the Emperor's expression rotting away in real time.
And it was in that situation that news of the prophet tournament arrived.
"His Majesty the Emperor has said that he hopes all Imperial Prophets will participate, so that they may deepen their bonds and hone their skills. He sends words of encouragement."
"Haa..."
Encouragement, my ass. He's saying he'll kill us if we don't go.
Wimark finished his assessment. This was essentially an order and a threat. Through this tournament, he clearly intended to weed out Imperial Prophets who lacked skill.
Wimark finished sizing up the situation.
The Imperial Prophet is a position of formidable power even within the Imperial Court. If I get kicked out, someone else will snatch it up in no time. There are more than a few people waiting for just such an opportunity.
The Imperial Prophet was a position that could influence major decisions of the Empire. You could cancel plans by making all sorts of excuses about bad fortune and the like. It wasn't quite to the level of controlling the Imperial Court from behind the scenes—but it was still a position that firmly held a seat in the decision-making process. That unique power was something no family could help but covet.
There's a plan to build a new Central Library soon. I absolutely must be the one to decide the library's location! I have to protect this power no matter what!
If a Central Library was built, the value of the surrounding land would skyrocket. The Imperial Prophet was someone who could influence the decision of where to build the library.
Wimark made his decision. He would enter the prophet tournament—as the representative of the Imperial Prophets, and as the representative of House Lakatus.
I must survive.
He would protect his power at all costs.
"I have a request."
Wimark spoke to his informant.
"I await your command."
"Gather information related to the prophet tournament."
"How broad should the scope of collection be?"
"...Everything."
"Understood."
The informant saluted Wimark.
"House Lakatus is eternal."
"Yes. House Lakatus shall be eternal."
Once Wimark returned the salute, the informant left immediately.
He would stop at nothing. As long as he could survive—as long as he could protect his power—he would do anything.
Using the power of his house, Wimark uncovered the tournament's judging categories and who would be participating as judges.
The first preliminary round was predicting the result of a coin toss.
"Bribe the judges so they use a counterfeit coin when it's my turn."
Using a fake coin that looked like heads on both sides, he safely passed the first round of judging. After that as well, he survived by every underhanded means imaginable—using loaded dice filled with lead, bribing judges to learn the answers in advance, and more.
"Finally, the main rounds."
Wimark advanced to the main rounds with his head held high. He felt not a shred of guilt about his actions.
"My lord. The main round examination involves identifying this holy relic."
This one was quite difficult. Who would have thought they'd cooperate with the Church to run the tournament. The expenses were larger than expected.
He had bribed not only Imperial figures and nobles, but Church personnel as well. It had cost a fortune, but—
I'll win it back.
The prize the Emperor had announced for the winner. The promise that whatever the winner desired would be granted.
At first he had entered the tournament simply to survive. But Wimark was starting to get greedy.
If I just win, I can get it all back!
He could seize far more money than he'd spent on bribes. If he won, it would be as good as proving his ability as a prophet, so he could also decide the construction site of the Central Library.
Based on that judgment, he poured vast sums into bribery.
Win it back!!
He even managed to get an opportunity to see the holy relic for the first round of the main competition in person. He would pass the first round with ease.
That should have been the case.
But as time passed and the day of the first main round arrived, Wimark realized something.
The bones... they all look the same.
He had only learned that a holy relic would be used in the examination. He hadn't uncovered the detailed process of the examination itself. Among bones that all looked identical, he couldn't tell which one was the holy relic. He might have been able to tell if he got closer, but the knights blocked the way.
I'm finished... It's all over...
His vision swam. The money he'd poured into this tournament was enough to build a fine mansion in the Imperial Capital and still have some left over. And it didn't end with the money problem.
I'll be driven from my position as Imperial Prophet...
The right to decide the Central Library's location would vanish as well. And all the money he'd put into real estate speculation with that in mind would go up in smoke. The money spent on bribes wasn't small, but compared to what he'd sunk into real estate speculation, it was a speck of dust. Adding up all the money spent on real estate speculation targeting the Central Library construction, it was enough to make his entire house stagger.
Of all times, for a tournament like this to be held right before the library construction!!
Just as Wimark was drowning in despair, a man appeared. A strange man who seemed to know about bones casually struck up a conversation.
"That bone is called the ulna. It's the long bone that supports the arm from the elbow to the wrist."
A completely unfamiliar face he'd never seen before. Yet the man spoke to him as familiarly as if they were old friends.
If I can just use this man well, I might be able to figure out which one is the holy relic!
With the desperation of a drowning man clutching at straws, Wimark frantically wracked his brains.
Urgh! No matter how hard I think, there's no way to identify the holy relic without raising suspicion!
If he described the holy relic's appearance in detail, he'd obviously come under suspicion. But if he didn't describe the appearance, he couldn't find the holy relic.
I thought he was my only hope, but is this how it ends...
There was truly no answer now. Just as he thought that—
"House Lakatus is eternal."
The man whispered in his ear.
Hah...!
The secret passphrase used only by those belonging to the house. Wimark understood everything.
No wonder he came over and talked to me! He's a secret agent sent by the house!
Beaming, he followed the man around, listening to explanations about the bones.
"That bone is the most special. You understand what I mean, don't you?"
"Of course. Naturally I do."
Hahahaha! Luck is on my side!
Wimark selected the bone the man had called special—number 3—as his answer.
"The examination time is over! All participants, please submit the answer you believe to be correct!"
A guide announced the end of the first round. Participants who still hadn't decided on an answer shuffled over to submit theirs.
Hahaha. What a bunch of fools. This is the power of a house!
Wimark comfortably mocked the dropouts in his mind.
"I will now announce the correct answer!"
He stepped boldly forward so the audience could see him well. The luxurious golden robes befitting an Imperial Prophet sparkled in the sunlight.
"The 1st Class Holy Relic was number 4!"
The moment the guide announced the answer, Wimark immediately opened his mouth.
"Ahem! It seems the guide has mispronounced. The correct answer isn't number 4, but number 3, is it not!"
The surrounding participants and even the audience all stared at Wimark. Wimark was confident. He didn't think for a second that he was wrong.
"Pardon? My pronunciation was accurate. The correct answer is number 4."
"So you're saying number 3 is the correct answer?"
"No. Not number 3, but number 4. One, two, three, four. The fourth one."
The guide counted on his fingers, raising them one by one from a clenched fist, as if teaching numbers to a child.
Huh...?
Wimark's complexion gradually turned blue. Then his face went as pale as a corpse.
"Don't lie! I-I'm certain the answer is number 3!!"
On impulse, Wimark charged toward the holy relic. He had to confirm that fake answer with his own two eyes and expose the guide's lie.
"S-Stop him! Don't let him damage the holy relic!"
"Let go! Don't hold me!!"
The knights guarding the holy relic swarmed in and seized Wimark.
"Aaaaargh!!"
His arms were twisted behind his back and he was forcibly restrained.
Thud!
The knights slammed Wimark down onto the ground.
"Th-This is a mistake! There must be some misunderstanding!"
He shouted with his face pressed against the dirt.
"That man! Where is that man! Come out and explain that the guide made a mistake!"
The man who knew about bones. If it was him, he might be able to correct the guide's error. Wimark desperately called for the man, but—
"..."
Only cold silence answered him. The other participants and the entire audience were looking down at him.
"Where—where is he!!!"
With every ounce of strength he had, Wimark twisted his head around searching for the man. He scrutinized every single face in the crowd looking for his savior, but—
"He's not here..."
Rix had already left.