13 (24)

Louis glanced to the side. There, the aqueduct was under construction. An aqueduct was a bridge that carried water. The principle was simple: water flowed from high to low, and the long bridge transported it using a gradual slope. However, the one being built now incorporated Magitech.

It was a design proposed by the Archmage Euclid. The main difference from a traditional aqueduct was that certain sections ignored the slope entirely. The destination was Gedria. If the aqueduct were completed successfully, an enormous amount of water would be supplied to Gedria.

Louis briefly imagined what would happen once water reached that land. The reason Pantalist was barren was simple: a lack of water. First, second, and third—it was always water. But if massive quantities of water were poured into the region, something would surely change drastically.

What he anticipated most was bananas. In Gedria, bananas only grew in a limited area with abundant moisture. But if irrigation expanded, large-scale production might become possible.

People of the Duchy of Eron despised bananas, considering them barbarian food. Yet Louis had realized their value through the System. Bananas had a production value +2 higher than average wheat.

Gedria’s geography formed a natural basin, making its climate unusually warm. Bananas only reproduced within Gedria, and even there only in puddled areas where water collected. They were extremely rare, but their remarkable productivity allowed small plots of land to sustain the population of the Huns.

‘An enormous amount of food could pour out of this land. Even more than now. The population of the territory will certainly explode.’

At dawn, Count Raiden was drinking with three members of the inspection delegation. Their names were Ensis, Hermos, and Ron.

All three were deeply loyal to the King and had longstanding ties with Raiden. In truth, Raiden held the greatest reputation within the delegation, so it was natural that the others did not suspect him.

But the world often moved this way.

Count Raiden had abandoned the card called “King” and chosen a new master—Louis.

Ron laughed incredulously, stroking his long beard.

“I can’t even tell who the real king is anymore.”

It was a meaningful remark.

Raiden thought, Ron must be holding onto something. Ron had always been the type to seize a thread and suddenly grasp the core of the matter.

Hermos followed with a silent smile, wrinkles spreading across his face. Opening his thick jaw, he spoke cheerfully.

“We have a choice. A stone that sticks out can simply be shaved down.”

Ensis, who had been sitting quietly, frowned.

“You must be cautious. Do you not understand the role Duke Louis is playing right now? If Louis dies and Atila turns his army south, what then? Gaimer was stronger than the Duchy of Eron. Yet it has already fallen. When the shield disappears, the spear strikes.”

“The same logic applies,” Ron replied. “Now is the best opportunity. If not now, we cannot predict how powerful Louis will become. Atila? That barbarian is not the problem. The lion is.”

Now it was Raiden’s turn.

Maintaining a calm expression was agony for him. The inspection delegation was no ordinary delegation. It was deeply tied not only to the King but also to House Boarne.

More than the King, House Boarne feared Louis.

If given the chance, they wanted to kill him.

Louis was the eye of the storm. The key point was that if Louis died, the seemingly powerful alliance surrounding him could collapse instantly.

Louis was unmarried and had no children. If he died, House Pontina would pass to Pontina Derek—that wanderer.

Raiden knew Derek well. He was indecisive. He lacked charisma and had no strength to sustain the Pontina family. Rather than maintaining the current order, everything would crumble like a sandcastle.

‘But it won’t collapse. Never.’

Until recently—before seeing Louis in person—Raiden had been prepared to support the King and House Boarne. Considering his position, maintaining his previous stance would have been the easiest path.

But then he met Louis.

‘Perfect.’

‘He must not end like this. If he becomes king, then the duchy itself….’

As always, Raiden swallowed the rest of his thoughts.

Marquis Gregory of House Boarne had requested his cooperation. Raiden had even been given poison.

It was an extremely lethal toxin brought from a distant southern land. Anyone who drank it would bleed from the eyes and nose and die within seven minutes.

Raiden’s greatest curiosity was how they had obtained such poison. The money required for it could have paid the wages of a thousand peasants for nearly three months.

Yet Gregory had handed it over without hesitation.

Raiden disliked that.

Neither Gregory nor the King were entirely bad men. Raiden had lived nearly fifty years and had no desire to belittle them.

But that was as far as it went.

Raiden wanted to see the duchy grow greater. He wanted his family to shine and prosper.

Compared to Louis, the other two were merely schemers.

‘This will be the perfect opportunity to earn his trust. And for me… it will also be a moral decision.’

The decision made at this moment would change something enormous.

The inspection delegation traditionally offered a ceremonial drink to the Duke. By custom, it represented the King’s own offering. The Duke could not refuse it.

Yet to use that tradition for assassination would stain the long-honored custom of the delegation. It would stain history itself.

Still, if it was not done this way, they could not harm Louis.

Three pairs of eyes slowly turned toward Raiden.

He knew what those eyes demanded.

They were urging him to approve the plan. The final decision rested with him.

From a long-term perspective, such an action should never be taken. But politics was often built by schemers.

In the first place, the King’s demands toward Louis had been absurd.

‘This country needs change. And for that….’

Raiden slipped his hand into his coat and grasped a silk pouch.

Inside was the poison.

It felt both icy and burning at the same time, pulsing like a living thing.

Cold.

With a cynical murmur, he placed it on the table. It was the object he had received personally from Marquis Gregory—and had never let leave his person.

The room was silent enough to hear only breathing.

“Let’s do it.”

“The King and House Boarne promised immense gold and advancement.”

“Count Raiden, I will follow your decision. It is not too late to refuse. If you reject it, I will obey.”

This was the critical moment.

Raiden wiped his forehead. Cold sweat ran down his face.

Even though the decision had already been made, this moment was strangely unbearable.

Perhaps it was simply human nature.

“Tomorrow at this hour, we will summon two more members. Then we shall proceed.”

It was essentially approval.

Since decisions were made by majority vote, even if the other two objected, the plan would still move forward.

Greed gleamed in the eyes of the two men.

Raiden carefully picked up the pouch and returned it to his chest. The tension seemed to vanish suddenly.

But it only seemed that way.

Deep within, each of them felt a heavy impulse—a vague urge to flee.

Raiden’s throat itched.

He realized he would not sleep tonight.

He might have to meet Duke Louis immediately.

Politics required justification. If the assassination were exposed publicly, the King’s authority would fall dramatically.

Louis walked among the members of the delegation.

Dozens of eyes followed him.

A few days earlier, Raiden had visited him secretly. Though nervous, he had reported everything.

Only then had Louis confirmed his sincerity.

Count Raiden was trustworthy. Louis raised his evaluation of him by one level.

He then casually scanned the names on the list Raiden had revealed. Those men knew what would happen today.

Their expressions were calm.

Louis nearly laughed. They must have practiced that composure countless times.

Still, he had anticipated something like this.

Positions like his always attracted danger.

His father had survived five assassination attempts during his lifetime. The King himself had likely faced several as well.

Louis did not view it purely negatively. It was also proof that he had grown powerful.

He could have arrested them beforehand.

But he chose not to.

The more publicly such an event was exposed, the better.

Wine was poured, and the cup was placed before Louis.

This cup represented the trust between King and lord.

‘They said I have some resistance to poison… but could I survive this one?’

Still, the poison called Chilbosha was extremely potent.

Venoms from hot regions were always deadly. Extracted from such creatures, this toxin might challenge even his reborn body.

But one thing was certain.

Even if it caused instant death for others, it would not kill him immediately.

Louis lifted the cup slowly.

Strangely, most people lowered their heads—but a few glanced sideways.

They wanted to see the result.

Louis paused and called the names of those who had met his gaze one by one.

Two others had behaved similarly, so he called them as well.

The room stirred in confusion.

No one understood what he was doing.

But the five men who stepped forward—excluding Raiden—were trembling violently.

Only fools would fail to grasp the situation now. Nobles were experts in alliances and betrayal. Their faces turned pale, sweat streaming down their temples.

Louis was releasing killing intent.

“Do you know why I called you?”

“I… I do not know.”

“There is something suspicious about this cup.”

The room erupted in murmurs.

The implication was obvious.

Louis handed the cup to Ron.

“Drink it. Do not finish it—we must let the others try as well.”

Louis spoke jokingly, but to the conspirators it sounded like disaster.

The moment Ron drank it, he would die miserably.

This was no ordinary poison—it was the infamous Chilbosha.

“I… I cannot possibly drink it. This wine was bestowed upon Your Grace personally by King Gridio Orfendius. It carries special meaning.”

He spoke reluctantly, but the commotion only grew louder. His voice was terrified, cracked—and his entire body trembled like a leaf.

“Oh? So the King personally gave me this wine?”

Louis infused his voice with mana so that everyone could hear clearly.

No one in the hall could miss his words.

At Louis’s signal, Boromir dragged in a prisoner.

The man was a condemned criminal—a murderer who had killed more than ten women. He was so vile that even the colosseum refused him; he was marked for immediate execution.

Louis had summoned him for one reason.

“Drink.”

The prisoner blinked with bloodshot eyes, unsure what was happening. Bowing repeatedly to Louis, he took the cup and drank.

Two seconds.

That was all.

The prisoner dropped the cup, spilling red wine across the floor.

“Grrrk…!”

He looked around desperately, clutching his throat, as if trying to speak.