Translator: Nox

Ch#131

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Viscount Macauliffe didn’t stop at simply contacting individual aristocrats to campaign for the city’s location. He pivoted to a more strategic maneuver: forging a coalition based on shared interests.

Dalkatir was currently fractured by two major political disputes. One involved the proposal to send financial aid to Thuringen, while the other concerned the rival groups vying to host the newly proposed free trade hub.

By some twist of fate, the factions behind these issues were distinct. The conservative old nobility generally detested both the idea of helping Thuringen and the establishment of the trade city. Recognizing this pattern, Macauliffe approached the lords who favored the Thuringen aid package. They struck a bargain, agreeing to support each other’s goals in a reciprocal pact.

Consequently, the relief funds for Thuringen—a measure both Claude and Count Grimaldi had fought against—were now a certainty. The news left Claude feeling as though Macauliffe had stabbed him in the back.

Then there was the matter of Count Grimaldi.

The Count had offered Macauliffe a hand and a smile, inviting the Viscount to visit his lands in the future. However, there was something deeply unsettling about that expression.

“He is a margrave, after all,” Dimitri remarked.

In the wake of the Witch Hunt, open conflict between Thuringen and Dalkatir had ceased, but history told a bloodier story. For generations, the two powers had been at each other’s throats. Local lore even suggested that the Grimaldi line—an ancient house of legendary warriors—had been relegated to their border post specifically to serve as a permanent shield against Thuringen. As the margrave of the front lines, the Count lived in a state of perpetual tension with his northern neighbors.

In contrast, the Royal Family remained on decent terms with Thuringen, largely because they didn’t share a physical border. It was a friendship of convenience between monarchs that didn’t extend to the lords on the ground. While the royals exchanged pleasantries, the border families lived through a nightmare. Grimaldi clashed with the nearby Brunrier, and further down the coast, Count Montac was locked in a bitter feud with Ritzport.

“It mirrors the friction between the Woodpecker family and the Belipeera autonomous territory,” Dimitri explained.

This shared animosity toward their neighbors was the glue that bound Grimaldi and Montac together. Their primary goal was to block any support for Thuringen.

“I find the idea of this aid distasteful as well,” Dimitri continued, drawing a parallel to their own local rivals. “We are essentially using our own citizens’ taxes to prop up a foreign crown.”

His explanation helped Yuls grasp the depth of the grudge Grimaldi held against the northern kingdom.

“The King is unlikely to change course now,” Yuls noted. “This outcome aligns with his own desires.”

“Indeed,” Dimitri agreed.

The King had already moved swiftly to form a committee dedicated to the Thuringen relief effort. Yuls had remained neutral during the debate, but seeing the final result made him wonder if he should have thrown his weight behind the opposition. Regardless, the matter was settled.

The quiet of the room was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.

“Your Excellency, correspondence has arrived from Grimaldi,” Ivan announced as he entered. “There is also a message from His Highness Claude.”

Yuls reached for Claude’s letter first. He assumed the Count’s missive was merely the formal invitation he had essentially demanded, but Claude’s intentions were a mystery. Or rather, Yuls had a suspicion he hoped was wrong.

His intuition proved correct. Claude intended to join the trip to Grimaldi.

The Prince claimed he couldn’t pass up the chance to see his mentor’s ancestral home for the first time, adding that his presence would serve as a check against Thuringen. Yuls doubted Thuringen would be intimidated; they hadn’t even blinked when Luigi died. It seemed more likely that Dalkatir was being played.

“Did the Prince send a verbal message?”

“Only that he is traveling to Grimaldi,” Yuls replied.

Dimitri remained silent.

“There’s no preventing it,” Yuls said. “The Count holds the power to invite guests.”

Besides, Claude wasn’t the sort of person to be deterred by a lack of welcome, and he had the perfect excuse: Grimaldi was his teacher. To Yuls, however, the Prince’s motivations were secondary to his own plans.

“I need to organize some offerings,” Yuls said, his eyes never leaving his paperwork. He looked up at Dimitri with a defensive expression, as if justifying his next thought. “It’s only proper to bring gifts when visiting someone’s home, isn’t it?”

In reality, he had practically extorted the invitation.

“I have a list prepared,” Dimitri answered, “but you haven’t signed the vouchers yet, so the acquisitions are stalled.”

“The current list felt insufficient.”

Dimitri paused. “Exactly how lavish do you intend to be, Your Excellency?”

“I was thinking a set of jewels for the Countess, for starters.”

“That is far beyond what etiquette requires.”

“They’re just stones, Dimitri.”

“It starts to look like a marriage dowry.”

“Shouldn’t the bride’s family be the ones providing that?” Yuls countered.

Dimitri just stared at him. Yuls realized he might have been too transparent about his matrimonial intentions.

“I find the Count insufferable,” Yuls admitted, “but I want the people of Grimaldi to view me favorably.”

“Is their opinion that vital?”

“Perhaps it will assist in the management of their lands one day.”

“The County is far from insolvent,” Dimitri noted.

“If they have money, why was he raised in the servants’ quarters?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Forget I said anything,” Yuls muttered.

Based on the Count’s personal appearance, Yuls hadn’t pegged him as a man of wealth. Perhaps he was just miserly. Yuls hadn’t cared enough about the man previously to investigate his finances.

“I’m quite curious to see it for myself,” Yuls said. He considered asking Billy for a financial report on the estate but decided to wait and see it with his own eyes. “Are you joining the party?”

“I am weighing the option,” Dimitri said. “I have a better grasp of Grimaldi’s inner workings than most, but I’m unsure if my presence is the best move.”

“I understand Bert is staying here.”

“Yes, the workload in the territory is quite heavy at the moment.”

Yuls suspected there was more to it. Bert was a man of hidden depths who did nothing without a reason. Given his age, he was likely looking for a successor for his guard duties. He clearly viewed Adrina as someone capable of taking the reins.

“I see.”

Yuls wondered about Adrina’s future. Could she remain in the Escort Knight Division forever? He needed to ensure the right people were in place.

Roy was a possibility, but his heart was set on becoming a Watchman.

“We’ll see how things play out,” Yuls mused.

With Bert absent, the training for those left behind would undoubtedly become much harsher.

“I’m ready to depart for Grimaldi,” Yuls stated.

Dimitri suspected the reality of the estate might clash with Yuls’s expectations, but he kept his doubts to himself to avoid dampening his master’s spirits.

*

Adi tapped on the frame of the open door. Roy looked up from his bed, a packed bag sitting beside him.

“Are the burns fully healed?” Adi asked, nodding toward the luggage.

“Completely. The Mage took care of it in a single session.”

The chaos of the previous days had required a massive mobilization of magic users. Roy hadn’t realized Woodpecker employed so many Mages until then.

He held up his hands. The skin was smooth, showing no signs of the fire. Only the thick calluses of a lifelong swordsman remained. The Mages had offered to smooth those away too, but the knights had declined. Roy knew that if his skin became soft, he would only end up bleeding all over his hilt the next time he fought. He had no desire to relive the painful conditioning of his youth.

“The itching was maddening,” Roy remarked.

“That’s just the sign of skin regenerating.”

“They warned me not to rely on magic too often.”

“It isn’t a natural process,” Adi agreed. “I’ve heard it either borrows vitality from your future or steals healing energy from other parts of your body to fix one wound.”

“You’re quite the expert.”

“Joel likes to talk. He was too exhausted to ramble this time because of the sheer number of patients, but normally he gives a full lecture.”

Roy nodded, remembering the talkative healer. Joel had been working himself to the bone lately due to the forest’s decline, and he’d heard the man was finally getting a well-deserved two-day break.

“I didn’t expect us to be traveling to Grimaldi together,” Roy said.

“Neither did I. Given your training in their style, I assumed they’d keep you away from there.”

Roy had overlooked that. He figured that with Bert staying behind, he was simply being moved to the Escort Division because of his rapport with Adi.

“Is that the only reason they’re bringing me?”

Looking at her, he wondered if there was a darker subtext.

“If you don’t survive the trip, you won’t have to worry about being a Watchman,” Adi joked, giving his shoulder a playful shove.

Roy instinctively started to reach out to return the gesture, just as they had done back at Pallesa Palace. Then, remembering his place, he checked the impulse and tucked his hand away.