Denaro loaded the hundred finished spears onto the wagon and headed west.

  The craftsmen of Elysia and Reinshtat had not been able to complete the full order before the army marched out.

  The request had been unreasonable to begin with, so Fidelius did not blame them. He had simply asked that the finished spears be delivered west after he departed.

  And now Denaro was delivering them.

  Ferdi had volunteered to act as their guide.

  They traveled west along the highway.

  Along the way they passed a burned-out campsite, its charred remains still visible. Countless birds and beasts were feasting on the corpses. The stench was so foul that Denaro instinctively covered his nose.

  Farther west, the eastern Tragian army camp came into view.

  As soon as they arrived, soldiers stopped them, but once they explained their purpose, they were welcomed warmly.

  While they were unloading the spears and preparing to return, Fidelius came running.

  “Sorry for the trouble. You went through all this effort for us. Here—this is payment for the thousand spears and a little extra for you. Please accept it.”

  The leather pouch he handed over was heavy. When Denaro opened it, he found twenty gold coins inside.

  “Thank you.”

  “And one more favor. I’d like to buy wheat from Elysia. I have thirty gold coins. I want to buy as much as you can get. Can you handle it?”

  “More troops, huh? Understood. I’ll take a thirty-percent commission to cover transport and other costs.”

  “That’s fine. I’m counting on you!”

  Fidelius clapped Denaro on the shoulder.

  Denaro smiled and nodded. He felt that his mission was going well.

  But thirty gold coins was an enormous sum. Depending on market prices, it was no longer something a single merchant could handle alone.

  Denaro turned back the way he had come. Even the horse seemed lighter on its feet.

  “What is the meaning of this, Otto?”

  Edmund rested his cheek on his hand at the desk in his office.

  “I-I’m terribly sorry… We cut off the salt and information as you ordered, but… perhaps they had reserves…”

  Sweat poured down Otto’s forehead.

  “You’re off this matter. I’ll use someone else.”

  “…Understood.”

  “And the size of the rebel army?”

  “Approximately forty thousand, according to reports… It swelled after Rigbert of Bromberg issued the call.”

  “They’re calling me a usurper, I hear.”

  Edmund snorted.

  “Gather the troops.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about Elysia’s grain sales? Are they dropping as planned?”

  “Actually… we received reports of a large bulk purchase…”

  “Wasn’t stopping that the other man’s job?”

  “It seems the deputy also has approval authority for public company grain sales…”

  “How much?”

  “Roughly fifteen hundred sacks, based on inventory.”

  “We chose the wrong person to bribe. We’ll have to rethink our plan to bring Elysia under our influence. Do we know who bought it?”

  “The documents were apparently removed on military orders, so we can’t trace them…”

  “Otto, you knew the military was involved—why didn’t you report it sooner? This could be military sabotage.”

  “I’ve had agents investigating, but Elysia’s counter-intelligence has been strengthened lately. Some agents have gone silent… We’re struggling.”

  Fool.

  He hadn’t even considered why the counter-espionage had suddenly tightened.

  “We’re changing the plan for Elysia. Cut anyone useless immediately.”

  “…What do you mean?”

  “Given his position, outright killing him would be messy. Send an agent with evidence to make contact. If we send someone incompetent, he’ll fall right into the net. Once the Finance Minister’s collusion comes to light, the political chaos will stop Elysia cold.”

  “Understood. How should we proceed with Elysia from now on?”

  “Political maneuvering has failed. What else is there but military force? Has the conquest of Bal Island been completed?”

  “It should be finished shortly. We’ll establish a supply base afterward.”

  “Hurry. Thanks to this mess, we’ll have to fight on both sea and land. Reorganize the army at once. You will take command. I’ll join you.”

  “…Understood.”

  “You may leave.”

  Otto wiped the sweat from his brow and left the room.

  Edmund had been placed on the throne by the western lords after the chaos following his father’s and brother’s deaths. He had only truly ruled for three years.

  Once his brother’s imprisonment came to light, everything spiraled out of control.

  The western lords had sent his older brothers east and seized the political center for themselves. Their scheme was classic corruption—skimming administrative budgets, choosing contractors, and pocketing the difference. The worst was the warships: they took the orders directly and simply passed them to shipbuilders.

  The taxes collected from the people flowed through the treasury straight into the lords’ pockets. That was all they had wanted. The emperor was merely decoration.

  Reports barely reached him.

  Everything his father and brothers had feared had proven true.

  The day he learned at the end of last year that his brother was still alive, he had stripped them of power on the condition that everything be covered up. He had cut off information, goods, and people between east and west to neutralize the east—but someone was interfering.

  Edmund drew the sword that hung on the wall.

  It rested in a deep, ruby-like scabbard. The scabbard was decorated with inlaid lacquer: a central circle surrounded by eight smaller circles. He did not know the symbol’s meaning, but the sword had been forged a thousand years ago in a distant eastern land.

  It was said to carry a history, yet its surface showed a wood-grain pattern, and when held to the light, golden lines occasionally gleamed. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

  Its shape resembled the towering Obelisk that pierced the heavens, and the blade was polished so finely that it reflected one’s face with perfect clarity.

  He had been captivated at first sight. Gazing at it strangely calmed his heart.

  It had become a habit.

  The only real achievement Otto had ever managed was bringing this sword here.

  Edmund slowly sheathed it, then called for a scribe and dictated a letter.

  “Is that man still in Ashir?”

  “Yes, he remains there.”

  “Something urgent has come up in Elysia. Have him trace the movement of wheat over the past few months and identify the large buyer. If possible, bring the man here. Also have him investigate the flow of salt to the east. It’s almost certainly the same person.”

  Without provisions, no army could march.

  Nine times out of ten, salt and wheat were flowing from Elysia to the east.

  “Understood.”

  The scribe left to write the letter.

  Talented people were hard to find.

  None of his hangers-on showed any ability—they were all overshadowed.

  He had no choice but to search for them himself.

  How did Father do it? Edmund wondered.

  The Ioria Sea, unlike the Balens Sea to the east, was dotted with countless large and small islands, rich in varied terrain.

  On the larger islands where ships could dock, towns had sprung up. Travelers moved between them by ship.

  On the Ioria Sea, the northern shore belonged to the Tragian Empire and the southern to the Kingdom of Ashir. The two powers had fought bitterly for dominance.

  Currently the situation was deadlocked and clashes were rarer, but Tragia’s conquest of Libra had dealt a devastating blow to maritime trade.

  The flow of gold had essentially stopped, driving up the price of imports.

  To counter this, the Libra Maritime Trade Promotion Council had shifted assets to its branches and offered low-interest loans, but the effect had been minimal.

  Prices had risen too far.

  Grain hoarding had occurred, and the man who had lit the fuse was Di Ellera Moreno.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Before the fall of Libra, he had ordered his men to buy up every last sack of grain they could find. They had deliberately feigned panic and confusion as they bought.

  Many had laughed at the sight, but when the news arrived, they had shuddered.

  For a while everyone had waited and watched, but within two weeks the number of ships unloading at the docks plummeted. The markets fell into chaos and prices skyrocketed.

  Storefronts of grain merchants emptied.

  The citizens suffered most. Everything rose in price in a chain reaction. The initial panic was terrible; many went an entire day without food.

  Ashir’s armies had been forced to distribute military rations to the general public.

  Elysia had initially tried to suppress the price surge and avoided sharp increases, but the enormous profits flowing into merchants’ pockets made them abandon the effort.

  Thus Di Ellera Moreno had amassed a fortune.

  He was now relaxing in the Ashir port town of La Gre, enjoying fine wine.

  It was a vacation after a job well done.

  Several local women attended him in a villa overlooking the sea. There was plenty of wine and food.

  After all, he had bought everything he could and driven up the prices. He could live comfortably for some time simply by selling off his stock.

  Then a man appeared.

  He was slender, with narrow eyes and a forgettable, shadowy presence. A half-Tragian, half-Ashir man born in a Tragian brothel. His name was Malik, one of Moreno’s contacts.

  “I was finally relaxing, and here you are—so it’s work, huh?”

  “Unfortunately…”

  Malik placed a sealed letter on the table. Naturally, there was no wax seal.

  When Moreno read the contents, the corners of his mouth curled upward.

  “Elysia this time.”

  He burned the letter with the candle on the table.

  “The man who ruined our plan… I’m looking forward to seeing what he’s like.”

  Moreno slapped the women on the rear, told them the party was over, gave them money, and sent them home.

  Elysia was far.

  They were in western Ashir. It would take at least five days.

  Moreno set sail aboard the ship he proudly considered the most beautiful pure-white vessel in these waters.

  The port of Elvinas was crowded with ships buying grain. Every sailor aboard was wide-eyed and desperate—anything would sell at a high price.

  Into this chaos sailed one pure-white ship, slowly entering the harbor.

  It had been a while since Moreno last visited Elvinas.

  First he needed information.

  He landed with several bodyguards and headed straight for a moneylender’s shop. He would buy information with a little gold.

  “How much would you like?”

  The man behind the counter asked in a gentlemanly tone.

  “I don’t need money. I need information.”

  Moreno stacked silver coins one by one on the counter.

  “Any public-company employees with loose spending habits? Or whose wives have loose spending habits?”

  The gentlemanly man watched the growing pile of silver.

  Moreno stared steadily into his eyes. The man occasionally glanced at Moreno’s face.

  “I don’t have any information on customers…”

  He smiled apologetically. The silver coins had exceeded a hundred.

  “I see. Then I’ll try elsewhere.”

  Moreno began gathering the coins when the man finally broke.

  “This gentleman here…”

  He pulled a name from the customer ledger and brought out a bundle of loan contracts. There were quite a few. The man was even borrowing to pay interest. Repayment would be difficult.

  “Would you buy them at a discount?”

  “Fifty percent.”

  “Could you go a little higher?”

  “What interest rate are you charging? Fifty percent should cover your principal, right?”

  “You drive a hard bargain… Very well.”

  Moreno placed three hundred silver coins on the counter and took the promissory notes.

  “He should be in the western entertainment district right now. He loves throwing money away…”

  “Thank you. You’ve been a great help.”

  Moreno waved and left the shop.

  “Public-company clerks must be well-paid. A cashier? Still spending freely after borrowing this much… A little intimidation will be necessary.”

  He scanned the documents, then glanced at his bodyguards. They nodded slowly.

  The sun had not yet set. Gambling at this hour? He must have won big once and lost his mind.

  The gambling hall was dimly lit, yet already crowded despite the early hour.

  The man’s name was Terence Ironius. He had a wife but no children.

  Send the wife to a brothel and the man to an Ashir mine—recovery would be easy. There would even be profit. Ashir had little crime and a chronic shortage of mine laborers. They paid well for such men, and there were many examples.

  The customer file was meticulously detailed, including a physical description.

  The man was at a card table, combining picture cards to compete for points. He was clearly losing badly—restless.

  After watching for a while, Ironius left the table.

  Moreno stood beside him and spoke.

  “Luck not with you today?”

  “What? Mind your own business.”

  Ironius grimaced in displeasure.

  “I’m the one who lent you the money—so it is my business.”

  Ironius snorted.

  “I’ll win it back. I—”

  “No, you won’t. Do you know how much you owe now?”

  “…”

  “Let’s talk about your future. Your current debt exceeds six hundred silver coins. In six months it will reach one gold coin. Repayment is impossible. So you’ll work in an Ashir gold mine. Nice place. Surrounded by quiet criminals. Sleep during the day, work at night. Nights are cool in the desert. One meal a day, almost no water. Right now it’s three years. In six months it will be five. Don’t worry—your wife will wait for you. In the brothel.”

  Ironius turned deathly pale.

  “Got it? Take him.”

  The bodyguards grabbed his shoulders and dragged him out.

  Ironius begged the guards for help. When they approached, Moreno showed them the promissory note. They backed off.

  Ironius looked desperately at the guards, but he was pulled outside.

  “Go to his house and secure the wife. As for the brothel… I’ll decide after tasting her.”

  “Stop! Leave my wife out of this!”

  Ironius struggled, but his arm was twisted and pain twisted his face.

  “Not my problem. You made the debt—your wife pays for it. Tie him up and put him in a barrel in the hold.”

  Ironius was bound hand and foot and stuffed into a barrel, screaming. No one heard him.

  After he had grown tired of screaming, a woman’s voice reached him.

  It grew louder until it was right beside him.

  He recognized it.

  His wife’s voice.

  She was crying “Stop!”

  Then only sobbing remained.

  The sound of flesh slapping flesh, and each time a groan.

  It continued for some time.

  Another set of footsteps approached.

  “How is she?”

  That man’s voice.

  “Excellent. Her face is to my taste. I’d like to keep her here.”

  The man snorted.

  “Leave her there.”

  Soon several footsteps moved away, a door closed.

  His wife’s sobbing continued.

  He could not even call out to tell her he was there.

  He had lost all sense of time.

  Suddenly he felt his body being lifted.

  His wife’s cries grew louder again. The barrel shook with every footstep.

  It was set down. There was a clank as the lid opened.

  The smell of the sea sharpened the stench of excrement and urine.

  His wife stood naked, her arms held by a man. When she saw the man inside the barrel, her face filled with shock. She turned away, her face stained with tears and shame.

  “Look well. It’s the last time you’ll see each other for a while. Next time you meet, you’ll have to pay.”

  Ironius was weeping.

  Moreno watched him coldly.

  “I’ll give you one last chance.”

  Ironius looked up in sudden hope.

  “Tell me the names of everyone who bought roughly fifteen hundred sacks of wheat in the last few months. Do that and I won’t sell her.”

  Ironius desperately searched his memory. There was one case that came to mind.

  “I-in early May there was one. I remember because they made me rewrite the documents…”

  His voice trembled.

  Moreno’s eyes, emotionless like a reptile’s, fixed on him and urged him to continue.

  “I-it was one thousand four hundred seventy sacks at one silver per kan. It came from the General Staff with the deputy’s seal. I-I’m sure… They said the paperwork was incomplete and made me split it into three documents. The order sheet was collected and is gone…”

  “The buyer’s name?”

  “I-I think… Bue… Bueros… Denarius. Bueros Denarius. From some company called Azelia Trading.”

  Moreno nodded.

  “I don’t want the ship stinking of shit. Throw him into the sea and let him go home.”

  The bodyguards lifted the barrel and hurled it overboard.

  Spray rose over the calm sea.

  Kratos was reading a letter.

  It instructed him to investigate the buyer of the wheat and their destination. If he failed, he must return the gold—meaning the money had already been received.

  The sender was Shuper Otto, the recipient Crepius Julius, the Finance Minister.

  Kratos knew the man was loyal to his desires, but he had not realized he was this corrupt. He sighed in disbelief.

  Shuper Otto was a Tragian noble.

  An agent at the border had noticed a strangely nervous man. When the clerk pointed out inconsistencies in the documents, the man fled. They caught him and found the letter on his person; it had been passed to Kratos.

  There were several others, but none had enough evidence for immediate arrest.

  Something feels off, Kratos thought.

  It was almost as if they wanted him caught.

  Yet why deliberately inform him about the wheat? He could not fathom the intention.

  Kratos ordered an internal investigation of the Finance Minister.

  More importantly, he was worried about Denaro.

  Because of his connection with Farid, he could not simply let him be killed. Besides, the man produced results.

  Kratos assigned several skilled men as Denaro’s bodyguards, ordering them not to let him notice.

  He also sent word to the Ashiria Trading Company.

  It was a shop run by the Ashir royal family, dealing in the kingdom’s specialties—spices, coffee, perfumes. It had branches in every port on the Ioria and Balens Seas.

  Of course it was not merely a retailer. In reality it functioned as the royal family’s direct intelligence agency.

  Since the secret pact, all communication passed through this shop.

  A contact would carry a small note, buy ground coffee beans, and slip the note in with the payment. When he received the goods and returned to the office, a memo from Ashir would be inside the package, delivered immediately to Kratos.

  The Emperor’s Hound has entered Elysia.

  We are also monitoring the wine merchant.

  Beware the white ship.

  Kratos judged that the emperor had made his move.

  At first he had bought information through Julius, but the intelligence department’s response had overwhelmed him, and the emperor was now trying to cut him loose.

  Then he had sent a direct operative.

  The Ashir intelligence service was frighteningly quick.

  It was only a matter of time before Denarius’s true identity was exposed.

  Moreover, the Finance Minister had been bought. It was entirely possible that his subordinates and political faction had been bought as well.

  And the minister’s daughter was engaged to Lucius.

  It was clearly an attempt to sow political chaos.

  Kratos immediately headed to the palace and requested an audience with the king.

  Helios was in his office.

  Kratos reported the information and his analysis.

  “I see… Julius, of all people. An internal investigation is fine for now, but prepare personnel replacement plans at the same time. This cannot be handed to other departments.”

  “Understood. The problem is His Highness’s engagement if the minister is proven guilty…”

  “A headache… I hear he’s been visiting the General Staff lately.”

  “Yes. After losing badly to Prince Clovis in a war game, he has taken an interest in military strategy.”

  “I never thought he would care about learning. It started after Clovis visited that Londan village…”

  “Yes. It seems he received good stimulation.”

  “Life is full of surprises. People too… It pains me, but we must handle it properly.”

  Helios looked slightly pained.

  The Crepius family had long supported the royal house; it was only natural.

  “If he is guilty, take measures to prevent political chaos… and uproot them completely.”

  The king’s eyes showed firm resolve.

  “Understood.”

  Kratos left the office.

  When Kratos returned to the General Staff, a messenger from Denaro had arrived.

  He wanted to buy grain with thirty gold coins, taking a thirty-percent commission.

  Under the recent agreement, grain exports to allied nations were fixed at one silver per kan for the time being.

  With twenty-one gold coins, he could buy twenty-one thousand kan—ten thousand five hundred sacks. An enormous amount.

  Even so, it would feed forty thousand troops for only three days.

  And it was far beyond what a single merchant could handle. Transport would definitely draw attention.

  Hadn’t they agreed to keep reinforcements hidden until the first battle?

  Kratos wrote letters to Fidelius and Denaro, handed them to the messenger, and the man hurried off.

  Several days later the messenger met Denaro on the road near Reinshtat.

  “I delivered them.”

  The messenger spoke quickly and then hurried farther west toward Bromberg.

  Denaro read the letter and frowned.

  The emperor had sent an operative called the “Hound” to Elysia to identify the large wheat buyer.

  He had heard the name.

  The emperor hired agents for market manipulation, information disruption, and assassination of key figures—anyone who could strike at an enemy nation’s politics and economy. They were known as Hounds.

  And one was now chasing him.

  The letter told him not to return for a while, and to confirm the true intent behind the grain purchase.

  He had no choice but to obey.

  “We’re heading back to Bromberg.”

  “What happened?”

  Filo asked.

  “Looks like someone’s after me.”

  “Eh!? The emperor sent an assassin!?”

  Ena blurted out in surprise, then quickly added, “S-sorry… I’ll be careful…”

  Denaro told the craftsmen they could not return yet and decided to head to Bromberg together.

  When they arrived, Fidelius had already marched out with thirty thousand troops.

  Bromberg soldiers were patrolling the area and stopped them.

  After showing their identification and explaining the situation, they were permitted to stay in the city.

  Aquinas, hearing the news, explained the situation.

  Fidelius had gone to arrest the lords who had ignored the warning.

  There were twelve eastern lords under the imperial capital; four had sided with Darius.

  He was capturing the remaining eight.

  There were several objectives.

  The most important was food. The imperial capital region had ample stockpiles; seizing them would increase their ability to continue the war.

  Next, he had temporarily dismissed troops and confiscated the enemy soldiers’ identification tags.

  The tags were small bronze plates engraved with unit, rank, and name. If any information changed, a new tag was issued, but without the old one, reissuance was impossible. The soldier could not prove his identity, could not receive pay, and was stuck waiting.

  It was a measure to reduce the number of troops that could be mobilized to the west.

  He had simply told them they could be rehired in Bromberg and released them.

  Fidelius’s own force numbered thirty thousand—far larger than any single lord’s few thousand—so there was no real battle.

  Even if they holed up in a castle, the military budget had mostly gone to the navy, and inland cities had not prepared their walls for siege; they fell easily.

  Of the eight disobedient lords, six had already been captured.

  Their assets were confiscated and their titles stripped.

  Once that was done, they were given a modest sum and banished.

  Since they were fellow countrymen, their lives were spared.

  And now Fidelius had arrayed his forces on a hill overlooking Pricel—the domain of Shuper Otto.

  At that moment Otto was in the imperial capital.

  And in the capital, Otto received the report.

  His troops had challenged them in open battle and been defeated. All soldiers had had their tags taken, and his assets had been confiscated.

  His family was heading to the capital with what little money they had.

  What shocked Otto most was the report that Fidelius was searching his mansion from top to bottom.

  For a while, he could not rise from his chair.

  Thank you so much for reading! ??

  If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a rating or a review!

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  See you in the next chapter!