Episode 90

Count Merellof dumped the valuables the butler had retrieved onto the table. Lady Rien, who was seated nearby, began putting on the jewelry one by one again, just like she had the day before. The amber ring in question was no exception.

“Look closely. Since he liked that one, maybe he stole it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

The count subtly probed, watching his wife’s reaction. Had the suspicious atmosphere he’d sensed earlier been just his imagination? Just then, the butler cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Ahem. Count, there’s a problem.”

“A problem? What kind of problem?”

“When I left the Bratz territory, there were a lot of villagers out that day. I asked around and it seems Lord Ian opened a gulla trade for the villagers.”

“Gulla trade? So he’s been managing the villagers’ share all along?”

The count hadn’t grasped the core issue. Who would have imagined that just one day after starting to trade gulla, the villagers’ market would already be thriving? The butler bit his upper lip awkwardly. The count’s face gradually paled.

“…No way.”

“The Bratz villagers have been selling gulla to the Merellof villagers. The word spread quickly, and it’s been quite a hit.”

“Damn it, that scoundrel!”

With a sudden snap, the count threw his teacup across the table. Lady Rien, the butler, and the servants attending behind them all flinched, eyes sharp and alert.

“Please calm down, Count.”

“Calm down? You expect me to calm down now?”

“The villagers are selling roasted gulla. It’s only edible, can’t be cultivated, so it shouldn’t seriously affect the estate’s operations.”

At thirty-five gold coins per sack, the only way to break even was to sell the cultivated gulla back to the villagers—either by drastically lowering next year’s tax or by buying it back at a price.

“Right now, food is scarce even within the estate, so it’s not all bad. The problem is how sudden and unconsulted this all is…”

That’s true. When you think about it, they should actually be grateful to Ian. He’s keeping the villagers alive until the gulla can be cultivated. But the count couldn’t help feeling deeply offended by the unilateral action, and even sensed a threat looming.

“What if, after cultivation, fresh gulla floods the market?”

Wasn’t this clearly an attempt to undermine him? The count tapped the desk repeatedly, frowning. He should have been wary from the moment Ian started talking about economic freedom.

“That bastard…”

“Let’s calm down, as the butler said. There’s still time, and above all, we can’t be sure of Lord Ian’s true intentions yet.”

Lady Rien, who had been quietly listening, gave a subtle nod to a servant—a signal to clean up the broken teacup. With sharp objects nearby, someone might actually get hurt.

“Also, um… Ian made a personal request to me.”

“What? Ian?”

“Yes. He asked me to help train the estate’s butler during my personal time. I politely declined, saying I needed the count’s permission. Then he offered to pay separately and even said he’d return Clark if I agreed.”

“That’s ridiculous. What’s the point of one slave?”

The count dismissed it with a scoff, but Lady Rien took it seriously. Was Ian saying he’d only return Clark if she sent a butler? Or after everything was settled?

‘Who knows. Really.’

Previously, the count had been very sensitive about sending letters to Ian after gifting him presents and congratulations. There were many questions he wanted to ask but dared not act rashly.

“I’ll send another letter.”

“To Lord Ian?”

“Yes. It’s best to invite him to dinner at the estate.”

On the surface, it would be a gesture of thanks for the gulla trade, but beneath that, a clear warning. Ian’s brazen behavior, backed by the central government, was unsettling.

“Understood.”

“Lady Rien, prepare accordingly.”

“Of course.”

As the count stood, the servant cleaning the broken pieces hesitated. Fortunately, he soon left to check on the gulla cultivation outside, and a sense of relief settled in the room.

Sigh.

The lady and servants exhaled simultaneously, then awkwardly avoided each other’s gaze.

---

“This is unbelievable.”

Beric rubbed his eyes, muttering. It had only been a day since Merellof allowed the gulla trade, and though he’d noticed some commotion outside the estate, he hadn’t expected this.

“This all made in just one day?”

“Seems like everyone’s got quite the knack for business. Especially dealing with merchants.”

Ian laughed as he looked over the chest filled with coins. Mostly silver and copper, but with some gold mixed in—probably taxes from large tenant farmers.

“So that’s why they say unearned income is so good?”

“Wherever you go, those with land and houses always get their share. Though it’s funny coming from me.”

The profits from the villagers’ trade had been collected as taxes. Since it was the first day, there might be some errors or omissions, but as a side income, it was quite substantial.

“And this is just day one. It’ll taper off gradually. Many villagers bought in bulk, and the surplus will run out eventually.”

The Bratz villagers were setting aside their own winter rations while making a profit. Not many had greenhouses. To prevent shortages, Romandro’s men were constantly patrolling the village to monitor the trade.

“How much is this all worth?”

“Exactly. Beric, what do you think?”

“Hmm? Shouldn’t we count it?”

“Right. Go ahead and count.”

“…Uh, sir?”

“Separate the gold, silver, and copper coins. If you need help, ask for it.”

“From whom?”

“Clark. I heard you’ve been treating him like a servant lately?”

“Ah, him? Forget it. He’s no fun.”

They say a person who’s used to commanding others uses them well, but since Beric had never had anyone under him before, his excitement lasted only a day. The biggest problem was that Clark wasn’t a good sparring partner.

“By the way, Ian.”

“Yeah?”

“When we go to the capital, will you take me along?”

Beric crouched down, sorting the coins one by one. The sight was both amusing and a little pitiful, so Ian sat down opposite him and helped count.

“That’s up to you.”

Their arrangement was simple.

Ian would awaken Beric’s latent potential as a magic swordsman.

Beric would protect Ian’s safety.

In truth, with Bratz destroyed and an alliance with Cheonryeo formed, there was little threat to Ian’s life. Going to the capital, his status as a magic user would be a shield.

‘Shield or not, who knows what’ll happen at the Magic Department’s palace. No need to bring too many people.’

“What else can I learn there?”

“Of course, Beric. The imperial palace. The best of the best gather there to protect Bariel.”

“How does it compare to the Cheonryeo tribe? How strong are they?”

“Hmm…”

Ian paused, considering. There were so many ways to measure strength.

Among magic users who fought directly under the Magic Department, those without control stones were nearly unmatched. Physically, the palace guards were formidable.

“They’re incomparable. When was it… I vaguely remember something about the north…”

“The north? Why’d you stop?”

Almost slipped up. He’d mistaken something that hadn’t happened yet for the past. Beric asked irritably, but Ian kept quiet.

“Come on! Talk to me!”

“The northern warriors can’t match the palace commanders.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty lazy excuse.”

“Did I give it away?”

“If you didn’t notice, you’d be an idiot.”

“Sorry. I actually forgot.”

There had been an incident in the northern Bariel Empire—a shock to the empire, which had been mostly free from monster attacks. The descendants of the bloodline tribe, the Atan, had grown powerful but were crushed by the palace commanders. Ian had studied this before.

‘Right. That’s going to happen soon, too.’

Along with other major wars, battles, and rebellions.

Ian started counting years instead of coins. One, two… Beric’s eyes sparkled as he watched Ian’s fingers.

“That many?”

“Hm? What?”

“How many commanders are there?”

“Oh, there are usually three palace commanders.”

Unless there’s chaos like the emperor being overthrown. Ian only remembered the commanders from behind—the ones who left him or died protecting him.

“The palace is impressive.”

“Not just because it’s the palace. The capital is full of top-tier people. The frontier is the frontier for a reason.”

“You talk like you’ve been there yourself.”

“…I’ve picked up bits and pieces.”

“Then I want to go too.”

Beric made up his mind firmly. Going to the capital felt like a step up. After all, swordsmanship improves with stronger challenges, just like muscle grows with heavier training.

“I want to go! Take me!”

“Alright, I got it.”

Though neither seemed to have thought much about what they’d do once there, it was good for Ian. It meant the journey to the capital would be safer. At least he could trust Beric’s skill—he’d recently cut down dozens in an unexpected attack.

‘Maybe I should try putting him in the central army.’

As a magic swordsman, he was an invaluable asset the empire could never afford to lose. For Bariel’s future and Beric’s stable life, this seemed like the right choice.

Knock knock.

“Ian, there’s a letter from Merelrof.”

“Again? That old man really has too much time on his hands.”

“It’s probably about the recent approval of the Gula trade. I thought he’d come barging in himself, so this is unexpected.”

Ian smiled as he took the letter. It was an invitation to dinner, either today or tomorrow.

“What does it say?”

“They want me to come eat with them.”

Ian handed the letter to Beric and stood up.

“Once you finish sorting the coins this afternoon, I’ll take you to the dinner. Beric, it’s a formal invitation, so there should be plenty of good food.”

“Awesome. Just leave it to me.”

Beric quickly got back to work, fingers flying. But when Hena came in carrying two heavy pouches, calling it extra income, he couldn’t help but feel defeated.

“Ian, you’re going out tonight?”

“Yeah. Got an invite from Merelrof.”

“I’ll prepare some clothes for you to change into.”

Hena immediately pulled out a neat outfit and laid it on the bed. As Ian changed, he suddenly realized he was still wearing his necklace. He rarely took it off, so sometimes he forgot.

“You’re wearing the necklace too?”

“Yeah. Leaving it off makes me uneasy.”

“Then change to one with a longer chain.”

“Why?”

Digging through the wardrobe, Hena explained, “Didn’t you say Count Merelrof has a strange personality? Like he’s paranoid or something?”

“That’s right.”

“If he sees you wearing the same jewelry as Lady Rien, it might cause unnecessary trouble.”

“No way.”

Ian smiled faintly, unconvinced. Even if the man was a bit unhinged, he didn’t think he’d make a fuss over something so trivial. But Hena was calm, as if it was obvious.

“‘No way’ is exactly what crazy people always say before things get out of hand. Wear this one.”

Ian changed again, following her advice, and mulled over her words.

“Hena.”

“Yes, Ian?”

“I should bring Clark along. Get him ready.”

“I’ll prepare him right away.”

Squeak.

To Ian, Clark was a tool to keep his wife in check, but to her, he was the only ally in the mansion. For safety’s sake, it was probably best to send him back.

“Iaaan! I’m done!”

Thump! Thump thump!

From down the hall came Beric’s cheers. Ian smirked and buttoned the last button neatly.