My Slain Dragon Bride

Chapter 85: Chapter 85

Chapter 85 - Sabotage

Even in an era that sang of peace, war never changed.

Someone fought to obtain what they did not have, while someone else fought to protect what they already possessed.

Person against person.

Group against group.

Nation against nation.

The victor gained everything, while the defeated lost even more.

The same fate befell a peaceful little village that had once lived by cultivating wheat.

Before they could even taste the golden harvest of autumn, they were reduced to refugees wandering across the wastelands.

In the middle of a vast plain where chilly winds blew, they huddled together, sharing each other’s body heat as they struggled to survive the winter.

When they saw the three men they had sent as envoys returning, they welcomed them with joy.

But that joy did not last long.

There was no trace of hope on their faces.

"It seems this village won’t take us either."

"They said they don’t have enough food for themselves?"

"What else could it be? It looks like they’re having a hard time surviving the winter themselves."

Winter made people cold-hearted.

At the end of autumn’s abundance came a season of cruel endurance, and to survive that cruelty, people inevitably became selfish.

For those who had become refugees, nothing but death awaited them.

"Those damned bastards. If they’re fellow believers of Alte, they could’ve at least spared us a little food..."

"May the Light of Judgment fall upon those wretches..."

"That’s enough."

As the voices blaming the village grew louder, a man stepped forward.

He wore half-plate armor and was the only one carrying proper equipment.

"What else can they do? They’re just trying to survive themselves. They probably don’t have enough food either. The Empire’s a complete mess these days, and corrupt officials are running wild, aren’t they?"

"But we still have weapons... If we just asked for a little..."

"Don’t do anything foolish. We should be grateful we managed to leave on our own two feet."

"What do you mean leave? Where else are we supposed to go?"

They looked out over the endless plain.

The winter earth was barren and desolate.

The only land left for them was one of death.

"What about heading south? At least it’s warm there."

Just as the far north was home to frozen lands and Frost Giants, the far south was home to the Land of Fire and Lava Giants.

There was no such thing as a cold winter there.

The village chief shook his head.

"That’s not a good idea. The south is hot during the day, but I’ve heard the nights are even colder. Many people have died after underestimating the drastic temperature difference. And..."

"And?"

"The people from that village also said the bandits in the south have been waiting for this season."

These refugees certainly weren’t the first to flee south to escape the brutal winter.

The bandits would be waiting to rob them of their possessions—or sell them into slavery.

"Then what are we supposed to do? Just sit here and wait to die?"

The refugees grew frustrated by the man’s attitude.

But the village chief was no less frustrated.

It was his duty to become the guiding light that found the best solution under impossible circumstances.

After thinking in silence for about three minutes, he finally spoke.

"Let’s head to the Far East."

Everyone stared at him in shock.

"The Far East? You mean the Land of Demons?"

"I heard no one can even survive there."

The man looked at them and explained.

"The village we just visited told me about it. The Empire is recruiting workers for the Far East. Apparently the Regent there is building a town. They pay decent wages and provide plenty of places to sleep. I’m sure they’ll have enough food too. If we contribute, they’ll surely accept us as residents."

"But... you’re asking us to go to a land overrun by monsters..."

They exchanged uneasy glances, reluctant to agree.

The man let out a sigh.

Just moments ago they had been willing to cling to foolish hopes, yet now they hesitated before the only option that actually offered a chance.

He looked at them and asked,

"Then are you all planning to stay here and die?"

"..."

"It’ll be the same no matter how many villages we visit. Unless we become thieves, we won’t have enough money to buy food. I refuse to become a beast wearing human skin."

"And I won’t allow any of you to become one either."

"..."

"If we go to the Far East, there should at least be work. They’ll pay us enough to buy food for today, and they’ll give us a place to stay. For people who may not even survive tomorrow, isn’t that more than enough?"

Although they still resisted the idea of going to the Far East, no one could argue.

Just as the man had said, there was simply no better alternative.

Would they abandon their faith and become refugee bandits, or head toward a barren land in search of a new hope?

Whether they died here or there, they had to choose the path that offered even the slightest chance of hope.

***

Isabella entered Ferda’s office and gave her report.

"I have a report. Thirty refugees have arrived from a village called White Bridge."

White Bridge was a village located in the central-western part of the continent, within the territory of Duke Yurei.

"So this makes the third group of refugees from Duke Yurei’s territory. What’s the available workforce?"

"A total of six families have arrived. Fifteen are capable of labor, one is elderly, and fourteen are children."

"Any skilled workers among them?"

"White Bridge is originally a village near a quarry. Some of them are quarry workers and possess knowledge of construction."

"Quarry workers should prove useful. Understood. How many more people can we accommodate?"

"I checked..."

Isabella flipped through the documents before answering.

"We can still accommodate another three hundred people."

"We certainly have plenty of buildings."

"A great many. Under normal circumstances, if this many refugees had gathered, at least half of them would have been living in tents."

Ferda rose from his seat and walked toward the balcony.

The moment he opened the door wide, an icy wind rushed inside as if it had been waiting.

The dry, freezing air licked away the remaining moisture on Ferda’s face.

He could feel it vividly against his skin.

The season of death was drawing ever closer.

’The number of refugees keeps increasing.’

This was the season when refugees appeared in the greatest numbers—and when the most people died.

Which also meant another opportunity for the Far East, where manpower was desperately lacking.

Ferda looked down from the balcony of his office.

This place should have been filled with nothing but thorn bushes stripped bare of their leaves.

Instead, there stretched open plains and rows of buildings.

Where tangled forests should have stood, homes filled with people had risen instead.

He also spotted the thirty newly arrived refugees huddled together around a brazier.

With Ferda’s approval granted, officials distributed relief supplies to them.

Tears of gratitude streamed down the faces of those worn thin by hunger, while smiles of joy blossomed.

In an instant, the population had reached three hundred, and the settlement had become a proper village.

’It’s beginning to live up to its name.’

Hestia—the woman who guarded the flame.

It was the town name that had overwhelmingly taken first place among all the candidates Isabella had proposed.

Already twenty buildings had been completed, while structures originally intended as public facilities had been converted into shops and inns, gradually forming a commercial district.

There were several reasons why this had been possible.

’The support from the south was the biggest factor.’

When Halim first said he would provide assistance, Ferda had not expected much.

Support usually amounted to little more than making a token contribution so that wandering bards would sing your praises.

But when Halim’s delegation finally arrived, Ferda realized just how sincere he had been.

Hundreds of laborers stood in orderly rows beside enormous quantities of construction materials.

There were even elephants.

The scale was on an entirely different level from the assistance provided by the Pascal Trading Company.

’Didn’t Isabella say she was almost afraid of what Halim might ask for in return?’

Even Isabella, who handled everything with calm composure, had said as much.

That alone spoke volumes about the extent of Halim’s support.

In any case, they had quickly erected southern-style buildings using the materials transported from the south.

In barely two weeks, accommodations for diplomatic delegations and a trading post had been completed, along with more than ten additional buildings.

’Aside from that...’

A massive bundle of logs floated through the air.

Looking closely, one could see the figure of a powerfully built man standing at the center.

A man wearing armor that looked completely out of place on a construction site.

Whatever the case, that man had made the greatest contribution.

’Just who are you?’

He would suddenly appear, carry ten enormous logs on his shoulders, and move them away in an instant.

Ferda dearly wished someone would report what lay beneath that helmet, but no one had ever seen inside the armor.

As soon as the day’s work ended, the man disappeared immediately.

Sometimes he did not appear at all.

Sometimes he would suddenly dash off somewhere in the middle of work.

Yet despite that, he always accomplished more than what he was paid for.

’The duty of those who possess... is that it?’

Service for the sake of the weak.

People praised him for displaying exemplary chivalry even through simple labor.

’More likely he’s trying to earn himself a noble title.’

Believing someone would do all this out of pure goodwill would be foolish.

Ferda was already preparing himself for whatever compensation the man would eventually demand, equal to the value of his service.

"Anything else unusual?"

"If you mean anything unusual... it’s not an immediate problem, but there is one issue."

"What is it?"

"It seems there’s been a problem with the food and monster supply routes. Deliveries are about four days behind schedule."

Four days.

The transportation infrastructure was poor, and the available means of travel were limited.

Even so, for Ferda, this was a serious problem.

Stephan had agreed to supply everything to him as the highest priority.

The phrase highest priority meant delivering everything according to the agreed schedule.

Being delayed by four days instead of one meant something had gone wrong with the contract.

’Stephan...’

As a merchant, he was a clever man.

He calculated well and proposed sound strategies.

’But that’s all.’

Stephan was cautious and inclined toward compromise.

That personality was a major obstacle to everything Ferda intended to accomplish.

’Should I abandon Stephan?’

Ferda had nothing to lose.

Everything Stephan had invested could simply be repaid with treasure.

Moreover, Halim was actively supporting his growth.

There was nothing preventing him from making Halim his new business partner instead.

Deep down, Halim was probably hoping for exactly that.

’Discarding him would be easy.’

What should he do?

Just as Ferda was deep in thought—

Knock. Knock.

"Lord Ferda."

Luri called out to him.

"Stephan Pascal wishes to see you."

Speak of the tiger, and it appears.

"Tell him to come in."

The door opened, and a man walked inside.

It was difficult to believe this was the same man Ferda knew.

Stephan Pascal.

When they had first met, he had carried the prosperous appearance expected of the heir to a great company.

His face had been full and well-fed.

Now, however, all that flesh was gone.

He looked as gaunt as a refugee who had not eaten a proper meal.

Ferda immediately sensed that something had happened.

"This is our first meeting since the exhibition, Regent."

Ferda gave nothing away.

"As it happens, we were just talking about you."

"It’s because the deliveries have been delayed. Yes... I sincerely apologize for that. And..."

He struggled before forcing the next words out.

"I believe... it would be best... if our relationship with the Pascal Trading Company ended here."

He was requesting the termination of their contract.

Hearing those words, Ferda touched his own face.

No matter how he thought about it, he simply could not understand.

Ferda had been considering terminating the contract as well, but it was not something Stephan should have been the one to bring up first.

If the contract ended, Ferda would simply find someone new.

Stephan, on the other hand, would lose everything.

Ferda wanted to know where such an irrational decision had come from.

That was why he did not simply say, "Very well".

"Why?"

He asked.

Stephan answered.

"I don’t think this is something I’m capable of handling anymore."

Ferda questioned him.

"And what exactly do you consider to be within your capabilities?"

"The things I can do... and the things I possess."

"What I’ve asked of you hasn’t changed. Everything remains exactly the same."

"..."

"The only thing that has changed is your heart."

Stephan could not answer.

Ferda leaned forward.

"If your reason is convincing, I’ll terminate the contract whenever you wish. So tell me... what exactly happened?"

The words forced their way past Stephan’s lips.

He confessed everything.

The conversation during dinner with his father.

The conflict between him and his brother over Halim.

And everything he had lost because of it.

Only then did Ferda come to understand the circumstances Stephan had been hiding.

"So Merchit became furious with you, and you declared that you would monopolize Halim’s authority?"

"...Yes."

"And because of that, every mercenary who had been protecting you withdrew, and everything started falling apart?"

Given how the Empire’s system worked, that was entirely plausible.

Since commerce flourished more than anywhere else, mercenary groups operated as companies.

The Pascal Mercenary Company, established by Merchit Pascal, was undoubtedly the industry’s leader.

It had more than ten thousand mercenaries under its direct command.

Including the smaller companies that worked as subcontractors, the number exceeded thirty thousand.

Having come into conflict with someone like Merchit Pascal, the consequences were naturally severe.

It was as though every sword and shield in Stephan’s hands had vanished overnight.

"So even after filling the gap, it still wasn’t enough, and incidents kept occurring."

"That’s right..."

When security weakened, the entire system collapsed.

Even the supplies meant to be delivered to the Grand Duchy first had been stolen.

It was like displaying valuable merchandise in a showroom with no windows.

"And then... the wagon headed for the Grand Duchy... was attacked."

Now the reason for the delayed deliveries became clear.

"I found out two days ago. The wagon was ambushed, and everyone... Sandy... Koben..."

Unable to continue, Stephan covered his face.

That incident had been the final blow that shattered his resolve.

"I can’t do this anymore. I was never the kind of person capable of handling something like this. Wanting to possess the Pascal Trading Company, wanting to monopolize Magitech Engineering... none of those things were ever meant for someone like me."

"..."

"So I’ll give up, Regent. Thank you for giving someone as worthless as me a chance all this time—"

"That monopoly."

Ferda interrupted him before he could finish.

"Was it something we needed?"

"Y-You mean... the monopoly?"

"Yes. Was it necessary to protect what belonged to us?"

Stephan fell into thought.

Was it... necessary?

Even if he had shared the profits instead of insisting on exclusive control, things probably would have worked out.

"Think carefully about why you made that decision back then, and answer me."

Following Ferda’s words, Stephan recalled that day.

Then he answered.

"...It was."

"Then that means you fought to protect what belonged to us."

"..."

"You fought for the first time... only to end in defeat."

"That’s right."

"Are you ashamed because you failed?"

Stephan lowered his head.

"It is shameful."

"And that’s why you tried to escape this situation by terminating the contract?"

"I wasn’t trying to run away."

"No, you were. Instead of facing your pain, you chose compromise."

"But that incident also gave me the chance to reflect on myself."

Stephan let out a hollow laugh.

There was no focus left in his eyes.

"I have no ability, yet I’m full of useless ambition. I don’t even have the courage to hold on to what I desire. I’m the kind of third-rate fool who only comes to his senses after losing everything."

Self-reproach.

Self-loathing.

Ferda could see how many burdens weighed upon his bent back.

Because Ferda himself had once experienced the same thing.

"So that’s why you couldn’t reach out to me?"

"...Yes."

He was afraid his own incompetence would become even more obvious.

Afraid of exposing his weakness.

Afraid Ferda would look upon that weakness with contempt.

His fear grew larger and larger until it crushed him to his knees.

"Stephan."

"Yes, Regent."

"I asked only one thing of you. Do you remember what it was?"

He remembered.

The words had been spoken so clearly that they remained engraved in his mind even now.

"You told me... to become the owner of the Pascal Trading Company."

"That was the contract between us. And what have you done for that contract? You supplied goods."

"That’s right."

"You replenished the supplies the entire Grand Duchy lacked, and you opened new trade routes. None of that could have been easy, yet you endured."

"..."

"All so you could become the owner of the Pascal Trading Company."

Stephan remained silent.

If he spoke now, the emotions surging inside him would spill out.

He kept his lips tightly shut like a fool.

Ferda continued.

"As I’ve said before, we made a contract."

"..."

"You would supply goods to us, and I would make you the owner of the Pascal Trading Company."

Those were the very words that had once placed immense pressure upon Stephan.

Yet somehow, at this moment, they no longer felt burdensome.

"What that means is this—if you continue fighting to become the owner of the company, then I will gladly stand on your side."

Instead, Stephan felt the crushing weight upon his shoulders begin to lift.

"So let me ask you one last time."

Ferda spoke calmly.

"Do you truly wish to give up everything?"

Life slowly returned to Stephan’s eyes, which had looked like those of a corpse.

Everything he had come prepared to abandon began to appear before him once again.

Stephan was a merchant.

Who could possibly be happy after losing everything?

He had no desire to embrace the so-called happiness of owning nothing.

He wanted to use failure as a stepping stone and leap toward success.

"Ghh..."

Tears streamed down Stephan’s face.

Along with the sorrow welling up from the depths of his throat, he finally voiced the true desire he had carried since childhood.

"I... want to become... the owner of the Pascal Trading Company."

Stephan buried his face against the marble floor as he sobbed.

He could no longer utter another word.

He simply cried uncontrollably.

Looking down at him, Ferda spoke quietly.

"Administrator Isabella."

Isabella, who had silently observed everything, adjusted her glasses.

"Your orders."

"Summon every noble throughout the Far Eastern Grand Duchy to a meeting of the Far Eastern Front Alliance."

"Understood. What shall I list as the reason for the summons?"

Ferda answered in an even voice.

"Sabotage against the entire Grand Duchy."