If one were to describe the impression of Duke Gerard, also known as Alistair Daryl Gerard, in one phrase, it would be “a perfect old gentleman.” Whether his attitude was perceived as refined or condescendingly rude depended on the situation.
His hair, a mix of gray and white, appeared silver-gray, and he always used wax to style his hair and beard into a perfect shape. Although already elderly, he was hale and hearty, his slender frame clothed in a well-tailored suit. He carried a polished mithril cane and went everywhere with a light step.
Within the country of Ciel-Terra, he was the first person to be named as a great feudal lord. His domain was financially rich and prosperous due to the Grathrem mines within its territory. The splendor and robustness of his castle were second only to the royal castle.
It was while he was having breakfast in the dining room of his castle that a communication memo was delivered to him.
To have a magical conversation with someone far away, one had to prepare a ritual site and arrange a time with the other party. Since this was not something that could be done frequently, it was common to send messages through communication bureaus or the like. It was similar to a telegram in something like Japan on Earth.
A servant respectfully placed the memo on a tray and bowed his head. Alistair stopped cutting his sausage and picked up the memo.
However, the moment he saw the words “Count Kealy” indicating the sender, Alistair felt disgusted.
A foolish man who had no significant political influence or military power, yet was stubbornly loyal to the former king and did not participate in the coup. Although he was quiet now, he was an internal concern that could destabilize the reign of Hilbert II. There was no way he wouldn’t be annoyed by direct contact from such a person.
Moreover, (though the Count himself did not yet know it) he was a man who would soon have his territory confiscated and his title stripped. It was ridiculous to even deal with him.
He didn’t make the unrefined gesture of openly frowning in front of his servant, but if he could, he would have liked to tear it up without even reading the contents.
The only reason he didn’t do so was that, just in case, by some chance, a super-important message might come from him. He felt he had to read it, really, just as a precaution.
Alistair unfolded the memo and read it, frowning at its strange content.
“…Do you understand what this is saying?”
The servant who had brought the memo read it at Alistair’s prompting, and he too made a face similar to the Duke’s.
“‘Someone slaughtered members of the criminal organization Night Python and kidnapped a captured adventurer girl…and is flying through the air with magic towards Wesala’? W-What is this? I don’t understand.”
“I’d bet on the Count having lost his mind… Just in case, tell the guards to shoot down anything strange that flies by.”
“Understood.”
The servant bowed and left.
The memo also said, ‘Capture the one who flew in and hand him over’ and ‘If he is with the girl, protect her,’ but it was so unimportant that he decided to ignore it.
Incidentally, the inappropriate relationship between Night Python and Alistair, which was whispered about in some circles, was a fact.
But at this time, Alistair was not in the mood to bother inquiring about the contents of the memo with Night Python or telling them about it.
Night Python should know best about Night Python. As an organization that controlled the underworld, they were more quick-eared than anyone else.
If something was happening that involved Alistair, they would contact him, and if not, there was no need to bother talking about it.
He had a secret dinner planned with the leader of Night Python tonight. At most, he thought he might bring it up as a topic of conversation then.
After the sun had set, someone visited Alistair’s castle, blending into the darkness of the night.
It was a well-dressed old man accompanied by several guards.
His sunken eyes shone brightly, and his thin, gnarled fingers gave an ominous impression.
If he wore a robe, he would look exactly like the evil sorcerer from a fairy tale. Because of this, he also gave a comical impression at first glance, but his inside was hundreds of times more monstrous than his appearance.
He was the one who ruled the night world of Ciel-Terra.
The leader of Night Python.
A man who had many names, but at least when meeting with Alistair, he went by the name Graham Baltark.
“Ah, Alistair. I’m glad to see you in good health.”
“You too, Graham. This winter is cold. It’s tough on the old body.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t look affected by it at all.”
Alistair himself greeted Graham and exchanged words casually. Although they were in a relationship where they used each other without letting their guard down, they had a strange relationship of trust because of it.
Graham often visited this castle.
The reason why he used the castle as a meeting place was simply because the Duke’s own residence was the best in terms of confidentiality. Some of the servants were vaguely aware of who Graham was, but they turned a blind eye out of loyalty to the Duke, or kept their mouths shut because they feared the Duke or Graham.
While preparations for dinner were being made, Graham was shown to the drawing-room.
This room, with its ceiling, walls, and floor carpet all densely covered with delicate decorations, was so gorgeous that anyone entering it for the first time would feel dizzy. It was furnished only with practical ‘furniture’ such as tables, chairs, and magic-powered lighting fixtures, but each one was a masterpiece that could practically be called an ornament.
This was a room where search interference worked, preventing magical eavesdropping and peeping.
When Graham came to the castle, it was customary to first discuss business here.
Graham, bringing in his subordinates and guards, was confronted by Alistair, who also led his trusted subordinates.
“That.”
“Yes.”
Without any preamble, Graham prompted his subordinate.
Then, Graham’s subordinate took out a leather bag from his luggage.
It was a sturdy but otherwise unremarkable leather bag, but it was so full that it seemed about to burst. When it was placed on the table, it made a metallic sound.
“Inspect it.”
“Yes.”
Alistair also ordered the official present (to be precise, a person who had obtained the status of a knight and assisted in the management of the territory) to check the contents.
The leather bag, laid on its side, spewed out countless gold coins. It was a dizzying amount of money for the common people, but the official nonchalantly piled them up in stacks of 10, checking their quality as he counted.
“There are no discrepancies.”
“Good, very good.”
In short, it was a bribe.
This money would disappear as Alistair’s personal allowance, and in return, Alistair would do favors for Night Python. But Alistair slid two of the stacks of 10 gold coins back towards Graham across the table.
“Trouble?”
Graham already knew the details and grinned.
“At the western mine. The miners are making a fuss about wanting higher wages and more time off. At this time of national instability, we don’t have time to deal with unnecessary problems.
The foreman who is inciting the miners by saying unnecessary things…well, if he were to have an ‘accident,’ it would be helpful to me.”
“‘Accident,’ huh…”
“Hahahaha!”
The two laughed heartily.
It was the usual work for Graham, and Alistair didn’t feel like he was killing anyone. For Alistair, ‘people’ referred only to those with power and status. The commoners who could only live under the protection of the feudal lord were livestock, and it was natural to slaughter rebellious and useless livestock.
But for some reason, doing so openly would cause trouble, so he was pushing the dirty work onto Night Python.
“The country is still noisy, but how is your business?”
“Well…there are some jobs that can only be done at times like this. We’re making money from that.”
After finishing their business deal, the two began to exchange business information.
The ruler of the underworld and the great feudal lord. There were things that could only be seen from each other’s perspectives. Meeting face-to-face like this and talking about various things brought surprisingly great benefits to both of them.
“Have the details of the land confiscation been finalized?”
“Ah, that matter.”
Graham’s current main concern was the land confiscation that the new king, Hilbert, was secretly preparing.
Taking land from feudal lords who were uncooperative in the coup and redistributing it. The reason Graham knew about this information, which was still being considered internally, was because he heard it directly from Alistair, who had a close relationship with Hilbert.
When the surface world moved, the underworld had no choice but to move as well. By quickly adapting to the new social structure, Night Python could further solidify its control of the underworld.
Furthermore, there were places where economic value would increase due to the confiscation, and conversely, places where it would decrease. Knowing this in advance could generate significant profits.
“It’s not finalized, but it’s about 90% settled. If that plan is acceptable, I have it on hand and can provide it.”
“Wonderful. I thank you for your friendship.”
Alistair took a small folded memo from his pocket, slid it across the table, and handed it to Graham. Graham picked it up with his fingertips and laughed wickedly.
“That noisy Count Kealy is finished with this.”
“That idle man who picked a fight with Night Python at a time like this. Even if the details of the confiscation are not yet finalized, it is certain that he will lose everything. …Speaking of which, this morning, I received a strange message from that Count Kealy…”
It was just as Alistair was about to bring up that communication.
“Excuse the intrusion!”
With a roar, the wall of the drawing-room blew inward.