Chapter 150: Calm Down.

Near Mudside, still unsettled after the aftermath of the war.

Mikkelsen, who had been staring straight at Hardin, tilted his head and asked.

“Isn’t this the perfect opportunity to march all the way to Tread’s main estate?”

“Why are you saying that?”

When Hardin narrowed his eyes and asked back, Mikkelsen shrugged and replied.

“Well, because it was the same during Calpion. We’ve already crushed all their forces, so if we just march in, taking the estate wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

At that, Hardin stopped walking, swallowed a piece of jerky, and slowly turned his head to reply.

“With so many injured, you’re telling me to launch an expedition that far away? And you think the other houses will just let us pass through their lands?”

Even though they had won an overwhelming victory, Daphne’s troops were already worn out after the long battle.

To say they would attack Tread right now was no different from leaping into an orchard full of hornets just for a single apple.

On top of that—

‘There will definitely be someone pulling strings behind this.’

No matter how powerful the Count of Tread’s family was, this war was half-forced from the start.

Besides, Mudside was a place that Princess Medeia had officially invested in.

Even if imperial authority was weak now, for things to escalate this far meant someone influential had to be backing them.

‘From the start… even that man turning into a demonkind must have been because someone moved from behind.’

Which meant storming into the Tread estate now would be like stepping into a lion’s den with their own feet.

As tension tightened on Hardin’s brow, Mikkelsen responded with a frustrated look.

“But shouldn’t we take more while we can? We’ve been attacked one-sidedly—shouldn’t we at least gain something in return…?”

Hardin shook his head firmly and replied.

“We already gained enough.”

“Enough of what?”

As the two bickered, a voice suddenly called out.

“Ma—Manton hyung!”

“Are you feeling any better?”

Hearing the voices from ahead, both of their gazes turned in that direction at the same time.

Seven or eight kids, looking just past ten years old, were gathered there. Among them was Manton, his shoulders burdened with supplies.

Watching quietly, Mikkelsen muttered.

“Those kids are…”

“They’re the neighborhood brats Manton’s been acquainted with.”

Hardin stroked his chin as he answered.

Just then, as Mikkelsen made a faintly surprised expression, Manton was seen replying to the boys with a startled face.

“G—Gazel. What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? We came to check if you’re okay!”

At the front, a freckle-faced boy with orange hair and teary eyes answered.

In response, Manton showed a warm smile and patted the boy’s head with one hand.

“I’m fine. As you can see, perfectly fine.”

“But you’re covered in blood like this.”

“This? A few nights of sleep and I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah… thank goodness. Really, thank goodness…”

Gazel nodded his head, while some of the other kids wiped at their eyes.

It seemed they had all been through a lot of worry.

Then, as if making up his mind, Gazel clenched his fist tightly and reached toward the supplies Manton was carrying.

“What are you doing, Gazel?”

“Give it here, hyung. We’ll help too.”

“You’ll just get in the way. Go back quickly.”

“But…”

Perhaps because he felt Hardin and Mikkelsen’s gazes, Manton answered with an awkward look…

“Come on, let’s help too!”

“Yeah!”

“W-wait a second!”

But the kids rushed in, snatched Manton’s load, and scattered in all directions.

After all that noisy commotion, Hardin chuckled and looked at Mikkelsen.

“So? Still think we didn’t gain anything?”

“Uuugh… I mean, I get what you’re trying to say.”

Mikkelsen groaned, then let his shoulders drop as he continued.

“What I mean is, there isn’t some clear, tangible profit I can really feel in my bones.”

Hardin shrugged and replied.

“Tangible profit? Who says there isn’t?”

“Then what is there?”

“Look there.”

Hardin stretched out his hand, pointing beyond the shore.

Following his finger, Mikkelsen shifted his gaze…

“Come on, tie the rope here!”

“Quickly now! We have to haul it up before the sun sets!”

A group of people were pulling the grounded warships of the Count of Tread onto the shore.

And among them—

“Hang in there, Kkokko! Once this is over, I’ll let you rest plenty!”

– Kkieeeek!

With Beryl mounted on its head, the Cockatrice strained, dragging the Tread warships tied to ropes across the tidal flats.

Watching this absurd scene, Mikkelsen’s eyes widened as he asked again.

“Are you saying… those ships are ours now?”

At his words, Hardin’s lips curled into a grin.

“Of course. Do you know how much just one of those costs? At least several million gold each.”

“…Whaaat? S-several million?”

That meant… this was enormous.

Mikkelsen’s eyes widened in shock.

Nine ships anchored near the tidal flats.

They were all a bit damaged, but nothing beyond repair—they could definitely be restored and put to use.

Hardin smirked slyly.

‘We’ve got a port, we’ve got ships. If we use them well, it’ll be goodbye to hardship, hello to prosperity.’

Once they had a port, the natural next step was to open trade routes and expand their influence.

And for that, the most essential thing was ships.

The problem was… ships were even more outrageously expensive and harder to obtain than building the port itself.

But with ships of that size, nearly ten of them handed over just like that—if this wasn’t a real profit, then what was?

“Eheheh, heheheh.”

Hardin let out a laugh, quiet enough that no one nearby would hear. Just then, as Mikkelsen was staring blankly toward the shoreline—

Whoosh!

A shadow suddenly swept in front of the two of them.

“Eeek!”

“Wh-what the—!”

What appeared before them was a knight with sharp features and silver hair fluttering in the wind.

“Your… Highness?”

Princess Medeia stood there, gazing at the two of them with an expressionless face.

Hardin narrowed his eyes and asked back.

“What is this about, all of a sudden?”

“Hand over one ship.”

“…Pardon?”

“One of those ships. I’m saying, give me one.”

Snap!

Medeia pointed her finger toward the tidal flats.

Hardin looked that way for a moment, scratched the back of his head, and asked with an awkward smile.

“So you mean… Your Highness wishes to take one of those ships for yourself?”

“Yes. You catch on quickly.”

Hardin’s gaze shifted to the right.

There, clearly visible, was the vessel carrying Medeia—flying the imperial flag.

“But Your Highness already has a ship… right there.”

“That belongs to the Imperial Family. It is not mine.”

So she wanted one of her own, personally?

‘Well, that would be more convenient for her.’

Even as a princess, using imperial property meant countless bothersome procedures.

Besides, that ship was spoils of war taken from the Count of Tread.

In other words, it could also serve as a symbol to elevate Medeia’s prestige.

But still…

“Ahem. Then I’ll give it to you cheap.”

“…What did you say?”

Hardin cleared his throat, then darted his eyes sideways as he spoke.

“Half price. No, I’ll let it go for thirty percent of the cost. Hah, that’s practically giving it away. Isn’t that right, Mikkelsen?”

“…Excuse me?”

He wanted to sell the ship—for money?

And to the princess, no less?

Mikkelsen, dumbfounded, leaned toward Hardin and whispered.

“B-but Young Master. You’re really going to take money? Her Highness even sent reinforcements for us!”

Well, yes. That was true, but still…

Hardin shot back bluntly.

“Did I call her here? She came on her own, didn’t she?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t need to know.”

Thunk!

Hardin jabbed Mikkelsen’s side with his elbow.

What, was he supposed to just let a chance to make money slip by?

— Varlach… you really are too much.

For some reason, it felt like Linian’s voice was whispering in his ear.

‘Tch. If you just hand things out for free, people get spoiled. I’m doing this for that girl’s sake, really.’

Shaking his head as if answering inwardly, Hardin turned his gaze back to Medeia and spoke.

“Well then, no more and no less—if Your Highness could just pay exactly 1 million gold, I’ll hand it over cleanly. How about it?”

Gulp.

Hardin swallowed, staring straight into Medeia’s eyes.

“……”

At that moment, Medeia simply looked back at him with her blank expression.

‘What’s with that look?’

Hardin flinched slightly as he waited for her answer.

‘She’s angry. She’s definitely angry.’

Sweat beaded on Mikkelsen’s forehead as he shifted uneasily.

As the three stood in silence for a moment—

Medeia broke it.

“Fine. 1 million gold it is.”

“Oh-hoh, wise decision, very wise!”

Good, see? I told you it’d work!

Hardin grinned broadly, rubbing his hands together.

“Then, how would Your Highness like to settle the payment? Well, since it’s us, you could always pay later, but then again, clearing it up right now might not be a bad thing either…”

“I agree. Let’s settle it right now.”

“Well, if that’s Your Highness’s wish, then so be it.”

Hardin’s lips curved upward, refusing to fall, when—

Rustle.

Medeia pulled out a small piece of parchment from her robes and scribbled something with a wax pencil.

“Take it.”

“Hmm? What’s this?”

“The payment.”

Hardin’s eyes went wide as he read what was written.

Princess Medeia the Fourth receives ownership of one warship possessed by the Daphne Viscounty.

In return, 1 million gold will be deducted from the 10 million gold she invested into the Daphne Viscounty, and this deed certifies the agreement made between both parties.

“……”

Staring at the parchment, Hardin blinked blankly and asked again.

“Wait, this is… the money you’re giving?”

“Yes. That should be sufficient. Why, is there a problem?”

“Well, not exactly a problem… I just thought Your Highness would be paying in actual gold. Hahaha. Isn’t that right, Mikkelsen?”

Zap.

Hardin shot him a glare, but—

“W-well… Her Highness’s word must be correct, mustn’t it?”

Mikkelsen quickly stepped back.

Then Medeia looked back at Hardin and added.

“While you’re at it, handle the repairs as well.”

“……”

Hah, this one’s no ordinary person either.

— Varlach! Could I ask you for a favor this time?

— Wh-what is it? If it’s something troublesome, then…

— It’s nothing much.

— Every time you say that, it always turns out to be a nuisance.

In that instant, he recalled all those unavoidable “little favors” Linian had once asked of him.

‘She really has a knack for inheriting the most useless habits.’

Well, what could he do now?

It was true he owed her, and that they were in the same boat.

Hardin met Medeia’s eyes for a brief moment, then finally let out a long sigh.

“Yes, yes, I understand. I’ll repair it along with the other ships, so just take it when it’s ready.”

“Good. I’ll make good use of it.”

At that, Medeia allowed the faintest trace of a smile to appear on her lips.

“Then, I’ll be going…”

Just as Medeia turned her back to leave—

“Wait a moment.”

“What is it?”

At Hardin’s call, Medeia halted in place.

“There’s just something I’d like to ask Your Highness.”

“Speak.”

Hardin tapped Mikkelsen on the back.

“You. Go back to work.”

“Why? You’re not coming with me?”

“Just go, already.”

Hardin narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

“…Ah, yes. Sorry.”

Mikkelsen gave an awkward laugh, quickly slipping away.

Now, only Hardin and Medeia remained.

Hardin crossed his arms, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Is Your Highness’s position all right?”

“What position are you talking about?”

“You’ve involved yourself in a conflict between houses, even leaving the Eastern Front to do so. Wouldn’t that make things a little… complicated for you?”

No matter how little power or influence Medeia had, her intervention here could easily be seen as the Imperial Family directly interfering in disputes among the nobility.

That meant Medeia had taken on political burdens from multiple directions.

Medeia looked at Hardin for a moment, then answered in a tone of mild surprise.

“To think you considered that much. You have a surprisingly meticulous side.”

“…Just what do you take me for?”

When Hardin frowned, Medeia replied.

“…There won’t be much of an issue. There is someone who granted me permission for this. Besides, I also have the justification of having invested in Mudside.”

“Permission? From who?”

“Someone you don’t need to know about.”

“Tch, fine.”

Hardin clicked his tongue, but in truth, that was as good as an answer.

There were only a handful of people Medeia would address as “that person,” and among them, the one most likely to want to keep nobles in check was obvious.

‘So that’s how it is.’

It meant “that person” was backing her.

Hardin’s lips curved upward, which made Medeia frown and ask.

“Why are you making such an unpleasant face?”

“Unpleasant? What did I do?”

“Should I call it lewd, or should I call it distasteful?”

“Hey now, that’s harsh!”

Damn it! It’s not like I can punch her!

Clenching fists he couldn’t swing, Hardin flared up in frustration.