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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Deferred Verdict
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Clip-clop, clip-clop.
"...."
"...."
Aside from the steady rhythm of the carriage rolling along the well-paved main road, not a single sound could be heard.
An excessive silence for a group on the move.
"Haha, Sir Beskin. Sorry to drag you along on this long-distance mission when you're so busy with training."
I tried striking up a conversation to break the silence, but...
"...It's fine. Fulfilling the lord's orders is a knight's duty."
"Ahaha... Yes. Glad to hear that."
It was a display of refined composure and ironclad discipline that was almost astonishing. Uncomfortably so.
Id spoken just to fill the quiet, but it only made things more awkward. And I had to endure this for over a month longer.
Damn it! How the hell did it come to this?!
I pulled down the carriage window again, clutching my head in a silent scream. Damn. Had I underestimated Father too much? That sly old fox.
It had all started two weeks ago.
After finishing the exam on Territorial Management Theory and our question-and-answer session, everything began because of the grains of wheat Id presented to Father.
"Isn't this a grain of wheat?"
"Yes, exactly. A grain of wheat."
Father looked up from the grains Id handed him and stared at me.
"Looks like it needs some explanation."
He meant I had to justify why grains of wheat were the answer to his question.
"While wandering through gambling dens and patronizing outside eateries, I noticed something odd. The menus were identical to last years, but the prices had gone up."
"And?"
"Prices fluctuate, sure, but it struck me as strange. Why had only the bread-based dishes increased? So I asked the owner about it."
I picked up one grain and glanced around as I continued.
"The owner said that wheat prices had been rising steadily over the past few years, making it impossible to cover costs without raising prices."
Lies.
"So I thought, What if theres a problem with this years wheat harvest?"
That part wasnt true.
"Thats why, over the past few days, I went around the territories wheat fields, plucking grains here and there. Sure enough, the ones on the outer edges of the fields were visibly withered—even to the naked eye."
This part was real. Thats why Id plucked them.
"Territorial Management Theory is, at its core, a book on governing a territory well. This is my answer, supplemented by my own reasoning that famine isnt far off."
Father said nothing, just watched me.
I met his gaze steadily, eyes brimming with conviction.
I had every reason to be confident.
In my past life, around this time, an unprecedented great famine had hit, leaving my stomach glued to my backbone. The memory was still vivid.
Unlike the northern nobles who failed to secure food, the central nobles had weathered it well by sourcing supplies from somewhere. It stuck in my mind.
Yes.
I planned to use the impending great famine as the starting point to change how the family saw me.
If they believed me and prepared, great. Even if not, once the famine became undeniable, their view of me would shift...
"Baron Geibel."
Huh?
"Yes, my lord."
"How much have prices in the territory risen compared to last year?"
At Fathers sudden question, Baron Geibel rifled through his papers and adjusted his glasses.
"Uh... Most daily necessities are extremely stable, but as the Third Young Master said, wheat prices have risen somewhat."
Baron Geibel had bowed to me again once my exam ended, but that wasnt important. Something felt off.
"Jerome von Carviot."
As I tried to read the room, Father called my full name. A sign of formality.
"Yes, my lord."
"As you predicted, wheat prices are indeed rising. What do you propose we do?"
"Why ask me..."
"As I said before, I despise empty words. Predicting famine is something any of our administrators can do. To pass the test, you need to bring a plan to counter it."
"...?!"
Damn it.
This sly fox hadnt declared me passed yet. Meaning he could drag out the test as long as he wanted.
I ground my teeth inwardly but had no choice. Racking my brain, I recalled past international affairs.
A bit later, my eldest brother had gone to secure food from... the Philador Kingdom, I remembered.
That meant it was already internally approved. So...
"...I suggest importing wheat from the Philador Kingdom."
"Not a domestic territory, but the distant Philador Kingdom?"
"If famine hits, buying from other domestic territories is just moving money from one pocket to another. And if the prestigious Shield Family takes their wheat, it could spark misunderstandings."
"Why not the Five Nations Alliance?"
"The Alliance is weaker than us and on the front lines against the Holy Empire. A great famine would hit them hard. Philador, however, is a perpetually prosperous kingdom. Even in famine, their reserves would hold."
There were formal reasons, but the Alliance had to play a key role as our ally in the upcoming great war. We couldnt let their strength wane.
Philador was an ally too, but screw them. Theyd betray the alliance in the war.
Wearing down their power worked in our favor.
"Which part of Philador should we import from?"
"Marquis Midass Nile territory, of course. It has the kingdoms richest lands, and hes internationally renowned. Even beyond food, its a chance to build ties."
Hed be the lead betrayer.
"How much?"
"As much as possible."
So hed regret it.
"What if theres surplus?"
"No issue. Famine wont be just our familys problem."
This famine would shake the kingdoms central power structure.
"Rumors say the Sword Family is rallying nobles against the royals. We need to soothe the northern nobles too."
And if we could aid our ally, the Five Nations Alliance, even better. I added,
"Any leftovers could go to the Alliance. Nothing inspires gratitude like feeding the hungry."
Itd be good to bind the prideful northern nobles tightly under Fathers reign. Assuming my brother succeeded.
Now, hand the mission to my brother and wrap this up...
"...."
...he should. Huh? Why so quiet?
Looking around, not just Father but all the retainers were staring at me.
"I now deliver the final judgment on todays exam."
As I blinked in confusion, Fathers voice rang out.
"The third son of the Carviot Countship, Jerome von Carviot—your exam is hereby deferred. A noble must honor his words. Until you deliver the answer you proposed, your candidacy for heir remains suspended."
What?
No, damn it. What the hell is this?
"Knight Beskin."
As I scrambled to process the twist,
The Ice Knight, one of the Six Shields, stood crisply at his name.
"Yes, my lord."
"Until Jerome von Carviot completes food negotiations with Marquis Midas in Philadors Nile territory, you are to escort him."
"...!!"
Knight Beskin and I both gaped in shock.
Damn it. My brother should go, not me to that old foxes lair!
No. In the past, my brother failed this mission and we got no food. If I took it over, Id repeat history!
I opened my mouth desperately, but
"Jerome von Carviot, do your utmost to uphold your words. I cannot name an empty promiser as heir candidate."
Before I could speak, the ordeal ended.
That was why I was now riding in this carriage toward a distant foreign land.
Damn it! My brothers failure in Philador negotiations must have had a reason. What was it?
Over a month until Nile territory, but failure wasnt an option. I couldnt stop thinking, even in the carriage.
Then.
Knock, knock.
"Meal time, Third Young Master."
"Ah, yes. Thank you, Sir Ravins."
Sir Ravins, vice-captain of the Blizzard Knight Order, knocked on my carriage door to announce it.
"...."
"...."
The silence was so deep, a dropped spoon would echo through the whole camp.
In this awkward tension, I had to eat daily and devise a success plan within a month.
Ah, fuck.
Should I just quit?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Bacchus von Carviot gazed out the window from his study. He liked this spot, with its panoramic view of the territory.
It reminded him of what he had to protect.
But Arandal, his first knight and confidant, sensed Bacchus was looking a bit farther.
"Thinking of the Third Young Master?"
"That obvious?"
"Yes."
"You ghost."
"Ive served you since he was a boy. Experience like that doesnt fade."
"Tch, you and your mouth."
Bacchus fell silent and turned back to the window, signaling no more talk. But Arandal pressed on undeterred.
"I was shocked by his insight. Never dreamed hed match our exact plan."
Bacchus turned to him. No ignoring that.
"Looked that way?"
"Yes. Thats why you reassigned the task from the eldest to him, right?"
Bacchus shook his head.
"Far from it. The opposite."
"What do you mean...?"
"That fool nailed our contingency plan perfectly, solution and all."
Arandal pondered, then exclaimed Ah! in realization.
"You think someone fed him the answers?"
"Exactly. People dont change overnight. Think he could transform in a month?"
"Then sending Beskin...?"
"The others back the first or second son. Neutral Beskin can judge him objectively."
Arandal gazed at Bacchus in admiration. Hed thought that far in an instant!
"If hes just parroting answers, hell fail. Marquis Midas of Nile isnt easy. Then hes out as candidate."
"And if he succeeds?"
Bacchus paused, then replied slowly.
"The Carviot Countships next lord candidates will number three."
He turned back to the window.
There was one more reason for sending Beskin, unspoken. Arandal knew it.
A faint hope stirred: perhaps Jerome would break his shell on this journey.
Jerome, Ill give you one more chance. Seize it all magnificently.
The heirship. Loyal talent.
He had to claim them with his own strength.
That was the weight borne by the heirs of the Shield Family.