「Choose.」
「Which path will you walk?」
When his body was swapped. When he gained the Blank attribute. And in last night's dream as well.
That made three times he had heard the voice that spoke of the covenant.
'Those scenes... they cannot be mere nightmares, but are they truly the future?'
He had thought to hold on to hope, since it might not be so after all.
But when morning came, the Third Prince's letter, delivered by the hotel, smashed that hope to pieces.
「Cause an uproar. The louder, the better.」
「If you come into conflict with a figure belonging to the First Prince's faction, I will see to it that you need not worry about the aftermath either.」
「Your reward is the execution ceremony of Zion Bliese that you have wanted so badly.」
The contents of the letter, summarized in three broad lines.
Thanks to it, he could be certain. The scenes in the dream were the worst future yet to unfold.
'The Third Prince. What scheme is he plotting?'
In all likelihood it was deeply connected to the future in which his comrades of the Order were executed.
A single remark the Third Prince had spat out in the dream flashed through his mind.
'He called them idiots.'
Arist and the rest of the Order's members would have been hooked by the bait of Zion Bliese's execution and fallen into a trap.
Without even knowing that their lord had already slipped out of the Empire's grasp.
'I will make him regret laughing at their loyalty as foolishness.'
In that sense, he thought last night's nightmare had not been entirely bad.
The Guide of the Fork. A power that could be regarded as a kind of foresight.
It had left a foul taste, but he had learned a fragment of the future all the same.
That was when it happened.
FWOOSH—!
An enchanted spell activated, and the letter's contents began to change of their own accord.
「Zion. I do not know how each day in Deber feels to you. I hope it is hard. Only then will you be able to repent your sins.」
The newly written contents were a letter of well-wishing from an older brother, filled with scolding and admonition for a wanting younger brother.
Destroying the evidence? Thorough.
But it was useless.
"Quere Stellam Orbita."
The letters were restored as though time were flowing backward. He read the flow of the activated magic and turned it back in reverse order.
Such immediate countermeasures were impossible with a magitech device, so the Third Prince's precautions could fairly be called flawless.
Unfortunately, he had picked the wrong opponent.
'Still, so this is how he comes at even his own brother. As expected, to the Third Prince, Zion Riobelt is nothing more than a single card to be used and discarded at any time.'
A letter that moved between its state before and after the spell's activation according to his will.
After watching it for a while, he set it carefully aside.
'It is evidence of a sort. It will be of use someday.'
At any rate, from now on he had to prepare to stop the execution ceremony.
What would be the best way?
'Should I just send the Liberation Army an anonymous tip?'
The problem was whether the Liberation Army would believe it.
"What should I do about this?"
"My thoughts exactly. How on earth are we to repay twelve million Luon?"
"Gah, you startled me. Winter, when did you come in?"
"Just now."
He had been so deep in thought that he had not noticed him arrive.
"There are two weeks left until the farm payment comes due. Even if we scrape together every coin we have, we are about seven million Luon short. Even if we tried to back out of the deal now, Proprietor Reijo would never accept it. We could force him in Your Highness' name, but then the plan to use Proprietor Reijo as a purse would go up in smoke as well. So, Your Highness. Drop a shower of gold bars for me like last time."
So the drawn-out groaning had been a request for money.
For the record, Winter was under the misapprehension that Zion had a slush fund squirreled away.
"No."
"Why not? At this rate you will suffer an enormous loss."
Still, no meant no.
The gold ore buried shallowly enough to be dug out at his current mana level had all been mined out last time.
To obtain more gold, he would have to formally develop Teraguard's vein.
'Between all the restrictions and conditions and the preparations for mining, it is easier on the mind to treat it as nonexistent for the time being.'
"Winter. Instead of pestering this prince, how about you find a way to raise the money yourself?"
"How is a bastard who used to scrape around in the back alleys supposed to come up with seven million Luon in barely two weeks? Gambling is out of the question now, too."
"Isn't there some hole the money can come out of?"
"There is Your Highness' slush fund."
There was no such thing. He could not say so honestly, so he dodged once again.
"It's a pain to go and get it."
"Haaah."
Winter let out a sigh.
Until now he had at least made an effort to hide them; now he sighed openly.
'Winter, I'm sorry, but seven million Luon isn't what matters right now.'
Your homeland's future could be finished.
It's already a corpse, but still.
It's in danger of being dug up and executed all over again.
"Your Highness, will going out not be too much of a bother? You need to go and fulfill your promise to Proprietor Reijo."
Because of war news leaking out of the Empire's mainland, Deber's grain market was in turmoil.
In return for the sponsorship, Zion had to give an implicit guarantee that the grain market was safe.
"But if a war breaks out, doesn't that bastard Reijo profit? Grain prices will rise."
"It is the opposite. If war breaks out, the Empire will bring a large quantity of food into Deber for supply purposes."
The war itself would be waged far away in the land of Gizkal, but through a trickle-down effect Deber's food situation would grow abundant.
"Ah. So that's why I, a member of the Divine Race, have to invest in the grain market. To give a signal that no war will break out for the time being."
"Correct. Then let us head to the exchange. I will have the automobile prepared."
At the exchange one could trade every document that evidenced a right, that is, securities. Shares in trading houses and businesses, food ration certificates, gold, mana stones, and even receipts for physical goods such as grain.
"No. Forget the car. Let's go quietly today."
"You ought to go in grand style and announce the investment far and wide."
"Tomorrow works. Today I want to get a feel for the mood."
To be precise, there was something he had to do quietly.
The Brown Trading House, mentioned in the scene from the fork.
He would have to find out what sort of place it was.
***
Instead of riding out in a splendid foreign automobile with his golden hair and blood-red eyes on display, he walked the streets with his body hidden under a hooded robe.
"The Brown Trading House is, in fact, a place that ought to be called a company rather than a trading house."
Because the Brown Trading House was not a business that generated profit by buying and selling goods.
"People unfamiliar with business administration tend to use the terms interchangeably. I do not know why Your Highness has suddenly taken an interest in the Brown Trading House, but it will not be a place of much value."
"How can you be sure of that?"
"Because I do not know it."
"......?"
Winter seemed to have momentarily mistaken his own occupation.
Anyone listening would think he was a securities broker rather than a gambler.
"Your Highness, studying securities is a must for people my age these days, an absolute must. You can earn money on top of what you earn from work."
Winter listed off the promising securities whose prices had been climbing lately.
Physical-delivery receipts for mana stones, share certificates for several businesses, and more besides.
"As you have heard, the Brown Trading House is a security far removed from the recent market climate. Given the sort of items it deals in, I suppose it cannot be helped."
Then why had the Third Prince bought Brown Trading House stock, and why had he been able to reap an enormous profit as a result?
'There are a lot of frustrating things today.'
He had had the worst dream since dawn. He had to stop his comrades from falling into a trap, but no method that struck him as right came to mind.
He had received a letter carrying the Third Prince's pressure. If he did not fight with a figure of the First Prince's faction, problems would arise in various ways.
And on top of that, when he considered that he had to raise the payment for the Teraguard farm.......
'And now a question I can't find the answer to has been added. The Brown Trading House, is it....'
Walking with such thoughts, he arrived at the securities exchange.
It was very different from what he had heard on the way.
He had been told that crowds camped even in front of the exchange, forming a marketplace, yet it was quiet.
"Winter. This is very different from what you described."
"It is not usually like this. Strange."
That was when it happened.
"Director Lumio! Do not make this complicated, I said sell to me!"
A shout thick with greed rang out.
"Well, well. Winter, let's go in."
The interior of the exchange was quite spacious. A pig draped in expensive clothes was visible.
And it was a pig whose face he knew.
"Dechion."
"I did not expect you to know that man, Your High— young master."
"You'd have a hard time not knowing that bastard, I suppose."
The reason was simple.
Dechion. If Winter's biological father, Marquis Remiconin, was one of the Five Enemies Within the Palace, then he was called one of the Five Enemies Outside the Palace.
It meant he was a dog of a man who had rendered distinguished service in delivering Deber into the Empire's hands, in other words, one who had committed acts of national betrayal ranking among the top ten.
Zion's eyes froze over coldly.
'A son of a bitch who deserves to be torn apart.'
Although he had discarded much of his formality during his life in the Liberation Army, Zion did not use language lower in class than "this wretch" or "that wretch."
A habit engraved in him by his education as Crown Prince.
Even so, Zion thought that Dechion was a son of a bitch who did not deserve to be treated as a person.
'A traitorous son of a bitch who deserves a slap across the face and worse. He is trying to exploit someone else again to fill his own greed.'
In front of Dechion, a gray-haired gentleman in a shabby suit stood with his head bowed low, clutching a briefcase.
Dechion jabbed at the gentleman's shoulder.
"There is no investor in existence who will buy the shares of your paltry little business anyway. Excepting this magnanimous Dechion, that is. You call it a business, but is it not merely the hobby of a few magitech engineers who have produced no results for years, hahaha."
"Th... this time it is different......."
"If it is different, all the more reason to sell the shares to me. Director Lumio, surely you have not already forgotten how large a debt you owe me?"
Since business shares could be traded there, the exchange also served as a place to seek investors.
The gray-haired gentleman seemed to be seeking an investor, and Dechion seemed to want to be that investor.
"My magnanimity ends here. Taking every share through a lawsuit would still not be enough in this situation, and yet I am buying with my own money. To refuse even so, does this Dechion look that laughable to you?"
The gray-haired gentleman pushed up his glasses and shouted sharply.
"You are not buying with your own money! I will not hand over the shares at such a pittance, never!"
"Why you—!"
When Dechion shoved his shoulder hard, the gentleman could not hold his footing and went sprawling.
'So this is why the exchange was quiet all the way outside.'
One of the Five Enemies Outside the Palace was throwing his weight around, and no one wanted to be caught up in it.
It was not as if this were the only securities exchange in Seiel.
'That makes five now.'
He thought again that there were a great many frustrating things today.
The trap of an execution ceremony. The Third Prince's order. The farm payment and its upkeep. The question of the Brown Trading House.
And last, a traitor's thuggery.
What was even more irritating was that he had no choice but to watch.
He would have liked to beat the man until his chest felt clear, but laying a hand on one of the Five Enemies Within the Palace would be hard to deal with afterward....... Huh?
'What an idiot.'
A realization flashed through his head, a thrill ran through him, and a smile formed.
That is, his mouth twisted.
'Habits really are frightening. I have made the mistake of thinking only as Zion Bliese again. The present me is also a prince of the Empire.'
Even the burdens that had been weighing on his chest connected into one.
"Winter. Would that bastard count as a figure of the First Prince's faction?"
"As far as I know, yes, but why do you ask?"
"And someone of the rank of the Five Enemies Within the Palace would have amassed a great deal of wealth by now."
"Um...... would he not?"
"He dared to cause a disturbance in front of this prince, so this is a grave crime. Is it not?"
Unease began to surface on Winter's face.
"Your Highness? Could you give me a hint before you commit it?"
"It's nothing much. My body's just a little stiff."
He strode out.
"Your Highness......!"
Winter's soundless scream reached him, but he ignored it.
He had needed someone to take his frustration out on anyway. Perfect timing.
"Hmm? What are you?"
Zion, standing before Dechion, studied the man's face steadily.
"In the end you never even received the title of a mere baronet."
Dechion's face crumpled. He had originally been a commoner, a mere official with no fortune to speak of.
Higher, more. To fill his greed he had become a collaborator of the Empire, and after selling off the nation's assets more diligently than anyone, he had risen far enough to be called one of the Five Enemies Outside the Palace.
Even so, Dechion was still a commoner.
Whatever merits he had earned, the Empire did not readily grant titles to Deberians.
"To dare speak such words before me, I trust you are prepared for the consequences."
"Pig. What is your specialty?"
"What?"
Zion continued.
"Thanks to Gebel, I was able to realize what this prince's specialty is."
Gebel. This prince.
'I heard someone was exiled to Deber not long ago, could it be...!'
Watching Dechion's face turn ashen in an instant, Zion lowered his hood.
Golden hair as though spun into threads from gold.
Blood-red eyes, redder than blood, that made his cruelty stand out.
"What are you doing, still not kneeling?"
"A subject of the Empire greets a member of the great Divine Race!"
"A subject of the Empire greets a member of the great Divine Race!"
"A subject of the Empire greets a member of the great Divine Race!"
A wave of salutations followed.
With his eyes bulging like a toad's, Dechion forced his trembling legs to hold and dropped to his knees.
"A subject of the Empire... greets a member of the great Divine Race."
Thick cheeks came into view. Most of that flesh had surely been fattened by exploiting Deber.
The habit left in Zion Riobelt's body, its violent temperament, raised its head.
He did not bother to suppress it.
SMACK—!
Dechion's head whipped to the side and came back. His eyes were utterly stunned.
He was one of the top ten collaborators, so perhaps he had not expected to be struck across the face out of nowhere.
'Sorry, but this one happens to be the worst trash in the Empire.'
It was a laughable thing.
That a man he could not punish as Deber's Crown Prince and as a Commander of the Liberation Army, a prince of the Empire could punish to his heart's content.
At the same time, it was boundlessly enjoyable.
'Yes, now I know for certain. I will not be confused anymore.'
The false execution ceremony.
The trap aimed at the Order.
The Third Prince's orders and conspiracy.
He had been thinking far too complicatedly, in a way unbecoming of Zion Riobelt.
'As Zion Bliese. And as Zion Riobelt. Let us put both into it.'
In that sense.
The Dechion before him was not a villain he had to merely watch out of fear of the repercussions.
He was nothing more than mouthwatering prey.
SMACK—!
His palm burned as much as the handprint carved into the cheek.
He shook out his hand.
"Ow, ow. A lowly thing like you, daring to inflict harm upon this prince's hand?"
"......?"
Dechion, reaching for his reddened cheek, stopped and let his mouth fall open.
What had he just heard?
"I-it is a misunderstanding, Your Highness!"
"A misunderstanding? The skin of your cheek is so thick that my palm has turned red, and you call it a misunderstanding?"
Dechion stared blankly at the prince's red eyes.
Being struck by a bolt from the blue would have been less sudden and less bewildering.
"The crime of causing pain to the divine body of the Divine Race, you yourself know it best. It is a grave crime that must be sternly dealt with, but......."
Zion leaned his head forward and whispered.
"If you pay the damages sincerely, I will overlook it with broad magnanimity. Seven million, no, let us make it a clean ten million Luon. How about it?"
A long silence hung in the air.
Damages were paid by the one who did the striking.
But for this moment alone, the law seemed to apply in reverse.