Arc#4 Chapter 13: The Welcome Party (Patreon)

[Author's Note]

Another long chapter, so strap in.

= Lire ♪ =

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Reivan had initially thought that the so-called welcome party would be held at the newly built embassy for the Aizen Kingdom.

He was wrong.

They rode some kind of magically powered carriage. Everyone in their carriage except for the aged minister had keen senses, so they all immediately noticed that the vehicle was bleeding out quite a bit of magic power to function. Of course, it was much better than, say, being made to walk to the venue. While it wouldn't take all that long for the strong members of their retinue, it would certainly trouble the rest.

Luckily, it seemed that their entire party would receive such a treatment, expediting the process of arriving at their destination.

‘Arkhana’s still the same as the last time I was secretly in here… Which isn’t strange, since it was three months ago, I think.’

Three months was a lot of time depending on what that time was being used to measure, but regarding the general atmosphere of a historical city that has stood as a nation’s capital for more than a millennia? It was quite short.

As their carriage raced along the stone-paved roads, an array of similar-looking gray buildings of various sizes came into view through the window. The commoners, staring at the multitude of horseless carriages Reivan was riding, appeared rather homogenous to his eyes. Their nearly identical attire — white shirts, dark bottoms, leather boots, and occasional hats or jackets — failed to inject any excitement into the scenery beyond the vehicle's window.

Frankly, the republic’s capital looked incredibly bland when compared to the vibrant colors he saw back home — though since Aizenian really liked using "marble" for their buildings or simply just painting it white, they weren’t much better.

Still, Arkhan lacked the occasional mural or the colorful signs that stores used to attract curious passersby. Or the trees and flowery bushes that citizens planted outside their homes or shops. There was no variety of color to their attires either.

It was like everybody was trying incredibly hard to be like everybody else.

“How bland.” Jiji sighed, seemingly sharing his opinion. She was sitting in a prim and proper way, as expected of a high-class lady, with her back straight and her hands crossed atop her lap.

But her tail was lethargically poking Reivan as if the only way to entertain herself was to annoy him.

Reivan really wanted to grab her insolent tail until she begged for him to let it go, but Grand Minister Greteliana was sharing the carriage with them, along with Helen as their only visible guard. “You should see Lageton.”

“Oh. I’ve heard some tales of that place.” Greteliana also seemed disinterested in looking outside. “I heard that at night, there are these things called neon lights everywhere and they look incredible. Some of the brothers and sisters in my sect wouldn’t stop suggesting that I go there with my husband. But I’ve been so busy lately.”

“Neon lights?” Helen tilted her head. “What are those?”

“They’re probably not food, so you can’t eat them.” Jiji used a fan to cover her sneer, but her eyes alone were enough to show that she was mocking Helen.

Helen raised a brow at the sudden jab, but her face soon turned emotionless. “I didn’t think so, either. Maybe you thought it was food?”

The white cat girl crossed her arms and scoffed. “Yani, go ahead and explain what neon lights are so that this muscle-head can understand.”

‘You’re saying that as if you know what they are, but I’m pretty sure you don’t either…’

Reivan wanted to side with his lover, but at the same time, he knew that would lead to an even bigger mess. Besides, Helen probably didn’t give a single crap about the argument anyway.

“These are neon lights.” Reivan took out five glass rods that seemed to be made of stained glass. He injected a bit of electricity into it, causing it to light up in different colors. With a smile, he held them up for emphasis. “Basically just stained glass tubes that light up.”

‘These definitely aren’t how neon lights were done back on Earth but who cares. They look like neon lights, so that’s what I’ll call them.’

It was a little-known fact that Reivan was the one to introduce this simple idea to this world. He had been surprised when he asked a certain virus-crazy scholar if there was something similar mentioned in the first king’s notes and received a negative response.

When he thought about it, there wasn’t much use to doing so. Neon lights were worse than LED lights, and LED lights were worse than the enchanted illumination orbs that Aizen had been using for a long time — especially since electricity lines didn’t have to be set up throughout the entire nation.

Neon lights looked good though, which was why Reivan thought there might have been some profit to be made by selling the idea.

He quickly had a few prototypes made, which was easy since light bulbs, surprisingly, were something that already existed in Arkhan. All Reivan really had to do was make the bulbs longer, have them shaped into “I love you, Elsa” and then have them stained a good color.

Reivan was subsequently kissed a million times as a reward, and then forgot about the whole thing from there. He just trusted Elsa with whatever it was she was cooking up.

Then a few months later, Lageton was suddenly filled with his version of neon lights, becoming some kind of tourist attraction for the people of the republic.

‘My Elsa does some pretty amazing things sometimes… Damn, I miss her so much…’

Reivan momentarily grew depressed but remembered that he was in the middle of a conversation. He cleared his throat and waved the glowing rods around. “These are just examples. Usually, they’re shaped into letters to act as signs. It's a different way of brightening up spaces too or just to spice up the place.”

“So they’re like fireflies.” Helen hummed in thought. “But for buildings.”

Jiji grumbled something about “overcomplicating simple things” but Helen simply shrugged it off.

“Interesting.” Greteliana leaned forward and poked one of the rods emitting yellow light. “It’s hot.”

“Ah.” Reivan chuckled sheepishly. “That’s because I’m not accustomed to the amount of electricity they need to function. They don’t usually heat up that fast.”

The Grand Minister hummed in appreciation. “I think I’d like a few of these installed back in Shinobu City. Perhaps at the park at night. My husband also owns a few bars and restaurants that might appreciate this.”

"They're easily obtainable in Lageton," Reivan mentioned as he ceased running electricity through the rods and carefully stowed them away. Recognizing a prime opportunity to send some business Elsa’s way, he added, "There's a surge of subpar manufacturers emerging, so I'd suggest considering The Glowing Scale Company's products. They were the pioneers of these items. Their skilled artisans can even accommodate most requests, whether it's molding the lights into specific text or shaping them into images like a mug of ale or a glass of wine, I’m sure they’ll produce satisfactory results."

“I see.” Grand Minister Greteliana nodded with a smile before bowing. “Thank you for your advice, Your Highness. I’ll send a message to my husband. I’m sure he’ll love them.”

The four of them spent the rest of the somewhat bumpy ride talking about mundane things. It was only after the Grand Minister complained of a sore rump did their carriage finally stopped.

One of their Arkhanian escorts opened the door for them, so Reivan hopped off and helped the ladies aboard get off one by one. After they all alighted from their somewhat rickety vessel, Reivan offered his arm to Jiji and waited for someone to escort them inside.

‘I guess they want to impress us.’

Reivan maintained a neutrally smiling expression as he scanned the surroundings. They had gotten off the carriage to directly step into a red velvet carpet leading into a massive tower. Banners with Aizen’s wolf and Arkhan’s owl arrayed all around to announce the two nations’ good relations.

And right in front of them were giant statues floating directly above a multi-layered fountain — a silver owl perched on a tree and a golden wolf. Upon closer inspection, the tree seemed to be carved from bronze, with emeralds carved into the form of leaves.

‘That’s an impressive piece of craftsmanship if I do say so myself.’

The statues looked incredibly lifelike — as if the owl would fly up to the sky at any moment while the wolf lunged forward to swallow them whole. Additionally, the emerald leaves seemed to flicker randomly and the bronze branches even swayed with the wind.

Jiji didn’t seem to look at the statues in a favorable light though. “I don’t like how the owl is higher than the wolf. Plus, the wolf is even looking up… That’s undoubtedly some kind of statement.”

Reivan sighed at his little sister’s whispers. “It’s a flying animal so doesn’t it make perfect sense? Birds don’t belong on the ground.”

“I still don’t like it.”

‘Why can’t we just have nice things…?’

“Even if you don’t like it, we can’t say anything about it or we’ll seem petty,” Reivan warned.

“I know.” Jiji rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on his arm, accidentally having it press into certain parts of her body that were too soft.

“Good.” Reivan didn’t feel anything for his sister, of course, so he just pretended to look around in all directions, subtly loosening her grip on him and freeing him from the awkward contact. “Anyway, I like it.”

After they were done admiring the surroundings, one of the well-dressed servants nearby seemed to take that as a sign for him to step forward. He bowed low and spoke in perfect English. “Please allow this humble one to escort you inside the Tower of Heroes.”

‘Oh. Is that what this building’s called? I wonder if it’s because there are monuments of dead soldiers inside…’

“Thank you,” Reivan spoke for them all. “Please lead the way.”

With a smirk, Reivan followed the servant into the opulently decorated tower.

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“Is that him? So that’s what Aizen’s Young Wolf looks like.”

“Young Wolf…? Did he have such a nickname? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, that’s because I made it up just now.”

From within one of the rooms within the Tower of Heroes, a man and a woman, both with golden blonde hair and crimson eyes, watched as Arkhanians and the delegation from Aizen steadily funneled into the building.

Silvin Torina Zenth Argonia watched her brother chuckling to himself, restricting her urge to sigh. In the end, though, she was too exasperated not to do it anyway. She strode toward one of the posh chairs in the sunlit room and took a seat, her crimson dress robes dragging across the floor to follow her.

“According to information we obtained from republican tourists…” she said while reclining into her chair. “He was quite strong two years ago. Do you think he’s close to rising now?”

“Maybe. Who knows?” Alphon Teroleus Zenth Argonia shrugged as if it didn’t matter. He continued to watch Prince Reivan’s confident stride, committing the young man’s face to memory. But before he could, Alphon flinched.

The second prince of Aizen’s head snapped, his beastly golden eyes staring straight at Alphon.

‘What…’

Prince Reivan smiled and seemingly nodded at Alphon, causing the imperial prince to back away from the window.

Alphon’s heart beat unnecessarily fast as he tried not to let his sister notice his ragged breathing.

He and his Silvin were on the second floor, which didn’t sound very high up, but one had to consider that the first floor had a ceiling higher than most four-story buildings. There must have been numerous windows, and there wasn’t much light inside the room he and his sister occupied.

And yet, it was as if Prince Reivan knew that Alphon and his sister were staring.

‘Fucking freak. Freak kingdom too.’

“In the first place…” Alphon chose a seat and roughly sat down. “We’re not here to compete with that crazy kingdom’s royal family. It is enough that we show Senator Doragos some face by attending the party… though I still cannot fathom why he’d want to attend.”

“Sometimes, I worry about you.” Silvin frowned and massaged the bridge of her nose at her brother’s dimwitted remark. “Even if the Senator is essentially in the empire’s camp, what reason is there for him to unnecessarily stain the prince’s honor by not attending at all? No matter whose side you’re on, there is never a need to provoke anyone you can avoid provoking. The same goes for us, as we are in the middle of enemy territory. We have no use for more enemies, so don’t go saying stupid things to the young wolf.”

“I know, Silvin. I know. We are not in the empire. Our names mean little here.” Alphon scoffed and crossed his legs. With an absentminded grimace, he fiddled with his wine-red dress robes. “All of that aside, I still can’t help but dislike these things. How can these twig-swishing fools wear things like this every day? It’s so cumbersome!”

“You’d best get used to them since you’ll be entering the spirit tower soon.”

“Ugh… Joy.” Alphon rolled his eyes. “Must I really attend, though? We’ve already discovered plenty of things about Arkhan’s ways because of you. Is that not enough?”

Silvin shook her head, inspecting her immaculately maintained nails. “I’m only in my second year. There might be more to discover, but we can’t be sure I won’t die before I graduate. Besides… I’m a woman. Some things might not have been accessible to me.”

“Then what about that guy? Our dearly beloved adopted brother, who seems to be good at everything. The Stran Clan’s dog doesn’t seem the type to die… I’m sure he’s been put through worse.”

“Fool. We belong to different imperial branches.” Silvin sneered at her brother. “He may have kept secrets from us. I certainly would.”

"I suppose you make a good point," Alphon rubbed his chin and nodded to himself, but then he suddenly sat up straight. “What are the chances the republic lets that half-breed prince enter the academy as well?”

Silvin raised a brow, falling into contemplation for a moment before she shook her head. “The Spirit Tower only cares about gathering talent in hopes of advancing magic, so they might not be against it. But the republic’s old dogs won’t allow for such a thing. They don’t want Aizen any stronger than it already is — even if the Spirit Tower's case is already special enough for no other nation to replicate what it's doing.”

“It pisses me off that they don’t mind us knowing. It’s like they’re looking down on us.”

“Perhaps, in their minds, they simply chose the lesser evil. It works in our favor this time, so there’s no harm.” Silvin shrugged. “In any case, I don’t think you’ll have to worry. Besides, if the prince is really close to rising, throwing him into a classroom full of first years is like throwing a wolf into a chicken coop. Given enough time and an opportunity, he alone could cripple an entire generation of battlemages.”

“Good.” Alphon nodded with a smile, reclining in his chair with a sigh. "I hope this is worth it... I've had my nose buried in books longer than I’d prefer. And instead of wielding a spear, I've been swinging around a glorified twig."

His sister couldn't help but smirk, followed by an unwitting giggle. "It's commendable that you studied hard, even with your acceptance guaranteed."

"Of course. I won't tarnish my family's name with my incompetence. And if, despite my efforts, I must still face shame and embarrassment? Then I need to have known that I gave it my all."

Silvin giggled. “My little brother’s all grown up, it seems.”

“I also don’t want to get sent back to the empire just to deal with those insufferable nobles.”

“Well, I can certainly relate…”

The empire had a horrible reputation to those outside because most of what foreigners ever saw was the tyranny of the Magnatorii and the hardship that the commoners suffered.

But the imperial clans were different from the nobility.

Not in the sense that they were benevolent angels who wished to save the downtrodden. Instead, their actions were marked with cold precision, devoid of emotions and mercy.

Forged in blood and tears.

They were words that perfectly encapsulated the empire’s origin. But to the imperial clans, they were more than just words; they were an idea.

A way of life.

A way of ruling.

Heroes were not born in peace. They were born because the era demanded them into existence.

Just as Leonel, now known as the War God, threw away the hoe and pitchfork he'd wielded all his life, picking up a spear instead.

It was for this reason that the empire remained in constant conflict with those around it — and even with itself.

Land. Authority. Wealth. Prestige.

The empire’s rulers did not actually care about such mundane concepts. Those things were mere byproducts — trifling things obtained along the way. Power was everything.

Hardship.

The empire needed to maintain constant pressure on its own citizens and even within the imperial clans themselves. Only by using each other as whetstones can their blades be sharpened.

But, simultaneously, rulers couldn't jeopardize their authority by directly antagonizing their subjects. What was the point of birthing a heroic figure if their animosity was directed towards the empire?

And so, a middleman was born.

The Magnatorii.

While the imperial clans fought each other in the shadows, they also collaborated to manipulate the realms and instigate corruption among the nobility. All the while, the imperial clans either feigned ignorance or dispensed mercy in response to the woes of the commoners.

Drunk on the power granted to them, the lords, once commoners themselves, would revel in decadence. They would enjoy “their turn with the whip”, so to speak.

And once the common people got tired of having their faces dragged across the mud, tired of having their daughters turned into playthings, tired of having their sons die in meaningless territorial disputes.

They would explode.

They would cry out to lament the injustice they suffered.

They would cry out for salvation.

For a hero to save them.

A warrior with a sword. A wise man armed with cunning. Or even a young lady who had a loud voice and something to say.

Heroes took on many forms. But no matter what form they took, the empire was always ready to apologize for its negligence, to promise change — to take those heroes into the fold.

As for the loss of life?

Such a thing was meaningless in the search for the next hero.

If the number of commoners dropped too much, the empire could always invade other lands and get more. Again and again, the empire would sacrifice hundreds of thousands just for a chance at producing a hero, and then replenish subjects by taking new territory.

But with the Sentorale Continent falling into a three-way stalemate, this strategy could no longer be used. As such, the empire had adjusted so as to not destroy itself. But the results spoke for themselves.

No matter what others said, heroes were produced through the empire's actions.

The Grandmaster, whose strength was second only to the War God himself.

The Broodmother, the witch who discovered the secret of how to create life.

A nameless, unrecorded scholar who had pioneered research into espers and how to use these ghost-like creatures.

And all the Imperial Master Vanguards.

Even recently, another hero had risen from the harsh lands of the empire, becoming the youngest successful rebel leader in imperial history. And that hero was the republic at the moment, training in magic at the Spirit Tower.

The empire, a nation that only had numbers on its side, was steadily gathering strength that belonged only to them. Just like how Aizen had their knights and Arkhan their battlemages, the empire had homunculi and esper-vessels.

And heroes.

The empire had manufactured heroes.

‘One day… The empire will swallow the world. And then there will be no need for heroes. Or perhaps the heroes will be the ones to turn their blades against the empire...’

Alphon mused on that notion before he shook his head, dispensing with such useless thoughts. Such a future was still far out of reach, so there was no point in him pondering what came after. With a groan, he leaped out of the chair. “We should go, Silvin. I assume the party’s about to start.”

“Good boy.” Silvin walked over to pat her little brother’s head. “I thought you’d suggest being intentionally late.”

“Is that really what you think of me? Agh! Get off!”

With a face stained with embarrassment, Alphon slapped his sister's hand away and briskly walked out of the room.

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‘Oh my god, when will it end!?’

Reivan, accompanied by his sister, greeted what must have been the millionth politician tonight. Obviously, his boredom and exhaustion were making him exaggerate, but that was how he honestly felt.

Upon entry to the tower, they were given separate rooms where they could freshen up a little before the event. After thirty minutes, they were then led out by a servant, and their arrival was announced by President Severan Netral himself.

Afterward, the President led Grand Minister Greteliana away while Vice President Iseus Naldar steadily supplied Reivan with a stream of people to greet. It seemed that the wise old man ignored rank and importance, prioritizing people who wished for the republic to form tighter bonds with Aizen instead of the empire.

The faction that supported the kingdom instead of the empire was much smaller than the neutral and the imperial faction, so once the Vice President ran out of people to introduce, Reivan thought that was the end of it.

But he was wrong.

President Severan appeared to replace Iseus, while the Vice President went over to accommodate Grand Minister Greteliana. The politicians who didn’t particularly take any sides as to which nation to ally with were then steadily introduced to Reivan and Jiji.

And they were still at it.

‘I’m so glad Jiji came with me…’

Reivan wasn’t bad at social interactions anymore, having been trained to a certain extent. But Jiji was simply on another level. Standing right next to her, he had a front-row seat to witness strangers quickly warming up and becoming friendly.

And it wasn’t the “polite” kind of friendly. According to his [Supreme Insight], everybody Jiji talked with left with significantly higher Favor of her. Fortunately, her skill with people seemed to bleed into him by association, because the people who favored her ended up liking him a little more too.

He couldn’t even figure out how she did it either. Her approach appeared to adapt based on the individual, leaving him wondering how she decided on the approach to use in the first place.

‘She may have single-handedly gained the kingdom quite a few supporters tonight. Maybe I should chain her up and have her stay here for a while longer.’

Reivan internally considered it as he went through the motions. Eventually, even the supply of neutral politicians ran out and President Netral was suddenly held up by one of the ministers in Reivan's retinue, leaving the royal duo free.

Now it was time to meet someone even more interesting.

‘Senator Barial.’

With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Reivan scanned a group of people observing him from afar. His eyes eventually fell on the oldest in the group, a man so old that his spine was starting to give up on holding his body together.

The elder stood only with the support of a metallic white cane, but despite the man’s age, the fire in his eyes still remained — and the man was using that fire in an attempt to melt Reivan’s party solely with the power of a scrutinizing glare.

Reivan, of course, recognized the man for a number of reasons — one of them being that the old man was the unofficial head of the pro-Argonia faction.

‘Doragos Barial. Senate Speaker of Arkhan, and a respected figure due to his seniority. A self-made politician from the western part of the republic. Married into one of the four great magus clans, so his influence is not restricted to just politics. Reputed for his strict and unforgiving, but ultimately earnest and kind nature. Roughly in his nineties, a handful of children but none elected to become battlemages.’

The man’s profile was perhaps even more impressive than the President and the Vice President’s, who owed part of their success to their family’s resources.

And such a man thought it was a better idea for the republic to side with Argonia, rather than Aizen.

Reivan and the senator’s eyes met, and the old man took this as a chance to approach with surprisingly steady steps. The senator did not bow or show any signs of hunching over any lower than he already was, but he greeted Reivan with a deep voice, filled with the gravitas of a long life.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness Prince Reivan.”

“The pleasure is mine, Senator Barial.”

“Hoh?” Doragos Barial's steely brows furrowed for a fraction of a moment. He suddenly went into a coughing fit, beating his left chest with a fist a few times before calming down. “Excuse my rudeness, there. I am honored by His Highness' recognition.”

“How could I not?” Reivan smiled meaningfully at the old man. “Your reputation precedes you, Senator.”

“Bah.” The senator shook his head. “I am undeserving of such flattery. And such words are lost on me, Your Highness.”

“Is that so…”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Doragos turned right around with an unapologetic expression. “My age does me no favors. I suddenly feel unwell.”

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[Lie Detection] has activated!

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Reivan nodded. “Of course. Your health takes priority. The fact you made an appearance despite this fills me with joy, Senator.”

Offering nothing but a faint grunt of acknowledgment, Senator Doragos Barial walked off, waving away a few politicians in his faction from following.

With the elderly gentleman gone, Reivan’s attention turned toward the two young blondes who had been observing Reivan’s interaction with the Senator from afar. Saying nothing else, Reivan raised a glass of wine toward the imperial prince and princess, both of whom were wearing crimson dress robes.

‘It's the guy I saw earlier.’

Reivan held back a chuckle as he recalled it. He had just been admiring the scenery when he felt his neck tingle. After following the source of the feeling, he immediately met the imperial prince's gaze.

‘Imperial clan members sure have long names…’

Naturally, he had already checked them out with [Supreme Insight]. Both of them hadn’t even unlocked their qi, but such a thing wasn’t all that strange. Although Reivan had many individuals around him who seemingly proved the fact wrong, unlocking one’s qi in their teenage years was very rare.

Most of Aizen’s knights only managed to do it in their mid to late twenties. On that note, the two imperials were actually doing well for having reached close to the maximum potential of an ordinary mortal without qi — especially considering they must have spent the better half of their teens learning sorcery instead. They had actually done pretty well for themselves.

Still, in a straight-up fight, it seemed they would not be threats to Reivan at all.

In response to Reivan’s gesture, the imperial prince named Alphon simply pretended not to have seen what he'd done, while Silvin smiled and nodded briefly before pulling her brother along to follow the departing Senator. Perhaps because both sides knew there was no benefit to interacting at the moment, they both tacitly decided to stay away.

“Yani.” Jiji suddenly whispered from beside him, apparently done dealing with her batch of greetings. “Have you noticed her?”

Reivan peeled his gaze away from the irrelevant imperials from Argonia, turning to his sister instead. “What do you mean?”

“Her. Your first.” Jiji smirked.

“Ah. Right. Of course, I noticed her. I saw her the moment she came in.”

Reivan smiled and tried his best not to look at Elsamina, who was being swarmed by young men on the other side of the large hall. He had been slightly surprised at first since he hadn’t received word that she would be in attendance.

But in hindsight, it was natural for him not to know.

As far as Elsa knew, Reivan should be in the kingdom right now. And no matter how convenient holostones were for communication, they did not have an infinite range. This was solved by having relay points for their messages, but since Reivan and Elsa were the top dogs of their organization, some things they talked about could not be revealed to others.

Especially some of the images that Elsa sent him when they both got lonely. Those definitely couldn’t be sent to him through a relay. The words they exchanged were also much too sweet, and the people in charge of relaying the messages would absolutely contract diabetes by reading them.

As such, it wasn’t that Elsa hid her participation in this event from him. She simply didn’t have a way of informing him fast enough that also didn’t require an unwarranted amount of effort.

‘She’s probably here in secret too, using one of her fake identities.’

Sending such information through a relay was just begging for a leak. It made perfect sense for her to inform basically no one.

“I bet you really want to talk to her right now,” Jiji teased, poking his arm with a barely concealed smirk. “But you’re a prince right now, so you have to act accordingly.”

“Shut up. I know…” Reivan grumbled.

Actually, he had already met Elsa in his prince form a number of times, but those were just to finalize some minor deals between one of her companies and the royal family. And it was just a few minutes in a room full of other company leaders, back in an era when they weren't together yet.

As far as his true identity was concerned, they were practically strangers.

'Once we get married... I'll really tell her. Oh, but she can't keep staying in Arkhan though, so I'll wait for her ambitions to mellow out first... Wouldn't want to pull her away from her dreams.'

After a bit of hesitation, Reivan tried to casually walk over to her, only to be stopped by Jiji. He frowned and hissed at her. “What? Saying hi wouldn't hurt, right?”

“I get that you’re excited, but we have bigger fish incoming. Leave her for later.”

Reivan froze in his tracks and noticed a familiar face walking toward them.

The man’s blackwood cane clacked against the floor as people gave way for him, offering short greetings as he passed. Acknowledging every single one with a congenial smile and a nod of his head, The Star of Fortune's heir stopped a few steps away from Reivan and bowed.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” The slightly rotund man straightened up with a smile. “Truly, no amount of gold would be enough to pay for the pleasure of being your acquaintance.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Kalman Adamantes.” Reivan stepped forward and offered his hand.

“So you know of me, I’m honored.” Kalman chuckled and took Reivan’s hand before gripping it firmly.

Reivan noted the warmth transmitted from the man’s palm before letting go. “My sister mentioned you.”

“I must admit that I’m unsure if that is such a good thing. I do not believe I made the best first impression.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first one, I assure you.” Reivan grinned, earning a pointed glare from the person in question.

Jiji curtsied with the grace expected of a princess, a standard business smile on her face. “It’s been a while, Mr. Adamante.”

“Yes, it has.” Kalman lightly slapped his belly and laughed. After a moment, he dipped his head with a sheepish smile. “At the risk of repeating myself, I am very sorry for the misunderstanding, Princess. Perhaps I was simply overzealous in my... questions.”

“It has passed, so let us forget about it.” Jiji smiled, lying just as easily as she breathed. She acted forgiving despite having just grumbled about it a few hours ago. “Harmony breeds wealth, yes?”

“Indeed, indeed!” The future owner of the largest intercontinental conglomerate in the world laughed jubilantly. “And on that note, I hope to be in perfect harmony with Your Highnesses.”

Reivan and Jiji’s gaze met for a moment before Reivan decided to throw some bait. “Yes… In fact, we plan to be in harmony with many people.”

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Kalman was no spring chick, but he wouldn’t miss the conspiratory glint in the prince’s eyes.

‘Hoh? Interesting.’

Kalman stroked his meticulously maintained mustache. “Is it something I am allowed to hear, Your Highness?”

Even though he knew he likely wouldn't get any concrete answers, Kalman also understood through experience that some doors never opened until you knocked.

“It will be apparent soon anyway, so in light of our budding acquaintance, I don’t mind.” Reivan took a step closer and leaned in. “I believe you should be aware that all train stations in Arkhan are owned by the kingdom, and the technology behind trains is closely guarded, yes?”

Kalman nodded. “Indeed. Which is why I tried to acquire a few for myself, even if I had to foot the bill for setting the tracks and maintaining them.”

Such a thing would have been a grand undertaking, considering the monster population being thicker in certain areas. But Kalman did not think too much about the capital he would have to use up, but rather, the profit to be made and the doors it would open.

After all, such a cost-efficient mode of long-distance transportation, and at such speed, was all but unheard of. If Kalman truly wanted to send cargo at great speeds and over long distances, he could simply have Ascendants carrying spatial storage devices act as couriers.

But not only would Ascendants despise such a lowly job, it would also expose them to danger by isolating them and setting their movements along a predictable route. Nobody wanted to obtain immortality and greater power just so they could act as glorified mailmen.

The reality of things was that Ascendants could freely choose what jobs they did, simply because they were far too important for their factions to lose them. Since they also acted as a deterrent just by existing, factions who had them preferred losing thousands of mortals if it meant their Ascendants wouldn't be put in danger.

On the other hand, a train could deliver cargo and passengers at a lower speed, but at a cheaper cost and little risk to a faction's forces.

If a train was attacked, well, that was bad luck. Many people would die and goods destroyed among other things, but at least no Ascendents were lost. Besides, since the trains were owned by Aizen, the repair costs weren't even shouldered by the state — Aizen had to fund the whole thing.

Of course, any sort of problem with logistics was a far greater problem for the republic than it was for Aizen, but that was beside the point.

Furthermore, just owning a train in an era where owning one was unheard of would be a tremendous bump in prestige. Perhaps they could even find a way to reverse engineer it — though, seeing what happened to the ones who tried in the past, Kalman did not hold out too much hope in getting through Aizen’s anti-intelligence measures.

‘Have they changed their minds about selling…?’

“My apologies.” Prince Reivan cut his hopes down. “We will likely never reveal it. You yourself should know how advantageous holding a monopoly is, no?”

‘Perfectly understandable.’

Kalman did not hold it against Aizen. If he were in their position, he would likely do the same.

‘I never held out much hope in obtaining the blueprints themselves. I simply wanted to know how far the kingdom was willing to give in.’

Who would’ve known that their princess would take such offense at his attempts?

‘I suppose money is worthless in the eyes of people who can simply take what they want through force.’

Kalman certainly understood it. Even to him, money was not his goal.

It was a tool.

A very useful tool that could buy many things, solve plenty of mundane problems, and open countless doors.

But for the Aizen Kingdom, where the monarchy's authority was absolute, what couldn't they take regardless of price?

‘But… Then what is this young boy going to show me?’

Kalman wasn’t blind to what Reivan wanted from this interaction. He himself knew how much of a big fat fish he was, but he was a big fat fish with standards. If the bait was insufficient, he would not bite.

But it seemed the prince had no intentions of disappointing him.

“People focus on the trains themselves…” Reivan raised a finger. “But they don’t pay attention to the stations enough, don’t you think?”

At the prince’s words, Kalman immediately understood.

The train stations.

Because of how novel and unique trains were, it could not be helped that they became the apple of the eye. All merchants wanted these long serpentine vehicles.

But the train stations were equally important.

After all, what is accumulated in places where people gather?

‘Money.’

Train tickets weren’t affordable enough yet for people to ride them for fun or if they were bored. But for people working away from their homes, and those who wanted to visit their loved ones in another city? They were an expense more necessary than food sometimes.

A few of Aizen’s knights even maintained the tracks and eliminated nearby monster nests, making trains a much safer mode of travel than toughing it out on roads. And no amount of money was too much for safety.

‘Restaurants, stores to buy gifts, inns…’

What would happen if, at a place that thousands of people gathered in every day, he built those types of establishments? The foot traffic from train customers alone was enough, but it wasn’t as if people who lived near the stations couldn’t simply go to the stations just for those establishments.

Establishments with good services for relatively cheap prices would turn a place where people gather into a place that gathers people.

‘The republic will probably come up with some convoluted reason to suddenly impose higher taxes for these businesses, but the profits to be made before those slow fools reach a consensus will be... not huge, but significant. I can slow it down further by lobbying some key figures in secret too... Furthermore, the sheer convenience of being immediately accessible and the removal of detours allow me to practically force people to try new products…’

And other than that, something else popped up in Kalman's mind.

'Information too...'

By owning the stations, Kalman had access to information that nobody else would have.

Who went where and what did they bring with them? What was sent to where, and how much of it was there?

For a merchant, information was worth its weight in gold — which meant it had no weight, and was priceless instead.

'Is he going to sell me just the station...?'

Even without the trains, the stations alone held enormous value. In fact, he could obtain more advantages with a station rather than a single train.

Kalman couldn’t help but lick his lips at the thought. The bait offered by Aizen was quite tempting and he was inclined to bite.

But only time would tell if this fat fish wouldn't swallow the bait and the fisherman in one big bite.