Chapter 73

“I’d like to make a deal.”

The carriage had just left Bern City and was heading toward Goethe.

The count gazed out the window, lost in thought.
How many years had it been since he had come this far south of Goethe—especially to Bern City itself?

In his childhood, this place had been nothing but a wide plain dotted with a few scattered houses.
There had been no proper roads like now.
Tenant farmers tilled the fields, and shepherds raised sheep and goats.

So much had changed, the count thought.

Whether those changes were good or bad—he could not tell.

Was Goethe… was his territory moving in a better direction?
Or a worse one?

His thoughts deepened.

And yet, somehow, he felt certain it could not be entirely bad.

“Since it’s been so long since your last visit, wouldn’t you like to stay a bit longer?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Your Excellency, when you were young, you were fond of a girl here—a shepherd.”

“That’s an old story.”

“Do you remember? You once tried to sneak out at night to meet her and were caught. The former head punished you severely with a whip. Those were difficult times. We weren’t making peace with the tribes—we were at war.”

“…Yes, those days existed.”

The count gave a shallow nod.

It was not a pleasant memory.

That shepherd girl had died in the chaos of war.
The count had been stopped by his father and failed to save her.

If he had gone—if he had gone earlier and warned them of the flanking attack by the warlike tribe—
perhaps he could have saved her and her family.

Of course… he himself might have died.

“You lost consciousness after ten lashes and lay bedridden for three days. As he looked at you sleeping, the former head said something. He said that, unlike himself, you would grow into a good father.”

“…Did he?”

“Do you know? The expression he wore then is very similar to the one you’re making now.”

“…Is that so. Back then, I couldn’t understand him. But now… I think I understand a little.”

At some point, the count’s fingers had begun tapping lightly against the edge of the carriage seat.

“It may be presumptuous of me to say this, but… you don’t seem entirely displeased with Young Master Isaac’s defiance.”

“I am not pleased.”

The count stiffened his expression for no reason.

Yet before the old head servant who had served him for decades, he could not fully hide his true feelings.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile lingered at the corners of his lips.

Why would a father welcome his child’s defiance?

Even the count himself did not fully understand.

And yet, something inside him felt tightly filled.

It was the first time he had seen Isaac stand against him—against his fury—to assert his own will.

It was not childish stubbornness.
Nor was it a problem with a single correct answer.

Isaac had chosen to confront his father according to his own conviction.

That… could be called growth.

What parent would not be pleased by their child’s growth?

“Adele will be surprised.”

The count muttered.

***

A few days later.

Under a gloomy sky heavy with dark clouds, Bern City was thrown into chaos.

“What is going on?”
“A great house is being purged?”
“That’s Elder Fikel, isn’t it!?”

A platform had been erected in the square.
Three elderly men stood upon it before the execution block.

Their once-luxurious tunics were torn and tattered.
Their hair was disheveled, their faces bruised.

The crowd—especially those who had worked under them—were deeply shocked.
They had been their masters.

Then another man stepped forward.

He was a long-haired man wearing a crimson robe.
His hair shone with the polish of nobility, and at the center of his robe was an emblem signifying royal authority.

But his expression was as grim as those about to be executed.

“I am an inspector dispatched here by His Majesty’s command. With the authority granted to me in the absence of the city lord, today—here and now—I shall deliver severe punishment to those who have committed treason against the kingdom!”

The marquis’s voice rang sharply across the square.

“These men betrayed the kingdom and abused the count’s mercy! They traded slaves and weapons on the black market, and sold drugs!”

The heads of the great houses wore resigned expressions.
Some shut their eyes tightly; others let out trembling sighs.

Not a single one protested.

“By the laws of the kingdom and the lord! Justice and righteousness shall be upheld here!”

City guards stepped forward, forcing them one by one to kneel at the execution block.
A massive executioner raised his axe.

The eyes of the condemned were filled with fear.
Yet they knew—this was an inescapable fate.

“Such is the fate of those who betray the kingdom!”

With the marquis’s declaration, the axe fell.

Fortunately, the executioner was skilled and strong—
the head was severed cleanly.

The head fell, and blood spilled from the platform onto the ground.

The second, then the third followed.

Everything had already been decided.

The murmuring crowd fell into silence.

A few who were slow to grasp the situation—or had been excluded by the great houses—cheered, but quickly fell quiet under the cold stares of the majority.

Severed heads. Flowing blood.

Ordinarily, this spectacle would have stirred excitement.
But anyone with sense could understand.

Bern City had been led by five great houses.
One, the mayor, had been assassinated.
Three of the remaining had now been executed.

Drugs, slaves, illegal weapons—
these had always been an open secret.

After all, Bern City had no unique exports nor strategic location.
Such dealings were the foundation of its growth.

And yet—purging them for those crimes meant something was wrong.

If those were the standards, then half the people gathered here would not escape the executioner’s axe either.

As people hurriedly dispersed, fear and unease were etched across their faces.

They could not help but feel it—

Something massive was changing in Bern City.

***

“Why… am I the one being spared?”

The dwarf Venders asked.

He was the only remaining head among the five great houses.
Born with a congenital deformity, his already small stature looked even smaller, his hunched back even more pronounced.

Because he always used intermediaries for deals, very few people knew he was one of the great house leaders.

“You helped us, after all.”

Venders looked up at Violet.

When she had first arrived here, she had seemed endlessly fragile.
Now, she carried the air of a young lady.

One year had passed since the revolution in the republic.

She and the moderates who had fled here with her comrades were all gaunt and worn.
It was Venders who had given them shelter—however briefly—and introduced them to the marquis.

“Choosing to live—that was your decision, Vivi. Life in Bern City… wasn’t exactly pleasant, was it?”

Calling it not pleasant was Venders’s attempt at being as mild as possible.

To survive in Bern City—the domain of the marquis and the great houses—Violet had to offer everything.
She became the marquis’s mistress, organized Weisseman, and eliminated all forces opposing the city council.

Around her, there was always humiliation and blood.

It was not something one could endure without an unyielding will.
For someone like her—who had once faced the world with soft idealism—it was even more so.

“There’s no one left who calls me Vivi anymore except you, uncle. At the very least… I don’t want to just let you die.”

Venders didn’t know what to say.

The woman who had taken Violet in as an adopted daughter had also been Venders’s benefactor.
She had perished in the flames of revolution, and Venders had tried to repay the debt he owed her through Violet.

He never imagined it would go this far—far enough to save his own life.

“Sorry to interrupt such a touching conversation, but mind if I join?”

A boy approached without a sound and removed his hood.

The moment Venders saw those blue eyes, he knew.

It was him.
He orchestrated everything.

His instincts, honed over decades of dealing with people, told him so.

“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Venders, head of the Grossbach Merchant Company. I regret not paying my respects sooner.”

Venders was a dwarf who barely reached Isaac’s waist.
When he bowed, his head came down to Isaac’s knees.

“Oh? You know who I am?”

“I’ve heard from Vivi. You must be Young Master Isaac.”

Isaac exchanged a glance with Violet, then nodded.

Quick-witted.

“I’d like to make a deal.”

***

Lady Randolph willingly offered a spare room.
When Isaac tried to pay, she pleaded with him not to insult her goodwill.

“This is… quite something to present so abruptly…”

Venders looked troubled.

The parchment Isaac handed him outlined the future direction of Bern City:

Encouraging legal commerce, improving tax policy and strengthening finances, restoring sewage systems, cracking down on the black market, strengthening ties with the royal family, diversifying the local economy, and policies for handling vagrants.

Not a single item was easy.

The wrinkles on the old dwarf’s face deepened further.

“Vivi, didn’t you say you wanted to save me?”

“This is how you survive.”

“…You’ve grown cold.”

Isaac’s proposal itself was simple.

Venders would become the mayor and implement the contents of the parchment.

“I’m not saying you have to do all of this immediately. Adjust to the city’s situation—take your time and carry them out one by one.”

“I’ll die of old age before I finish all this. Why not leave it to the marquis instead? Judging by how he personally carried out the executions of the great houses, it seems you’ve already brought him to your side.”

“I have something else for the marquis. I guarantee it—compared to what he has to do, this is far easier. If he fails, he dies.”

“If I fail, won’t I die as well?”

“You don’t seem like the type to do something that would get yourself killed.”

“…Haah.”

Venders let out a deep sigh.

“What do I gain from this? Please don’t say you’ll spare my life.”

The dwarf spoke with a look of someone thoroughly sick of such threats.

If he were easily replaceable, Isaac wouldn’t be speaking to him directly.
Venders already knew his own value.

That was why he dared to negotiate.

Isaac smiled faintly.

The more he looked, the more he liked him.
As Violet had said, sparing Venders had been a good choice.

In truth, there hadn’t been much justification to kill him anyway.
Among the five great houses, he alone had insisted on conducting business openly.
Even when the others recruited mercenaries and raised private armies, he did not join them.

“If the city is restored as written there—or even if you can convince me that it’s heading that way—I won’t care what you do afterward.”

“Can you guarantee you’ll keep that promise?”

Venders swallowed.

Isaac’s words dangled a tempting bait.

Becoming mayor meant holding judicial authority over the city.
Along with that came control over security, taxation, and administration.

The former mayor, Varis, had held all that power as well.
But he had been unable to wield it freely due to interference from the marquis and other great houses.

Now, however, the situation was entirely different.

The marquis, who once operated in the shadows, had submitted to Goethe.
The other great houses had been completely wiped out.

The city was, for all intents and purposes, in Venders’s grasp.

As long as he didn’t become overly greedy, Isaac was indicating he wouldn’t interfere.

“As long as you don’t lie to me, I won’t lie to you either.”

“But Young Master, you…”

Venders trailed off.

He had gathered all kinds of rumors and information about Isaac.
After all, understanding the political situation of the territory was essential for business.

The conclusion had been simple:
Isaac was far from being an heir.

But after hearing Violet’s account—and seeing the boy before him now—Venders realized that information was wrong.

Regardless of whether he was distant from succession or suffered from some unusual constitution,
anyone who had brought things this far at the mere age of twelve…

…was not someone to underestimate—or make an enemy of.

“I keep my word.”

Isaac spoke as if he had read Venders’s thoughts.

Venders stared directly into the boy’s eyes.

Such a gaze toward a noble was a clear breach of etiquette.

Even so, he held Isaac’s gaze without flinching.

God had denied him many things.
But he had been granted one gift—the ability to judge people.

In business, that was sometimes just a part of the job.
And sometimes… it was everything.

“…Very well.”

Venders answered carefully.

It was a deal he could neither refuse nor afford to refuse.

“Good. Then before fixing the city, handle one thing first.”

“What would that be?”

“Black stone—and capable blacksmiths.”

“Black stone… do you mean Arger iron ore?”

“Are you planning to wage war?”

Venders blinked in surprise.

“I’m going to farm. I need a very large plow.”

Isaac replied.