I Became the Patron of Villains (Novel) - Chapter 129 - Are You a Heretic (4)
Chapter 129 – Are You a Heretic? (4)
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Translated by Jinmu
Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net
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About one month and two weeks after the artificial Outer God crisis caused by Duke Komalon,
“Hoo.”
Shutalian V let out a sigh in Tern.
It was a sigh containing many meanings.
Now that it had become certain that the one who caused the Outer God crisis was Duke Komalon,
the Kingdom of Ashtalon had no choice but to make reparations to the other kingdoms in one form or another.
Still,
that was not what was causing Shutalian V the greatest stress.
From the moment he understood the truth of the incident,
he had expected things to turn out this way,
and had made his own preparations.
He had even, through more than a week of debate at the second emergency conference held one month later,
managed to settle on reasonably rational compensation terms.
And yet,
his expression remained poor.
I should not have prodded Marquis Palladio that day.
He pressed at his brow.
Of course,
it was not as though Marquis Palladio himself had done anything to him.
He had not even seen the marquis’s face since that day.
The true cause,
therefore,
was Yuman.
Again and again,
Shutalian V recalled the things Yuman had said during that conference.
I think that is insufficient.
On this point, I believe a clear apology must be made. To pass over it in such an ambiguous way does not look very good. Ah. Come to think of it, you were like that last time too, were you not?
It sounds very much as though you are suggesting the other countries also bear blame. That does not sound particularly good.
One by one,
whenever Shutalian V opened his mouth,
Yuman found some flaw and attacked it.
Recalling that persistent face,
Shutalian V truly could not understand it.
Ashtalon was not especially close to Rosaria,
but neither were the relations bad,
and the same had been true of the saint.
Yet simply because the king had made one attempt to challenge Marquis Palladio,
that relationship had practically shattered.
“Hoo.”
His head hurt.
At the same time,
his mind filled with questions.
What in the world is Marquis Palladio to him?
No matter how he thought about it,
it was strange that Yuman, the saint, would go so far to protect Marquis Palladio.
The marquis was closely tied to Cardinal Yutia.
And Yutia and Saint Yuman of Rosaria,
though it did not show outwardly,
were wary of one another.
Which made Yuman’s attitude,
which looked almost as though he were taking the marquis’s side,
all the stranger.
And so,
There must be something about Marquis Palladio… I will have to look into it.
Just as he decided he could not simply let it pass,
“Your Majesty, it is time for you to attend the meeting.”
“…Then let us go.”
At that voice,
Shutalian V stood from his seat.
Unlike before,
there was a trace of ease on his face.
From today onward,
Saint Yuman would no longer be attending the meeting.
And so,
setting aside a little of the weight in his heart,
he entered the conference hall and-
stopped.
There,
staring at him as though she meant to devour him,
was a beastwoman with golden eyes,
someone who had not been present until yesterday.
“??”
He did not understand why the Baba Yaga of Colony was looking at him like that.
But before long,
he recalled that she too was very closely connected to Marquis Palladio,
and let out a low sound of understanding.
That day,
Marquis Palladio is someone I should not touch unless absolutely necessary.
With an inwardly exhausted face,
he engraved that resolution deeply.
…Of course,
separate from that resolution,
for the week that followed in Tern,
Shutalian V suffered a suspicious number of petty misfortunes.
…It happened in the height of winter.
####
Roughly two months passed after Alon returned to the marquisate.
For most of that time,
Alon rested.
Because of mana intoxication.
The priests were astonished at how quickly he recovered,
and after some time,
he was indeed able to move around without much trouble.
Even so,
that only meant his body had become lighter.
He still could not properly use mana.
And so,
he spent his days resting,
unable even to dream of serious magical research.
Of course,
that did not mean he was truly idle.
He still had duties as lord of the territory.
He had to process the endlessly boring paperwork that had piled up.
Still,
the process was not as dull as it might have been.
The reason was,
“Hahaha, fool. This body’s victory.”
“Wait. Why did it turn out like this?”
“Fool indeed. To think you could defeat a god at all was arrogance.”
Basiliora.
Alon looked at the two beings seated across a board game similar to chess.
Evan wore the face of a man in shock,
while Basiliora’s tiny upper-body spirit looked unbearably pleased with itself.
The difference in their moods was impossible to miss.
“Hey. Again.”
“Hmph. Why should I? Did you really think this body would grant another match to a wretch like you?”
“Do not talk nonsense. You won once out of thirty and now you are mouthing off?!”
His voice was full of grievance.
For once,
Alon sympathized with Evan completely.
Basiliora had lost more than thirty games,
then won once by chance and was now acting like that.
It was like a novice in a fighting game lucking into one win over an expert and then saying,
So you were trash all along.
“Haah. Your level is too low. I cannot even play with you.”
“Wow. This snake-head is really making me crave snake soup…”
“Hmph. And what can you do about it? Other than tremble like that, what exactly can you do?”
Basiliora opened its mouth wide and coiled its body up higher.
…Though being only a tiny thirty-centimeter spirit body,
it was more cute than intimidating.
“Marquis. Could you not summon this thing properly for once?”
“If I do, the territory would be smashed apart.”
“No, I mean not at full size. Just smaller. About my size. Is that not possible?”
“No.”
It genuinely was not possible.
If Alon followed only his own heart,
he too would have liked to materialize Basiliora and let Evan teach it a lesson,
but unfortunately that was impossible.
Was the cooldown on Salvation of the Wanderer five years? No, ten?
Alon cast a glance toward the bracelet.
The bracelet,
which had once glowed bright red when he summoned Basiliora,
was now dark and dead.
That meant,
according to its settings,
Alon would need to wait five to ten years before he could use it again.
Even so,
he was not particularly concerned.
Because there was another method for using the bracelet.
Well, even in the game, one did not wait for the reuse time. One reset it instead. If I remember correctly… about half a year after the original story begins?
He recalled the person capable of resetting Salvation’s cooldown,
and gave a small shrug.
“As expected, a foolish human cannot defeat this body.”
“…Marquis, this thing flinches every time the Central Tower comes up. There must be something there, so let us just send it there.”
“!? Wait, such cowardly-”
In any case,
recently,
Alon had been able to complete his paperwork without too much boredom,
treating the spectacle of Evan and Basiliora playing as a sort of entertainment.
And then,
when exactly four months had passed,
and Alon’s mana intoxication had eased enough that he could manifest one or two spells,
and the warmth of spring had begun replacing winter’s chill,
“Evan.”
“Yes.”
“…Since when did our territory have an auction house?”
Holding one sheet of paper,
Alon asked.
“Hmm. I believe four months ago. Was that not already reported to you, Marquis?”
“…Yes. I remember that much.”
“…? Then why do you ask?”
Alon checked the figures on the sheet once more.
“…Because for something founded only a few months ago, it is paying an astonishing amount in taxes.”
That was why he had asked,
even though he already knew the auction house existed.
The taxes.
It has only been operating for a few months. How are the taxes already at this level…?
It was not that the absolute amount itself was enormous enough to make one’s eyes burst wide.
But it was far too much to believe it had come from operating an auction house for only a few months.
“Evan.”
“Yes.”
“Could you bring me the owner of this auction house?”
“The owner?”
“Yes.”
Alon wanted to meet the owner.
For the development of the territory.
Though it was not particularly flattering to say,
Alon was rather ignorant when it came to actually running and growing a territory.
He could maintain one well enough,
because he had processed all sorts of documents over time,
but expanding it was another matter.
As a result,
aside from the money Alon himself brought in,
the marquisate’s finances effectively had no major source of additional income.
And even when there was some,
it was consumed by maintenance and became virtually zero overall.
Because of that,
…If the auction house is doing this well, perhaps investing more there and expanding the business could work. Then maybe something like a tourism industry could be built around it.
A rough plan began taking shape in his head.
He needed to meet the auction house owner and have a business conversation.
Even if his plan seemed plausible,
business always involved many variables,
and those with actual experience usually handled it best.
A little later,
after calling for the auction house owner through Evan,
Alon could only fall silent.
“…Hm?”
Because the man who had been brought in as the owner of the auction house was someone far too familiar.
“…Alexion?”
“I greet you, Marquis.”
####
The life of Appraiser Alexion had gone crooked.
If one asked where it all started,
then without question,
it was the moment he met Radan.
Pirate King Radan.
By the time he had suffered one impossible demand after another at Radan’s hands,
and then finally been forced by Radan’s threats to come all the way to House Palladio,
Alexion had truly felt bitter,
wondering what sort of sins he had committed in a previous life.
Of course,
even if one only considered this life,
he had committed a fair number of sins already.
…In any case,
although there had been days when he felt gloomy like that,
Alexion eventually succeeded in rebuilding himself.
His innate talent as a businessman had sharply noticed that quite a few merchant groups quietly passed through House Palladio,
and with a few additional adjustments,
he succeeded in establishing a thriving auction house in this otherwise empty marquisate within only a few months.
“…Why are you here?”
“Haha. One thing led to another.”
Alexion wanted to shout,
Your younger brother the pirate forced me to come here!!!!
but barely held it in.
After all,
saying that would help him in no way whatsoever.
And on top of that,
Radan had already silenced him with a warning to behave properly if he wanted to live.
Having come all the way here because he did not wish to die,
Alexion was naturally careful with his words.
In any case,
though by all rights the situation should have made him very uncomfortable,
Alexion was in fact in quite a good mood.
He could roughly guess why the marquis had called him,
and,
“…I am not especially eloquent, so I will be direct. I want to invest in developing the territory. Could I hear your opinion?”
the marquis was indeed saying exactly what Alexion had expected him to say.
Normally,
it would have been too early to be pleased.
But because Radan had already told him the marquis’s intent,
Alexion could hear those words only as,
I am going to give you money.
No matter what the marquis might be thinking,
Alexion had confidence that with his own skill,
he could draw investment out of him.
And so,
Should I test the waters first with the pretext of tying it into tourism, then slide into the topic of expanding the auction house?
he smiled inwardly,
thinking of how to persuade a marquis who was not hostile to him.
Of course,
Alexion was not so mad as to consider outright cheating someone connected to the pirate king,
but he certainly could have arranged to receive just a little more than originally intended.
“Ahem.”
The moment Alexion cleared his throat,
his eyes suddenly drifted out the window.
There,
on top of a tree,
stood a woman.
She had blond hair,
wore dark-colored clothes,
and was staring fixedly at Alexion.
The moment she confirmed that their eyes had met,
she immediately pulled out a magic orb from her robes.
Then,
as she smiled faintly,
the magic orb lit up and projected an image in front of Alexion.
His expression froze instantly.
Inside the projected image,
there was Radan,
looking at Alexion with an expression that was very strict,
very solemn,
and very serious.
“…”
Clouds gathered once more over Alexion’s face.