NOVEL WEB Book 1: Chapter 3
“Aghhhhhhhhhhh…” Sprawled out across his desk, Wein made a big show of exhaling the gloomiest, ghastliest sigh he could manage.
Ninym was standing beside him. Back from the battlefield, they weren’t wearing armor anymore.
Normally, she pushed Wein in some way or another to get work done whenever he slacked off, but today was different.
“…This could be a problem,” she whispered.
Wein wasn’t the only one frowning. Ninym’s eyebrows were furrowed, too.
“I finally understand what you were trying to say before I left,” she whispered.
As he looked quizzically at her, she reminded him of the other day. “You told me it wasn’t a good idea to win by too much.”
“We should launch a counterattack!” shouted a commanding officer, giving voice to the thoughts of everyone else in the meeting room. “Marden attacked us first. Now that we defeated them, their eastern region is wide open! We can seize a huge swathe of their territory!”
It was the night after their decisive victory in the Polta Wasteland. The war council gathered to decide on a new objective moving forward, and the officers all had lofty ambitions.
“I agree. Our soldiers sustained minimal damage. And because we won in such a short period of time, we won’t run out of resources anytime soon.”
“We’ve also gathered the provisions Marden left behind. Our soldiers’ stomachs might actually explode from eating too much.”
The war council roared with laughter.
They were all relaxed, giddy and joking after their recent success. It could even be said that they were getting cocky, but it was understandable: They’d been considered outcasts for decades. Now they were basking in victory and glory. These officers were only human, after all.
On top of that, they had been on the defense this time, meaning their victory wasn’t very sweet. War was largely synonymous with gaining territory or goods, so it made sense that they’d wanted to escalate to considering invasion.
However, there was one person who didn’t share this sentiment.
Quit screwing arooooooound! Seated at the head of the table, Wein was in a mood that was the polar opposite of the others. Marching out without a solid game plan is way too risky!
The Polta Wasteland was within their territory, so they had a detailed map of it. They could study how the roads connected, the layout of rivers and mountains, the general terrain, and where nearby towns and villages were located beforehand. This preparation facilitated their advances and allowed them to make trips to replenish their supplies.
However, that wouldn’t be the case inside Marden. While the war council was armed with a simple map of enemy territory, its precision was worlds away from the one of their own country. They would have to face phantom villages, unpassably deep rivers with unknown tides, roads that had fallen into disrepair, etc. These were all within the realm of possibility.
While a lone traveler could probably make the journey somehow or other, it would cost too much time and effort for a group of thousands to make a wrong turn. Not to mention, if they didn’t make enough progress, their morale would fall. It was very likely their missions to replenish supplies would be delayed, or their resources would run out altogether. Meanwhile, the Marden army would have fresh, well-provisioned troops ready to go. It was an all-around bad idea.
But I can’t say that noooooooow!
If there had been obvious losses to both sides in the last battle, the commanding officers would have readily agreed to Wein’s request. But he’d look spineless and totally clueless about the art of war if he was to suggest conservative action now. There was no doubt their loyalty would come crashing down like an avalanche. Next stop: coup.
I’ve got to have someone else stop them…!
He was desperate, but he couldn’t have Ninym do it. Even now, she was right behind him taking notes, but she was only his aide, after all. Though he’d temporarily put her in charge of his subordinates, what he needed at the moment was on an entirely different playing field. And she had no power to speak here.
That left only one candidate. Wein looked at Raklum sitting a few seats away. Raklum! Hey, psst, Raklum! he tried his very best to communicate with telepathy.
Raklum noticed Wein, who was about to bore a hole into him from staring so intently. He responded with a look: Yes, what is it?
Wein pleaded with his eyes. This war council’s headed down a bad road. Jump in and somehow calm them down! his eyes said.
…I see. Please consider the message received, Your Highness, Raklum’s eyes replied.
Fortunately, Raklum was adept at reading minds.
“Commander Raklum, may we ask for your thoughts?”
I’m begging you! Wein’s eyes silently yelled.
Please leave it to me, Raklum’s eyes reassured. He gave a small nod and spoke. “No time to rest. We have no choice but to attack immediately!”
Not even clooooooose, you freakin’ idiot!
Wein mentally tackled Raklum.
Why the hell are you on their side?! Stop smilin’ at me! God, I swear I can hear your thoughts. “I did it, Your Highness!” I’m cutting your next paycheck, ya spineless pushover!
The officers were all caught up in the potential of an invasion. Even if Wein objected, there was just no way he could reverse this. No, that was absolutely not an option. But there was another approach.
I didn’t want to have to do this, but no use whining about it now!
“Everyone, I understand your opinions,” Wein affirmed.
The officers in the room stopped moving. The air that had been stirring a moment before was now still. All eyes turned on him.
“Hagal,” Wein called out to the old man sitting next to him. “Now that we’ve won, you understand how everyone might be pushing to exploit this opportunity. But seeing as I have no experience, it’s difficult for me to determine whether we should march forward despite lacking a definitive plan or if that’ll ultimately be too much of a burden on the soldiers. I want to hear your professional opinion.”
“Understood…” Hagal nodded reverently. “Our stamina wears thin all too quickly. Once the lingering taste of victory is gone, our men will find themselves heavy with fatigue. When that happens, they’ll still be able to make the return trip home, but their knees will give out if we command them to immediately mount an invasion—especially one with no real goal.”
“Hmph…”
“Ngh…”
Looks of sour displeasure appeared on the commanding officers’ faces, one by one. After all, someone just stopped their exciting new plan in its tracks. But they knew better than to carelessly defy Hagal, who had far more experience on the battlefield than they did.
Everything’s going good so far—!
Wein could feel the officers starting to waver and introduced a new question to support his case. “Well then, should we consider withdrawing?”
It would have been nice if Hagal said they could, but it was unlikely. And as Wein predicted, the old man shook his head.
“There’s no doubt this is a golden opportunity. We’d be fools to let it pass us by… That said, we can’t invade without aim or strategy. It’s of utmost importance that we fully understand our soldiers’ physical and mental limitations, then focus on a clear target.”
“…Any objections?” Wein asked.
The commanding officers said nothing.
“Excellent. I have one proposal as an offshoot of Hagal’s opinion.” Through squinted eyes, he carefully examined the map spread out on the table. “As you know, this area is not ‘blessed’ with much of anything, by any means. But we can say the same exact thing about Marden as a whole. In fact, eastern Marden has very few places of strategic merit. Based on our military strength, if there’s any location worth storming—”
He jabbed a spot on the map: Marden’s eastern mountains. It never held much value until recent years, when it became one of their most valuable assets.
“—it’s the Jilaat gold mine. If we’re going to target anything, it’s this.”
A loud commotion tore through the room. Everyone turned to face him with outwardly confused expressions, but on the inside, Wein smiled at this 180-degree reversal of events.
That’s it. That’s the reaction I was looking for. No matter how you go about it, going after the gold mine is totally illogical!
It wasn’t an exaggeration to call the gold mine a national treasure. In fact, it might have been more important than the royal capital. Wein hadn’t researched it in detail, but there was no questioning the tight security measures Marden must have put in place. Accepting a proposal to attack the mine would force the Natra army to invade a place without sufficient intel—while still reeling from the aftereffects of the last battle. It didn’t matter if it was theoretically a good strategic move. Such an attack was the height of recklessness, wastefulness, and impulsivity.
Of course, Wein knew all this. He brought up this plan to make his audience consider the fact that the advance itself might be meaningless.
The officers were thinking something along these lines:
The gold mine’s impossible. If we’re gonna attack, it has to be somewhere else. But where? Are there any other places in the eastern sector just as valuable?
Nope. Nope, there aren’t. There’s nothing but the gold mine.
After this grand suggestion, the alternatives paled in comparison. Even if they managed to capture a small fort or village, wouldn’t it be worthless compared with a gold mine? When they realized that, Wein knew for sure that would deflate his commanding officers and their eagerness to invade.
This is gonna lower their opinion of me somewhat, but it’s not so illogical that they can’t forgive me for making this mistake! That’s a price I’m willing to pay—as long as we withdraw.
Everything was going according to plan. In his mind, Wein was already striking a victory pose.
“…Your Highness,” interjected one of the officers with a stern look. Wein suspected he was racking his brain, trying to figure out how to convince Wein that his plan was ridiculously reckless. Not wanting his subordinate to lose face, Wein considered how best to seem as though he was very impressed by the officer’s inevitable admonition for his foolish plan when—“I am in awe of your intellect.”
“Huh?” Wein blinked in surprise at these completely unexpected words.
“The Jilaat gold mine… Yes, it’s exactly as His Highness says. We should make this our target,” another one agreed.
“I must say, I’m utterly amazed—to think His Highness had discerned that we’d been secretly planning to take the Jilaat gold mine for ages!” confessed another.
“Huh?”
“According to the latest reports, the gold mine is in a vulnerable state. There are fewer than a thousand soldiers stationed there. We’re already verifying the route the troops will take.”
“There’s no such thing as certainty in war, but this is worth the risk.”
“While we’ve been celebrating our victory, His Highness had the good sense to weigh the actual feasibility of putting a plan into action. As your vassal, I am humbled.”
“Go on, Your Highness. Give us the order to march!”
“Let us go attack the Jilaat gold mine!”
“Long live the prince!”
“Long live the prince!”
“Long live the prince!”
“……”
…Ninym, help.
She calmly smiled. Sorry, no can do.
And that was how the Kingdom of Natra decided it would launch an attack on Marden.
“We would’ve been able to stop them if we’d won by anything less than overwhelming victory…,” Wein moaned lazily.
“If I’d been able to capture the enemy leader instead of kill him, we could have held postwar discussions or requested a way to reconcile our differences… I’m sorry, Wein,” she apologized.
“I mean, he rejected your offer to surrender, didn’t he? Don’t worry about it.”
“…You’re right.”
“The real problem is the next step. First, we make sure the intelligence on the gold mine isn’t a ploy,” he started.
“And then review our supply lines and maintain the soldiers’ morale as best we can,” she continued.
“In the grand finale, we steal the gold mine before Marden has a chance to stop us.”
Easier said than done.
Though they’d come up with appropriate steps, this would be their second battle, back-to-back. They’d trip up at some point. But that might give everyone a dose of reality and be enough reason to withdraw. At least, that was Wein’s line of thinking, and Ninym was on the same page.
—Or that was supposed to be the plan.
“We ended up capturing it, huh?”
“We did, indeed.”
The two turned their heads to look outside the window.
Against the dark backdrop of glittering stars, a large shadow pierced the heavens: the Jilaat gold mine. It’d been Marden’s main source of income, but now it was occupied by Natra. Ninym and Wein were currently in a room of a residence at the foot of the mine.
“…Had no idea the guards would be total wimps,” he offered.
“They were surprisingly weak… They ran away after one minor attack.”
“The people running this place must have embezzled some money out of their budget. Their king should really keep his eye on these things…”
“Yeah. That aside, we have to think about what to do next.”
“Yeah, I guess so…”
Together, Wein and Ninym groaned at their growing list of problems.
Anyone who mentioned Elythro Palace in the Kingdom of Marden to anyone would hear the same thing: It had been built as a physical testament to Marden’s newfound wealth.
King Fyshtarre was so pleased with this extra income that he ordered the palace to be built by the most renowned craftsmen from the most luxurious materials in the world. He liberally poured a river of cash into its construction. Everyone expected it to be a magnificent palace, destined to go down in history.
Unfortunately, there was one bad apple mixed in this group of first-rate craftsmen, resources, and funds. That was the hopeless anomaly of a third-rate king.
It’s said everyone has at least one good trait. It was still a mystery which of King Fyshtarre’s traits could be considered “good,” but as this incident would come to show, it definitely didn’t lie in the arts.
With his absolute political authority, the king stuffed his amateurish knowledge of architecture—as nonexistent as some crumbling old coin—and questionable aesthetic into a blueprint and proudly thrust it at the craftsmen in charge.
The artisans took his childishly simple designs and combined all their skill and persuasion to pacify the king. They managed to change it into something presentable, at the very least. And while they weren’t necessarily proud of the final result, they had certainly proved their talent to their peers.
That said, even the most talented artists have a limit to what they can achieve. The final layout made it difficult for people to come and go, the interior design was terribly mismatched, and there was a general lack of uniformity in its furnishings. Anyone with even the slightest intellect could tell it was both functionally and aesthetically lacking.
The only saving grace was that King Fyshtarre wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and that his servants were wise enough not to point out any of these deficiencies. He was an emperor with no clothes, contently and obliviously reclining on his garish throne inside his perfect palace.
But this peaceful scene would disappear just a few days later.
“This is bad; oh, what a mess…,” muttered a voice down the hallway.
Everyone agreed the western corridor of Elythro Palace was pointlessly long. Through this excessively lengthy path, a man in his prime briskly hurried forward.
He was round. Like, roly-poly round. His legs were short, and his arms were, too. His face was round, his belly was round, and he looked as if he would roll around nicely if you punted him.
His name was Jiva. He was a diplomat of the Kingdom of Marden and one of the country’s very few long-standing retainers.
“I’ve got to hurry…!” Mumbling over and over to himself, Jiva finally arrived at the reception hall with a pale face.
The entire room was intricately designed—from the corners of the walls to the shadows of the pillars. It was conspicuously extravagant even by Elythro Palace standards. And of course, it was King Fyshtarre’s favorite room, meaning this was where they had all their morning meetings. The emergency meeting on this day was no different.
“What’s the meaning of this?!” roared a voice, reverberating through the hall and paralyzing those it reached. “Those insects of Natra have gone and stolen the Jilaat gold mine?!”
A long table was set in the center of the room, where Marden’s chief retainers gathered around it. In the middle of it, the king of Marden, Fyshtarre, was beet red, jeering at them. He was impressively obese. Jiva’s physique may have run in his family, but the king was fat because he’d removed the word moderation from his vocabulary.
Right now, anything in his field of vision had the potential of becoming the next target of his rage. Jiva’s appearance belied a cleverness that he put to good use: He continued through the shadows of the pillars and knelt behind someone’s chair.
“Master Midan, sorry I’m late…!”
This elderly man was known as Midan, the minister of foreign affairs. In other words, Jiva’s superior.
“You must have been very busy to be late, Jiva.”
“I’m terribly sorry. My meeting with the ambassador ran long.”
“Hmph. You’ve heard, haven’t you?”
“Yes…,” Jiva replied.
“Good. Stand back for now.”
Following his orders, Jiva bowed and placed himself in a corner of the hall.
The next voice that rang through the hall wasn’t King Fyshtarre’s, oddly enough.
“My king, your anger is justified.”
It was the voice of the man sitting nearby King Fyshtarre—Holonyeh. It might have been difficult to imagine from his hunched back, withered frame, and eerie, twisted smile, but he was the minister of finance.
Tch, backstabber… Jiva mentally clicked his tongue.
Whenever the minister opened his mouth, he gave off an unpleasantness that didn’t just affect Jiva. In fact, the faces of most people in the room soured and scrunched.
“At this rate, the situation will only continue to deteriorate… We must quickly draw up plans on how to deal with this.”
“That’s a rather self-important thing to say,” Midan spoke up. “Lord Holonyeh, the management of the gold mine, including its security, was entrusted entirely to you. It hardly seems appropriate for you to make such remarks, especially after we’ve been robbed of a crucial resource… Do you intend to obfuscate your responsibility for what’s happened?”
The daunting glint in Midan’s eyes would’ve stopped anyone younger and less experienced in their tracks. He wasn’t about to forgive anyone who tried to smooth talk their way out of trouble. But Holonyeh was equally formidable and not in the least perturbed.
“It would be wrong to say it was stolen without a fight, Lord Midan. According to the reports, each of the guards valiantly accepted Natra’s challenge and fulfilled their duty.”
“Then how was it stolen?”
Holonyeh gave an uncanny smile. “Yes, yes, but alas, if only General Urgio hadn’t been defeated so easily. Then this wouldn’t have happened.” He switched gears and feigned ignorance. “Come to think of it, I believe the trueborn Mahdia are the ones in charge of appointing generals. You know, I think they were the ones who recommended General Urgio. Honestly, those who are good-for-nothing always cause others trouble. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Why you…”
To backtrack, the current retainers serving the Marden hailed from two different factions.
The first was the Mahdia, the one Jiva belonged to—people born in Marden, raised in Marden, and chosen to serve Marden. Of course, internal discord was present within the group, but as a whole, they were unflinchingly loyal to their kingdom.
The second faction was the Stella. They were born elsewhere but allowed to take positions of power due to their skills and talents. Overall, their loyalty to the nation was weak, as they were mostly lured to the country by a high salary.
In recent years, the friction between the two groups had grown increasingly malicious. Before then, the number of Stella was too low for them to organize themselves into a faction.
As to what caused this rapid change—indeed, it was the discovery of the gold mine. Ever since, the royal palace had been turned upside down. Until then, Marden had been a poor, insignificant little country. They’d gotten used to getting by on limited funds, but the goddess of good fortune paid them an unexpected visit. Not a single person understood why.
That was about the same time a group of sharp-eyed foreign bureaucrats appeared, with Holonyeh at the helm. They brought their experience and success of managing government affairs in other nations, telling King Fyshtarre they could put his sudden windfall to good use.
But these sly old foxes were better versed in stirring up political conflict, and duping the nervous country bumpkin of a king was more than easy. He appointed each of these newcomers to a high-ranking position one by one, and they wielded their power to their full potential. Their management of the gold mine maximized profits and pleased King Fyshtarre so much that he put even more foreigners in positions of power.
Of course, this didn’t amuse the Mahdia in the slightest as the influence of the Stella grew more and more each day.
For the Stella, the others were an eyesore, placing such importance on being native-born. With this, their factional fighting had already gone past the point of no return.
“Oh, why did we have to let the Mahdia have their way back then?” Holonyeh continued. “You know none of this would’ve happened if we’d left it to General Draghwood, don’t you? From my perspective as a loyal retainer and patriot of Marden, it’s nothing short of a disgrace.”
“You’re saying you’re one of the nation’s ‘loyal retainers’?”
“Of course. I’m proud to say there’s no one with more respect and affection for our king and country than myself.”
Upon deciding they’d send troops to Natra, the two factions had bitterly opposed each other over who was better suited to lead: Urgio the Mahdia or Draghwood the Stella. In the end, it was the Mahdia who’d snatched the post, but now it seemed to have backfired.
This is so stupid. Jiva sighed inwardly.
While he was indeed one of the Mahdia, he kept his distance from any political squabbles. It disgusted him to no end that everyone was willing to disregard the best interest of the country for the benefit of their own faction.
“Enough of this pointless yapping!” blared Fyshtarre to break up the glaring contest between Holonyeh and Midan. “I shall tear apart any deserters who’ve shamelessly come running back home with my own two hands. But our focus right now is the gold mine. Holonyeh, you have a plan, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. It’s no grand scheme. We lost the battle thanks to General Urgio’s personal folly. I believe the next battle is best left to General Draghwood.”
“Wait,” Midan immediately cut in. “It’s true General Urgio underestimated Natra, which led to our downfall. But isn’t it reckless to assume a mere change in leadership will solve all our problems? Particularly if the enemy soldiers decide to hole up in the mine, an average-strength force won’t be—”
“In that case, let’s prepare three times as many soldiers than the last battle. It should be enough to crush them.”
“You fool! That’d mean neglecting our borders! You can’t be so oblivious you haven’t realized Kavalinu is targeting us from right next door!”
“That’s precisely why. The gold mine is of utmost importance to our country. We’ll weaken if we spend too much time getting it back, making it all the easier for Kavalinu to prey upon us. We have no choice but to take it back at once, before neighboring countries have a chance to involve themselves… Unless you have another plan, Lord Midan?”
Midan looked away and turned toward Fyshtarre with a proposal. “Your Royal Majesty, I believe we should consider a diplomatic solution with Natra.”
“…Are you suggesting I sit down with those insolent, invading dogs?” Fyshtarre’s face darkened.
Midan boldly continued. “First, it’ll take us some time simply to mobilize a large force. Even after we complete the mobilization, it’s not clear whether we’ll be able to immediately retake the mine. If we prolong our war against Natra, our resources will deplete, which will create an opportunity for our neighbors to strike us. By speaking with Natra and negotiating with them to get the mine back, we’d reach a much faster and safer…”
“It is you who are foolish,” mocked Holonyeh. “Anyone who knows the value of that gold mine wouldn’t dare let it go.”
“…By possessing the mine, Natra will become the target of other countries. On top of that, Natra will need to manage the day-to-day functions of the mine to have any hope of extracting value from it, which is beyond the capabilities of a small nation with limited human resources. Even you realize that, don’t you?”
“Hmph…” Holonyeh hesitated slightly, but he promptly shook his head. “But even if Natra agrees to this, their price will be proportionate to the mine’s value, right?”
“There should be room for negotiation… Your Royal Majesty, please leave this matter to me.”
After hearing the proposals of his two retainers, Fyshtarre closed his eyes, gravely considering his two options. He then locked his eyes on Holonyeh.
“…Holonyeh, call for General Draghwood. We’ll gather soldiers to launch a strike.”
“Yes, Your Royal Majesty.”
“Your Royal Majesty…!” pleaded Midan.
The king gave Midan, who still refused to back down, a perfunctory glance. “If you’re so set on discussing this matter with them, go there and prove it to me… You’ve got until the moment my troops depart to reach a diplomatic solution.”
“…Sire!”
After they’d taken some time to iron out the details, the meeting was adjourned. As the nobles exited the hall, Jiva knelt by Midan’s side.
“You heard, didn’t you, Jiva?”
“Yes.”
“Start gathering information and head toward the gold mine. Make them give it back to us no matter what. We must avoid anything else that may discredit the Mahdia.”
“……”
“Jiva?”
“…Understood. I will see to it.”
It went without saying he had his own thoughts on the matter, but this was a part of his job. Besides, even he agreed it’d be too risky to mobilize such a large army.
But how much can I actually do in such a short period…?
But Jiva set off on his task even as he felt anxiety filling his chest and weighing him down.
Ninym Ralei was early to rise from bed. It was part of her morning routine to wake up at the crack of dawn. After all, she lived in an era when daylight was too precious to waste.
Plus, she was participating in a military expedition and needed to avoid squandering lamp oils and candles. That made starting work at sunrise the most optimal solution.
But the very first thing she did was cleanse herself.
“…Phew.”
It’d been one week since Natra took over the Jilaat gold mine.
The Natran forces had put the former managers of the mine back to work and had familiarized themselves with the layout of their temporary headquarters, finally bringing their affairs up to speed. At long last, she could take some time to shower.
Well, seeing how she was out here, she used the term showering pretty liberally. She couldn’t soak herself in hot water or dab scented oil on her skin. As a woman, she felt a keen desire for a few more luxuries that catered to her wants, but as a sensible aide, she drove it out and kept it at bay.
Well then, I better go wake him.
Stepping out of the bathtub, she dried off and dressed herself before continuing down the hallway to head for Wein’s bedroom.
“Miss Aide. Up early again, I see.” Two guards stood in front of his door.
“I can’t oversleep, or His Highness will, too. Anything to report while you were on watch?”
“Nothing to report. All has been quiet.”
“Very good. As you were.”
The guards stepped away from the door, letting Ninym enter the prince’s room.
It was modest. On the day their forces had seized this place, the army had appropriated everything of value in the building. The original owners had taken most of the valuables with them as they fled, so the army hadn’t gathered much. But looking beyond material possessions, this room contained the Kingdom of Natra’s second most precious item.
It was Wein Salema Arbalest, sleeping on the bed.
“…Wein,” she breathed into his ear.
He wouldn’t wake up. She knew that. He loved sleeping—and despised getting up. If she let him, he’d sleep, dead like a log, until the middle of the day. He’d wake up only when the sun shone through his windows a little too brightly.
Right now, the best she could do was open the curtains, let light pour in, and cheerfully whisper in his ear. Only then would he groggily crawl out from under his warm blanket.
But that wasn’t her first course of action. She rested her hands on her chin by his pillow and stared at his sleeping face. Every now and then, she’d watch Wein sleep—it was her moment of indulgence.
“Mnn… Hrnnm.”
He groaned, croaking incomprehensible noises from the back of his throat. What could he be dreaming about? He looked too peaceful to be caught in a nightmare.
Could he be dreaming about me?
She had no way of knowing, but the thought alone made her happy.
I think I’ll make some of Wein’s favorites for breakfast today.
Out here in Marden, they didn’t have the luxury of full-time chefs or meal service, which left Ninym in charge of making all his meals. Her cooking skills and ingredients couldn’t quite match those of the palace, but considering the circumstances, the dishes were relatively elaborate. As they should be. They were for the crown prince, after all.
Relishing in these thoughts, she heard Wein talking in his sleep as he broke into a relaxed smile. She caught a few of his garbled words: “Boobs…so big…so bouncy…”
“……” Ninym patted her own chest.
Well, they certainly couldn’t be called “bouncy” by any stretch of the imagination. She made a mental note to give him a full-course breakfast of his least favorite things.
In hopes of calming her rage, she peeked again at his sleeping face.
His face looks…manlier somehow. She played with his bangs. He’s getting taller. We were the same height as kids, but he shot past me before I knew it. He’s really filled out, too.
For her part, there was a possibility her own growth spurt was at its end. Her features and body had assumed their womanly shape, acquiring just a touch of roundness. But let’s make no mention of her breasts for now.
The relationship between the two hadn’t changed from childhood. Back then, they’d suddenly grab each other’s shoulders and draw each other close, freely expose their chests, and engage in discussions about boobs. It had never mattered that they were opposite genders.
At times, she was happy to maintain this intimacy, but at others, she couldn’t shake her doubts and fears. Whatever the emotion, Wein made her heart race every time, though she’d learned to expertly hide it under her cool exterior. But she wondered if he’d ever notice. It seemed unlikely.
Or he may have already noticed and acted this way on purpose.
She cursed him and considered drawing on his face for a second. But she quickly shook her head.
…I have to wake him up soon.
She stepped away and strode over to the curtains, pretending she’d just walked in the room. The light poured in, causing him to stir slightly.
“Wein, wake up. It’s morning,” she announced, knowing she’d no longer have him all to herself. He was all hers only in the cusp between night and day.
“—Now that it’s ours, let’s use the mine as much as we can,” concluded Wein as he looked at it from his office window.
“Are you sure? Even though they’ll fight us over it?” Ninym stood beside him, voicing her concerns.
It was possible for the gold mine to operate on its own. The miners and their families lived on-site. Aside from the initial confusion over Natra’s military occupation, the troops ensured that peace and order quickly returned. It wouldn’t be too difficult to convince them to cooperate.
Of course, Marden would come to take back the mine as soon as the last soldier was ready to fight. This gold mine was that vital. If the new and improved Marden army put their all into it, they’d undoubtedly be able to do some serious damage. But Wein had already included that in his calculations.
“They lost. It’s a done deal. Giving it back now would cause morale and confidence in me as a leader to take a nosedive.”
Ninym couldn’t argue with that. “Then we’ll need to prevent Marden from stealing it back.”
“First, we learn the lay of the land. We’ve already done basic reconnaissance, but it’s not enough. We’ll need to know the mine inside out.”
“I know it was kind of unavoidable, but it’s unfortunate that we couldn’t find any documents or information.”
The guards of the mine had retreated quickly enough, but they’d either torched or run away with almost every record or document related to the mine. It must’ve been their emergency backup plan in the event of a crisis and surrender.
“Pardon me.” There was a sudden knock at the door. Raklum stepped in. “Your Highness, I have reports regarding the progress of a number of investigations.”
“Good work. Take it from the top.”
“Yes, sir. On the whole, our relationship with the residents is improving, thanks to your support. We’ve distributed food and are in the middle of helping build proper homes.”
“That’s to be expected, especially if you consider the way they were treated prior to our arrival,” said Ninym. Her manner of speaking instantly switched once Raklum entered the room.
The Natra army had kicked out the Marden garrison to gain control over the gold mine. Of course, the mine came with a residential district for the miners and their families. What they found were dilapidated huts crammed together and malnourished people within. It was obvious they were either slaves, traded for cheap, or offenders who’d been sent there to do hard labor. There were even people who were completely innocent of any crime who had been tossed in on the whims of those in power.
The work in the gold mines was notoriously intense. And of course, there was no decent food to speak of. Assuming there was anything close to a doctor was absurd. The houses were piles of scrap material that had been cobbled together, and most workers died after a few years. Learning of their plight, Wein made sure food was rationed and asked soldiers to build them simple shelters. The people of the mines unanimously expressed their appreciation.
It was all part of his plans. Sure, they were using up more resources, but the residents’ cooperation was essential in order to extract gold. It’d be unwise to give them reason to riot or revolt when a clash with the Marden was just on the horizon.
Besides, that kind of inefficiency is a huge waste.
Death meant a loss of not only manpower but also knowledge and experience. Dismissing the miners as unimportant and letting them die without cause was a detriment to the mining industry.
“How’s the map coming along?”
“The surrounding area should be surveyed within the next couple of days. However, the inner tunnels of the mine are expansive and will take some time to fully understand. We’re working with the miners, but because the turnover rate was so incredibly high, finding someone with in-depth knowledge is…” Raklum trailed off.
“Understood. You can continue on as planned. Was that the only report?”
“Yes… Well, there is one other matter.”
“What is it?”
“One of the mine residents is requesting a meeting with Your Highness.”
Wein tilted his head curiously. “If it’s about an appeal, I thought I left that to you.”
“That’s what I said, but he insisted on meeting Your Highness directly. I looked into his background, and it seems he’s one of the mediators who represent the residents.”
Wein and Ninym met eyes.
“What do you think?” Wein asked.
“I’m sensing a plot of some sort. It may be in your best interest to meet him,” she replied.
“Sounds about right. Okay, Raklum, call ’im in.”
“Yes!” Raklum ambled out of the room promptly.
He soon returned with a man, a gaunt figure without an ounce of strength left in his feeble body. Most of the residents were severely underweight, but this was something worse. He’d probably fall over with a light push.
…But that wasn’t the only thing on Wein’s mind as he looked upon the man kneeling before him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. I am—”
“Pelynt.”
The man’s head snapped up, responding to his name.
“I saw a personal description of you when I was researching high officials of Marden. You look a lot different now, but there’s no doubt it’s you.”
“…So the rumors about your intuition are true. I’m humbled.” He bowed his head again. “My name is Pelynt. I served the royal palace of Marden until a few years ago.”
“Were you bested in a political fight?”
“Ah yes. I see your insight knows no bounds. I was forced here after my fortune was stolen from me.”
“So you’re looking for a fresh start in my country?” Wein asked.
That was the only logical explanation, but to Wein’s surprise, Pelynt shook his head.
“Yes, but that’s not the reason I’m here today. I’ve prepared a gift, before I make my request… This is for you.” Pelynt held out a weathered scroll.
Ninym acted as the middleman, presenting it to Wein, who inspected the contents.
His eyes swam over it in surprise. “This is…a map of the mine’s interior!”
“Yes. It is a complete reproduction, with every single tunnel accounted for.”
Wein would’ve given an arm and a leg for it. He’d need to confirm the details of the mine, but his next step would change as long as he had this.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“I thought it might be something Your Highness might need, so I stole it before it was burned.”
“…I see. This is priceless.” But that made Wein stiffen. What favor did this man have in mind? “Go on, Pelynt. What is it you want?”
“Yes, of course.” He took a deep breath, gathering all the power in the pit of his stomach, and spoke. “—Please, I ask you not to forsake the people of the mine.”
“…Wait, what?” Wein frowned at the unexpected words.
His bewilderment spread to both Ninym and Raklum, whose face in particular was pulled into an uncomfortable grimace.
“You shouldn’t forget your manners, Pelynt,” Raklum warned. “You can’t possibly know the pains His Highness has gone through for your people. Don’t you dare disregard that.”
“That’s precisely why I ask.” Under Raklum’s gaze, Pelynt continued without wavering. “With all due respect, I would’ve exchanged the map for money and left this place far behind me if His Highness were not so virtuous. But after seeing how nobly His Highness conducts himself, I knew I couldn’t keep this a secret.” He took out a bundle of papers.
“What are those?”
“Information on mining activity that I wrote down in secret. Please have a look.”
As tension mounted in the room, Ninym delicately took the documents and passed them to Wein. He looked down. As Pelynt said, it was a record of the ore in the mine, apparently going back to the mine’s earliest days. Wein continued reading.
As he neared the latest entry, he stopped. “…Hey, this can’t be…”
“Yes. Those numbers are correct,” divulged Pelynt solemnly. “The mine’s drying up.”
There was a small town not far from the Jilaat mine, a quiet place with not much in the way of industry or problems.
At least, it used to be. At the moment, it was the gathering point for soldiers from neighboring towns keeping a lookout for the Natra army. The air was tense, and security was tight. Those with means and connections took refuge far away, but others continued to live their lives on bated breath. Anyone openly traveling through the town was either an eccentric or under unique circumstances.
Jiva was surely the latter. He was staying in a room at an inn that’d seen some better days.
“—And that concludes my report on the mine residents.”
“I see. You’ve done well.”
Two men were in the room. One was the Marden diplomat, Jiva. The other was his personal spy. Jiva had sent him to Natra’s base camp to feel out if they’d be willing to talk, while he ventured into town to set up the negotiating table. He received reports from the spy a few days later, but—he couldn’t believe his ears.
“To think the people of the mine were treated so cruelly…”
The plain chair in the room creaked as Jiva hung his head. Sure, he’d heard the rumors that the miners were treated inhumanely, relentlessly used for what they’re worth. But the mine had been fully entrusted to Holonyeh, and the Mahdia had never been able to question him, especially because he always turned a profit.
…No, that’s not the only reason. They probably pulled the Mahdia’s top brass over to their side.
On top of holding the country’s purse strings, Holonyeh’s men were skilled in instigating political strife. It wouldn’t be difficult to cajole the Mahdia when it came down to matters like this. And if the leadership kept quiet, the underlings would never get a chance to say a word. That was the position Jiva was in. As for those who tried to step outside the line—well, they naturally disappeared before getting very far.
“…You’re sure Natra isn’t forcing them to work, right?” Jiva confirmed.
“Yes. On the contrary. They’re providing food and housing… With all due respect, sir, their hearts no longer belong to Marden.”
“Yes, yes, I thought as much.”
Of course they’d never have any loyalty to a country that essentially treated them like slaves. To the residents, Marden was a vicious ruler—and Natra, their liberator.
“Their crown prince… I’ve always heard he’s a righteous and benevolent young man, but it seems the rumors are true. How are their troops looking?”
“It appears they’re investigating the surrounding area to understand its geography. They’ve only laid the groundwork, but they’ve taken steps toward building a fortress.”
“……”
Natra was getting ready to fight against Marden by fortifying their defenses. It wasn’t possible to approach this lightly anymore. Jiva made a decision.
“I have no choice but to go speak with them as an emissary.”
“That could be dangerous. As things stand, you could be killed.”
“There won’t be any progress if I can’t overcome this much. Let’s hope we can count on the prince’s benevolence.”
Determination in hand, Jiva began preparing for his journey to the gold mine.
Meanwhile, Wein gave a deathly moan and collapsed onto his desk. “Uwaaaghh.”
It was hard to believe this was the same guy the Marden diplomat was giving such high praise.
“…Don’t slack off. Come on, pull yourself together,” Ninym said.
But her voice didn’t carry its usual power or vigor. For once, her feelings were on the same page as Wein’s.
“…It’s drying up! Dry as bones! Yeah, yeah, just my luck. This had to happen right now. We came all the way over here, stole the mine, and went to freakin’ war with Marden over it, then, right when we thought we’ve won, the whole thing turns to shit. Why’s this happening to me…?”
Ever since he received the map, Wein had begun thoroughly investigating the authenticity of Pelynt’s documents.
The results came back positive. There was no mistaking it: The gold mine was about to run out of ore. Of course he was in despair! If he was the only one involved, this could be laughed off with a slap on the knee. But that wasn’t how national strategy worked. Who was going to forgive him with a whoopsie-daisy and a bop on the head for something of this magnitude?
“But we can’t afford to sit around and do nothing,” Ninym lamented, outwardly directing this at Wein but saying it to herself. “We have to decide what to do next.”
“Yeah, we’ve got no choice but to withdraw, right?” Wein said sullenly, lifting his face slightly off the desk. “We fought because we thought this mine was worth something. That was the whole point of taking and defending it—to preserve its value. But now that it’s not even worth a single gold piece? We’re better off doing damage control and washing our hands of this place as quickly as possible.”
It was logical. Even as they sat here discussing business, the army had running expenses to consider, and they were especially high due to being in enemy territory. The sooner they got out, the better.
“Then what about our promise? The one we made to Pelynt to look after his people?”
“He was only talking about people. He didn’t mention the mine. We’ll just take anyone who wants to come along. I mean, our kingdom is a melting pot to begin with, built by people who had no other future. These guys aren’t any different. Folding them into our mish-mosh country isn’t going to upset anything.”
“…That’s true.” She contemplated, nodding. “Should we inform the miners and prepare to withdraw?”
“…No, not yet.”
“Why’s that?”
“There’s definitely gonna be some complaints if we back out now.”
If he made the executive decision to genially hand this land back over, he’d certainly affect the army and the nation’s pride. At the very least, they needed to come up with some kind of justification.
“Shouldn’t we tell the troops the truth? If you’re hell-bent on not telling everyone, maybe we can at least share it with the commanding officers?”
“Sooner or later, news will make its way down to the soldiers. Then their confidence in me will really tank. If we’re not careful, some of ’em might take their anger out on the miners.”
“So…we’re lame ducks until Marden sends their army.”
“Yeah, they’ll send us a nice, big, fat group of soldiers to take back the mine. When our men see they’re clearly stronger, we’ll all agree to withdraw… I think.”
Thanks to a growing list of surprises, twists, and turns, this half-baked plan was the best he could come up with.
“What about selling it to another country—without letting them know the mine is no good? Kavalinu, maybe?” Ninym suggested.
According to Pelynt, the mine had been entrusted to Holonyeh. As the documents passed through the hands of government officials, they each took care to report the profit slightly higher than it actually was so they could embezzle even more money. It was very possible Holonyeh himself didn’t even know what was accurate at this point.
Meaning Pelynt, Wein, Ninym, and the others present at that previous meeting were the only ones who knew about the gold mine’s dismal condition. They could sell it to another country in a standard case of adverse selection. It wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility.
“It won’t be easy to get together and sort this out. There isn’t enough time for that. And we’ll have to go up against Marden if we take too long. If that happens, we can pretty much kiss any profit good-bye. And there’s definitely gonna be some hard feelings if they ever find out.”
It was a tough choice. It was hard to let go of the place they’d fought so hard for.
Where could we find a buyer for this sort of thing?
The gears in Wein’s head started to turn, only to be suddenly interrupted by a commotion outside the building.
“I wonder what that could be?” Ninym asked.
Peeking outside the window together, he saw a group of soldiers hurriedly rushing back and forth. Just as he thought they were under an enemy attack, a knock came at the door.
“Apologies, Your Highness!” Slightly out of breath, Raklum appeared before them.
Wein immediately fired off his most urgent question. “Is the enemy attacking?”
“No.”
Wein urged him to continue with a look. Well, what is it?
“It’s an emissary. An emissary from Marden has arrived.”
“ ” Wein’s eyes widened, but not because of the news.
He’d been hit with a sudden stroke of inspiration.
Raklum continued. “He’s requesting a meeting with Your Highness. What shall we do?”
“…Did he give his name? What’s he look like?”
“He said his name was Jiva, a diplomat from Marden. Based on his demeanor, there’s no question he’s a high-level government official.”
“Sounds kind of familiar. You know him, Ninym?”
“Yes. I recall he’s a member of the royal court.”
“All right, Raklum, guide him to the reception room. I’ll be there soon. Be on your best behavior.”
“Understood!” Raklum promptly turned on his heel and lumbered out of the room.
“Ninym, I’d like you to make our guest feel comfortable.”
“I’ll see to it immedia—” She stopped midword upon seeing her master’s expression. “What’s wrong, Wein? You’re making an odd face.”
“Ah, no, it’s all clear to me now.”
“…What’re you talking about?”
Wein grinned. “We’ve got a buyer for the mine.”
Jiva was led to the reception room and waited patiently in a chair. At first glance, he might have appeared meditative, quietly sitting with his eyes closed, but a bit of nervousness surfaced onto his round face.
But this wasn’t strange in the slightest. After all, from his point of view, he was in the middle of enemy territory. It was common for emissaries to be killed, even if they were sent to negotiate. There was a distinct possibility that armed soldiers were gathering outside the room at that very moment.
…But I think I’ll be okay.
If they wanted to kill him, they would’ve already made their move. Plus, considering his status and the crown prince’s alleged benevolence, they could probably have a discussion at the very least.
Reaching an agreement is going to be our biggest problem.
If anything was making him nervous now, that was it. He’d prioritized time and hardly researched his opponent. He knew only bits and pieces, and it wasn’t clear if this was for better or worse.
As these worries filled his mind, the door swung open to reveal a girl with translucent white hair and red eyes. A Flahm. Come to think of it, he’d heard they were common in Natra.
“His Highness Prince Regent Wein has arrived.”
A young boy stepped into the room following after her and accompanied by several guards.
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” Jiva extolled, bowing reverently. “I am a diplomat of Marden, Jiva.”
“And I’m the prince regent of the Kingdom of Natra, Wein Salema Arbalest.”
He’s so young.
Jiva had heard the prince was in his midteens, but he still had the look of an innocent child as he stood there in front of him. But his demeanor was dignified with the air of a proud leader. He wasn’t some decoration or symbol or king due only to blood. Jiva wouldn’t be forgetting that anytime soon.
“—First of all, please accept my most humble apologies for appearing unannounced, Your Highness,” he began courteously.
They were facing each other across a desk. Ninym was taking notes behind Wein.
The prince responded diplomatically. “We understand that some problems require our immediate attention. Which is why I’d like to wholeheartedly welcome you for coming all the way here,” he said, then shrugged his shoulders. “But it happened a little too quickly, so we weren’t ready to receive any guests. My apologies. This was the only room available. I would have liked to prepare a more formal setting.”
“Thank you for extending such hospitality to me, Your Highness. It was my own folly for not informing you earlier. Even if you greeted me in an empty field, I would be overcome with gratitude.”
“I appreciate you saying that.” Wein broke into a smile, as if talking to a close friend.
Jiva could see why the people of Natra loved him. But he wouldn’t be swayed. After all, he was a man of Marden, and the battle between the two had just begun.
“So then, Lord Jiva, what has brought you to us today? You must know this territory isn’t very friendly to Marden citizens at the moment.”
There it was. The heart of the issue. Jiva gritted his teeth for a moment.
“Yes, of course,” Jiva started. “In place of an army, I’ve come to express our appreciation. Thank you for taking on the responsibility of guarding this land. We are so grateful that you’re willing to discuss how we can transfer the ownership of this gold mine back to us.”
Upon hearing his words, Ninym and the guards gave the same speculative expression. Say what?
If he’d boldly ordered them to give back the mine, the soldiers would’ve been ready to end his life. Sure. But he said the last thing they expected to hear.
Even Wein was surprised by this turn of events. But here’s what separated him from the rest.
“Hmm, yes, I seeeeee. Your mind is set.”
While everyone stood there dumbfounded, Wein saw through his intentions in an instant.
Ninym scribbled down a question on a piece of paper. Wein, what’s going on?
He’s basically saying, “Let’s pretend none of this happened.” His writing was smooth, fluid.
She frowned for a few seconds, then realization dawned on her face. He gave her a secret little smirk.
Marden wanted the gold mine back as soon as possible. But any negotiating would undoubtedly drag on forever as they worked out reparations, exchanging prisoners of war, and redefining country borders, among other things, all while dancing around the topic of Marden’s previous acts of aggression and violence toward Natra.
Looks like he’s jumping right to the part where our countries forgive and forget. This tubby guy may not look it, but he pulls no punches.
It could also be a way of erasing the truth of their defeat, helping their prideful king Fyshtarre save face. It was a pretty brilliant move.
“There are no words to describe our gratitude for safeguarding this area from neighboring countries like Kavalinu. These enemies continue to threaten us from all sides. We would like to offer you a reward as an expression of our gratitude.”
Of course, this so-called reward was nothing more than reparations and a buyout. There’d be some arguing over exactly how much it’d amount to in total, but so far, things were going more smoothly than your average postwar negotiation.
While this proposal seemed to cede more advantages to Marden, there were obvious merits for Natra as well.
“Ah, you’ve really saved us. This gold mine is our country’s life force, you see. If it was stolen by a foreign power… Oh, we just might need to unleash our wrath and mercilessly destroy that enemy nation,” Jiva said.
This was one such merit. Evading war with Marden was a pretty good deal.
Natra might’ve won the battle in the Polta Wasteland. But what about the next battle? And if they won again, the battle after that? When it came to their military strength, Natra was at an obvious disadvantage. At some point, their country would hit its limit. Even if they held out against Marden, another country would find an opportunity to attack.
Of course, Marden was dealing with the same problem—but Wein had some serious doubts as to whether King Fyshtarre could weigh the risks, even if he tried.
Fyshtarre is all about pride. No matter how many times he loses, he’ll get back up again… Another defeat will just piss him off. Sorry, but I’ve got zero interest in going down together.
It wasn’t such a bad idea to erase this battle from history. Without the shame of losing, there was a good chance their king would calm down for at least a while. In that time, Natra could use the money they swindled out of Marden and increase their military strength.
Well, there were some disadvantages, too. To start, their patriotism and price would be bruised. The troops would not be very happy to hear this, seeing that their battle honors would be redacted alongside the war itself. And if Marden compensated them monetarily, it’d leave a bad aftertaste in everyone’s mouth. But there was still enough reason to accept Jiva’s proposal.
It’s basically confirmed… Marden has no idea the mine’s drying up.
Only a few others knew the whole truth. If he continued to wait for another solution, his luck would run out eventually, meaning his men’s confidence in him would plummet. On the other hand, it was obvious they’d be mad if the gold mine was sold to another country.
But what if they sold it back to Marden right now?
He could give it back before having a chance to profit from it. That meant he wouldn’t be held accountable, even if the truth about the dwindling value of the mine was discovered. Instead, conflict would break out in Marden’s inner circle.
And if Marden said they wanted a refund, Natra could feign ignorance. He’d initially lose the respect of his soldiers, but they might reevaluate his actions if they knew the truth.
This is my only chance to avoid war and swindle them out of a ton of money…
Are you going to go with his proposal? Ninym wrote.
Yeah, but if we take their bait too soon, they’ll know we’re hiding something. We gotta act unsure for a bit, Wein responded.
Don’t get too greedy, she warned.
It’ll be fine. I won’t do anything to tip them off.
She gave him an uneasy look, but Wein just flashed a confident grin in return.
…I can’t read him.
As far as Jiva was concerned, the proposal he offered was his last resort. If he had more time or a bit more generosity from King Fyshtarre, he could have found another way.
But this was the only way he could reconcile with any actual substance—and still satisfy his king. Jiva knew he’d been dominating the conversation, precisely because he understood it would be difficult to accept such a proposal. He was trying his best to smooth things over.
But could this ploy actually work?
Across from Jiva, the boy stared in silence. No words could faze Wein: His gaze bore straight into his opponent’s eyes.
It’s like hammering away at a steel sculpture with a wooden mallet… But I can’t back down now…
No, he mustn’t back down. Those were his feelings, but Jiva trembled in spite of himself. His journey to the mine was flickering before his mind’s eye.
The people of the mine dressed in tatters.
The soldiers of Natra feeding them rations.
Once their troops were gone, what would happen to the residents? When the Marden returned to this territory, would they still be treated like humans?
…God! What am I thinking? We need to get back the gold mine. I need to do all I can to make that happen. This is going fine, just fine.
As Jiva reassured himself over and over, Wein started to stir. “—Livi.”
Jiva wasn’t sure he heard him correctly and looked on in confusion.
Wein continued. “Sefti, Regis, Talfia, Karaln…”
“Y-Your Highness… What are you saying?”
“Names,” he explained coldly, his voice piercing through Jiva. “Names of my men who died in the Polta Wasteland.”
“ ” Jiva felt like his own heart might leap out of his chest.
What an unimaginably compassionate ruler! Many of his subjects held Wein in high regard. Jiva knew this.
“I hear your proposal. That might be one possible interpretation of this entire situation. But, Lord Jiva, in that case, where should the souls of my men rest? What should be marked on the graves of those who died serving their country?
“That’s, ahhh…”
“You’re not suggesting we write Here lies some idiot who died in the Wasteland on their graves—are you?”
Under Wein’s steady gaze and kingly presence, Jiva was unable to form a coherent sentence.
Upon this sight, Wein cheered in his heart. All right, it’s working!
But Ninym appeared sullen.
Isn’t it working too well? she wrote. If this negotiation falls through, won’t things end up as the opposite of what you want?
Nah, this much is normal. Actually, I wanna give him just one more push, he scribbled back.
Fortunately, Wein could pass for a kind and generous ruler. He knew he could persuade Jiva if he mentioned his own soldiers and citizens. The more difficult he made the negotiation, the larger the gold on the other side.
“Lord Jiva, do you realize how the people here have been treated?”
“…Yes.”
“Not too long ago, one of their representatives came to me with an appeal. He asked us not to abandon his people. He made this request to Natra, not Marden. You know what this means, right? It was enough for us to imagine the treatment they’d suffered under your hands. Suppose we returned the mine. What would become of these people? If you snatch away their last hope, they’ll be left with only despair.”
“……”
“With all that said, I’ll ask you one more time: What brought you here, Lord Jiva?”
—Become someone noble.
Jiva suddenly remembered the words his mother used to say to him. It was a faint memory. He’d pushed it away to avoid looking back at the boy who’d been bullied. During that time, he did his best to keep his mouth shut until he could go home and pretend everything was fine. But his mother saw right through him.
—Become someone noble. Be someone your future self can be proud of.
These were the words that pierced his heart, and he’d made up his mind: He would live a life he wouldn’t be ashamed to look back on in ten, twenty, thirty years.
That’s how it should have been anyway.
But then he was faced with failure. Pressure. Self-preservation. Fighting.
Before he realized it, he’d lost touch of those childhood dreams and traveled down a path far from light.
That’s just how it was. He’d made excuses, telling himself ideals were ideals because they were unattainable.
But the young prince was in a far more difficult position, and yet, he didn’t hesitate or falter when it came to protecting his people.
“…Prince Wein.”
“What?”
“Before I answer, I’d like you to allow me a single question.”
“Very well.” Wein’s eyes didn’t contain a glimmer of a doubt. They radiantly gazed forward.
“…The person standing behind you, Prince Wein. What is her relation to you?”
Jiva was thinking back to a memory of a young boy. He had the same translucent hair as the Flahm girl in front of him.
That boy had been a Flahm, too, and had been persecuted for it.
What made him think of that day now?
Jiva finally knew the answer.
“Ninym is my heart.”
I wanted to be like him, Jiva thought.
What kind of question is that?
While Wein maintained his confident tone, Jiva’s question made him cock his head in confusion. He tried to get a read on the diplomat, but Jiva had bowed his head, hiding his expression.
Wein and Ninym used it as a chance to pass a few more notes between themselves.
Maybe I’m a rare sight? Ninym suggested. In the West, Flahm would never be present during diplomatic negotiations.
Then he would have brought it up sooner or with more emotion, Wein replied.
True… Maybe he’s impressed you don’t discriminate between citizens, soldiers, or Flahm.
Ha-ha, so it’s simply because this diplomat is so incredibly empathetic? No way that’s the reason.
But if you’re right, then he might not want to continue negotiating.
It’ll be fine. If that happens, I’ll eat a potato through my nose.
As Wein joked in an easygoing reply, Jiva quietly raised his head across the way.
“—Your Highness, I understand how your heart must feel.” Jiva’s expression was clearer, less burdened or weighed down by something. “Please forgive me for disrespecting those fallen in battle. It seems I’ve misunderstood.”
“…Hmm?”
Wein felt something was off, but Jiva continued on. “There was blood spilled in your country’s name. You’ve fought to claim this land for Natra. You’re determined to protect the citizens. It is all too clear we must take up our bows and arrows.”
“What?!”
“I imagine this will be my final job in Foreign Affairs. But I won’t waste a minute in informing King Fyshtarre of your steadfastness.”
“Wai—”
“Well then, Your Highness, I must make haste to the royal palace. Please allow me to say it was truly an honor to hear your personal anecdotes and exchange words with you.” Jiva bowed deeply and hurriedly excused himself from the room.
Wein and Ninym stared until his back disappeared. They finally lifted their gaze, petrified for some time, and locked eyes.
“Um…Ninym?”
“… I’ll go get the potato.”
Those were her only words.