Reincarnated as the Descendant of a Fallen Noble

Chapter 67: The Target is the Port.

The word “port” alone was enough to make one’s heart swell.

Hardin’s face was filled with excitement.

Malion held up a piece of parchment and slowly began to speak.

“First of all, the surveying required for the port construction was completed a week ago. Based on that, I’ve already commissioned the design to the craftsmen, and I’ll report the exact timeline and budget as soon as I have them. However… it will proceed within the limits that won’t burden the family’s finances.”

“Yes, it’s important not to overdo it.”

“Hoho, a port… I’m excited. How many ships will it be able to dock?”

“We’re thinking of a size that can accommodate up to thirty ships. Though we’ll know the specifics once we receive the blueprint.”

Cobalt and the retainers nodded.

Seeing that, Hardin crossed his arms with a satisfied smile.

“Phew, thirty? That’s quite bold from the start.”

Compared to the days in Venetus, it was only half the size.

However, considering the family’s current state, it was enormous.

Thirty sailing ships from different merchant guilds and noble families docked in one place, with sailors staying in Mudside, using inns and eating meals.

If it turned out like that, then Mudside would inevitably grow from a mere coastal village into a grand port city.

‘Just the thought of it is already making my chest swell with pride.’

While Hardin was beaming, Malion adjusted his glasses and answered.

“Yes, I figured that much was necessary to ensure operations proceed smoothly.”

“Yes, if you’re from Daphne, you should have at least that much boldness. Get it going quickly. Hohoho!”

“I’m already looking forward to it.”

As the warm atmosphere continued, Malion went on.

“If the port is built as I expect, I anticipate the catch will increase at least fivefold.”

“Fivefold? That’s an impressive outcome.”

“You’ve worked so hard, Third Young Master.”

“Hard work? No, the real effort was from my brother who reclaimed Mudside.”

When the retainers offered words of praise, Malion smiled with pride and looked at Hardin.

But for some reason, Hardin’s eyebrows twitched.

‘Hmm? Did I just hear something strange?’

Hardin scratched his forehead and asked again.

“Uh, wait a second. Malion, what did you just say?”

“I said it was Brother who truly did the hard work…”

“No, not that. You said something about the catch.”

“Yes, I said that once the port is built, the catch will increase fivefold.”

“Why would the catch increase from building a port?”

Malion tilted his head and answered.

“Well, because the number of fishing boats that can dock will increase.”

“The number of fishing boats will increase?”

“Yes, didn’t I mention it earlier? That we’ll be able to dock up to thirty ships.”

“…”

In that moment, Hardin’s body stiffened.

“Are those thirty ships you mentioned fishing boats, by any chance?”

“Yes, of course they are. Isn’t that obvious?”

Blink, blink.

Hardin blinked blankly, repeatedly closing and opening his eyes.

Bang!

Suddenly, he slammed the desk hard and shot up from his seat.

“Hey now, what are you all talking about? If you’re only going to dock fishing boats, that’s a wharf or a ferry dock, not a port!”

“But it’s large enough to dock thirty ships, isn’t it? That should be more than enough to call it a port.”

“That’s right, Young Master.”

When Malion looked at the retainers, they all nodded in agreement.

But Hardin clenched his fists and shouted with an expression that said, “What nonsense is this?”

“Of course I meant thirty sailing ships! Sailing ships! Only when we can dock that many can we call it a proper port!”

“…”

In an instant, silence fell over the meeting room.

Everyone stared at Hardin in disbelief.

‘What kind of nonsense is that?’

‘Thirty sailing ships? That’s completely unrealistic…’

Malion let out a deep sigh and asked again.

“Brother, thirty sailing ships?”

“Yes, sailing ships.”

Hardin replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Malion’s brow furrowed.

“Please be serious. What kind of nonsense is that?”

“Nonsense?”

“Do you understand what it means to build a port that can dock thirty sailing ships?”

“What meaning is there in building a port? You just build it.”

Malion was momentarily at a loss for words, his mouth hanging open, when Viscount Cobalt pressed his temple with his fingers and spoke up in his place.

“Hardin, if we’re talking about a port that can accommodate thirty sailing ships… even if you search the entire eastern coastline, there are probably fewer than five such ports.”

“Really? Then we’ll be the family that owns the sixth one.”

Do they not understand what I’m saying?

Or… did I say something that could be misunderstood?

As the lord let out a faint groan, Malion slowly raised his head again and asked.

“Brother, do you intend to build a trade port in Mudside? Like the old Venetus?”

“Of course. Why else would we have gone through all that trouble?”

“…What?”

When Hardin nodded without hesitation, Malion was thrown into confusion.

“A trade port…?”

It wasn’t entirely absurd.

The sea at Mudside stretched like tendrils deep into the Empire’s interior. Aside from the swift currents, its geographical features weren’t bad.

And most importantly, there wasn’t a sizable trade port in the surrounding area.

Because of that, merchant guilds and noble families that relied on trade were forced to use land routes or pay expensive fees to use far-off trade ports.

What if they could really build a trade port in Mudside?

‘We could absorb all that demand.’

But that was only an ideal scenario, possible only if everything went perfectly according to plan.

Malion adjusted his glasses out of habit.

‘When has anything ever gone perfectly in this world?’

They would have to hire a massive labor force, construct the infrastructure to accommodate them, build a cargo yard for transporting goods, pave roads to the manors, and finally obtain official approval from the Empire for establishing a trade port.

And most importantly, even putting aside all those towering tasks, the current state of the family lacked the most crucial thing.

Malion let out a deep sigh and spoke.

“…Ten million gold.”

“Huh?”

“To build a trade port on the scale you mentioned, Brother, it would require at least ten million gold.”

“Ten million gold?”

“Yes.”

As Hardin scratched his chin, the retainers beside him spoke with grim expressions.

“To build a port capable of docking thirty sailing ships, you’d need foundation work, breakwater construction, and an enormous number of laborers. What you’re suggesting right now is completely unrealistic, Young Master.”

“Ten million gold… how could our family possibly afford such an astronomical sum?”

At that, Hardin tilted his head and replied.

“Well, we just need to raise it. It’s not like it’s impossible.”

Excuse me? That’s absolutely an astronomical amount of money.

Ten million gold isn’t some common dog’s name…

As the look of shock deepened on everyone’s faces, Viscount Cobalt shook his head and spoke.

“Hardin, there isn’t even a single million gold in the family’s treasury right now. How do you plan to raise such a huge amount?”

“We’ll just get investment. Simple as that.”

“Investment?”

What is he even saying?

Malion’s expression twisted.

“Brother, who in the world would invest such a large sum in our family?”

“Why not? If you search, you’ll find someone.”

“There isn’t anyone. Absolutely not.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“I’m just stating the facts.”

As Malion replied coldly, Hardin shrugged and responded.

“Then I’ll go find someone who’ll invest. Just consider that it’s happening, everyone.”

Thud!

With that, Hardin exited the meeting room.

“…”

A moment of silence followed.

Then Viscount Cobalt let out a deep sigh and spoke with a voice filled with concern.

“This time, Hardin’s actions seem too excessive.”

“Of course they are.”

“The Young Master is right!”

The retainers quickly chimed in with agreement.

From the territorial war to the liberation of Mudside—

Everyone knew how much Hardin had accomplished so far.

But still—

‘This time, even for the Young Master, it’s a no.’

‘A trade port… and ten million gold…’

With the family’s current situation, raising that kind of money was impossible from the start, and even if they somehow did, there were certainly better ways to use it.

Moreover, everything Hardin had accomplished so far had been with the sword.

This wasn’t his area—administration and management were completely different matters.

“Phewwww… Malion.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Keep a close watch on Hardin.”

“Yes! Of course I will.”

Malion replied with a determined voice, furrowing his brow with resolve.

---

Midday, inside Malion’s room.

“Nnngghhh…”

Seated at his desk, Malion was writing on a blank parchment with a lead stylus.

With a grave expression, he pressed each letter firmly as he wrote.

Then it happened.

“Are you still not done, Malion?”

“A-almost finished, Brother.”

From the bed, Hardin—holding a bundle of parchment in one hand and chewing on jerky—lifted his head slightly and called out to Malion.

“Hey, if you leave it to me, I’ll take care of it. Why bother putting yourself through all this?”

“No, Brother. If it’s about writing letters… that’s my duty. I am the steward of the family, after all.”

A troubled smile rose on Malion’s face.

Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and his lips were dry and cracked.

‘I’m so tired…’

But Malion didn’t stop his hand.

What he was writing now was a letter requesting investment for the port construction project.

Once Malion finished drafting these letters, they would be sent to relevant noble houses through carrier pigeons and the retainers traveling outside the territory.

The problem was that while letters were going out, hardly any were coming back.

And even when replies did arrive, they were, of course, mostly refusals.

“Ughh… my arm…”

As Malion massaged his palm and stretched, Hardin swung his leg casually and spoke.

“Your arm hurts? That’s why I said to just let me take care of it.”

“N-no, Brother. It’s just a bit stiff, that’s all.”

Malion quickly shook his head.

‘I absolutely must not let Brother handle this.’

A few days ago, Malion had seen a letter that Hardin had written—with the Lord himself.

Just remembering the content was enough to make Malion break into a cold sweat and drain the color from his face.

Sure, that man had solved major issues for the family recently, but only when it came to wielding the sword.

‘Securing investment isn’t something you can just force through like swinging a sword.’

Even now, he felt a tightening in his chest.

Then, Hardin let out a long sigh and asked again.

“Shouldn’t I just go out and secure the investment myself right now?”

“No, Brother. Please continue reviewing those documents. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Nnngghhh… is that so.”

Hardin let out a frustrated groan as he read through the parchment in his hand.

It was a list Malion had prepared—noble families and merchant guilds in the region that might potentially invest.

Once Hardin made a selection, Malion would draft and send letters on his behalf.

Thanks to this setup, Malion’s arm felt like it might fall off, and the shadows under his eyes only grew longer and deeper...

‘If I just let him act on his own, everything we’ve built so far could come crashing down.’

This ridiculous idea of constructing a port.

If Hardin saw for himself, again and again, that there were no houses willing to invest, then he would eventually come to terms with reality and back down.

Malion was sacrificing himself.

To show his brother the truth, for the peace of the family...

Hardin let out a long sigh and asked again.

“Malion, do I really have to choose someone from this list?”

“Yes, of course. Those are the only ones with even the slightest chance.”

“Really? Somehow, none of them appeal to me.”

Of course none of them would.

Would anyone in their right mind invest that much in our family at this point?

Malion cursed silently through his eyes, unable to scream it aloud.

Then, Hardin exhaled loudly through his nose and tossed the parchment to the side.

“Tch, boring. This is getting us nowhere.”

He slumped down, practically lying back, and lazily picked up a journal that had been rolling around the bed.

It was a sort of bulletin regularly sold by the information guild, filled with news—or rather, gossip—from all corners of the Empire.

Things like “100 Orcs vs. 10 Trolls,” ghost stories spreading across the Empire, and other absurd yet oddly captivating stories.

Even Malion had been subscribing to it, since despite being useless, it was often intriguing.

“The current status of the Empire’s Seven Great Beauties, huh…”

With a bored, idle look on his face, Hardin muttered to himself like some jobless shut-in, flipping through the journal.

He looked tired, drained somehow.

Watching him from the corner of his eye, Malion slowly licked his dry lips.

‘Looks like he’s starting to wear out.’

Yes, surely even Brother isn’t so foolish that he wouldn’t recognize reality by now.

That getting investment for something like a trade port is impossible.

That there isn’t a single sane noble house willing to invest that kind of money in our family.

They had already sent letters to dozens of places, even sent retainers out multiple times—yet there had been no replies. Anyone with eyes could see what that meant.

‘Just a little more.’

Then Brother would surely give up cleanly.

The thought that his ordeal was finally approaching its end made the corners of Malion’s mouth twitch with anticipation.

While a long silence settled over the room—

Suddenly, Hardin turned his head slightly and asked,

“Malion, mind if I ask you something?”

“What is it, Brother?”

“You see here, in the section about the Empire’s Seven Great Beauties—there’s someone called the Fourth Princess Medeia. Do you… know anything about her?”

At that, Malion swiftly turned around and responded to Hardin.

“Princess Medeia the Fourth? I don’t know much in detail… but why do you ask?”

Malion tilted his head, puzzled, as he returned the question.