Chapter 86
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: Why Are You Staring Like That?
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As the vague image solidified into certainty, Narcopef's shoulders slumped.
"When you left, didn't you make any promises? You must have. They probably mustered an army."
While speaking, I slotted in a piece of information that had just surfaced. It was a puzzle piece brought back by the thieves I'd sent out as informants.
"That's right."
"'Oh my, if you wrap up the negotiations well, our army of tens of thousands won't even need to move. That's a huge merit on your part. Hahaha. When that happens, I'll make you a hero of the realm and bestow upon you beauties and riches. And that's not all? I'll grant you lands and raise your title.' Something like that, right?"
"Close... no, exactly..."
"But what a mess this is. Turns out you were sent to the jaws of death, meant to die at the hands of vile rebels, just so they could use your death as an excuse for revenge? They mustered the army for that very purpose."
Narcopef's face finally drained of all color.
Visualization can be this terrifying.
Show a photo of a ghost to someone gripped by vague fears of the supernatural, and they end up just like Narcopef.
Blood drains from their head, legs trembling as if they're about to wet themselves any second.
"Even though we're the ones who took down dozens of ogres—"
It was just me and Ibu, but let's gloss over that.
"—how could we stand against tens of thousands? Hellite would have a solid justification too. 'We struck the fortress to avenge the prince, so we beseech the Holy Kingdom's regent to turn a blind eye.' That was the plan, wasn't it?"
I gave Narcopef time to think.
Cornering him too hard would backfire.
Even bullying has its techniques.
You have to let them breathe while you tear into them.
Think, breathe.
There are idiots who bully without granting even basic human rights, and they end up getting stabbed or shot by their victims. That's when we cheer, "Serves you right!"
Reap what you sow, hoist with your own petard, karma's a bitch, just desserts, what comes around goes around. Instant karma?
'Ah, damn... this hotheaded fool.'
I'd given him plenty of time to think.
Narcopef's face showed he grasped the situation to some degree.
He just didn't know what to say.
To help him fully understand, I added,
"A prince with no royal blood. No guilt in discarding him. Well, a king might kill even his own kin to consolidate power."
"I was a convenient card to throw away."
Narcopef, his shoulders noticeably hunched, spoke lightly.
His voice held no emotion.
In that short time, the Seventh Prince's face had aged dramatically.
Sometimes enlightenment isn't all good.
Cases like this trade lifespan for it.
And no amount of healthy food helps.
When your mental state crumbles, aging hits immediately. Mental breakdown, aging incoming.
"What should I do..."
"Why ask me?"
"Tell me. Even if I go back like this—"
"A shrewd king won't kill you. He'll console you vaguely and use you the same way later."
"You think so?"
"If I were king, that's what I'd do. The real king might just kill you. Can't help that."
Ah, whatever. Am I the one dying? You're the one dying.
"Heh heh..."
Narcopef let out a hollow laugh.
A fitting response for a middle-aged man.
Drawing out a genuine reaction from someone masked in authority and pride is this difficult.
You crush them with physical force, hold their life in your hands, beat them down with words, and only then do they realize they're just fragile humans.
No prince would welcome feeling stripped bare, but it was necessary for my purposes.
I can't strip myself for a total stranger, right? Even when covering Ibu's nudity, it was some other guy's cloak I took.
Anyway, I hate getting exposed. It's embarrassing.
There it goes again.
Narcopef's desperate gaze pulled me from the depths of my blank stupor.
"Whether you live or die is up to you. No one can do it for you. You must bear and overcome your own pain. That's standing on your own two feet, and only those who can claim true mastery over their own lives."
"Wise words, indeed."
Narcopef straightened his posture, adjusting his tone.
"Still, since you've come as an envoy, hear my demands before you go. If you follow them, you might survive with some luck. Survive? They might even treat you as a hero who reclaimed the territory."
"I shall listen intently."
Narcopef's eyes gleamed as he leaned toward me again.
"Ears open, mind open, listen well. This is important."
I felt Fred, silently listening from behind, lean in too.
The thrill of holding the conversation's reins and manipulating someone. This must be why voice phishers do it.
I explained step by step what I'd organized in my head.
Narcopef was a discarded pawn.
A prince thrown into enemy lines as a sacrificial blade.
I didn't ask how he'd become part of the royal family.
What good would knowing that do me?
From his demeanor, there was no reason he wasn't proud of it.
He just hated airing it publicly in front of his subordinates.
Everyone has their dignity and a personal shame they'd rather not have touched.
Yeah, less a weakness, more a private sore spot.
A reverse scale, maybe.
Brad shed the scale; I'll pick it up.
It's all about how you use it.
People too.
If you can make use of them, better to keep them alive.
When I finished explaining, Narcopef's expression was complicated.
"Hmm... I can picture it in my head."
A face of enlightenment mixed with bewilderment.
Like solving an urgent bowel movement but finding no toilet paper? Whatever, hard to explain.
"The army must be blocking the civilians trying to come to the fortress."
"Yes."
"Is the reason taxes?"
"That plays a part, but the bigger issue is justification for recapturing the fortress. In my view, that justification is..."
Justification, huh.
Politicians are so exhausting and repulsive.
That damn justification.
They scream about the people's livelihood at every turn.
Yet they ignore people burning alive, drowning, crushed under buildings.
They're too busy finding excuses not to help rather than acting on duty or compassion.
They'll slack off?
'Sigh... damn it. Pissing me off again.'
Fire suits and emergency aid gear were developed ages ago, but distribution lagged over a decade.
Because firefighters might get complacent, they said. Even with Insight Ability, I couldn't know the truth.
It was beyond my reach.
Rumors swirled of politicians bipartisanly opposing a chairman supporting firefighters out of jealousy. Sounded most plausible.
Bastards.
Treating human lives as mere labor and money—same everywhere.
"...Are you listening?"
"Ah, yeah. What's the justification?"
"Attacking a fortress with civilians means risking the throne, so they're blocking influx to avoid that. As Captain Kalruk mentioned, tax revenue drops immediately, so nothing good for the royals. But that's just my guess; there could be other motives."
"What other motives? You've nailed it, Seventh Prince. Nobles count commoners not as humans, but as heads paying taxes and providing labor, right?"
"Hard to argue."
Narcopef turned away awkwardly.
I knew plenty from Fred, Requiya, and others.
In this world, commoners were little different from livestock.
They just weren't slaughtered for food.
Taxes were brutal, corvée labor harsher.
No wonder they fled to free cities.
Time to wrap up the inner rage.
Down to business.
"Seventh Prince, your task is simple. Go back and order the residents' migration. Tell them you negotiated it with me."
"They won't agree. They'll suspect treason."
"Listen. Fiore's close. If I side with Fiore, bad news for Brad, right?"
Narcopef rubbed his forehead.
Headache-inducing.
I'd hit the truth.
And it was beyond his authority to judge, making it worse.
He probably thought a flick on the forehead from me would hurt less right now. Should I just smack him? Easier that way.
"Just report it that way. Say I proposed it. Sanctuary will accept the people and grow the city. You planned to tax the fortress anyway, right? Can't tax without production. Who produces? You know best. Commoners. Lots of them. People gather, produce people, produce food to sustain them. Fulfilling basic needs sparks all sorts of production."
"Ah..."
What 'ah'? Basics, man.
"Trying to collect taxes without sending people?"
"Probably an excuse."
"Obviously an excuse. Word games."
"Then why suggest it?"
"To turn the excuse into reality. Isn't that true justification? Where do the people here get food and clothes? From Brad or Fiore, right? Merchants pay taxes on goods sold in this new city. But this is Brad territory originally. No tariffs. Advantage for Brad merchants."
Narcopef wore a 'does this make sense?' look.
These guys never got a proper middle school education.
How do they not grasp basic economics?
"With more people, you can't feed them all by hunting or farming. Who lives on just meat and bread cakes? Need veggies, fruits, spices from elsewhere. Milk for kids, and... need more?"
"No. I get it."
"Knew you would. Smart guy."
Smart my ass.
I was repeating the same point with different words, and even then he barely got it.
I want to explain simply.
Can't.
Besides lacking eloquence, to avoid lies, I have to speak vaguely like politicians.
"Not an easy concept, yet you grasp it like a true prince."
He took it as praise; Narcopef's cheek twitched into a smile.
Praise from a Holy Knight feels different from subordinates' flattery.
His face brightened as he probed slyly.
"Look, Holy Knight. So, should I say taxes start once the population grows enough?"
Damn, wasted life, old man.
"Hey! Didn't you hear? I'm permitting trade!"
Sensing something off, Narcopef narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Why are you staring like that?"
"N-no. Nothing."
Is this uncle new to wordplay...?
"You doing it or not? You've wasted enough of my precious time. My patience is running dry. When it does, I kill people. Rip and tear."
I said it while glaring like a dog that doesn't know patience.
Got it? Got it, punk!
Grrr...