Chapter 105
My summer working hours are similar to the sun’s hours of operation. With the long daylight, it’s hard to gauge the passage of time, which leads to unfortunate overtime. How unfair is that? I don’t work shorter hours in winter due to the short days, so why do I voluntarily work longer in summer? Have I developed a slave mentality over the past four years?
Of course, ideally, I’d enjoy a refreshing schedule with punctual arrivals and departures. But if that were the case, I’d end up overwhelmed with work, leading to a near-death experience by the end of each quarter. In retrospect, it’s just a matter of dying now or dying later.
So today, I could only return to the mansion late in the evening.
“Carl, welcome back!”
And there was Marghetta, greeting me at the mansion’s main entrance.
“Mar? What brings you out here at this hour?”
Though I called it late evening, it was practically night. Everyone should already be in their rooms after finishing dinner and a brief chat.
For a moment, I worried that the issue I had been anxious about had finally come to fruition. Yeah, I had neglected my guests for too long. It would be a huge insult for a host to leave invited guests unattended for several days.
At least my neglect was unintentional, a byproduct of work. Marghetta is quite the understanding one, but under normal circumstances, anyone else would feel insulted and leave after two days.
“I will never forget this! I will lodge a formal complaint in the name of the Valenti Duke!”
Imagining Marghetta with a flushed face, crying and shouting these words caused me some heartache. I mean, the calm person who maintained composure even after her marriage proposal was rejected would get mad? Now that’s a point of pride in its own way.
First things first, I should apologize. The fact that she was still here and hadn’t left without a word meant there was still a chance to salvage this—
“You must be exhausted. Here, have some of this. I heard honey water is great for fatigue.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Before I could say a thing, Marghetta thrust a cup into my hands.
“It’s hot out, and you’ve been working hard. You’re not pushing yourself too much, right?”
Her kind, yet worry-laden voice made me feel a bit awkward. I felt strange being doted on by someone younger. I always felt a little embarrassed when Louise used to show concern over me, no matter how difficult my circumstances were.
Nodding to reassure her that I was okay, Marghetta finally allowed a smile to blossom on her face.
“I know how hard you work, Carl. So, during the break, you don’t have to worry about the club.”
She added that even advisors deserve a break, which made me form a slight smile. I was thankful, but it was exhausting too. It’s not as if I enjoy doing this. It’s just that if I don’t do it, there’s no one else to handle those fools.
The moment I shout, “An advisor deserves freedom!” and run away, the unsupervised situation will blow up everywhere. And the Crown Prince? He’d probably demote me from noble to slave.
…Wait, was I always a slave to begin with?
“I’ve accomplished what Carl had faith in me for, so I hope you can also rest a little.”
“Excuse me?”
What’s she on about?
I already felt guilty for leaving Marghetta unattended, so expecting anything from her given the current situation was downright crazy.
Stumped, I stood quietly, but it seemed like Marghetta had interpreted my silence differently. She raised her head with a look of pride, though it mostly looked like she was looking up at me since she was shorter.
“Today, the princes were suggesting going outside the capital.”
Damn it.
Her matter-of-fact tone contrasted sharply with the absurdity of what she said, jolting me awake. Go where? Outside the capital? What nonsense was this?
Seriously? Look at them building up to something…
Their intentions were glaringly clear. They weren’t genuinely interested in other regions. They were probably thinking of heading to Louise’s territory to make connections with her acquaintances. But going straight to Louise’s land would be too obvious, so they’d work on building a facade by exploring other areas.
You idiots! Instead of trying to woo her acquaintances, could you not just try wooing Louise herself?
“Of course, the princes seemed more interested in the capital, and so they retracted their words.”
I was seething with anger, but Marghetta’s next words managed to calm me down. Thank goodness. I nearly found myself juggling the Prosecutor’s Office duties and an overseas business trip at the same time.
Once I calmed down, my thoughts started to align. She had waited for me until late at night, deliberately informing me of the situation, sporting that proud expression while mentioning my trust in her.
She stopped it.
Marghetta had prevented the situation from going out of control. Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been any reason for her to act this way.
Honestly, when I invited Marghetta to the mansion, I hoped she would step in if the princes tried something reckless. That was just a tiny glimmer of hope, though—there’s no way I’d want to throw that massive responsibility onto her.
It seemed like a minor misunderstanding existed between Marghetta and me.
I’m relieved.
Thankfully, that misunderstanding ended up saving me.
“I understand. I need to repay Marghetta’s trust as well.”
At that, Marghetta beamed but seemed somewhat embarrassed. What’s this? Was there more on her mind?
“Lady Louise played a huge role in this.”
Ah, it’s nothing too serious.
“Still, that doesn’t mean your efforts mean nothing.”
I also lean on Louise when it comes to keeping the princes in check, so that’s only natural. In fact, Marghetta noticing that Louise is the perfect brake on them and acting on it is quite admirable.
When your home is peaceful, you feel at ease wandering outside. The powerhouse duo consisting of Louise, who has the strength to rein those blockheads in, and Marghetta, who’s willing to intervene, is beyond reliable.
With my peace of mind restored, my workload sped up like never before. It’s amazing how one’s mindset can change everything.
— This feels ominous…
Despite the inner tranquility, things happening outside can’t be neglected.
While I was scribbling my signature on a stack of documents, I received word from the Second Manager, who had been sent up north at the request of the Margrave Sorden.
“What’s going on?”
— The Margrave’s concerns were indeed valid. There are definitely many gaps in the flow of goods.
The flimsy hope that maybe the Margrave had miscounted vanished into thin air. If reports had made their way back up to the central authority, he must have checked several times beforehand. It was foolish of me to hope that it was merely a mistake.
— I’m sure something is being hidden away, but…
The Second Manager seemed to be getting increasingly frustrated, running a hand roughly through his hair. It was indeed true that some of the supplies sent north were missing, and someone was intentionally hiding them.
The real issue? That was all the information he had for now. It was merely re-confirming what the Margrave had suspected, rather than any newly uncovered facts. But what could be done? The Second Manager had only been dispatched not too long ago.
“Thank goodness we figured that out at least. Don’t rush it.”
— Understood.
The expression on the Second Manager’s face twisted in a way that mixed frustration from dealing with the northern region and anxiety that this could spiral into a major incident.
“Do you need more personnel?”
— We’re fine. Just our presence is already drawing too much attention.
Given the seriousness of the matter, I considered sending more personnel, but surprisingly the field worker refused. Damn it, the north continues to be a chaotic mess.
Usually, the north had significant numbers of pro-Empire tribes. But that bastard Kagan either subdued or converted all of them, leaving the aftermath of the Great War truly chaotic.
The Empire had suffered heavily during the Great War, leaving it in no state to actively intervene or maintain control over the north. Moreover, internal conflicts regarding succession weren’t exactly helping, either. Not to mention, it’d taken quite some time since Kagan’s spicy punch sent the pro-Empire tribes soaring into the sky.
As a result, after enduring the aftermath of the Great War and struggles over the succession, the Empire had begun stretching its already scant resources to send friendship fees to the north from the very beginning. Compared to how robust the Empire’s influence in the region used to be, the current situation is dire.
— Back in the day, an Imperial citizen would barely register, but nowadays every single move stands out like a sore thumb.
“Damn it.”
The Second Manager was a living testament to this harsh reality. Before the Great War, interactions between the Empire and the north were so active that having an Imperial citizen wandering through the region was no big deal.
But now, after having everything wiped out and having to rebuild, every move of an Imperial citizen gets scrutinized.
The nomads likely looked upon the Imperial citizens with an expression that said, “Excuse me, but would you kindly leave the money and scram? What business do you have at our place?”
It’s infuriating. Do I need to burn the northern plains to eradicate this mess?
“If anything strange happens, contact me immediately. Good luck.”
One thing’s for sure: there’s nothing I can do to help for now besides waiting for the Second Manager and the Margrave to dig up more information.
— Executive Manager, could you send me a—
The Second Manager was about to say something when the connection was abruptly cut off. Given what he’d muttered last, it probably couldn’t have been anything vital. If it were important, he’d get back in touch.
‘It must be about alcohol.’
It’s obvious what that guy, who drinks alcohol like water, would want to discuss. Well, since he’s working hard, I should send him something.
*
It felt like quite a few eyes were watching me from all corners. If that weren’t the case, something like this wouldn’t drop into my lap right after I wrapped up my backlog of work.
“Who sent this?”
Gazing down at the letter presented by the butler, I repeated my question. The blissful plan to relax at home since I had no work coming up was shattered by a single letter.
“It’s from the Countess.”
So, a letter from my mother?
‘Not from the Patriarch, but from Mother?’
I really have no clue what this could be about.
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