Episode 58

“Then let’s have them prepare a meal while we discuss. Once we return, we won’t have time to eat properly. I hope you’ll fill up well here.”

creak slam!

“Th-that nobleman…”

As soon as the door shut, Romandro grabbed the back of his neck and muttered under his breath. At this rate, he might really start harboring prejudices against the border counts.

Ian brought over the documents he’d been reviewing and began checking them one by one.

“The prices aside, I’m not satisfied with this list.”

“Exactly. There’s barely any staple crops.”

With a harsh winter looming, what they needed were hardy, fast-growing staple crops that yielded plenty. But what Mereloff offered were mostly luxury ingredients favored by nobles.

“This is ridiculous. Did he have a falling out with Derga?”

“That, I don’t know. But regardless, I doubt he’s keen on the deal itself.”

They barely had enough food for themselves, yet here came an advisor from the palace expecting to be served. And with the recent battle in Bratz’s territory, they must have suffered losses, whether obvious or not.

“During the fighting, some tried to flee to Mereloff. Even the butler at the Bratz estate was beheaded here. The gates were locked, so no one could get out…”

With the forest right outside, they couldn’t gather firewood, hunt, or forage for berries. Trade must have been disrupted as well. While the exact hardships inside are unclear, one can imagine.

Romandro groaned, clutching his head in frustration.

“Advisor.”

“Hmm?”

Ian tapped the table lightly, then called Romandro over slowly. Even if they didn’t secure food supplies here, Ian had another plan.

“Forgive me for asking, but I estimate the support funds amount to about 3,000 gold coins. Is that correct?”

“That’s a sensitive matter, so I can’t say.”

“I know a far better way to use that money than buying cream or olives here. If you trust me and follow my lead.”

Ian pulled out four sacks of Gula seeds—the miraculous crop credited with ending Bariel’s great famine.

Compared to other staple crops, Gula had an incredibly short growing period, abundant yields, and excellent nutritional value.

Why waste money on these luxury goods when such a perfect food source was available?

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t squander the precious support funds sent from the palace like this. It’s wasteful, even indulgent.”

“I agree, but what choice do we have?”

Ian flipped the papers aside, as if dismissing them, then asked Romandro to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Once his men had left the hallway, Ian whispered quietly:

“I intend to buy something else.”

“Something else? What?”

“A person.”

Romandro’s eyes widened in shock.

“…The slave market is only held in the capital. Surely Count Mereloff isn’t hosting one?”

“No, that’s not it. I mean to purchase laborers.”

Ian whispered that even without spending all 3,000 gold coins, it would be enough. Still baffled, Romandro stared back and forth between Ian and the proposal documents, deep in thought.

“May I borrow your ear?”

Ian smiled slyly and whispered the secret of Gula to Romandro. His expression shifted from disbelief to cautious hope—though only briefly.

---

“Just leaving like that?”

“Yes, Count. They say the deal is off.”

Count Mereloff glanced at the simple meal laid out on the table. Contrary to his promise of a lavish spread, it was mostly boiled meat stew—a humble dish common among commoners, where not a drop of juice could be wasted.

This was his way of showing displeasure at the proposal itself. Stroking his beard, he wrinkled his nose.

“Looks like they’re full.”

“Will you see them off?”

“No need. Just make some polite excuses.”

Outwardly, he wouldn’t refuse aid. They simply chose not to accept it. Mereloff had been worried someone might accept the deal at that price.

‘Soon, the Chonryeo tribe, who can’t endure the cold, will leave, and when everyone’s starving, there’ll be no other choice.’

The reason Mereloff ruled the border like a king was precisely because it was so far from the palace’s gaze.

No matter what happened, the palace wouldn’t know—both physically and psychologically distant.

But if someone from the palace took over the Bratz territory?

‘Damn. Just thinking about it…’

Mereloff’s neighboring territory would then fall under the palace’s watchful eye. Better for Mereloff to control Bratz himself. Though it meant dealing with barbarians, it was preferable to having the palace as a neighbor.

The count strode over to the window and looked down. Near the main gate, Ian and the advisor stood by the carriage, talking quietly but facing forward.

---

“Maybe they just don’t like palace people being in Bratz.”

“Too much of a burden to have as neighbors, huh.”

“Morally questionable, but what does that matter? Once you’re dead, morals mean nothing.”

Mereloff was too far away to realize Ian had seen right through him. Romandro thought it over and nodded, admitting it was a shrewd observation.

“Yeah, I hadn’t thought that far.”

“By the way, where’s the butler? He’s late.”

“Probably busy with the count’s affairs.”

“I don’t think he’s coming to see them off.”

Ian clicked his pocket watch and muttered. Now that they’d confirmed Mereloff’s stance, all that remained was to return to the territory and introduce Gula to Romandro.

“Oh my.”

At that moment, a woman appeared through the garden’s back gate. A noblewoman with platinum blonde hair tied up and adorned in extravagant finery.

“…Countess Mereloff?”

“Ian! So you’re Ian?”

“Pleased to meet you.”

Ian masked his surprise and greeted her hand with a bow. Unlike the count, she was lively and vibrant. Ian had assumed she was middle-aged, like Mary’s friend, but she looked much younger.

“I’m Lien Mereloff. I heard you arrived, but you’re already leaving? Stay for a meal at least.”

Though young, her rank and status were above Ian and Romandro’s. It was natural to show deference, which Ian accepted without discomfort—just a bit surprised by her lack of manners.

“Thank you, but the work is overwhelming. Perhaps another time.”

The countess fluttered her ornate fan with a cryptic smile. Ian and Romandro exchanged glances, puzzled by her behavior. Something felt off.

‘The dress is out of season, and her gaze is… strange.’

It was the kind of feeling that made you want to turn and leave if you met her in an alley. A rare impression from a beautiful countess.

“Advisor?”

“Oh, Romandro.”

“An honor. I thought I wouldn’t even get your name.”

“My apologies.”

“Is this your entire party?”

She twirled her fan gracefully. Half of their group had already gone down to the town center—to buy the ‘people’ Ian had mentioned.

“They left early, thinking we’d be delayed. We’re waiting for the butler.”

“I see. Has the Bratz territory been settled? My husband never tells me anything.”

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“Oh ho ho. I have a question.”

“Please, go ahead, Countess.”

She lowered her fan to cover her face and stepped closer. The servants bowed their heads, seemingly blocking their ears and eyes.

“Who’s using Lady Mary’s room now?”

“Lady Mary’s room?”

“I lent something and never got it back.”

Her tone dropped, as if warning Ian to keep quiet. Ian recalled Mary’s final moments and gasped.

“Ah.”

Mary had said there was something in the estate that might help if brought to Mereloff. She never said what, but since she mentioned it until the very end, it must not be something easily lost.

The countess’s eyes sparkled as she pressed Ian.

“Is the room intact?”

“…It should be. No one goes there much. You’re welcome to visit anytime.”

“May I?”

“Of course. It’s an ownerless room; no one will object.”

Ian’s answer pleased the countess, who smiled slyly. Just then, the butler appeared carrying a small box, and she turned away as if nothing had happened.

“Madam?”

“The guests are leaving. What about the count?”

“He says he can’t leave due to urgent business. He asks for your understanding and sends this small token from Mereloff. He also says to let you know that if you ever need help as neighboring territories, just say the word.”

The butler bowed politely. The countess covered her mouth with her fan and smirked. The butler had a knack for smoothing out the count’s blunt words. Ian accepted the box with a nod.

“Please convey my thanks.”

“Well then, I’ll take my leave. Ahem.”

Romandro gave a brief farewell and climbed into the carriage. As they passed through the main gate, the countess’s gaze never wavered.

clatter clatter

“What exactly is this ‘token’?”

“Judging by the smell, it seems to be dried meat.”

“Good grief, so the rumors from the borderlands were true after all.”

They were referring to the social circle’s prejudice that the border nobles were crude and uncivilized. When Ian caught the meaning and smiled faintly, Romandro made sure the mansion was far behind them.

“The lady was acting pretty strange too.”

“I didn’t expect her to be so young. I thought she’d be about the same age as Lady Mary.”

“The count looked a bit older, though. Is this his first marriage?”

“I’m not sure about that…”

“Never mind. Now, tell me more. You said there’s a crop with a harvest season of just over a month?”

Romandro leaned in close to Ian, his voice full of excitement. To think such an extraordinary crop existed here—something neither of them had ever heard of!

No wonder they say, if you want to see the center of the world, go to the capital; but if you want to witness change, go to the borderlands.

“Where does it come from? The Great Desert? Well, if it grows in the desert, it must be incredibly resilient. What’s it called? What do they call it?”

“You’d know it, Counselor.”

“Hm? Know what?”

“Gula.”

“…Gula? You mean that weed, gula?”

Unlike Ian’s faint smile, Romandro’s face fell completely. It was clear his mind was flooded with the thought: this is a disaster.