The Scoundrel Prince Sold Out the Empire - Chapter 16

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 16: The Designs of Two Zions (1)
“Make your choice.”
“Which path will you walk?”
When my body changed. When I gained the Void Attribute. And even in last night’s dream.
I’ve heard that voice speaking of binding oaths three times now.
‘Those scenes… they can’t just be nightmares, but are they really the future?’
I considered holding onto hope that they might not be.
But when morning came, a letter from the Third Prince delivered to the Hotel shattered that hope entirely.
“Stir up chaos. The louder, the better.”
“Should you create conflict with someone from the First Prince Faction, I’ll see to it that you need not worry about any consequences.”
“Your reward shall be the execution ceremony of Zion Blije that you so desperately desire.”
The letter’s contents could be summarized in three broad strokes.
Thanks to it, I could be certain. The scenes in the dream were the worst future about to unfold.
‘What scheme is the Third Prince cooking up?’
It was almost certainly connected to the future where my comrades in the Secret Order would be executed.
A single line the Third Prince had spoken in the dream flashed through my mind.
‘He called them fools.’
Aristh and the other members of the Secret Order must have fallen into a trap, lured by the bait of Zion Blije’s execution.
All while unaware that their lord had already escaped from the Empire’s grasp.
‘I’ll make him regret mockingly deriding their loyalty as foolishness.’
In that sense, I found myself thinking that last night’s nightmare wasn’t entirely bad.
A guide to the Branching Points. Something that could be called a form of Premonition.
My mood was foul, but regardless, I’d gained glimpses of the future.
That was when it happened.
Whoosh!
An enchanted spell activated, and the letter’s contents began shifting of their own accord.
“Zion. I wonder how each day in Deber feels to you. I hope it brings you hardship. Only then can you truly repent of your sins.”
The newly written contents were words of rebuke and concern from an older brother—a letter of greeting about a wayward younger brother.
Evidence destruction? Thorough work.
But it won’t work.
“Quere Stellam Orbita.”
The letters restored themselves as time seemed to flow backward. I had read the flow of the activated spell and reversed it in sequence.
An Artifact couldn’t manage this kind of immediate response, so one might say the Third Prince’s defenses were airtight.
Unfortunately, he’d chosen the wrong opponent.
‘Even against his own younger brother, he acts like this. Just as I thought—to the Third Prince, Zion Riobert is nothing but a disposable playing piece.’
A letter that shifted between before and after the spell’s activation according to my will.
I observed it for a moment, then carefully set it aside.
‘It’s a sort of evidence. I’m sure I’ll find a use for it someday.’
Now I needed to prepare to prevent the execution ceremony.
How should I go about it?
‘Should I just send an anonymous tip to the Liberation Army?’
The problem was whether the Liberation Army would actually believe it.
“What should I do, though.”
“That’s what I’m wondering too. How are we supposed to repay twelve million Luon?”
“Oh, you startled me. When did you come in, Winter?”
“Just now.”
I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t noticed his arrival.
“We have two weeks left before the farm purchase payment is due. Even if we scrape together every coin we have, we’ll still come up short by roughly seven million Luon. If we try to back out of the deal now, there’s no way Manager Reizzo will accept it. We could force him using your name, but then we’d lose our plan to use him as a source of funds. So, Your Highness—please drop the Gold Bullion for us again, would you?”
His groaning went on for a while, but in the end, he was asking for money.
Winter, for his part, was under the misapprehension that Zion had hidden slush funds stashed away.
“No.”
“Why not? We’ll suffer an enormous loss at this rate.”
It didn’t matter—the answer was still no.
We’d already extracted all the ore from the shallow deposits that could be mined with my current Magical Power level.
To obtain more gold, we’d need to formally develop the gold vein in Teragrad.
‘When I consider all the restrictions, conditions, and mining preparations involved, it’s easier on my mind to treat it as nonexistent for now.’
“Winter. Instead of pestering me, why don’t you try scrounging up the money yourself?”
“How is someone who was scraping by in back alleys just two weeks ago supposed to come up with seven million Luon? Gambling won’t work anymore either.”
“Isn’t there anywhere else money might turn up?”
“There’s Your Highness’s slush fund.”
There’s nothing like that. Since I couldn’t tell him the truth, I made excuses again.
“I just can’t be bothered to go fetch it.”
“Sigh.”
Winter exhaled deeply.
He’d been trying to hide it for a while now, but lately he wasn’t even bothering.
‘Winter, I’m sorry, but what matters now isn’t just seven million Luon.’
Your homeland’s future might collapse entirely.
It’s already corpse-like, true enough.
It’s in danger of being mutilated beyond recognition.
“Your Highness, you’re not too tired to go out, are you? We must keep our appointment with Reizzo.”
News of the war bleeding in from the Empire’s mainland was roiling the grain market in Deber.
In exchange for his support, Zion had to provide an implicit guarantee that the grain market was safe.
“But wouldn’t the war actually profit Reizzo? Grain prices would rise.”
“To the contrary. When war breaks out, the Empire will bring in vast quantities of provisions to Deber for its supply lines.”
The war itself would be waged far away in Gizkal’s lands, but the Trickle-down Effect would leave Deber’s food supply abundant.
“Ah. So that’s why I, as one of the Divine Clan, need to invest in the grain market. To signal that war won’t happen for a while.”
“Precisely. Shall we head to the Securities Exchange? I’ll have a car brought around.”
At the Securities Exchange, one could trade all documents that proved ownership—that is, securities. Share holdings in companies or enterprises, food ration vouchers, gold, Magic Stones, and even receipts for physical goods like grain.
“No. Never mind the car. Let’s keep it quiet today.”
“But we must go with fanfare and make the investment known far and wide, Your Highness.”
“We can do that tomorrow. Today I want to get a feel for things first.”
To be precise, I had one thing I needed to do while going about quietly.
The Brown Company, mentioned in the scene at the Turning Point.
I needed to find out what kind of place it was.
* * *
Instead of riding in a gaudy foreign car with my blond hair on display, I walked the streets cloaked in a Hooded Robe.
“The Brown Company isn’t really a company—it should be called a firm, technically speaking.”
The Brown Company wasn’t a business that created profit by buying and selling goods.
“People unfamiliar with business terminology often use the terms interchangeably, but I’m not sure why Your Highness has suddenly taken an interest in the Brown Company. It’s probably not worth much.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I don’t know anything about it.”
“……?”
Winter seemed to have momentarily confused his own profession.
Anyone listening would think he was a securities broker rather than a gambler.
“Your Highness, for people my age these days, studying securities is essential—essential. You can make money beyond your regular wages.”
Winter rattled off a list of promising securities whose prices had been climbing steadily.
They varied widely: Magic Stone receipts, share certificates from various enterprises, and the like.
“As you’ve heard, the Brown Company deals in securities far removed from recent market trends. Given the nature of the goods involved, it can’t be helped.”
But then why had the Third Prince bought Brown Company stock, and why had he been able to reap enormous profits from it?
‘There are far too many frustrating things today.’
I’d had a nightmare since dawn—one where I couldn’t stop my comrades from falling into a trap, no matter how hard I tried to think of a way.
I’d received a Letter from the Third Prince heavy with pressure. If I didn’t fight the First Prince Faction’s people, problems would arise in multiple directions.
And on top of that, there was the matter of raising funds for the Teragrad farm purchase…….
‘Now I’ve even been given a mystery I can’t solve. The Brown Company….’
Thinking such thoughts as I walked, I arrived at the Securities Exchange.
It was very different from what I’d heard on the way.
I’d heard that crowds gathered in front of the Exchange, forming a bustling marketplace, but it was quiet.
“Winter. This is very different from what you said.”
“It’s not normally like this. Strange indeed.”
That was when it happened.
“Rumio! Don’t make this complicated—just sell it to me!”
A voice thick with greed came bellowing down.
“Well then. Winter, let’s go in.”
Inside the spacious Exchange, I spotted a man dressed in expensive clothes who looked like a pig.
It was also a pig I knew by face.
“Dechion.”
“I had no idea you knew that man, Your… Young Lord.”
“For someone like you, Winter, it would be difficult not to know him.”
The reason was simple.
Dechion. If Winter’s biological father, Marquis Remikoning, was one of the Five Thieves Inside the Palace, then this man was called one of the Five Thieves Outside the Palace.
Deber had fallen into the Empire’s hands because of his spectacular service—in other words, because he’d committed one of the ten most heinous acts of national betrayal.
Zion’s eyes froze cold.
‘Tear him to pieces.’
For all the rough edges he’d shed during his years with the Liberation Army, Zion rarely spoke as crudely as this, even to men of the lowest caliber.
It was a habit carved into him by his education as Crown Prince.
And yet, Zion thought, Dechion didn’t deserve to be treated as human at all.
‘A traitor barely deserving of a slap—and now he’s trying to exploit someone else to line his own pockets.’
Before Dechion stood a gray-haired gentleman in a shabby suit, his head bowed, clutching a leather document case.
Dechion prodded the man’s shoulder roughly.
“No investor would ever buy into your pittance of a business. Not unless it’s magnanimous Dechion here. Though let’s be honest—that ‘business’ of yours is nothing but a hobby for a bunch of mages who haven’t produced results in years, ha ha ha.”
“I… this time is different…….”
“If it’s different, then you should sell your shares to me all the more. Rumio, surely you haven’t forgotten how much you owe me?”
Since business shares could be traded, the Securities Exchange served as a place for investors to seek opportunities.
The gray-haired gentleman seemed to be searching for investors, while Dechion appeared eager to become one himself.
“My patience has limits. Even if I sued you and seized every last share, you’d still deserve it. Yet you refuse? Do I really seem so contemptible to this Dechion?”
The gray-haired gentleman pushed his glasses up sharply and cried out.
“That’s not buying at a fair price! I won’t hand over my shares for a pittance, absolutely not!”
“You little worm!”
Dechion shoved his shoulder hard, and the gentleman stumbled backward, unable to brace himself.
‘So that’s why the Securities Exchange stays so quiet on the outside.’
No one wanted to be caught up in the bullying of one of the Five Thieves Outside the Palace.
And besides, Seiel wasn’t home to just this one securities exchange.
‘This is the fifth time today.’
The weight of accumulated frustrations pressed down on him.
The trap of an execution ceremony. The Third Prince’s command. Farm payments and maintenance fees. Questions about the Brown Company.
And now, capstone to it all, this traitor’s violence.
What made it worse was being forced to stand and watch.
He wanted to beat the man senseless until his mind was clear, but touching one of the Five Thieves Inside the Palace would bring complications he couldn’t easily manage…. Wait.
‘What a fool I’ve been.’
A shiver ran through him as understanding brushed across his mind, and a smile bloomed.
His mouth twisted into something cruel.
‘How terrifying, this habit. I’ve made the mistake of thinking only as Zion Blizhe again. But I’m also a prince of the Empire.’
Even the frustrations that had been nagging at him snapped suddenly into focus, connected as one.
“Winter, would you say Dechion counts as personnel of the First Prince Faction?”
“As far as I know, yes sir. But why do you ask?”
“Someone of Dechion’s rank among the Five Thieves Inside the Palace must have accumulated considerable wealth over the years.”
“Surely… that would be the case?”
“He’s caused a disturbance before this prince himself. That’s a grave crime, isn’t it?”
Unease began to creep across Winter’s face.
“Your Highness? Would you mind giving me a hint before you act?”
“Nothing special—just need to work out some stiffness.”
He strode forward with long steps.
“Your Highness……!”
Winter’s soundless cry followed, but Zion ignored it.
He’d been looking for a target to vent on anyway—Dechion had just walked straight into his hands.
“Hm? Who are you?”
Standing before Dechion, Zion studied the man’s face with cold scrutiny.
“You never even achieved the rank of Viscount.”
Dechion’s face twisted in rage. Originally, he’d been a commoner, a minor official with modest means.
Always wanting more, always wanting higher—he’d become a collaborator with the Empire to feed his greed, and after selling his nation’s assets with unmatched fervor, he’d earned the title of one of the Five Thieves Outside the Palace.
And yet, Dechion remained a commoner still.
For the Empire was reluctant to grant nobility to Debernians, no matter what service they rendered.
“You dare speak such nonsense before me? You should know the price of such foolishness.”
“Pig. What’s your specialty?”
“What?”
Zion continued.
“Thanks to Gebell, I’ve come to understand what this prince’s true talent is.”
Gebell. This prince.
‘They said he’d been exiled to Deber not long ago, but could it be…!’
Watching Dechion’s face drain of all color in an instant, Zion pulled down his hood.
Hair like gold drawn from thread.
Eyes a shade redder than blood, their cruelty striking.
“What, refusing to kneel?”
“A subject of the Empire beholds a member of the great Divine Clan!”
“A subject of the Empire beholds a member of the great Divine Clan!”
“A subject of the Empire beholds a member of the great Divine Clan!”
A wave of obeisance followed.
With eyes bulging like a toad’s, Dechion forced his trembling legs beneath him and dropped to his knees.
“A subject of the Empire… beholds a member of the great Divine Clan.”
His thick cheeks came into view. Most of that flesh had doubtless been fattened on Deber’s exploitation.
The habits of Zion Rieobelt’s body stirred—his volatile nature, rising to the surface.
He made no effort to suppress it.
Crack!
Dechion’s head whipped to the side and snapped back. His eyes wide with panic.
Even though he ranked among the ten greatest collaborators, he hadn’t seen the slap coming.
‘Sorry, but on this side, I’m the Empire’s worst degeneracy.’
It was absurd.
A man whom Deber’s crown prince and commander of the Liberation Army could never punish—the Empire’s prince could chastise as he pleased.
And it was infinitely exhilarating.
‘Yes, I understand now. No more confusion going forward.’
A false execution.
A trap aimed at the Secret Order.
The Third Prince’s orders and schemes.
Zion Rieobelt had been overthinking it all, contrary to his nature.
‘Like Zion Blije. And like Zion Rieobelt. Let me hold both.’
In that sense.
Dechion was no longer an enemy to be spared out of fear of future troubles.
He was merely appetizing prey.
Crack!
His palm burned as hotly as the handprint seared into Dechion’s cheek.
He brushed off his hand.
“Ouch. A lowborn wretch like you—daring to harm the hand of this prince?”
“……?”
Dechion’s hand froze halfway to his reddened face, his mouth falling open.
What had he just heard?
“Oh, my lord—surely you misunderstand!”
“Misunderstand? Your cheek’s flesh is so thick it’s turned my palm red—and you call that a misunderstanding?”
Dechion stared blankly into the prince’s crimson eyes.
Even a bolt from the blue would have seemed less sudden, less bewildering.
“The crime of inflicting pain upon the body of the Divine Clan—you know it better than anyone. A grave offense demanding strict punishment…… but.”
Zion leaned forward and whispered.
“If you offer compensation for the slap with proper sincerity, I shall overlook it with generous clemency. Seven million—or rather, a tidy ten million Luon, how does that suit you?”
A long silence hung between them.
By custom, the one who slaps pays the compensation.
But now, it seemed, the law worked in reverse.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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