Chapter 181: How was it? You got it, right? (1)

The Kingdom of Lutania was suffering from a severe drought, but the northern region was in an even more dire situation than the rest.

This was because Rayfold and Desmond, who controlled the largest grain-producing areas in the north, had completely banned food exports.

The north, being an already barren and impoverished region, suffered even greater losses. Central nobles, preoccupied with their own survival, offered little hope for aid.

While famine deaths were piling up and lords were struggling to find solutions, one rumor began spreading rapidly.

"They say Fenris territory has a lot of food."

"I heard they bought so much food for the immigrants that prices went up."

"If they have that much, there must be leftovers. We need to get our hands on it."

All eyes in the north turned toward Fenris territory.

Fenris's lord was a young novice, and the territory's military was laughably weak. Just thinking about it made their mouths water.

If they could seize it, they would survive this difficult time.

But even if they wanted to take Fenris, the lords couldn't start a war.

"Damn it! That brat has Marquis Branford behind him!"

"What a lucky bastard! All because of some cosmetics, he earned the favor of such a big shot!"

"Why did the Royalist faction even accept someone like him in the first place?"

It was because Marquis Branford and the Royalist faction were backing Ghislain. Attacking Fenris would be akin to turning them into enemies.

No northern lord had the guts to bear that risk.

Knowing that starting a war would lead to certain ruin, the lords decided to propose trade instead.

For lords who usually acted like power equaled justice, this was an unusually peaceful approach.

Thus, emissaries from various lords and organizations were sent to Fenris.

Naturally, they thought acquiring food would be easy.

"Considering his father, he won't have a choice but to treat us well. Once the drought is over, he'll need our support again."

"Exactly, the north has always been bound by strong loyalty! Honestly, Fenris survived thanks to us."

"If he has any decency, he should be bowing in gratitude! Hmph!"

Even though supporting Perdium was simply payment for protecting them from barbarians, the lords acted as if they had generously done them a favor.

This, despite the fact that their aid was so paltry it barely kept Perdium alive.

During the last war, they even ignored Perdium's pleas for help, but such memories had already been erased from their minds.

Their arrogant assumptions were shattered the moment they arrived at Fenris.

Claude greeted the emissaries and began by asking for their understanding.

"Unfortunately, we don't have enough accommodations for all our guests."

"No accommodations… you say?"

"Yes. However, we've prepared large and impressive tents that will surely leave you in awe. Would you like to stay there?"

At Claude's words, the emissaries barely hid their anger.

"How dare you treat emissaries like this! I am a representative entrusted with full authority by my lord!"

"This behavior defies both law and decorum!"

"What kind of rudeness is this! Are you mocking our territory?"

Despite the fierce protests, Claude scratched his ear with a bored expression. What could he do when there truly was no space?

The small castle was already bursting at the seams with emissaries, and there simply weren't enough lodgings.

Initially, Claude had considered offering the servants' modest quarters, but Ghislain had vetoed the idea.

—"We can't inconvenience our people for these outsiders with hidden agendas. If there's no room for them, just pitch tents outside."

With the lord giving such an order, there was nothing he could do. But constant complaints were beginning to irritate him.

"Look, I don't like this either, but there's really no space. Too many guests have shown up. What am I supposed to do? This isn't some famous restaurant—why are there so many of you? Ugh, what a pain."

With the head butler's nonchalant attitude, the emissaries had no choice but to relent.

"Ugh… fine, let's just do that for now."

The emissaries who arrived later truly had to pitch tents and live outside.

Staying in oversized, barren tents wasn't awe-inspiring—it only prompted daily curses.

Their bodies were sore from the uncomfortable bedding, and Ghislain didn't meet with them immediately, instead making them wait. Receiving such treatment, unimaginable for emissaries, infuriated them.

"A mere brat hoarding food and acting all high and mighty!"

"What a disgrace to nobility! Let's see how much more arrogant he can get!"

Although complaints and grumbles abounded, not a single emissary left.

There was simply nowhere else to get food except Fenris territory.

The desperate had no choice but to endure and wait.

Once enough people had gathered, Ghislain finally summoned them all at once.

The lord's office was so small that the emissaries had to leave their attendants behind, with only a few representatives barely squeezing in. Even then, the room was packed like a marketplace.

Although the emissaries were utterly displeased, they masked their emotions as best as they could.

Ghislain scanned them leisurely, then smiled and opened his mouth.

"How much are you prepared to offer?"

"…???"

The emissaries were dumbfounded by Ghislain's merchant-like tone.

Their original plan had been to use a mix of persuasion and threats to extort as much food as possible from the young lord.

'How are we supposed to negotiate in an atmosphere like this?'

'Damn it! How much should we offer? The others must also be after as much food as they can get.'

'This is a nightmare. Are we going to have to bid against each other?'

Transactions between territories were usually done in secrecy. That way, when negotiating with other territories, there wouldn't be any backtracking with remarks like, "But you gave them these terms."

However, gathering representatives from multiple territories in one place eliminated the need for negotiations.

The one who bid the highest would win.

For a moment, panic set in, but before the atmosphere turned into a full-blown auction, several emissaries exchanged glances and stepped forward.

Their response was fitting for those who had survived the harsh north with nothing but their cunning words.

"Ahem, I am here on behalf of the Zimbar territory. We formally request food aid from Fenris territory."

"Aid?"

"Yes. We have long supported Perdium in many ways. Surely, you cannot deny that your own growth was made possible thanks to us. Now that our circumstances are difficult, we ask that you consider the goodwill we've shown…"

The emissary droned on about how much effort they had supposedly invested in Perdium. In essence, the lengthy speech boiled down to: "We've helped you survive, so now give us some of what you have."

Other emissaries chimed in to pressure Ghislain.

"The north has always shared its burdens together. Perdium endured its hardships because it was part of that bond."

"It's your turn to be generous, Baron."

The emissaries, one after another, essentially declared, "You owe us."

Their arrogant attitude was unbelievable for people seeking aid.

It was the habit of those who had long held dominance over Perdium. Even though the balance of power had shifted slightly, they assumed it would inevitably tilt back in their favor.

Poor Perdium would still need their support to survive.

They assumed that Ghislain wouldn't be able to act harshly, considering future relations.

But that assumption was shattered when Ghislain responded with a cold laugh.

"You should be saying that to my father, not demanding compensation from me. I'm not the one receiving support."

The emissaries were momentarily flustered but quickly recovered and pressed harder.

"You're the heir to Perdium, are you not? In the future, you'll have to rely on our support."

"That's right. The drought will pass, but what then? Don't turn a blind eye to the bonds of our alliance. We have a long-standing partnership."

"Are you saying you don't need our support? If so, not just you, but even Count Perdium will face difficulties."

Convinced by their own arguments, the emissaries regained their confidence.

Sure, this brat might enjoy a temporary advantage due to the food surplus, but what about afterward? Did he really think he could defend the north without their support? With Perdium's meager resources and weak military?

It was laughable. If that were possible, Perdium wouldn't have struggled so much in the first place.

As the emissaries, brimming with confidence, stared at him, Ghislain's voice turned icy.

"So, those who preach loyalty and partnership ignored us during the war?"

"…"

At those words, the emissaries clamped their mouths shut.

Truthfully, they didn't care who controlled Perdium. They hadn't been foolish enough to waste troops and resources on such a trivial matter.

That was how politics worked. The boy didn't understand and was still sulking over the past.

As they were about to retort, Ghislain casually spoke.

"20,000 gold."

"Pardon? 20,000 gold? Is that the price of the food?"

"No, unrelated to food. From now on, the territories receiving Perdium's protection must pay me 20,000 gold annually as a defense fee. If you fail to pay or delay, I'll clear paths for the barbarians to enter."

Although Count Perdium would never allow such a thing, the emissaries didn't know him well enough to challenge Ghislain's declaration.

His statement left them in shock.

"W-what nonsense is this!"

A defense fee of 20,000 gold was absurd enough, but threatening to open the paths to barbarians? He was completely mad.

'Wait a minute—shouldn't any defense fees go to Perdium, not him? Who does he think he is?'

The emissaries' faces contorted with a mix of bewilderment and indignation as they protested.

"This is unacceptable! We've already provided ample support!"

"Count Perdium is a margrave tasked with defending the border. That is his duty!"

"This is stipulated in the kingdom's laws! That's why they receive benefits!"

Despite their fierce opposition, Ghislain didn't bat an eye.

"Benefits? Don't make me laugh. You all ignored us when we were in danger."

"Well, back then, there were… circumstances…"

"Even mercenaries are paid for their work. From now on, we'll demand fair compensation for our sacrifices. I'm tired of being manipulated with your paltry aid."

"What outrageous—!"

"Enough. Say one more word, and I won't sell you any food and will have you thrown out. I don't have the patience for long discussions. Look at me—I've grown so kind to even humor you this much."

"You—!"

Faced with the threat of being expelled, the emissaries grudgingly held their tongues. Securing food was their top priority.

But inside, their fury boiled, and some exchanged glances while grinding their teeth.

'Just wait. Once this drought is over, we won't let this brat off so easily.'

'That young punk is getting cocky, relying on the Royalist faction. A defense fee? As if we'd ever pay that.'

'If we band together, we can slowly strangle him to death.'

They could think this way only because they underestimated how rapidly Fenris was developing.

They assumed its military was weak and that its sudden surplus was just a lucky break due to the influx of immigrants.

The other emissaries, observing the unfolding scene, wisely chose to remain silent.

If even those with connections to Perdium were treated like this, what could they, with no ties, hope to achieve? It would only backfire.

As the hall quieted, Ghislain grinned.

"Well then, shall we begin the transaction?"

The moment he finished speaking, one of the emissaries raised their hand in haste.

"We offer 10 silver per sack of wheat!"

Before the famine, a sack of wheat typically cost 3 silver. During harvest, prices could drop to 1 silver.

Offering 10 silver was several times higher than the usual rate.

Then others quickly jumped in.

"We'll pay 11 silver!"

"We offer 12 silver!"

"We'll go up to 13 silver!"

Anxious about missing their chance, everyone scrambled to outbid each other.

The rumor that Fenris had stockpiled food was rampant, but no one knew exactly how much surplus they had.

Afraid that someone else might buy it all first, they clamored to raise their bids.

Amid the noisy chaos of the bidding, a voice quietly broke through.

"One gold."

"...!"

At an astonishing price, everyone turned to look.

Standing there was a middle-aged man in a robe, exuding an air of arrogance.

Ghislain glanced at him and smiled coldly.

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