NOVEL NEXT Chapter 162.1
Chapter 162.1. Renegotiation
The noble Harvest family, hails from the northern region.
The current head of the family, Aslak von Harvest, harbored deep dissatisfaction.
His frustration stemmed from a single thought. Why was his family merely a Count’s house?
His magic, admittedly, did not exceed the capabilities expected of a Count.
Though he didn’t personally think so, whispers circulated that it was weak for even a Count.
But still—his house, his house, should possess a trained group of mages and military force that more than compensated for any shortcomings.
Yet, those who mocked him by focusing solely on Bloodline Magic—other counts and marquises—disgusted him to no end.
This is no longer the age of Bloodline Magic. The power of numbers is what matters.
Let them have their moment of arrogance now, he thought bitterly, while secretly sticking his tongue out.
…However, he couldn’t say it aloud and spent his days stewing in frustration.
Eventually, the world around him would become outdated.
Believing that such a time would come, he endured.
But in truth, he did nothing. Until one day, when his seemingly peaceful life was turned upside down.
A massive army, calling itself the Northern Alliance, appeared. Shortly after, rumors spread of a coup d’état in the royal capital.
And then, she appeared before him.
Third Princess Liliana—a convenient symbol of rebellion against the First Prince, who unjustly claimed the throne.
He knew at once. This is it.
All those who spouted nonsensical advice like ‘Don’t over-rely on military strength’ or ‘Always prepare for emergencies’ could now be swept aside.
A golden opportunity to rise awaited him in the form of this princess, placed before him as if by divine providence.
He was sure of it—this princess was no less than a gift from the heavens.
Though she seemed to have competent Bloodline Magicians around her, it didn’t matter.
At most, there are only six of them. They’re no match for my forces.
I’ll make full use of them.
Harboring clear disdain, he proposed terms that were extremely advantageous to himself—though, as far as he was concerned, perfectly reasonable.
The princess had no choice but to accept. After all, it was her side that had come crawling to the Harvest family for aid in quelling the northern rebellion.
And even if they refused and turned against him, he had another card up his sleeve.
Confident of his victory, the Count plotted.
He imagined the hapless princess and her followers wracking their brains over his demands, perhaps even trying to negotiate concessions—but in vain.
He would manipulate them as he saw fit and secure power in the kingdom’s next era.
The princess, too, would grow into a stunning beauty. His twenty-year-old son would surely be thrilled—no, it might even be too much of a prize for his son alone.
Such thoughts swirled in his mind without hesitation.
He eagerly awaited the moment he could reject their desperate counteroffer.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
In walked the princess and her four companions.
Deeming the others unworthy of acknowledgment, the Count immediately fixed his gaze on Liliana.
Feigning a pleasant demeanor but inwardly brimming with contempt, he spoke.
“Have you reached a decision?”
“Yes.”
But it wasn’t Liliana who answered.
Stepping forward from her side was a boy who appeared to be a servant of the Trakia duchy backing her. His name… Hermes, was it?
Him again.
Suppressing an inner sigh, the Count addressed him, understanding from prior talks that the boy was likely to act as a proxy negotiator.
“So it’s you. Very well. I trust this isn’t some scheme to later claim ‘it was merely the servant’s words’ and wriggle out of responsibility?”
“No, we’ve discussed it thoroughly. My words here can be taken as those of Lady Lily—Her Highness, the Third Princess Liliana.”
The mention of ‘wriggling out’ caused the purple-haired girl behind him—presumably the daughter of Trakia—to emit a terrifying aura.
The Count involuntarily recoiled but quickly regained his composure.
“Very well. Then let’s hear your answer.”
“Yes. We wish to join hands with you, Count, to quell the northern rebellion. However, there are certain parts of your conditions we find unacceptable. We hope to renegotiate those terms.”
There it is.
Suppressing a smirk, the Count prepared to dismiss their plea.
“I see. However, it is not so simple for me to withdraw my demands. As a mere servant, you may not grasp the weight of responsibility that comes with leadership.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.”
The boy parried the Count’s sarcasm with a polite smile.
“Now then.”
He continued, lowering his tone slightly.
“Let me reiterate: we wish to join forces with you, Count, to defeat the Northern Alliance. I trust you agree with this sentiment?”
“What nonsense are you spouting? Of course, that goes without saying—”
“Good. Because—”
A chill ran down the Count’s spine. Before he could identify its source, Hermes smiled.
“Earlier, we sent a declaration of war to the Church and the Northern Alliance. We, the Third Princess’s faction, in cooperation with the Harvest family, are preparing for your downfall. Be ready.”
“…What?”
What was this boy saying?
“I apologize if it seems rash, but we had to act swiftly to deter the Northern Alliance from launching an immediate assault. Once they know we’re formally allied, they won’t move so recklessly. In the meantime, we can—”
“W-wait! Hold on! That’s… unacceptable!”
Unacceptable.
Acting without his consent was one thing—but this…
This was disastrous.
“Unacceptable? Why so? Surely, the Church and the Northern Alliance are invaders you, too, wish to repel. We merely issued an inevitable declaration. There’s no reason for such concern.”
But Hermes, as though peering into the Count’s very soul, continued with a knowing smile.
“Or perhaps—”
And then, he delivered the fatal blow.
“Could it be that you’ve already agreed to betray us? Perhaps the Church offered to welcome you if you handed over the princess and her retinue. Surely not…?”
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