Three days after the Sage Council research began, Ayanokoji received an unexpected visitor.
He was in the training yard, practicing his hand-to-hand techniques against a wooden dummy, when Ram approached with news that a merchant had arrived at the mansion gates, requesting an audience with “the strategist of Lady Emilia.”
“A merchant?” Ayanokoji asked, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Did they give a name?”
“Otto Suwen,” Ram replied.
“He claims to represent certain interests in the capital.
I’ve asked him to wait in the receiving room.”
Ayanokoji considered this.
Otto Suwen was a name he recognized from his research—a young merchant who had built a reputation for honesty and reliability in a profession known for neither.
His connections to Anastasia Hoshin were rumored but unconfirmed.
If he’s connected to Anastasia, this could be a probe, Ayanokoji thought.
Or it could be a genuine business opportunity.
Either way, I need to hear him out.
He cleaned up quickly and made his way to the receiving room.
Otto Suwen was exactly as his research had suggested—a young man with an earnest face and nervous energy, his merchant’s attire neat but practical.
“Thank you for seeing me, Ayanokoji-sama,” Otto said, bowing deeply.
“I apologize for arriving unannounced.”
“Your reputation precedes you, Otto-san,” Ayanokoji replied, gesturing for him to sit.
“I’m curious what brings you to the Roswaal estate.”
Otto settled into a chair, his eyes darting around the room with the alertness of someone used to watching for threats.
“I’ve heard about what happened at Arlam.
The rescue of the hostages.
It’s become quite the talk of the capital.”
“I see.
And what exactly are people saying?”
“That Lady Emilia has a strategist who is both brilliant and ruthless.
Someone who doesn’t play by the normal rules.” Otto paused, his expression shifting to one of careful neutrality.
“Some find that inspiring.
Others find it…
concerning.”
Ayanokoji noted the subtle probing.
Otto was fishing for information, trying to gauge his intentions.
“I serve Lady Emilia’s interests.
Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Of course.” Otto’s smile was polite but guarded.
“I represent a consortium of merchants who are…
interested in the outcome of the Selection.
We’ve been watching the candidates closely, assessing their potential impact on trade and commerce.”
“And what have you concluded about Lady Emilia?”
Otto hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully.
“She’s an unknown quantity.
Her policies are unclear, her support base is narrow, and her association with the Witch’s legacy makes her…
controversial.
But her potential is significant.
If she were to win, it could reshape the economic landscape of the kingdom.”
“And if she were to lose?”
“Then the consortium would need to align itself with the winner.
Quickly.
Before the new ruler consolidates power.”
Ayanokoji leaned back, his expression unreadable.
“You’re here to offer a deal.
Support for Lady Emilia in exchange for…
what?
Preferential treatment?”
Otto’s smile became more genuine.
“You’re direct.
I appreciate that.
Yes, the consortium is willing to provide financial backing for Lady Emilia’s campaign.
In exchange, we would expect certain considerations once she takes the throne.”
“Such as?”
“Lower tariffs on imported goods.
Access to new trade routes.
Protection for merchant caravans traveling through dangerous territories.
Nothing unreasonable.”
Ayanokoji considered the offer.
It was generous, but it came with strings attached.
The consortium would expect Emilia to prioritize their interests once she was in power.
That could create conflicts with other factions, other allies.
“I’ll present your offer to Lady Emilia,” he said carefully.
“But I should warn you—she’s not the type to be bought.
If she accepts your support, it will be because she believes it serves the kingdom’s interests, not just her own.”
Otto nodded, his expression thoughtful.
“That’s actually reassuring.
A candidate who can’t be bought is rare in politics.
It suggests integrity.”
“It suggests idealism.
Whether that’s an asset or a liability remains to be seen.”
The meeting ended with polite formalities.
Otto promised to return within the week for an answer, and Ayanokoji assured him that the matter would receive careful consideration.
After Otto left, Ayanokoji found Emilia in the garden, tending to a bed of white flowers.
Her silver hair was pulled back, and her hands were stained with soil.
“A merchant named Otto Suwen visited today,” he said, settling onto a stone bench nearby.
“He represents a consortium of traders who want to support your campaign.”
Emilia looked up, her amethyst eyes curious.
“Support?
What kind of support?”
“Financial backing.
Resources.
Access to trade networks.
In exchange for certain considerations once you’re on the throne.”
Emilia’s expression became wary.
“Considerations like what?”
“Tariff reductions, trade routes, protection for caravans.
Nothing that would compromise the kingdom’s security, but significant enough to make the merchants wealthy.”
Emilia was silent for a long moment, her hands stilling in the soil.
“I don’t want to be beholden to merchants.
The throne shouldn’t be for sale.”
“I agree.
But resources are necessary to win the Selection.
The other candidates have wealthy patrons—Priscilla has her noble family, Anastasia has her trading empire, Crusch has the military’s backing.
Without financial support, you’ll be fighting an uphill battle.”
Emilia frowned.
“There has to be another way.
I don’t want to compromise my principles.”
She was beautiful, even when she was being difficult.
“Principles are important,” he said carefully.
“But they’re also a luxury.
The Cult won’t care about your principles.
The other candidates won’t either.
If you want to win, you need to be willing to make compromises.”
“Is that what you would do?
Compromise?”
Ayanokoji considered the question.
“I would do whatever is necessary to achieve my goals.
But my goals are not your goals.
I’m a strategist, not a ruler.
The decisions about what kind of leader you want to be are yours to make.”
Emilia sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
“I know.
It’s just…
this is all so complicated.
I never expected to be a candidate for the throne.
I was happy living my simple life, away from politics and power.”
“Yet here you are.
The Dragon chose you for a reason.
There must be something in you that it saw—something that made it believe you could lead this kingdom.”
Emilia smiled, a small, sad expression.
“Or maybe it made a mistake.
Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
Ayanokoji felt something stir in his chest—a flicker of emotion that he quickly suppressed.
“You’re stronger than you think, Emilia-sama.
I’ve seen it.
The way you handled the declaration, the way you faced the Cult’s threats.
You have the strength to do this.”
Emilia’s eyes widened slightly, surprise evident in her expression.
“That’s…
the first time you’ve complimented me.”
“Don’t get used to it.
I’m simply stating facts.”
She laughed, a soft, musical sound.
“Of course.
Facts.” She stood, wiping her hands on her dress.
“Tell Otto-san that I’ll consider his offer.
But I want to meet the consortium first.
I need to know who I’m dealing with.”
“I’ll arrange it.”
As Emilia returned to the mansion, Ayanokoji remained on the bench, his mind already planning the next move.
The merchants were a potential asset, but also a potential liability.
Their support could provide the resources Emilia needed, but it could also alienate other factions.
A delicate balance, he thought.
We need the money, but we can’t appear to be bought.
We need the merchants’ influence, but we can’t let them dictate policy.
It’s a game of inches.
He stood, his decision made.
He would arrange the meeting with the consortium, but he would also prepare contingency plans.
If the merchants proved unreliable, they would need alternative sources of funding.
The game was getting more complex by the day.
And Ayanokoji was determined to stay ahead of the curve.