Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 28 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A New Stage

Warm sunlight streamed into the room from outside the window. It was a calm and gentle day, as if yesterday’s stormy weather had been nothing more than a lie. The weather seemed like the god of light Meneos was trying to make up for his recent foul mood. Truly, if one could lie down on the grass, read a book, and enjoy a well-prepared meal, it would undoubtedly be the most elegant and delightful of times. But no matter how nice the weather, not everyone could bask in its blessings. There might have been more people who could not enjoy such blessings than those who could. Come rain or shine, unfortunate individuals could not rest and had to fulfill their duties. One chamber of the fortress that stood as the heart of the southern region of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, the fortress city of Heraklion, had such an unfortunate soul.

Ryoma Mikoshiba glanced at the blue sky visible through the room’s window and clicked his tongue.

It’s like yesterday’s storm was just a lie, thought Ryoma.

As the saying “calm after the storm” went, good weather often followed a day of rough weather. But even understanding that, it was human nature to find it hard to accept.

That damn god keeps finding ways to grate on my nerves even now, he mused. Perhaps it was a state of mind akin to the saying “If you hate the priest, you’ll hate even his robes.” Seriously, the weather is perfect for a nap. Yet here I am, dressed in formal attire, forced to endure stiff and tedious negotiations.

For a brief moment, such thoughts flitted through Ryoma Mikoshiba’s mind. Lounging under the shade of a tree, nibbling on sandwiches prepared by the Malfist sisters, would undoubtedly relieve his daily fatigue and stress. He bore the heavy responsibility of the nation’s fate on his shoulders, so such a moment would be an irreplaceable bliss. In the end, that was nothing more than a fleeting, hollow fantasy. No matter how much authority Ryoma wielded, there was no way he could request a postponement of the meeting simply because of the weather. Besides, the meeting wasn’t something he could complain about.

After all, the negotiations between the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy and the Manibhadra tribe were about to begin in earnest. One could not casually cancel such an important discussion.

If I were to do such a thing, the already difficult negotiations would become even more troublesome.

That possibility would render meaningless all the trouble Ryoma had gone to by dressing in a Rhoadserian noble style that he didn’t even like. Even so, it was hard not to feel the urge to rip off the scarf tightly wrapped around his neck when gazing at the cheerful weather outside the window. Indeed, Ryoma had the right to murmur a complaint or two in his heart with this impossibility.

Well... For now, I’ll just focus on fulfilling my role. With that self-reminder, Ryoma dismissed such trivial thoughts and turned his gaze back to the room.

A long ebony table stood at the center of the room. On either side of the table sat Ryoma Mikoshiba, representing the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, and Harisha, representing the Manibhadra tribe. Rahizya sat beside Harisha as an assistant and witness while the Malfist sisters stood behind Ryoma, ready to assist him.

Not bad... I had the twins search for clothes based on the descriptions I got from Rahizya, and this should leave a decent impression on the other side.

Harisha was dressed in loose-fitting attire resembling an Indian Punjabi dress. On the other hand, Rahizya wore an outfit similar to an Indian sherwani, accompanied by a turban wrapped around his head. Both outfits were said to closely resemble the traditional formal wear of the Manibhadra tribe—essentially, their ethnic attire.

The outfits weren’t exact replicas, merely similar. If there had been more time, Ryoma could have asked Simone Christof, the head of the Christof Trading Company, to procure the genuine articles. But time had been far too short. The fact that the Malfist sisters secured clothing that bore a decent resemblance in such a limited time was fortunate, thanks to them hailing from the central continent.

Well, there’s no way to get actual Manibhadra tribal attire around here. Still, finding clothing similar to what’s worn in the central continent was sheer luck. Without Laura and Sara, I wouldn’t have even thought of ordering something from Pherzaad.

On the western continent, where Western-style clothing dominated, outfits akin to those worn in regions like India or Arabia on Rearth would undoubtedly attract attention. At the very least, such attire wasn’t the sort of thing you could casually purchase at a local clothing store. The only places where they might be available were cities that conducted trade with the central continent, which made them quite expensive. For something to clothe captives, the cost was undeniably extravagant. Despite Ryoma knowing this, he still invested a considerable amount of money and effort to procure attire resembling their ethnic clothing. Perhaps Ryoma did this to prevent Harisha and Rahizya from feeling humiliated.

There’s no way they could prepare clothing suitable for themselves to wear at these talks. We had to take care of that for them.

For negotiations, clothing held significant meaning. A person’s appearance often determined first impressions that were said to be extremely difficult to overturn.

Such notions are often criticized in today’s world as “lookism.” But given how much information humans gather through sight, it’s only natural.

The impression created by appearance was composed of various factors. Moreover, these factors could be divided into those that could be changed by an individual and those that could not. While changing features like facial structure or body shape was difficult, altering things like hairstyles or clothing was relatively easy. Factors like body odor or the cleanliness of one’s fingernails—details that hinted at one’s lifestyle—could also be considered part of appearance. Among these various elements that shaped impressions, clothing occupied a particularly significant role.

I’m not someone who cares much about clothing personally, but formalities matter. It’s all about choosing the right time and place.

Ryoma wasn’t especially interested in fashion, but he understood the minimum social expectations for one in his position. What mattered most was wearing clothing appropriate to the time, place, and occasion (TPO). An outfit could lead to embarrassment if it wasn’t suited to the context.

For example, people would not see a man as fashionable if he wore a patterned suit with a white or patterned tie to a funeral. They would deem him inconsiderate. But if he arrived at a wedding in a black suit with a black tie, the bride and groom would likely consider it an insult. Those were just extreme examples. Nonetheless, people were often required to adhere to TPO when choosing their attire. From that perspective, this meeting was akin to a diplomatic engagement between nations, though it was an unofficial negotiation.

Harisha and her group were not formally appointed envoys with full authority from the Manibhadra tribe. Considering the nature of this meeting, it was a forum to discuss ceasefire negotiations and economic assistance. That was precisely why Ryoma had dressed in noble-style attire to participate in the talks. But what would happen if Harisha and her companions, the negotiating partners, participated in the meeting dressed in their everyday clothes?

Without a doubt, Harisha and the others would feel insulted. Even if the negotiations went smoothly, there would inevitably be lingering resentment.

The occasion was like attending a formal party where everyone else was dressed up while one was forced to show up in a T-shirt and jeans due to financial constraints. The disparity would surely make one painfully aware of the difference. Of course, someone completely shameless might eat and drink without a care. But most people weren’t that thick-skinned. Based on Rahizya’s description of Harisha’s personality, the outcome of such a scenario was as clear as day.

Harisha would leave the room, her pride wounded and burning with humiliation. She might even refuse to participate in the first place. While she might endure for the sake of her tribe, it’s not worth gambling on such a slim possibility. That leaves us with no choice but to accommodate them.

Rahizya and Harisha had been captured on the battlefield, and their only possessions were the armor and helmets they had worn during the Battle of Lubua Plains. That attire might suffice if the meeting occurred on the battlefield, where the dust of war was the norm. However, attending in full armor was far from ideal since the meeting was in a chamber within a castle. Their only alternative was the clothing Ryoma had issued to them as everyday wear. While it was considered everyday wear, the clothing was of a reasonable quality. But wearing such casual attire to the meeting would be completely inappropriate, considering the nature of the discussions that were about to take place.

For commoners, their regular clothes could easily pass as their best outfit for special occasions. However, it was undeniably unsuitable for nobility to wear in a public setting. Perhaps it wasn’t as casual as T-shirts and jeans, but it could hardly be considered attire appropriate to the TPO. Harisha and her companions were certainly aware of that as well. This mindset left two options: either they refused to attend the meeting or sold their equipment to one of the merchant guilds operating in Heraklion to raise funds.

The latter course posed its own difficulties. While it might be theoretically possible, as prisoners, Harisha and her group would first need to locate a merchant guild willing to trade with oni-like people, such as themselves. Even if she and her group found such a guild, it was a foregone conclusion they would face steep terms of exploitation. In the end, it was much more efficient for Ryoma to take care of the arrangements himself.

Of course, this is a case-by-case situation. Forcing someone to attend dressed poorly could help crush their morale or weaken their willingness to negotiate.

Furthermore, Ryoma had his reasons for not wanting Harisha and her companions to wear clothing similar to his own. This upcoming meeting was critical to the future of the Manibhadra tribe. For such a significant negotiation, there was no need to force them to wear clothing typically associated with a race they had been in conflict with for so long. From that perspective, it was better to make accommodations where possible. It was a small price to pay if this approach could facilitate negotiations. The only concern was whether Harisha and her companions would understand the thoughtfulness behind Ryoma’s efforts.

Despite the common belief that consideration and compromise were essential for successful negotiations, they were not always effective. Sometimes, the other party did not even realize they were being shown consideration, or even if they did, they may take it for granted. For such people, such gestures became literally meaningless. Fortunately, Ryoma’s efforts this time did not seem to have been wasted.

“I tried to choose something as close as possible to what you would typically wear, based on what Rahizya told me. How is it? I can’t claim it’s perfect, given the limited time, but I hope it doesn’t offend you,” Ryoma told Harisha, scratching his head.

The light comment served as a segue into the meeting. As Ryoma asked, Harisha brushed her hand along the sleeve of the garment, her expression softening into a satisfied smile.

“Yes, it’s beautiful, and the texture is wonderful. While there are some differences from what we usually wear, I find it remarkable in its own way.” Harisha’s smile was radiant. From the genuine expression on her face, her words were clearly not false. She bowed her head as she continued, “Thank you very much for your kind consideration, Your Grace.”

In response, Ryoma gave her a deep nod.

“I see. I’m glad to hear that,” said Ryoma. As an opening exchange, it was at least a passing grade. That doesn’t mean the negotiations are guaranteed to go my way, though.

Receiving a gift from someone would naturally make one happy, but that didn’t mean it would determine the outcome of a negotiation. One could describe diplomacy and negotiation as the art of smiling politely while accepting a gift with one hand and gripping a knife with the other, waiting for the right moment to strike. At that moment, the sound of the noon bell began to ring. Finally, the meeting to decide the futures of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy and the Manibhadra tribe was about to begin. Surprisingly, Harisha opened the proceedings.

“First, as the daughter of the Manibhadra tribe’s leader and one of the candidates for the next chieftain, I would like to convey our intentions,” she said.

This remark was likely a deliberate move to catch Ryoma Mikoshiba off guard. Whether this strategy was Harisha’s idea or Rahizya’s suggestion was something Ryoma could not discern at the moment. Regardless of its origin, the strategy seemed to have worked brilliantly. It was nothing short of perfect as an opening gambit to seize control of the negotiations. Why? Because it completely defied Ryoma’s expectations.

“I gladly accept the benevolence of His Grace Archduke Mikoshiba in offering aid to alleviate the suffering of my starving people. Of course, final approval will require the consent of the elders and my father, the chieftain. But I hope you will place your trust in Rahizya and me on this matter.”

When those words reached Ryoma’s ears, the man widely regarded as a cold and cunning overlord known for his ruthlessness found himself at a rare loss for words. His expression was one of pure astonishment—a look of someone hearing something far beyond their expectations, the sort that no one would show amid negotiations. As the saying “poker face” implied, exposing one’s inner thoughts to the opponent during negotiations or contests was nothing short of foolish. Unless one could master the ability to laugh out loud while crying inwardly—controlling their emotions to such a degree—they would never emerge victorious in the arenas of negotiation or competition. This fundamental rule of the game was something Ryoma Mikoshiba fully understood and had consistently practiced up until now.

After all, Ryoma had been thoroughly drilled by his grandfather, Koichiro, from a young age.

Regardless of how much training a person underwent, they were still only human. Even the most important teachings seemed powerless when faced with truly unexpected developments. Harisha’s words were so completely unexpected to Ryoma that he couldn’t immediately process them. Ultimately, Ryoma’s focus on convincing Harisha left him blindsided, making it understandable that he couldn’t grasp the situation right away.

Wait, what did she just say? Did she just agree to my proposal?

At first, Ryoma felt a mix of confusion and surprise. Such unexpected words caused his mind to fall behind in processing them. He replayed Harisha’s words in his head several times, then began to doubt his own ears.

Did I mishear something?

This uneasy feeling crossed Ryoma’s mind.

Harisha’s words were definitely not a figment of his imagination, and Ryoma fully understood that there was no way he had misheard her. After all, he had a certain degree of knowledge about intelligence and reconnaissance operations.

My grandfather drilled me in this. This can’t be... 

The Mikoshiba mortal arts had been passed down since the Warring States period and contained various techniques and knowledge. Within the Mikoshiba style were eighteen martial arts techniques that a warrior should master and a wide range of other skills and knowledge. For example, it included techniques used by ascetic practitioners, like curses and prayers, as well as medical knowledge to the extent that one could imitate the work of a doctor or pharmacist. The scope was incredibly broad. Moreover, the technical framework of the Mikoshiba mortal arts encompassed skills necessary for conducting intelligence operations. Simply put, these skills could relate closely to ninjutsu or ninja techniques.

The style that Ryoma learned from Koichiro included martial arts like unarmed combat and swordsmanship, which were commonly associated with traditional martial arts. He spent a significant portion of his time training these techniques. The focus on strengthening the body and practicing throws and joint locks for self-defense made sense in Japan, where carrying weapons was uncommon. However, true classical schools of martial arts were not solely made up of these mainstream techniques.

For example, the Daito-ryu Aiki-jujutsu, aside from jujutsu, also transmitted swordsmanship and shurikenjutsu, martial arts using shurikens. Similarly, karate specialized in striking techniques, and the Okinawan karate schools where it originated also passed down bojutsu (staff techniques) and sai (weapon techniques).

Some martial artists argued that one had to study bojutsu to understand the style used in karate. So, why did many martial arts schools in modern society specialize in specific techniques? The answer was clear.

Many of these schools have survived not as martial arts but as sports or cultural practices aimed at preserving the teachings of their ancestors.

Of course, this is not necessarily a bad thing. Martial arts need to adapt to the times and the environment, as that is also a part of their nature.

The techniques born in times of war had little use in times of peace. However, if the goal was to pass on the name and techniques of a school to future generations, seeking recognition and having people enjoy the practice was logical. But when this happened, no one was likely to say, “Our school teaches the art of killing.” If someone were to say that, most people would avoid that school. Even if a few people made exceptions and joined, the result would likely be disastrous.

Many martial arts in modern society had their sharp edges dulled and now existed as sports. However, choosing to continue as a sport had undeniably resulted in many martial arts losing their focus on self-defense. If a person considered martial arts as a means to protect one’s life, knowledge of weaponry became essential because needing to protect oneself generally meant the opponent was armed. The goal of martial arts was to kill the enemy and survive on the battlefield, so specializing in one technique was impossible. Thus, one would seek to absorb and utilize as many techniques as possible.

The same was true for the Mikoshiba mortal arts, which had been passed down from even before the Warring States period.

The Mikoshiba mortal arts included archery and spear techniques, concealed weapon techniques using hidden items such as manrikisa (chained iron balls), and ancient swimming techniques designed to allow one to swim while wearing clothes or armor. Indeed, the Mikoshiba mortal arts even had records on how to fire matchlock guns and how to prepare gunpowder.

Well, I never properly learned how to fire a matchlock gun.

While Koichiro had passed down the knowledge of matchlock guns, he never actually ordered Ryoma to do any serious training in their use. That said, it was certain that the Mikoshiba mortal arts were a well-rounded ancient martial art system, designed with the primary goal of surviving on the battlefield. Within this system, groups known as ninjas also used espionage techniques, which included methods for concealing one’s presence, codebreaking, and a wide range of other practices. One such practice was training to enhance one’s hearing so that one could distinguish different voices around them. It was truly a rich repository of techniques, almost like a “department store” of skills.

If modern martial arts focused on honing skills in one specific direction, like a concentrated breakthrough, the ancient style could be considered versatile, aiming to acquire a certain level of proficiency in all areas.

But there was no hierarchy between the two, thought Ryoma. What mattered was the difference in what one could do, as did the time required to master the skills needed to achieve the desired results. Results were important, but cost-effectiveness was equally significant.

The crucial factor was achieving the desired results, and the idea that the means didn’t matter wasn’t necessarily wrong. In the extreme, if one could ultimately protect themselves, it didn’t matter whether they used judo, kendo, or any other form of martial art. Nonetheless, the situation slightly changed when considering the labor and efficiency required to achieve a goal.

Practicing swordsmanship or jujutsu would not be as effective for learning espionage techniques, such as those found in ninjutsu, which took a systematic approach to espionage. Sharpening the senses—eyes, ears, and other sensory organs—was more advantageous for information gathering than swinging a sword or practicing throwing techniques. There were methods within ninjutsu to train such senses.

I think ninjutsu training included something like “small sound listening” or something similar.

The Mikoshiba mortal arts referred to this training method as the “dropping needle technique.” Although the name was different, the purpose was the same. In reality, there wasn’t much difference in the training methods themselves.

This training technique was simple and consisted of dropping a stone from close to the ear onto a board and listening to distinguish the sound, gradually moving the sound source farther away from the ear.

Additionally, the training method was reasonable if the goal was to train hearing. Perhaps Ryoma Mikoshiba’s ancestors had stolen a ninjutsu manual from somewhere or heard about the training method from others, and incorporated it into the Mikoshiba style’s techniques. Eventually, the goal was to be able to distinguish the sound of a needle falling from dozens of meters away, although Ryoma had not undergone that level of training.

It would be more accurate to say that there was no need to spend so much time and effort to gain superhuman hearing. Indeed, having the ability to distinguish the sound of a needle falling was an impressive feat that resulted from honing one’s abilities to their absolute limits. Perhaps it was akin to becoming a kind of superhuman. However, acquiring such an extraordinary ability overnight was impossible. Moreover, Ryoma had not been training with the goal of becoming a ninja.

Even with such intense training, unless one had a specialized job in the CIA or a public security police force, the opportunities to make use of it in modern society would be limited. Of course, if someone in modern society truly needed to engage in espionage activities, the majority would likely choose to use equipment like bugging devices instead of spending long hours and effort honing their hearing.

Given he had been summoned to this hellish world without advanced technology, no one would have thought to prepare in advance. Truthfully, Ryoma had not slacked off on his training to the extent that he would miss something as important as Harisha’s words. Even if he hadn’t undergone such specialized training, he could not have misheard Harisha at such close range. The distance between them was no more than two meters despite sitting across a desk. Ryoma understood this, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to believe the words that came from her mouth.

Such disjointed thoughts swirled around and appeared and vanished in his mind, likely proving that Ryoma Mikoshiba was unsettled. It was an incredibly rare sight.

One could argue that it revealed an unexpected side of a man who was usually unflappable and never failed to prepare for every possibility.

However, Ryoma was seemingly not the only one surprised by Harisha’s words. A faint hint of unease was visible on the faces of the Malfist sisters, who were standing behind him. Silence filled the room. Among them, only Harisha and Rahizya remained calm and composed. Ryoma cast a probing glance at the two of them, showing that his mind had finally regained its usual composure and had started to function normally. The disjointed thoughts seemed to have helped Ryoma regain his balance.

The situation is quite different from what I had heard from Rahizya. Of course, I appreciate that they’re willing to accept our proposal so easily. But this woman... What is her true intention? I hadn’t heard that she was such a thoughtful person.

Such doubts arose in Ryoma’s mind—that he should not take Harisha’s words at face value. At the very least, suspecting the other party’s intentions was necessary before celebrating openly. As the saying went, “There’s always something behind a good offer.” In this harsh world, a bit of suspicion was necessary to navigate through it.

Did Rahizya manage to convince her?

Harisha’s display might have been natural for a person skilled in intrigue and strategy. That suspicion was enough to seal Ryoma’s lips shut.

No... Perhaps it would be better to just observe things for now. How will Harisha move next?

If Ryoma couldn’t come to a clear answer, remaining silent and watching the situation unfold wasn’t necessarily a bad approach for negotiations.

As if Harisha had seen through his thoughts, she once again opened her mouth leisurely with a calm smile.

“The details of the assistance we would receive would need some further discussion. However, it would be ideal to proceed with what Rahizya and you initially discussed.”

At her words, Ryoma lightly nodded. “So, you would primarily like food assistance?”

“Yes. We mainly rely on hunting, but as various nations have been cutting down forests and expanding farmland recently, game has become scarce. As a result, food has been in short supply. I believe Rahizya has already conveyed this situation to you, so I’m sure you are already aware of it.”

With that, a deep sigh escaped Harisha’s lips. Her information matched perfectly with the situation of the Manibhadra tribe that Ryoma had heard about beforehand from Rahizya. What mattered was that Harisha had spoken the truth and confirmed it with her words.

I see... So, she doesn’t intend to cover this up with lies or bluffs.

At that moment, Ryoma reassessed his previous judgment of Harisha, which stemmed from Rahizya. As she had said, he knew about the situation of the Manibhadra tribe. In that sense, there was little need for Harisha to lie about it, but that didn’t mean there was any necessity to bring up that fact again. More accurately, most people wouldn’t want to openly mention such things.

For someone like Harisha, who valued the pride of her tribe, this would be a fact she wouldn’t want to speak about. In a way, it was a shameful weakness she’d want to hide.

That attitude was a petty form of stubbornness. No matter how loudly someone might declare their pride, it would only sound like the howl of the weak if reality didn’t back it up. Nothing was more pitiful than putting on false bravado just to hide a weakness. Although it was an obvious fact, there was little reason to bring it up.

I had heard that the tribe’s pride was important to Harisha, so I thought it would be better to leave that part unsaid. But if she’s bringing it up herself, then it’s even better.

When conducting negotiations, the ability for both parties to have a shared understanding was the key to success. The real issue, however, was the sudden softening of Harisha’s previously hostile attitude. And so, Ryoma decided to ask Harisha directly about the doubts he had.

“Indeed... So you’re willing to accept my proposal. In that case, may I assume that you will also accept my requests in exchange for food aid? And are you aware of the price you may need to pay?”

If Harisha were to accept the assistance of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, she would have to pay an appropriate price in return and prepare for any consequences.

He had never once suggested that it would be unconditional aid when negotiating with Rahizya. However, he had no confirmation that Harisha understood this. Even if Rahizya had conveyed this information, there was no guarantee that she had fully grasped it.

After all, unconditional aid doesn’t truly exist in this world.

In extreme cases, even those who are passionate about volunteer work did not act entirely for free. Volunteers might not profit monetarily, but people sometimes overlooked that there were other forms of gain. If someone received praise from others for volunteering, they were gaining a form of spiritual profit. It could still be considered truly “unpaid” service if someone continued to serve without receiving any praise or, worse, received scorn instead of gratitude.

However, there would be very few people who would find that acceptable.

At the very least, most people would expect some words of gratitude in return. The term “passion exploitation” existed for a reason—it was because those involved were receiving some form of emotional benefit. He wasn’t sure whether it was the social significance of the work or the purpose of simply working for a particular company. If the salary was poor and no spiritual benefit was gained, he could confidently say that no one would want to continue working in such a place.

From that standpoint, Ryoma believed people would never engage in actions that would lead to their own loss. The apparent lack of profit might be due to making it appear that way or because the spiritual benefits had not been considered.

In the United States, for instance, making donations could lead to tax deductions.

Of course, Ryoma had no intention of criticizing that as being too calculating. The issue, however, was that those receiving assistance had to understand that they also had to be prepared to pay some kind of cost. There was always a catch to a good deal.

Technically, I wouldn’t need to verify it this thoroughly. Considering future strategies, I definitely want to avoid a situation where the entire yaksha tribe in the southern part of the continent would resent us.

For Ryoma, the goal of building a relationship with the Manibhadra tribe through this food aid was primarily about resolving a strategic gap created by the political upheaval in the Kingdom of Myest. The Mikoshiba family intended to increase their influence in the southern region of the western continent, and they were moving in that direction, but that was only a secondary goal. If the Manibhadra tribe eventually perished, Ryoma wouldn’t necessarily care. However, that didn’t mean he wanted to actively deceive Harisha and the others. At the very least, he didn’t want to intentionally put the Manibhadra tribe in a difficult situation.

This decision might appear naive from a strategic standpoint alone. However, Ryoma understood well the deep feelings he harbored for his own “tribe,” and he had no intention of belittling that sentiment. He instead thought coexistence between them would be ideal.

Well, I admit I might be a bit soft on this.

As such, Ryoma wanted to avoid a situation where Harisha and the others would later resent him, claiming they had been deceived after agreeing to something too quickly. But it seemed that Ryoma’s concerns were unfounded.

“Yes. If we were to receive food aid from Your Grace, there would be no reason for us to ally with the people of the stone city. Furthermore, Brittantia and Tarja would undoubtedly consider us traitors,” declared Harisha.

“Would you be fine with that?”

“Yes. Considering our historical grudges against them, we understand that the likelihood of war is high. But that is a reality we have prepared for.” Harisha paused for a moment after saying that. After taking a deep breath, she used all the pride and resolve she could muster. “If we must fight them, even if we are defeated in battle, our ancestors will surely welcome us into the land of the spirits.”

When Ryoma heard Harisha, his eyes widened slightly.

I see... In the worst case, I was considering spreading rumors to stir up conflict with Brittantia and Tarja, but it seems that’s unnecessary now, thought Ryoma. That was the exact depth of the rift that lay between the two kinds of intelligent beings: humans and the demon race. If that’s the case, there’s only one thing I need to confirm.

Historical enmities were, without a doubt, difficult to resolve. This dilemma was not about rights or wrongs or facts, but about reconciling pent-up emotions.

Should the parties involved continue to live in close proximity on the southern continent, the hatred and animosity the yaksha race held toward humans would run deeper than that of the dark elves, who had secluded themselves on the Wortenia Peninsula.

The yaksha race, particularly the Manibhadra tribe, lacking the resolve to bury their hatred and resentment toward humans and still accepting Ryoma’s hand would ultimately lead to a relationship in which they were used merely as pawns.

“So, are you prepared to fight alongside me—a human—and join forces? Worst case, your tribe might even condemn you as a traitor.”

Ryoma’s question carried a hint of malice, but it was unavoidable.

Harisha shook her head with a calm smile and said, “Honestly, I cannot say I’m prepared. At this stage, it would be meaningless to put it into words. Making that decision will take time.”

“I see... You are absolutely right. It seems I have been rushing things a bit,” Ryoma said, bowing deeply in apology.

In truth, hearing someone claim to be resolute at this point would be frightening. If Harisha had easily said, “I’m ready,” Ryoma would have likely discarded her immediately.

After Ryoma’s apology, Harisha gave a small nod and then voiced her thoughts.

“Regarding the matter at hand, I have heard from Rahizya that we could exchange the plants and animal skins we gather for weapons, medicine, and other goods. This has the potential to greatly benefit not only the Manibhadra tribe, but all the yakshas in the southern kingdoms who face the threat of the Church of Meneos’s demi-human persecution. With that in mind, I believe the day will come when I can answer your earlier question.”

Food shortages and hunger were not just a problem for the Manibhadra tribe but for all the yakshas living in the southern kingdoms. If this issue could be resolved, Harisha was open to forming a friendly relationship with Ryoma, the head of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy.

Only the gods themselves could determine whether the relationship would progress beyond that.

Ryoma nodded deeply, then declared with confidence, “I see. You have thought that far ahead, then. Let’s wait for the day we can hear the answer to my question together!”

“Yes, I look forward to working with you, Lord Mikoshiba,” Harisha responded.

What had been anticipated to be a tumultuous meeting ended in success, allowing the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy and the Manibhadra tribe to take a step forward.

This marked the beginning of a new phase in Ryoma’s grand strategy, signaling that his restoration plan had entered a new chapter.

Seven days had passed since the meeting with Harisha had concluded, and Ryoma was now back in Pireas, the capital of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria.

In a room of the late Count Salzberg’s mansion tucked away in a corner of the royal capital, the young conqueror—who had secretly returned to the city after negotiating with Harisha—sat face-to-face with his grandfather. Darkness dominated the view outside the window. It was likely just past midnight—an ideal hour for a confidential discussion.

On the table before them rested crystal shot glasses filled with amber liquid, accompanied by a bottle of liquor bearing a vintage label. Beside them lay thinly sliced cheese prepared for their enjoyment.

“So, did things work out well with that demoness?” Koichiro Mikoshiba hesitantly asked his grandson, who sat on a sofa with a sullen expression.

This reluctance was unusual for Koichiro, a man of charm and audacious boldness. The words leaving his mouth were those of a grandfather concerned for his grandson’s affairs. However, it was unfortunate that, despite the worried look on Koichiro’s face, he wasn’t truly as concerned about his grandson’s predicament as he appeared. The subtle buoyancy in his tone was undoubtedly not a figment of Ryoma’s imagination. From another perspective, it might have been an awkward display of trust in the beloved grandson he had painstakingly raised. As the recipient of such trust, Ryoma could not accept it in the slightest because he could see through Koichiro’s true intentions.

Damn it... Enjoying someone else’s misfortune, huh? Seriously, he doesn’t even think to console his grandson, who went through the trouble of sneaking back into the capital, mused Ryoma. Ideally, as a grandson, he would have loved to click his tongue loudly in frustration. However, he understood all too well from years of experience that doing so would only make things even worse. If I talk back, he’ll just get all stubborn.

For Ryoma, who had never known his parents, Koichiro was quite literally his foster parent. Despite a gap of several years after Ryoma was summoned from Rearth to this world before he reunited with Koichiro, both had maintained their grandfather-grandson relationship for nearly twenty years.

He knew exactly where the line was—the point at which the older man’s mood would truly sour—although people could dismiss things as harmless banter or jokes if they didn’t cross that line. In that sense, the two were unmistakably family. Moreover, Ryoma owed Koichiro a debt of gratitude so immense that he could never fully repay it, even in a lifetime. A bit of lighthearted teasing was one thing, but he naturally hesitated regarding serious arguments. As such, Koichiro was not only a figure of unparalleled obligation and gratitude in Ryoma’s life but also perhaps the only person to whom he felt utterly subordinate. Even so, that didn’t mean Koichiro Mikoshiba was someone Ryoma could respect unconditionally, and he couldn’t help but shake his head at the idea.

What a nasty old man... Honestly, I’d never want to deal with him if he weren’t family.

Koichiro’s fondness for wit and jest, combined with a narrow-minded and obstinate personality, made him a truly difficult figure in any negotiation. Even for Ryoma, who saw Koichiro as a grandfather who had stood in for his parents, tolerating his problematic behavior and words wasn’t exactly easy. Ryoma wasn’t naive enough to point this out and stir up trouble. After all, he was about to ask a favor of this difficult and conniving grandfather.

“Yeah, I managed somehow. It caused me plenty of worry, but in the end, I was able to wrap things up fairly smoothly.” With that, Ryoma gave a slight shrug.

Koichiro Mikoshiba, watching him, let out a hearty, amused laugh and said, “Oh, is that so? When I read your letter, it sounded like things were going to be quite difficult. If it all came together smoothly, then so much the better.”

“Well, now we’ve lit a fire under Brittantia and Tarja. It’s still just a spark, but if we play our cards right, we can turn it into a raging inferno.”

Ryoma smirked as he spoke, and Koichiro nodded deeply in response. Was his expression one of grandfatherly affection and concern for his grandson? Despite Koichiro knowing Ryoma had gone out of his way to call on him for some important reason, he was true to his nature as a connoisseur and lover of fine spirits and hadn’t forgotten to savor the drink before him.

Koichiro raised the crystal shot glass in his hand slightly toward Ryoma in acknowledgment. He then slowly brought the rim of the glass to his lips, taking a delicate sip. After letting the liquor linger in his mouth for a moment to savor its taste, his throat moved as he swallowed.

Closing his eyes as if relishing the aftertaste, Koichiro eventually spoke in a measured tone.

“Hmm, this is an excellent drink... Rich, aromatic, and remarkably smooth. As expected of a Macallan 1946. After over half a century of aging, it’s been refined to perfection. Truly well matured.”

Koichiro nodded with satisfaction, clearly impressed by the quality of the liquor. Judging by his reaction, it seemed he was thoroughly delighted. Watching Koichiro’s obvious enjoyment, Ryoma couldn’t help but sneer.

Good grief... I went out of my way to call him here for an important request, and he’s already drinking before we’ve even started talking.

Ryoma had poured the liquor into the shot glass in front of Koichiro, but he hadn’t done this to encourage his grandfather to start drinking right away. It was simply a matter of a young man making a request and following the minimum etiquette he owed to the person who had raised him. He had not truly anticipated that Koichiro would start drinking from the shot glass in the middle of their conversation. After all, the matter he was about to discuss was a major gamble for the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, a bold move that would require a significant shift from their existing strategies. That was precisely why neither Laura nor Sara, whom Ryoma trusted deeply, were in the room. The two were stationed just outside the door, prepared for any unforeseen circumstances. In fact, within a one-kilometer radius of the former Salzberg mansion, elite Igasaki agents had established layer upon layer of barriers to guard against unexpected intrusions. All of this was for the sake of the conversation that was about to take place.

Koichiro, perceptive as he was, could not have failed to notice how cautious Ryoma was being. Even knowing this, he boldly drank before the discussion started.

For all his faults, my grandfather certainly has some remarkable nerve.

Of course, this was far from a compliment. If anything, it was closer to a veiled insult or a jab. Although Ryoma kept these thoughts concealed, they subtly seeped into his gaze. As the saying went, his eyes spoke louder than his words. However, Koichiro showed no signs of remorse, even under the reproachful gaze of his grandson.

The fact that he once again brought the shot glass to his lips was proof enough of that. The amber liquid inside the glass slid down his throat, burning slightly as it made its way to his stomach.

After quietly savoring the aftertaste, Koichiro reached for a piece of cheese on the table, nodding in satisfaction. It seemed this was his idea of pure bliss.

“Still, I’m amazed you managed to get your hands on such a fine drink. Something like this is rare, even in Japan. To think I’d be able to taste it here in this otherworld... Truly, the saying ‘Fortune and misfortune are intertwined like a rope’ fits perfectly,” said Koichiro, carefully examining the bottle with the label marked “1946.”

His amazement was entirely justified.

A whiskey distilled more than half a century ago is hardly something that you’d expect would still be around.

Alcohol could generally be divided into two types: those meant for consumption soon after production and those suited for long-term aging. The former included items like beer and sake, while the latter typically encompassed wine and whiskey. Of course, there were exceptions—some sake varieties were aged for several years, and everyday wines and whiskeys were often consumed young. However, there were bottles aged ten years, twenty years, or even longer within the realms of wine and whiskey known as vintage or cult wines and spirits. These rare and highly sought-after liquors were sometimes traded for prices so exorbitant they’d make one’s eyes widen in shock. In fact, they were not always items one could simply purchase, even with money. Prerequisites such as wealth, connections, and a deep appreciation of fine liquor were necessary. But the ultimate requirement was the guiding hand of fate, akin to a celestial alignment. Among such rare and coveted liquors, the Macallan 1946 held a special place as one of the dreams of connoisseurs—something every true enthusiast hoped to taste at least once in their lifetime.

Koichiro was naturally astonished to be able to savor this wine on Earth, a magical and treacherous world separated by a void from Rearth, where it originated.

“If you’re that pleased, then I’d say it was worth the effort to get my hands on it...” Ryoma nodded with a deep sigh.

Perhaps he felt a mix of sorrow and frustration witnessing his grandfather consume such a precious bottle. For Ryoma, who had developed a taste for good liquor at a young age, it was a loss that cut deep.

Truth be told, it was pure chance that it ended up in my possession.

Humans were generally the ones summoned from Rearth to the world of Earth. That did not mean nonhuman entities were never summoned. More accurately, they were often caught up in the summoning alongside humans. Summoning occasionally included animals, plants, electronic devices, and even works of art.

In addition to summoning through ritual magic, spatial distortions could occur naturally, creating temporary links between Rearth and Earth. These distortions were akin to natural disasters in their unpredictability and suddenness. Just like natural disasters, the time and location of these distortions were impossible to forecast. For instance, it wasn’t entirely inconceivable that such an anomaly could transport a wealthy individual’s collection of rare whiskies from Rearth to Earth.

A miraculous chain of events brought the rare bottle into Ryoma Mikoshiba’s possession. In other words, this was a treasure of unparalleled value, with no guarantee that he could ever obtain another like it. And yet, offering this prized possession to Koichiro was not an act of filial piety toward his grandfather. Koichiro, of course, had long since seen through his grandson’s intentions. Understanding this, he still leisurely sipped from his shot glass, savoring the rare liquor.

That damn old man...

To Ryoma, it was a somewhat coldhearted gesture toward a grandson facing a dire predicament. Yet, he could neither point it out nor criticize his grandfather. The reason was simple: Ryoma’s bold, lifesaving plan depended entirely on leveraging Koichiro Mikoshiba’s extensive network. There was no other way. As Koichiro perhaps sensed Ryoma’s inner conflict, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a letter, and handed it to his grandson. Ryoma tilted his head in curiosity but accepted the letter without hesitation.

“What’s this?”

“It’s what you’ve been looking for.”

At those words, Ryoma’s eyes widened in surprise. He quickly tore open the envelope and took out the letter, scanning its contents. After reading it thoroughly, Ryoma let out a deep sigh, as if to steady his nerves. The contents of the letter were so unexpected that he found it difficult to believe outright.

One of the elders of the Organization, Master Liu, is coming to Pherzaad in two weeks? And he specifically wishes to meet with me?

In some ways, this was a stroke of incredible fortune because it was what Ryoma had intended to ask of Koichiro. He had hoped that Koichiro would arrange an introduction to someone within the Organization. Of course, Ryoma had heard of Master Liu before as one of Koichiro’s allies and a key figure within the group.

However, Master Liu’s base in the city of Lentencia, located in the southwestern part of the continent, was too far away in this world devoid of modern scientific technology.

Besides, I heard the Organization has regional leaders for each area.

While Liu was indeed the leader of the southwestern region of the western continent, it was unclear whether his authority extended to the far eastern part of the continent. Thus, Ryoma had been considering negotiating with one of the Organization’s leaders stationed in his own region. He wanted Koichiro to act as the intermediary for such a connection. Still, a direct negotiation with Liu was far from worthless.

If I don’t have to worry about the distance, there’s hardly anyone better suited for the role of negotiator than him.

Even if Liu’s direct authority did not extend to the eastern reaches of the continent, having him vouch for Ryoma or speak to the relevant parties could drastically change the dynamics of the discussion. This development was extraordinarily favorable for Ryoma. However, he was not naive enough to simply accept the situation and rejoice at face value.

“How did you know?” asked Ryoma.

The question carried an uneasy mix of astonishment and suspicion. It would have been difficult not to be surprised in such a situation. Koichiro responded to Ryoma’s reaction with an amused smile, almost as if to tease him.

“I see... Judging by that look on your face, it seems my efforts weren’t in vain.”

Despite Koichiro’s remark, Ryoma repeated his question more forcefully, his tone laced with anger and frustration.

“Let me ask you again. How did you know?”

Who could blame him?

He had gone to great lengths to keep his strategy confidential by assigning the Malfist sisters to handle security, mobilizing the elite Igasaki operatives, and erecting barriers to ensure absolute secrecy. If Koichiro somehow discovered this strategy, Ryoma would naturally suspect a leak.

I can’t believe there’s a traitor among us, but the information might have leaked somehow.

Even so, Koichiro—the man who had dropped this bombshell—seemed to enjoy Ryoma’s reaction and observed it with an air of amusement. He calmly reached for his shot glass again, letting the Macallan flow smoothly down his throat. His composed demeanor never faltered, and Ryoma finally realized his grandfather’s true intent.

That damn old man... He was messing with me. He knew I’d get flustered if he handed me that letter in such a cryptic way.

This realization did not bring Ryoma relief. Instead, it ignited a flame of anger deep within him, a seething rage that burned through his entire body. After all, Koichiro’s actions had led Ryoma to question the loyalty and actions of the retainers who had faithfully supported the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy. Even as a joke, it was in poor taste.

However, Koichiro quickly picked up on how Ryoma’s gaze had turned sharp and dangerous. He appeared slightly guilty and lowered his head. Koichiro had seemingly realized he had gone too far.

“My apologies. I might have gone too far with the joke. Rest assured, it’s not as serious as you think. As I mentioned before, Liu Zhong Jian, the person behind that letter, is an old acquaintance of mine. He’s coming to Pherzaad, and I decided to have a little fun with you... Forgive me.”

From Koichiro’s perspective, he had probably just been teasing his grandson, but he had inadvertently taken it too far. It was hardly a harmless prank—far too cruel for that—but there hadn’t been any ill will behind it. Ryoma, however, glared at his grandfather with sharp eyes. After a long moment of glaring, Ryoma realized that Koichiro’s words had truly been a joke and sighed heavily, perhaps with resignation.

“That was one hell of a joke, Gramps. I almost thought I’d have to draw Kikoku,” he said, his gaze briefly shifting toward the nearby sword. This display was Ryoma’s attempt at humor, but those words might have become a reality if Koichiro had not been his grandfather.

“You bring out such a prized bottle but hesitate to get to the point. I was just messing with you, but I admit I went a little too far,” replied Koichiro.

Ryoma smirked in response. The reason he had brought out the precious bottle of Macallan 1946 was precisely because of his request. Still, he had hesitated to ask Koichiro for help with the Organization because he couldn’t fully grasp the nature of Koichiro’s relationship with it. However, Koichiro had seen right through his hesitation.

“Still, Gramps. You understood that I wanted to negotiate with the Organization, didn’t you? I don’t recall mentioning anything like that in the report I sent you.”

But to that perfectly natural question, Koichiro simply shrugged.

“With the political upheaval caused by Myest, sending reinforcements to the Kingdom of Xarooda became even harder. On top of that, the progress of your negotiations with the Manibhadra tribe suggests you’re using them as a shield to counter the enemy. If you go out of your way to summon me from Sirius, it’s easy to imagine that it’s not a request suitable for a letter. Given the situation, I could easily guess you wanted to ask me something related to the Organization.”

It was indeed a self-evident conclusion, if you laid out all the reasons and saw the connections. Few people made those connections, so it was truly a remarkable insight. When Ryoma heard Koichiro, he raised both his hands in mock surrender.

“I see... So my intentions were all too clear to you.”

“Well, of course. Who do you think taught you?” With that, Koichiro laughed cheerfully. After filling his empty glass with Macallan again, Koichiro took a deep drink and turned to Ryoma with a probing gaze. “By the way, I have one thing I’d like to ask you. If you don’t mind?”

“What’s with the sudden formality?”

“You’ve seemed to want to distance yourself from the Organization... So why the sudden change of heart?”

It was a perfectly natural question. As Koichiro had said, Ryoma didn’t have a very good impression of the Organization and didn’t want to get involved with them. Even when he had heard that Koichiro had once been an executive in the Organization, he had never tried to use it as a means to make contact. Koichiro understood this very well and had never suggested that Ryoma seek assistance from the Organization. In response to Koichiro’s question, Ryoma let out a wry smile.

“Well, to put it simply... It’s to survive.”

“Oh? Is it really that dire?”

“The two-front war is just too much. The situation in Myest changed completely after that political upheaval. Also, the burden on the soldiers has become quite heavy.”

Koichiro tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is it with the soldiers you trained yourself? I thought you had quite an elite force.”

“That’s exactly why it’s frightening. They push themselves beyond their limits.”

A deep sigh escaped from Ryoma’s lips. The soldiers of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy were indeed elite troops. Their loyalty was unwavering; even if the situation on the battlefield became unfavorable, they had the sheer power to break through the opposition. This stemmed from many of them being freed slaves. Most of them had been weak individuals who had been stripped of their human rights. Having been liberated from that hell, they followed Ryoma Mikoshiba’s leadership without complaint, heading to the battlefield to fight for their master.

The soldiers are reaching their physical and mental limits. They said they could keep fighting, but...

At that moment, the image of the exhausted soldiers appeared in Ryoma’s mind. While returning from the rescue of the fortress city of Jermuk to Heraklion, the soldiers of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy had endured a grueling march. They were still capable of fighting, but Ryoma thought about the future and wanted to let them rest in barracks with roofs for about a month.

After all, they still had the mission to head to the Kingdom of Xarooda and fight against the O’ltormea Empire. Ryoma would not hesitate to significantly alter his original plans to accomplish that primary goal.

“I see... But negotiations with the Organization will take time. How do you plan to handle that? Are you thinking of sending the soldiers from Heraklion as reinforcements to Xarooda?” Koichiro reasonably asked.

Ryoma silently shook his head in response. “No. This time, it’s an all-out war. We’ll be using our trump cards.”

Upon hearing those words, Koichiro realized who Ryoma’s “trump card” referred to. Aside from the soldiers stationed in Heraklion under the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s command, the only remaining troops available were the defense forces of the Wortenia Peninsula and the dark elf army led by Nelcius.

“Noted. I heard that a letter was delivered to Lord Nelcius as well. So, that’s what this is about... But isn’t that a bit too dangerous?” Koichiro remarked.

“Well, it is certainly a gamble in some sense,” Ryoma replied. “Joshua responded that he’s willing to accept reinforcements, but we won’t know for sure until we open the lid. If I consider the kind of country I want to create, it’s clear that I’ll have to make a bold move at some point. This is just a bit earlier than I’d planned.”

Humans and demi-humans resembled each other in appearance and could even bear children together, but they were still separate races. And humans had an inherent dislike for the “other.” The most prominent example of this was the Church of Meneos’s stance against demi-humans.

There were fewer radical, fundamentalist believers in the eastern part of the western continent, far from the Holy City of Menestia where the sect’s headquarters stood. But that didn’t mean that the people of the Kingdom of Xarooda would easily accept Nelcius and his dark elves. Even so, Ryoma Mikoshiba had decided to take the risk. In his eyes burned the resolve of a young conqueror caught between ideals and reality. Seeing that resolve in his grandson, Koichiro raised his shot glass and thrust it toward Ryoma as a signal to drink together. Ryoma responded to his grandfather’s request and reached for the glass before him.

“Then I won’t say anything more,” Koichiro said.

“Yeah...”

The grandfather and conqueror lifted their glasses, downing the amber liquid in one swift motion. Both silently hoped that their decisions would lead them to victory.