Chapter 50

I had the accounting official captured. Still bound with ropes, the man was pushed forward. His gray cloak was stained with mud, but his posture was not broken.

A seal box was brought in.

His thin fingertips touched the small black leather box.

I said,

“Open it.”

The man raised his face. There was anger rather than fear.

“That is the seal of my King.”

“I am aware.”

“Even as a captive, I am a subject of the King.”

The ropes creaked.

“If you intend to make me use this, I will become a traitor.”

It was a quiet, but clear voice. I looked down at him.

“What is betrayal?”

“To do harm to one’s lord.”

“Who is your lord?”

“The King.”

“Is it not the people?”

His gaze wavered.

“The King protects the people.”

“Then are they being protected right now?”

I stepped one pace away from the seal box.

“I will not touch it.”

The man furrowed his brow.

“I will not take it.”

“…What did you say?”

“Neither the food nor the seal. What is here remains yours as it has been until now.”

The air in the tent pulled taut.

“We did not come to plunder.”

Silence.

“However, there are two conditions.”

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“First. Distribute thirty percent to the surrounding villages. The remaining seventy percent is to be released to the market.”

“…Return it to the villages, you say?”

“When people starve, they riot. If they riot, the King will withdraw his army.”

Silence.

“Second. The seventy percent released to the market. Notate the decrease as a reduction in harvest. Reduce the wheat by twenty percent. Dilute the wine by thirty percent.”

The man’s expression changed.

“Padding it by thirty percent, there is no way they won’t realize. Are you telling me to commit blatant fraud in the King’s name?”

“Only lower the quality. Do not add poison.”

“It is deception.”

I said quietly,

“But the people can eat.”

The man’s eyes grew sharp.

“It goes against the King’s will!”

I stepped closer.

“You bastard… Do you intend to destroy the country?”

I said in a low voice,

“I am not destroying it.”

“The merchants will suspect the military, and the military the merchants. Even the seal of the Royal Family will lose its credibility. Even so?!”

I did not answer.

“Choose.”

“What do you mean, choose?”

“Die for your country, offer the supplies to us, and become a traitor to the nation?”

A beat.

“Or betray your country to feed the people, and become a hero?”

The air in the tent froze.

“A traitor if I die for it, a hero if I betray it… Why to me?”

“Because you know.”

“Know what?”

“Where this flow comes from, and whose neck it will eventually strangle.”

The man’s shoulders dropped slightly.

“…I am an accounting official.”

“That is exactly why. A sword cuts down the enemy. But a ledger changes the flow.”

A long silence.

“…The wording to record is?”

“Redistribution by royal decree.”

“It is not a royal decree.”

“Eventually, the King will choose it.”

Still bound by ropes, the man lifted the seal.

Wax melted. The seal dropped. A small sound.

But at that moment, the flow of the enemy country bent slightly.

The ledger is correct. Only the contents are thrown off.

I do not add poison. What I add is—suspicion.

Marc, who had watched the whole sequence of events, did not utter a sound.

—By not taking, His Highness has obtained more than what he could have taken.

…What a terrifying person.

---

The night we suppressed the supply base.

A single merchant was shown into the tent. His cloak was plain, but his rings were expensive. His eyes gleamed like oil.

“Do you not value your life?”

I asked.

“There is no life that is not valued.”

The man laughed.

“But if there is the scent of profit, danger is factored into the calculation.”

“What do you trade?”

“I handle salt and grain at the trading market.”

“Why come to us?”

“Taxes have been raised three times. Next, it will be the merchants’ heads that are raised.”

The man said smoothly.

“I heard Your Highness took the warehouse. And that you did not set fire to it.”

“If I burn it, people starve.”

“Starvation drags on.”

The man nodded.

“But if you control the distribution, the market will not survive even without fighting.”

“What do you desire?”

“Two things.”

He held up two fingers.

“One. A guarantee on the tax rate. One. The cessation of confiscations by the military.”

Bold.

“Are you acting on the premise of defeat?”

“I am not making it a premise. I am preparing for it.”

The merchant does not trust the King. But he reads the flow.

“What will you offer me?”

“Information.”

An immediate answer.

“The actual numbers in the storehouses. Embezzlement by the military. The routes of secret messengers to the Royal Capital. And—who will be the first to betray in the market.”

“Betray?”

“I said they will choose profit, did I not?”

I narrowed my eyes.

“It’s dangerous, you know.”

“I am aware.”

The man said quietly.

“If Your Highness looks at the road, I am one who walks that road.”

Silence.

“Very well.”

I said.

“But remember this. I am not fighting for the merchants.”

“I know. Your Highness fights to end the war.”

The man bowed his head.

“In that case, I will bet on the flow that remains even after the war.”

That night, he returned.

And a few days later.

An uproar occurred in the city.

“The amount of wheat stamped with the Royal Family‘s seal is low!”

The merchants were angry.

“Did the military embezzle it?”

The Royal Family was angry.

“The merchants must have skimmed it.”

The military was angry.

“Do you doubt us?”

The markets stopped, the storehouses closed, and rumors called forth rumors.

Everyone doubted someone. Eventually, a single merchant was detained.

That was the spark. Stones flew, blades were drawn,

And the city gates were closed. The King ordered the army on the hill to return.

“Defend the capital.”

The hill emptied. We crossed the river and stood upon that hill.

The enemy doubted their own stomachs and cut down their own people.

We did not draw our swords. But the war tilted.

War will not end today or tomorrow.

If it’s a conflict between countries, even more so. Even if we take the hill, even if we bring down the castle, as long as hatred remains, the blades will not dull.

The reason the enemy can continue fighting for a long time is because that market generates wealth and continues to flow rations and silver. In that case, what we must take is not the castle walls. It is the flow.

Send in excellent merchants. Not those who swing swords, but those who manipulate ledgers. Even among knights, there are those who excel with the abacus.

Those who excel more in business acumen will control the market and transport wealth to the country.

If interests intersect, people will sit at the same table. Those who sit at the table do not easily draw their blades.

We took the hill.

But what I was looking at was not the hill.

It was a single road extending beyond it.

—To end the war.