Chapter 401: Money and Lies (Part 2)

At this point, even if Julian were a pig, he should’ve understood what was going on.

“So this hundred thousand renals?” Julian asked.

“It’s money they gave me, meant for smoothing things over,” Wu Qingsong replied. “But Your Highness, Marquis Osaga’s kindness to me was as deep as the sea, please, take it all.”

Julian stared at him for a moment, then gave a slight nod. “Is it really that simple?”

“I wouldn’t dare hide the truth from Your Highness. The side from Red Plateau City did suffer a bit of a loss at our hands.”

“What happened between you?” Julian pressed.

“They tried to raid us, but we drove them back,” Wu Qingsong said. “Red Plateau lost quite a few men. That’s why they got furious and started threatening to report us to the noble elves, saying we were plotting something and needed to be wiped out.”

None of that had actually happened. But this kind of lie was necessary to plant a seed in Julian’s mind: that Red Plateau’s future reports would be biased and unreliable. If he could muddy the waters and make the elves believe this was just a petty conflict over profits and pride, Nagrand would gain precious time.

“Useless fools,” Julian spat.

He had once eyed Red Plateau City and the even farther south Palovody as potential bases, hoping his uncle, the Duke of Lapusia, would lend him those regions to build a military force and carve out his own fief from beastkin lands. But he’d been harshly refused, leaving him with nothing but disdain for those places. Hearing now that Red Plateau had suffered a loss against Wu Qingsong, he even felt a faint sense of satisfaction.

“You don’t need to worry,” Julian said. “With the situation at the Abyss Gate this bad, who has time to care about petty northern troubles? But if you beat Red Plateau’s troops… are you sure it’s really just a small town over there?”

Wu Qingsong gave an awkward smile.

If Julian were a seasoned politician, he might have kept circling around the matter, probing for more details, forcing Wu Qingsong to lay all his cards on the table. But Julian was still young, and no one had ever tried this approach with him before. He didn’t yet have much experience in these kinds of dealings. Add Wu Qingsong’s acting and Red Moon’s subtle influence, and Julian gradually became convinced he understood the whole story.

This half-elf named Tagraedi probably didn’t care that much about rescuing Marquis Osaga. Julian thought his uncle had always been far too lenient with this shady fellow.

His true purpose was likely to find a protector to cover up his misdeeds.

Red Plateau probably hadn’t tried to swallow them up and gotten repelled. To gain a foothold in the desolate northern wastelands, this Tagraedi must have done plenty of smuggling and illicit trade—even if he hadn’t outright committed treason. He’d dared to kill a half-elf who’d supposedly taken over his fief. What else might he dare to do?

He certainly wasn’t sincerely seeking to return under imperial rule. Most likely, after clashing with Red Plateau, he feared retaliation and had come to Fantali City looking for a way out.

Julian didn’t believe Wu Qingsong had allied with the beastkin, much less stood on their side. That just didn’t make sense. As a half-elf with status in the Empire and room to grow, who had even once held a noble title, he had no reason—and no need—to throw his lot in with savages.

So after a moment’s thought, Julian went straight to the point. “I can act as your protector. That small town of yours… what’s it called?”

“Nagrand,” Wu Qingsong replied.

“I can petition my father to assign that land under my name. He shouldn’t have any reason to refuse,” Julian said proudly. “But why should I do that?”

“We’re willing to pay an annual tribute in exchange for autonomy in Nagrand,” Wu Qingsong said, carefully controlling his expression—this was the most critical moment. “Your Highness, what do you think?”

“An annual tribute?” Julian began calculating in his head.

This kind of arrangement wasn’t rare. Especially along the eastern coast of Fantali—Umber, Phoenix, Lier, Polopolore, Noah, Turledo—he could rattle off a long list of commercial cities that had secured autonomy by paying tributes to local lords.

But by temperament, he preferred to manage and develop a territory himself, like his uncle. He believed he could do it well.

The problem was, he had more urgent priorities now. And this piece of land was, after all, being willingly offered to him. As a proud elf, he couldn’t quite bring himself to just seize someone else’s city outright.

Perhaps after rescuing his uncle, he could raise an army, take the surrounding lands near Nagrand, and then naturally revoke the city’s autonomy?

“Your Highness?” Wu Qingsong asked.

“How much?” Julian asked.

“Two… no, three thousand renals a year?” Wu Qingsong asked, face contorted in a pained expression.

“Fifty thousand renals,” Julian said without hesitation.

Wu Qingsong twisted his facial muscles together, doing his best to appear distressed. He’d practiced this expression in front of a mirror before meeting Julian, but he always struggled not to laugh at himself.

“Your Highness, it’s just a tiny, tiny city,” he said with a pained sigh. “There aren’t many trading partners around it, either.”

“Fifty thousand a year, and that’s separate,” Julian said coolly, fully in control. “Consider the hundred thousand renals the setup fee.”

“Your Highness…” Wu Qingsong groaned again. “You know that even Umber, with its long history as a commercial city, only pays two hundred thousand in tribute?”

“But they also handle procurement tasks and accept a Nisair garrison,” Julian said. “I can ignore your shady dealings, as long as you don’t go too far.”

The truth was, Julian didn’t have many people he could rely on. And he didn’t want to get too close to these lowly smugglers either, for the sake of his own reputation.

“If that’s the case…” Wu Qingsong said, putting on a tormented look. “Can Your Highness guarantee that Red Plateau and the others won’t interfere with our… business?”

What else was this guy doing besides smuggling? Slave trade? Contraband?

Julian was mildly curious, but he didn’t press further. As the son of the Grand Duke of Fantali, the less he knew, the better. That way, when the time came, he could sincerely claim ignorance—and justifiably wipe out those criminals and reclaim Nagrand with a clean conscience.

“I’ll send someone to Red Plateau to warn them, tell them to keep quiet and stay out of it,” Julian said. “Now, where exactly is this Nagrand you keep talking about? Anton, bring me the map!”

His personal attendant quickly fetched a map. As a grand duchy bordering the northern wilderness, the map was fairly detailed, with most major terrain features clearly marked. The orc tribes, however, weren’t labeled, and the furthest recorded settlement was Red Plateau City.

Wu Qingsong hesitated slightly, then placed his finger on a patch of wilderness, south of Nagrand, west of Red Plateau.

“A barren wasteland,” Julian muttered with some disappointment. “A place like that… who else could even be bothering you? Tagraedi, don’t be so greedy.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Wu Qingsong replied, bowing his head.

“That’s it, then,” Julian said. “But I’ll warn you—don’t take things too far. If you do, I won’t wait for someone else to act. I’ll flatten that filthy place myself.”

“Rest assured, I give you my word that will never happen,” Wu Qingsong said.

“Then go,” Julian ordered. “Send the hundred and fifty thousand renals as soon as possible. Once I receive the money, I’ll get this settled for you right away.”