Winter recalled it. That moment last night, the one like a burst of flame.
"All in. I shall wager everything."
He had taken and used the prince's identification tablet as he pleased in order to enter the casino's VIP room. He had committed a crime deserving death.
The reason Winter had done so was that he felt the need to prove himself even at the cost of his life.
Not merely a high noble but a member of the Divine Race, and one of the Emperor's sons at that, had said he would make Winter his dog.
If he had to live as a dog, then rather than whimpering and waiting to be fed, living a life of proving his usefulness and tearing into hunks of meat to his heart's content was Winter's style.
And so, the gamble he had staked his life on.
Five million Luon seized as the price.
It was the result of wagering Winter Flowering's life. Proof and symbol that the life of the man Winter had not been in vain.
"A car! Bwahaha, whose should I buy? Winter, do you know anything about foreign cars?"
......Proof...... symbol......
"You said something earlier, didn't you? That five million Luon would be about a month's dignity-maintenance expenses. I'll show you it spent in a single day, hoo hoo hoo."
Winter pressed his forehead. He had briefly been mistaken because the man showed unexpected sides, but Ninth Prince Zion Riobelt was indeed a piece of trash.
"Your Highness, do you truly intend to go to the Madame de Gallery?"
The Madame de Gallery. A trading house dealing chiefly in luxury goods, with the wealthy and high-placed as its clientele.
Its proprietor was the Baroness Creina whom Zion had mentioned.
By all accounts she was a heroine who had made the business flourish all the more after being widowed.
And there were rumors that her hand for encouraging luxury spending was second to none... so the prince before him might really spend five million Luon in a single day.
"To think you would squander seed money you went to such trouble to earn on luxuries."
"Luxury? Squander? Those are words very far removed from me."
That was no joke, they really were far removed.
Judging by how Winter's face rapidly turned hollow, though, he seemed to have understood it in a different sense.
"Might I simply not be your aide? And if you would divide the money in half for me I would be grateful."
Come now. That won't do.
"Your daddy Marquis Remiconin."
"Y-Your Highness! Your mouth!"
"My mouth what. Shut it, you mean?"
"......Let us go. I shall attend you."
"You should have said so sooner."
The interior of the Madame de Gallery was fairly striking for being decorated like an art museum despite being a trading house.
Each and every item was displayed like a work of art, staged to look enormously opulent, one might say.
"Guests I have not met before have come... oh my."
Light brown hair. Deep brown eyes.
A mature, beautiful noblewoman covered her mouth as she looked at Zion.
"A subject of the Empire greets a member of the great Divine Race."
Zion, after gazing at Baroness Creina for a moment, smiled faintly and extended the back of his hand. Her eyes sharpened at once.
"Does a prince of the Empire desire the etiquette of an inferior nation?"
Even while saying that, she bent and gracefully supported Zion's hand, then brought the back of it to her forehead.
'An inferior nation, is it. Then again, since I am Zion Riobelt at present, she has no choice but to phrase it differently.'
On the other hand, this thought also came to him.
That it might have felt like a prince of the Empire insulting a person of mixed Deber and Litania blood by forcing Deber's ritual on her.
He found himself becoming freshly aware of how much had changed.
"May I look around for a moment?"
"Why would an august personage ask permission. Do as you will."
Baroness Creina withdrew. As though taking the baton from her, Winter drew in close and whispered.
"Your Highness. Even if you spend money, spend it elsewhere. The space is well decorated, but judging by the proprietor's attire this is not a proper establishment. For a businesswoman dealing in luxury goods to be dressed as frugally as that."
A businessperson dealing in luxury goods must make a model of herself.
Being dressed as frugally as a miser was proof of a deficient business sense.
Given the nature of luxury goods the remaining margin should be high, so there was no telling where all the money she earned went.
"Never mind that, go and bring the money sack."
"Your Highness."
"Quickly."
He picked up a necklace on display. The sensation of a well-cut jewel sliding across his fingers.
Beautiful. And at the same time it made him shrink.
Crown Prince Zion Bliese could not help thinking a thought like this before such expensive precious metals.
'How much is it? At least a hundred thousand Luon, surely? With that money we could hold out half a year on an operation.'
Someone's ornament for personal adornment is another person's lifeline for half a year.
The Zion Bliese of the future would have to live the life of the former, not the latter.
'If that is what it must be, then rather than enduring it I shall enjoy it.'
Zion Bliese smiled. As the habit remaining in the body dictated, Zion Riobelt's mouth twisted.
In truth he had wanted for a long time to drape himself in expensive ornaments and enjoy a life befitting a crown prince.
More than a decade ago, in a child's heart, he had even secretly stolen an Imperial's earring once.
'I ended up selling that and putting it toward the Order's household expenses. Out of guilt.'
For the present Zion, luxury was not a right but a duty.
So he would enjoy it happily and without guilt.
"I'll gift this necklace to the Madam. Naturally I'm the one paying, you understand?"
"Your Highness...!"
When part of the five million Luon he had earned through a night's adventure melted away in an instant, Winter ended up wearing a hollow expression.
Regardless of that, Zion moved on to the next display case.
Zion had a duty to enjoy shopping at the Madame de Gallery.
***
A deep underground place located in the wasteland of the Gizkal Federal People's Republic, far off to the west of Deber.
The Deber Liberation Army strictly forbids more core officers than necessary from staying at any one hideout.
However, at present an exceptionally large number of high-ranking officers were gathered.
The reason was one. To respond to the grave crisis that had befallen Deber.
"I believe you have all heard."
Arist's low, heavy voice filled the narrow, dark meeting room.
"The Empire's Ninth Prince. The wretch who dares use the name Zion has set foot on Deber's soil."
Several strands of groaning rang out at once.
Someone might dismiss it as merely a visit by one prince.
They might counter that he wasn't even a prince with a strong claim to the succession, so what was the problem.
It was a problem.
And a very grave problem at that.
"The Empire's worst piece of trash dares come to Deber...!"
Someone's growl.
"There will assuredly be an uproar in Deber. Because the bastard is that sort of being."
"I rather think the Third Prince's intent is likewise to use the Ninth Prince to turn Deber into a scene of carnage...... judging by how he stripped him of all his assets, there is a high probability the guess is correct."
One of the officers keenly guessed the Third Prince's intent.
"I shall go and kill him. Leave it to me, Vice-Commander."
The one who abruptly volunteered for the mission was the giant draped in a black cloak, Leianna.
"At the time of Marquis Gebel's appointment as governor-general a while back I couldn't step forward, but now it's different. It's the optimal chance to kill the Ninth Prince."
Killing intent surged from all around as though in agreement. This was how much the Liberation Army hated the Ninth Prince.
The reason? Simple.
"Had it not been for the Ninth Prince, our lord would never have been captured by the Empire."
"His Highness the Crown Prince must be suffering bitter hardship even now."
"Rescuing our lord at once is impossible with our capabilities. In that case, taking at least a minimum of revenge would be the duty of a subordinate."
Of the Liberation Army's two heads, every officer of the Order served Zion Bliese as their lord. Which is to say, on a personal level the Ninth Prince was also the root cause of their lord falling into the Third Prince's trap.
"Duke Arist. Please, your decision."
"If the Ninth Prince should return to the Imperial Palace, the chance flies away."
"Are you perhaps concerned about a trap? There is no need to deliberate. I shall go alone."
After long deliberation Arist gave the order with a face full of resolve.
"We shall shoot Ninth Prince Zion Riobelt dead. Leianna, ascertain the Ninth Prince's current location immediately and then depart to carry out the mission."
"I accept the command!"
While Leianna saluted crisply, Arist brought out the meeting's second item of business.
"Since everyone has gathered, there is one more matter to handle. It concerns the debt on the Republican Assembly's side. Thanks to reclaiming the Stem of the North Star, we can now send loan envoys to other nations. So all of you convey this to the branches under you. That serving as mercenaries under Gizkal's warlords is strictly prohibited."
Every one of the officers' faces brightened.
They all shared the feeling. That shedding comrades' blood in a fight for another nation was...... far too futile a sacrifice.
The envoys sent to three nations to request loans were scheduled to return in three days.
It was all owed to the nameless benefactor who had recovered the Stem of the North Star for them.
***
"Madam. This liquor here. The bottle is quite pretty. Pack up about ten of them."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Your Highness, are you truly going to buy them?!"
"I heard that you deal in automobiles as well, Madam; is that true?"
"The handcrafted automobiles of the Dwarvenheim Republic, procured with attention to each and every one, are the very pride of our gallery, Your Highness."
"Good. Would you recommend one from a trading house that makes them well? I'll buy the most expensive one."
"As you are one who has inherited the great divine blood, I believe the Imperial August would suit you best."
"Oho. The Imperial August, is it."
It meant the majesty of an emperor. A name usable because the dwarves' nation was a republic.
Zion Bliese riding around on the majesty of an emperor.
'The Empire would throw a fit and then some if they knew?'
Decided.
"I'll take that one."
"Understood. However, the price range is on the rather high side...... will that be all right?"
It was not something to say before a member of the Divine Race, and a prince at that.
The Imperial house's spending habits were famous without needing to be spelled out.
Take Winter alone, he had thought that five million Luon was about a month's living expenses.
'Then again. If it's the Madam, there's nothing strange about her knowing.'
"I'll pay the full amount up front, so don't worry. All you have to do is deliver the items this prince designates in good order."
"I shall accept the command."
Baroness Creina answering composedly. Winter, by contrast, turned ashen.
"Are you truly going to buy a car? And a dwarf-made one, at that?"
"Yeah. It won't do for a prince not to have a single car."
Riding in one at the Imperial Palace had been very comfortable and nice. He'd have plenty of occasions to move about going forward, so having one would be quite good.
"Your Highness... five million Luon in a single night, truly...."
From Winter's standpoint it was a fortune one could live idly on for a lifetime.
Even so, if all the luxury goods he was buying up at a fearsome pace, foreign car included, were paid for.
It would literally vanish like a single night's mirage.
'This won't do. I'll have to tell my subordinate not to bring the money sack.'
At that moment, speak of the ogre and the ogre comes.
"Boss... no, Proprietor. I've brought it."
"......"
He was a subordinate trusted enough to be entrusted with a sack full of gold coins, but just now Winter wanted to smack the back of his head... was what Winter was thinking when.
"Ninth Prince. That fellow's grade appears too low to keep pace with your elevated refinement. Is there reason to keep beside you one who dares set himself against the mood of the Divine Race? By the look of him he seems to be of the inferior race, so cast him out. I could also procure you a new butler befitting Your Highness's dignity."
Creina remained leisurely and composed as ever, but Winter finally could not endure it and let emotion show on his face.
'Still, this Winter fellow endures well for someone out of the back alleys.'
Zion gazed quietly at the two of them for a moment.
The baroness, responding with a smile from beginning to end, was softly stroking the back of her own hand.
Which meant she was holding her anger firmly in.
'To think I would get to see Creina stroking the back of her hand to settle her anger because of me.'
It was a sight he had never dreamed of.
Had the bodies not switched, he would never have had occasion to see it in his life.
"Winter. Bring the money sack."
"...Yes, Your Highness."
Winter strode over, took the money sack from his subordinate, and awaited Zion's next command.
"Over there. Set it down."
"Yes."
BANG!
Baroness Creina gazed blankly at the money sack set on the table right in front of her.
"It is five million Luon. It is also money to be spent entirely at the Madam's gallery."
"......"
"What are you doing? Not moving. By this prince's honor I command it: if you fail to make me spend the entire five million Luon before the day is out, I shall hand down a punishment to the Madam."
"...I shall have to move quickly. I accept the command, Your Highness."
Only then did Creina move. She was no longer stroking the back of her hand.
Presumably thanks to shock having quelled her anger.
"Your Highness......"
"What?"
"Tch. Never mind."
Winter, being out of the back alleys, was strong in pride if nothing else. He no longer tried to dissuade Zion from his luxury spending.
'The Madam provoked him aiming for this, presumably?'
So he answered her. With five million Luon.
He had been thoroughly taken in by his opponent's stratagem, but it did not matter.
'I have finally kept my promise, Madam. No, Head Maid.'
Creina. In the far distant past, a personal maid who had served a nation's queen.
At the same time, a comrade who had not abandoned her duty to a fallen nation and had lived her whole life as a spy and a funding source for the liberation forces.
Long ago Zion had made one promise with her.
"Your Highness. When you are all grown up, you must be sure to let me have your first formal attire fitted. Understood?"
Until now Zion had never once had formal attire fitted.
Having escaped the royal palace at a young age and spent his whole life pursued and in hiding, what formal attire.
So, rather late though it was, he meant to keep the promise even now.
"Madam. Have a set of formal attire fitted too. Something splendid."
Today's luxury and extravagance would lead to the revival of the Deber Liberation Army.