Chapter 97

The night was quiet.

As if the daytime bustle had been a lie, there was no sign of people in the courtyard of the hot spring manor.

I stood in front of an iron plate placed on the stone paving.

“Are the preparations fine with this?”

Marc, waiting behind me, responded shortly.

“Yes. I have kept the amount down as well.”

I nodded and opened a small bag.

Inside was crushed sulfur. The pale yellow powder gleamed dully, catching the lamplight.

…This is not play.

This is something meant to be shown.

While waiting for Princess Elysia, I let my thoughts trace back for a moment.

It was a little before the Princess came to this land.

Every time I flipped through the reports spread on the desk, the same description was repeated.

—Consumption of poppy seeds, increasing.

“…It’s a lot.”

Analgesia, sedation, surgeries, treatments—because it is reliably effective, it is used. And.

“…Did they obtain the harvesting method?”

Scratching the unripe fruit and collecting the oozing milky sap. Only the technique had spread, but the reports were honest.

The effective ones worked well, but ineffective ones were also mixed in.

“…There are variations.”

The cause was clear.

“…The land, huh.”

What is harvested in the southern lands is of high quality.

The sunlight, temperature, and dryness are different from this land.

I leaned my back against the chair.

We have the technique. However, the materials cannot catch up.

And, at this rate—

“…It’s dangerous.”

It’s not just that the supply is insufficient; if voices saying it doesn’t work increase, the trust in the medical arts themselves will waver.

What we have piled up will collapse.

“…There is a need to secure it.”

A stable supply of high-quality poppy seeds.

That was an urgent task.

For example—the vassal states in the south of the Great Nation are warm and dry lands. The conditions are aligned.

But.

“…Who do I propose this to?”

It was right when I thought that.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

A voice cuts into reality.

I switched my thoughts and raised my face.

“Princess Elysia.”

Standing there was an existence not outside my calculations. The First Princess of the Great Nation, a human in a position to move the south.

I quietly adjusted my breathing.

…From here on is the negotiation.

“What are you going to show me?”

The Princess’s voice was quiet. On her face was the same calmness as during the day. And her nose and mouth were covered with a thin cloth.

“I heard the smell is strong, so.”

Saying so, she narrowed her eyes slightly.

“That is wise.”

I answered.

But, deep inside, there was clear expectation.

I relaxed the corners of my mouth slightly.

“This is—something I will show only to you, Your Highness.”

I dropped the sulfur powder onto the iron plate and brought a fire close.

The next moment, a flame rose up soundlessly.

A blue, pale, cold light.

Even though there was no wind, it swayed gently.

“…This is.”

Princess Elysia’s voice sank slightly.

Her eyes were clearly widened.

I know.

To the people of this world, this fire looks like magic, or a miracle of God.

When I showed it to Marc, it was the exact same reaction.

“It is a reproducible phenomenon using sulfur harvested from the hot springs.”

To be precise, it was harvested from around the spring source and the edges of the waterways, but anyway.

The Princess’s gaze wavered slightly.

“…It is like the fire of God.”

A voice like a sigh, through the cloth.

“It is terrifying, yet beautiful.”

…That is sufficient.

But, this is not a mere spectacle.

To one who possesses intellectual curiosity, the fact that “it is a technique, not a miracle” becomes a powerful gravitational pull.

I quietly continued.

“For now—please keep this only within your heart, Your Highness. This is neither magic nor a miracle of God. It is a reproducible ‘technique’.”

Princess Elysia’s fingertips moved slightly.

Her gaze turned not to the flame—but to me.

…She took an interest.

The blue flame eventually thinned and disappeared soundlessly.

What remained was only ash and scent.

However, what truly remained was something else.

Maid’s Perspective

In a location slightly apart from there, the maid was quietly watching the whole sequence of events.

…Good grief.

She let out a small breath in her heart.

Even though they were departing this land tomorrow, the Princess had said she wanted time at night, so she wondered what was going on.

And here they already had their hands full with preparations. Being dragged around by the selfishness of noble persons did not just start today, but—

…It’s probably just some useless talk anyway.

She had thought so. However.

“…Ah.”

She unintentionally swallowed her breath. That which flared up on the iron plate was different from any fire she had seen until now. Blue. Pale, cold, yet certainly burning.

Its wavering was quiet, and even though there was no wind, that flame gently changing shape was—almost as if it were not of this world.

…What, is that?

She unconsciously stepped back one pace.

And, her gaze naturally turned to Princess Elysia.

Princess Elysia was staring fixedly at it.

Without blinking, just quietly. To the point where it could be understood even through the cloth, those eyes were strong, harboring light.

…Ah.

The maid narrowed her eyes slightly.

…This is certainly a reason to want the “night.” This flame is something that can only be shown to a limited number of people, and…

…That face.

She stared at the Princess’s profile. What was there was neither the face of negotiation nor the face of a princess. Simply and purely, it was the face of “one who has obtained something.”

…You received something special, didn’t you.

She muttered softly in her heart. I see, if it’s this.

…Even my desire to get angry disappears.

The maid said nothing, and merely watched quietly.

The night was not over yet.