By some miracle, there was no chance of the two adopted heirs—both rapidly climbing in value—getting into a brotherly fight in front of the Sub-patriarch and countless Blue Knights.

"Surprised?"

"Hmph. I knew there was no such custom. Quite a few adopted heirs came from our house, after all."

"For someone who knew that, your face was twitching."

"I knew you were insane. I just didn’t know you were insane enough to crack a joke like that with Lady Sub-patriarch right beside you."

Late at night.

Kyrie and Nereus stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the railing.

"You’ll be heading down south soon, right?"

"Yeah. Looks like I’ll be put in charge of Spiramentaon with my uncle. It’ll be as easy as cutting down traitors."

"How is that easy—never mind. If I argue, I’m the only one who looks stupid."

"No. It was a fair point. Cutting heads off is easy, but telling apart the ones whose heads you need to cut from the ones you need to keep attached won’t be. At the very least, you can’t rely only on instinct like you do on a battlefield."

Nereus’s voice brimmed with excitement he couldn’t hide.

"Nervous?"

"Hmph. Do you think I, Nereus, would get nervous over taking charge of one city? It’s nothing compared to the battlefield."

"I was nervous. Always."

"...Sometimes you’ve got a talent for making people feel stupid."

Kyrie clenched his hand with tension.

Did he notice?

Spiramentaon was a major city with a population of over one million.

A commercial city straddling both canal and sea, and a key trade hub with Rikenta—incidents never stopped there, not for a single day.

Its ruler needed flexibility, abundant information, and a deep understanding of people and desire.

Those are different virtues than what we Blue Knights were required to have. The more capable a Blue Knight is, the worse they’ll be at acting as governor there.

Take the post and you’ll fail.

Guaranteed.

I might even feel a little sorry.

Watching Nereus accept the position with a triumphant air, as if he’d snatched it away.

No matter how long they’d been rivals, Kyrie felt a little sorry.

It feels like I’m dumping a burden on him.

Kyrie forced an awkward smile.

If this was what Nereus wanted, there was nothing to say—but staying silent felt embarrassing too.

"It doesn’t matter, though. A thoughtless fool and a bold hero are only separated by a sheet of paper."

Nereus saw it differently.

"Hm?"

"I’m not going to try to rule a city with a sword alone."

Tilting his glass, Nereus glanced once at Kyrie, and then at Gluttony, who had been standing behind them.

With Uncle Necron and the heavy cavalry, there’s more than enough force to end the chaos and draw a line. And since I fought alongside this Spiramentaon imperator, there’s plenty of legitimacy, too.

A predator’s smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

And since this merchant grew quite a bit during this campaign, I can make him serve as a sort of factor for Spiramentaon’s business world, too.

Just as Kyrie thought, he was a knight, not a governor.

It’s a major city with over a million people. Give it a few years and it’ll produce immense gold coins and countless knights.

But knights had their own way of governing territory.

You dump everything onto a steward, and if the steward screws up, you hold him responsible—cut his head off and install a new steward.

All you had to do was avoid the mistake of dumping everything onto a steward and then meddling in every detail of the steward’s work, doubling the workload.

It was like the relationship with an adjutant in the army.

In other words, it was something Nereus could do well.

You could have done it like that, too.

Which meant Kyrie could have done it well, too.

But you didn’t. Even after becoming that city’s imperator, you moved yourself into the capital’s Mounted Patrol. I truly don’t understand why you’d give up that many gold coins and that many knights.

Kyrie had chosen a path Nereus couldn’t understand.

If you wanted to get involved in central politics, it would’ve been more efficient to switch sides to Traysan midway. If you wanted to repay Andromeda, it would’ve been better to go back down south and finish the showdown with Rikenta.

Saying he had no choice because the Patriarch pinned him into the Mounted Patrol didn’t fly.

Kyrie, who had rescued the Sub-patriarch, could have chosen any unit he wanted.

It was more accurate to say the Patriarch read Kyrie’s mind and suggested a unit Kyrie might want.

Judging by Kyrie’s reaction, the Patriarch’s judgment seemed right again.

Nereus became an adopted heir without trouble, and headed down to Spiramentaon without trouble.

The nominal governor was Nereus’s uncle Necron, but it was obvious who the real power holder was.

In effect, it meant Nereus had become Spiramentaon’s governor.

Because you chose neither side.

Nereus saw the reason as Kyrie’s уступ.

Because Kyrie went to the Mounted Patrol, Nereus could rise to the high seat of Spiramentaon’s governor.

He didn’t think it was Kyrie’s mercy or consideration.

Their bond wasn’t built on soft emotions like that.

What do you want. What kind of lightning bolt do you want to become when you fall?

It seemed Kyrie truly wanted to walk a different road now.

Nereus didn’t know what it was, but at least one thing was clear: it was Kyrie’s road alone.

No matter how many knights and gold coins Nereus gathered, Kyrie wouldn’t even blink.

Now that he really does only have one eye.

With that single eye, he would keep staring only at the road he wanted, and walk it step by step.

From then on, no matter how strong Nereus became, he couldn’t beat Kyrie.

Because they would be fighting in different domains, to gain different things.

What are you looking at with that eye?

Nereus tried to think through what Kyrie might want to obtain.

He wanted to win.

Desperately.

Nereus drained his glass.

Even with Bio-radar alone, Kyrie realized who the black-haired merchant Nereus had been looking at was.

Gluttony?

As the bare minimum courtesy to the man who had staked so much for Kyrie, Kyrie turned to face Gluttony.

"You made it. Thank goodness."

"Thanks to you, sir. And now I’ll be benefiting from Sir Nereus as well, I expect."

"Was the trade successful?"

"Sold out. Thanks to you, I got myself properly established. I’ll serve you so you won’t be disappointed, from here on."

Kyrie pitied Gluttony a little.

Is he saying he’ll hire and send assassins?

Spiramentaon was a city of merchants.

There was no way Nereus knew anything about goods, so even if you were generous, his rule would amount to controlled plunder.

He would likely set up the merchant guild heads in the form of a city council, then squeeze them dry—and naturally, Gluttony would be squeezed the hardest.

This man truly is a god of wealth.

What Kyrie hadn’t anticipated was that “squeezing.”

To Gluttony, the essence of a merchant wasn’t the money itself.

What mattered was the act of making money from money.

In that sense, Gluttony saw Kyrie as the greatest merchant of all.

Hadn’t Kyrie taken his money and multiplied it by thousands, by tens of thousands?

The House Astreos–Rikenta border had been devastated.

A duty-free event had begun.

By river, by sea, by land—there would clearly be opportunities to earn vast wealth without paying a single coin in taxes.

Gluttony also liked the current governor of Spiramentaon immensely.

The Nereus he saw might be brutal, but he wasn’t greedy.

He’ll be satisfied as long as he has enough money to keep the city running and raise an army. He’s not the sort to thrash around meddling in the market just to collect one more coin.

And on top of that, he was overwhelmingly strong and revered martial might, meaning he would sweep away mutated beasts, bandits, and all manner of external pressure.

He’s ideal!

He was the best kind of governor a merchant could ask for.

After giving Gluttony endless chances to make money—and even bringing someone who would keep those chances intact—Kyrie had drifted away.

As a person, it was only right to repay the favor.

As a merchant, it was only fitting to continue the deal.

"I’ll send dividends quarterly. If you need me, call for me anytime."

Gluttony willingly bowed his head and opened his purse first.

It wasn’t coercion, but the result of being moved.

Is he writhing and begging to be spared? I should tell Nereus later not to rule him too sadistically.

It was something Kyrie couldn’t have imagined.

Bonds forged by the sword, and bonds forged by money, could keep going even when their owner didn’t know.

That was what bonds were.

"Is Kyrie in there? Tell him to come out!"

"Y-you can’t just barge in like this."

"Tell him Scipio called for him."

Bad blood was the same.

In the ballroom, someone was calling for me.

"What is this about?"

Ready to draw my sword, I returned alone from the balcony.

I couldn’t exactly tell Nereus and Gluttony that both of them were staring down a hard road—so maybe this was for the best.

"Young master Scipio. Please calm yourself."

"This is a day for celebration—what do you think you’re doing!"

In the hall, an adopted heir was being held back by two Blue Knights as he glared this way.

A Blue Knight with distinctive hair—black hair gathered in the middle and braided long—and a leather coat.

The adopted heir of the Mounted Patrol, Scipio.

"What is it? What did I say it was?"

He stared at me like he wanted to chew me up.

Of course I already knew why.

It’s a wonder an assassin hasn’t come yet.

We weren’t in a relationship where we could smile at each other.

"Remember this. We forget nothing. You were blinded by power, betrayed your birth, pinned false charges on the Senior Adopted Heir, and ruined him. You got your hands on that paltry favoritism, linked arms with the Sub-patriarch, and strutted around. Everyone will remember what you did."

Scipio spat out his rage.

"......"

"Blue Knights, listen. The main house never stops thinking about how to consume us. The higher you climb, the more you’ll be ground down, and all you’ll do is fill their bellies."

"......"

Everyone fell silent.

Only the music echoed through the ballroom.

With tension and expectation both in their eyes, the Blue Knights watched me and Scipio.

"Where is Lady Andromeda?"

"No idea. She went inside somewhere to change her shoes."

I heard whispered voices between a few attendants.

At least it looked like we wouldn’t be cleaning up a corpse at someone else’s celebration.

"Don’t forget this either, Kyrie. How long do you think the Sub-patriarch will keep protecting you? You didn’t cut down my older brother Traysan—you just sat down in his seat. You’re next. The difference from back then is that when it’s your turn, no one will be at your side."

"......"

"And just because you transferred into the Mounted Patrol, don’t expect anything from me. No mercenary band will ever sign a contract with your unit."

I waited until he finished speaking.

I already felt bad about dumping the Spiramentaon governor’s deputy role onto Nereus—I couldn’t start a duel at his celebration.

And besides, that part was lethal.

No mercenary band would ever contract with me.

If you contracted with the Mounted Patrol, you had to travel far and wander.

Leaving home meant hardship by default.

Unless they were a fairly large, elite force, they wouldn’t sign—and those mercenary bands already had deep ties with existing Blue Knights.

Now I understood why the Stellar Seat hadn’t demanded the next stage immediately.

It must mean I couldn’t even begin the next stage unless I cleanly dealt with problems like these one by one.

I also couldn’t set too sharp an angle of confrontation here.

The Patriarch had already said he didn’t want the kind of blood-tearing work where the adopted heirs all die and a vacuum forms among the middle managers.

He must be hoping I show something that overwhelms even this grudge.

"Are you finished speaking?"

"What?"

"If not, then step outside and continue. This is Nereus’s celebration."

I suggested moving the location first.

"So you’re saying you’ll cut me down? Fine. I knew you’d come out like this. Today, let’s do it the House Astreos way—let’s settle this to the death!"

Scipio seemed to interpret my words a little differently.

As if trying to crush his fear, he clenched his teeth and reached for the sword at his waist.

"A frontal breakthrough? Talk with the sword? In a situation like this, I suppose that’s right. What else can you say."

"As expected of Lady Andromeda’s sword. No hesitation. Is he saying he’ll draw a complete line against the adopted heirs?"

"I thought there wouldn’t be a great purge, but maybe only the agent changes. Lady Andromeda is the carrot, and young master Kyrie is the whip?"

The other Blue Knights also seemed to interpret it differently.

This is driving me insane.

"Brother Scipio."

In the end, I didn’t draw my sword there.

Scipio was thrown out by Nereus.

But the problem he presented remained in me like a sword scar.

What mercenary band would betray their existing patron Scipio and come to me?

I thought all night, but no answer came.

"Ah, sir. Everyone’s saying they want to extend their contracts. There are some knights who have to go back no matter what, but still—more than eighty percent renewed, sir."

"What?"

"Doesn’t look like there’s any need to hire new people, sir."

Chapter 130

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