The Scoundrel Prince Sold Out the Empire - Chapter 19

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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 19: The Long Game of Two Zions (4)
‘How grateful I am. Your homeland failed to protect you, yet you’ve sprouted into such magnificent potential.’
Zion smiled softly as he regarded the talent before him.
The technology Lumio had created held no small value.
It was almost a shame that he could claim only 14 percent.
‘Still, I need to secure my own portion.’
A degenerate prince satisfied with a mere 1 percent stake?
Not only would others never buy it—Lumio himself would never let the suspicion rest.
To avoid the gaze of doubt, he needed to let Lumio feel as though he’d suffered a loss.
‘What you possess is worth gold, true enough, yet you have no further need for it now. I ask that you yield it to me instead. In exchange, you shall obtain what you truly desire.’
He handed over the supplementary notes he’d jotted down in a single night’s effort.
“What’s the delay? Hand over the Ice Crystal. Surely you don’t mean to refuse the honor of presenting a treasure to the Crown Prince?”
The response came exactly as anticipated—thoroughly satisfied.
“I’ll give it to you at once, Your Highness!”
Lumio tore free the Necklace he wore, deactivated the Mana Essence authentication lock, and presented it with reverence.
With a series of soft clicks, the Necklace opened, and frigid air spilled forth.
A pure white sphere exhaling extreme cold in the form of pale vapor.
An Ice Crystal no larger than half the breadth of a fingernail.
‘With an Essence, I could accelerate my Mana growth several times over.’
The Mana Essence was an indispensable treasure, essential to restoring the rank of Archmage.
The reason was simple.
Huum—
The moment his fingertip grasped the Ice Crystal, his Mana circuits resonated.
He sensed it directly—the crystalline mass within, the Mana structure so densely compressed it had achieved tangible form.
It had been over a century since the Magitech Engineering revolution. There was one art that had long fallen into disuse because it was impossible to achieve through Magitech Engineering alone.
Most had surely forgotten it.
That the name “Mana Essence” came from the fact that one could absorb the tangible Mana within—the Essence itself.
For the mage Zion, a Mana Essence was no different from an elixir of life.
‘If I absorb it all, my Mana reserves would double, perhaps more.’
In truth, Mana Essences had lost much of their value compared to ages past.
The reason was simple: value had fallen, so prices had fallen with it.
He found himself idly wondering whether he might periodically acquire Mana Essences and use them to augment his Mana reserves.
‘Even if they’ve grown quite cheap, they’re objectively still dear. But it seems worth the effort.’
During his time with the Deber Liberation Army, he’d never dared squander an Essence on such purposes.
Well, circumstances had changed dramatically since then.
“Um… Your Highness…”
Lumio’s voice, thick with longing, broke Zion’s reverie.
“Might I ask where these documents originated?”
‘My own mind.’
“Have you forgotten my station? Research of this caliber takes a brilliant Magitech Engineer like yourself merely a night—and I have such talent in my service as the Crown Prince.”
Going forward, he intended to draw freely on the knowledge and capabilities of Zion Blizel.
So it was best to establish a cover story, as if he had other subordinates at his disposal.
“Thank you. Truly, I am deeply grateful, Your Highness.”
Though Lumio had surrendered the Ice Crystal, he had gained something of far greater worth.
A 14 percent stake. Research records that would allow Blen Industry to begin commercialization immediately.
From this day forward, Lumio’s life would turn a complete reversal of fortune.
“If you’re grateful, then see that all expenses for expanding and operating the enterprise fall to your account. You’ll need to build factories and hire many workers, so don’t come to regret it later.”
“Of course, Your Highness!”
“I hear tell that the current workforce at Blen Industry consists entirely of Deber natives.”
Lumio’s tension rose visibly.
“That is… yes, that’s correct.”
“An excellent choice.”
“Your Highness…?”
Deber natives cost several times less in wages than Imperial citizens.
They earned far less than Imperials for doing identical work.
It was a base method of colonial exploitation, but now he intended to turn it to his advantage.
“Labor costs are crucial indeed. I’ve already gathered a number of Deber natives in my service—if you conduct all future hiring through them, you can minimize your wage expenditure considerably.”
Beyond that, he was already planning to quietly suggest that the factory site be established on the wasteland near the Teragarth farm.
The end result would be an abundance of quality work for the Deber people of Teragarth.
‘I need to build a city—a sanctuary for the Deber, and my own base of operations, centered around the farm.’
I intend to make Blen Industry the cornerstone of this plan.
It may well create a synergy with gold mines discovered later.
“I shall defer to your judgment. The details, however… I’ll discuss with Winter.”
Fearing that prolonged conversation would subject him to some excessive demand, Lumio bowed hastily and slipped from the room.
‘Now then. Time to claim my share.’
To Lumio, he’d dressed it up as ceding all shares except one percent in exchange for receiving the Ice Crystal.
But in truth, Zion’s own stake ran deeper. To be precise, if matters proceeded according to Winter’s design, he would come to hold more than half the shares.
“Winter, you cunning thing. True to your back-alley roots—you’ve a talent for scheming wickedness.”
He set the Ice Crystal on his palm and curled his fingers one by one into a fist.
Closing his eyes, he wound the Mana Essence round the crystallized magical structure like a net.
Once he grafted it entirely into his own circuit and fashioned a sort of mana reservoir, absorption would be complete.
The process would generate an immense surge of magical current, but that mattered little.
‘The hypothesis held. Even outside the body, I can taint mana with the Void Attribute when in contact with the circuit.’
The hair that had been trembling lightly settled into stillness.
The magical current, which should have been violent enough to stir a gale, was erased as cleanly as a pencil mark rubbed away.
Whoooooom…!
Moments later, Zion opened his eyes.
‘More than doubled.’
Mana flooding through the circuit—born from the Essence, it bore superior quality and concentration both.
That is to say, what had been impossible before was now within reach.
‘If Winter’s right, a few days must pass anyway. I should make a trip to Teragarth.’
With mana doubled, he could now excavate from depths previously unreachable.
He meant to gather far more gold than last time and pour it all across Winter’s desk.
* * *
The Teragarth farmstead in the distance. At this hour of evening, smoke curled gently from the chimney.
“What a fine smell. Meatball fondue and beef stew?”
Both were traditional Deber fare, beloved by the common folk alike.
To catch the scent alone was to feel a pang of longing.
He changed course mid-stride.
‘I should check on the farm before I excavate.’
Nearly a month had passed since gathering all the Deber laborers and their families in one place.
He meant to observe how well they were adapting and supply whatever they lacked.
‘I’ll watch from the shadows.’
It was absurd—the proprietor spying on his own workers—yet for these people, a glimpse of the Ninth Prince Zion Liobelt’s face would surely be no pleasant moment.
It was, in its own way, a courtesy.
“Quere Stellam Orbita.”
He rendered himself invisible and lay atop the mess hall roof.
The voices of the Deber folk below reached him amplified by the enchantment.
“Mom! This is really delicious.”
“Indeed it is. With so many meatballs and cheese, dip generously.”
“Okay!”
The conversation of a mother and child at their meal.
A smile bloomed unbidden.
A sensation he tasted for the first time in his life.
‘So this is what it means to feel that money spent was not wasted.’
“Say, could you explain what a front-page story is?”
“Fear not—it concerns no news of the Crown Prince.”
“Thank goodness. I do hope he’s released soon…”
“We can only be grateful he endures no worse trials, and wait with that hope.”
The voices of men reading from newspapers they’d subscribed to not long before.
…It was touching. And it moved him to gratitude.
“Still, what in the world can the Ninth Prince be thinking?”
“Lavish meals, newly built quarters. Now newspaper subscriptions? Hm. It’s too suspicious to credit as mere welfare.”
“Perhaps he’s constructing a space for propaganda? The goal isn’t to treat us well, but to create an environment where Deber folk too can be treated well—as a showcase.”
Even in comfort and ease, their minds churned with suspicion of the Ninth Prince’s intentions.
Zion muttered beneath his breath.
“Do not fear. The shadow that troubles you shall never come to pass.”
He wished he could dispel their worries altogether.
But he could not, nor should he.
‘How I wish I could tell you that it was not the Empire’s Ninth Prince who sheltered you, but the Crown Prince of Deber.’
Still, it was certain that those who had stepped forward for Zion had become happier and more comfortable than before.
This alone was more than enough cause for satisfaction.
From now on, the people of Deber in Teragarth would enjoy increasingly better lives.
It was a vow he would make reality, come what may.
With that in mind.
“Shall we get back to work, then?”
Rest ended here. He summoned the Polaris Stem.
Time to go mining for gold.
* * *
“Lovely. I’ll take it.”
He handed the jewel-adorned Silver Goblet to Kreyna.
He didn’t ask the price. Zion Rioveldt wouldn’t possibly concern himself with the cost of a single goblet.
‘I’ll just take the shock. Another “how can a trinket cost this much?” moment.’
About a month ago, when he’d squandered five million Luon on luxuries, he’d endured that shock countless times.
When selecting cufflinks that matched an entire month’s operational funds for the Deber Liberation Army—mere gilded metal—his hands had trembled so badly he’d nearly made a fool of himself.
“There are quite a few gaps in the display. After that young prince spent five million Luon last time, you haven’t restocked, have you?”
Kreyna caressed the back of her hand and smiled softly.
“Thanks to His Highness, more than half the collection was cleared. We’re currently deliberating on restocking with different brands to match the new trends.”
“Ah, I see. I thought perhaps you’d run short of funds.”
With five million Luon spent, there was no way funds were lacking.
It had been meant as a joke.
‘Hmm? Her reaction…? Why does it feel like I’ve struck a nerve?’
It was a subtle shift in her expression, but Zion—having received her care since childhood—could perceive it.
‘It seems the Liberation Army’s financial situation has deteriorated considerably during the year I was confined.’
If so, this partnership would prove beneficial for the Liberation Army.
“Did Winter convey it to you? Your stake is ten percent.”
Ten percent of Blen Industry’s business profits would flow into the Liberation Army.
He would have offered more, but this was the most he could manage without raising suspicion.
“Now that you mention it, my thanks come late. I’m genuinely grateful for the partnership proposal—far more than such a mere widow deserves.”
‘A lie. You’re not grateful at all, are you, Kreyna?’
Zion could read the truth beneath her expression of gratitude.
She was far too precious to him for that.
Kreyna was his mother’s most favored attendant—a woman who had been like an aunt to Zion himself.
“If you’re grateful, take this as a gift. How about it?”
He picked up some random item from the shelf and offered it as a jest. Kreyna, who had been gazing at it intently, laughed and nodded.
All the while caressing the back of her hand without pause.
Only then did Zion grasp one crucial truth.
She harbored hatred.
Hatred so profound she could scarcely conceal it.
‘Why? Why does Kreyna hate Zion Rioveldt?’
He found it bewildering.
True, everyone in the Liberation Army despised and loathed the Ninth Prince.
He himself, the former legion commander of the Liberation Army, had not hesitated to plot the Ninth Prince’s assassination.
But hatred was a different matter.
It meant she harbored private grievance for a separate reason—and he could think of the cause… Ah.
‘It’s me.’
He was certain. To Kreyna, Zion Blilje was precious—so precious he was like a son to her.
Which meant Zion Rioveldt was the one who had let her son fall into the empire’s grasp and suffer brutal torment.
‘Kreyna.’
She received his gaze with her whole being.
Hatred dwelt in her eyes—unspoken, carefully hidden.
Yet it was not unpleasant. Rather, it felt reassuring and warm.
Kreyna hated Zion Rioveldt.
Precisely because she held Zion Blilje so dear.
‘Thank you, Kreyna. Forgive me for not yet revealing the truth.’
His heart had grown heavy. He’d come here intending to enjoy their conversation and the time spent together, but now he wanted only to finish his business and leave.
“Ah, but there’s something I nearly forgot to mention to my esteemed partner—an amusing tale concerning an enterprise that Dechion is pursuing even at the cost of considerable debt.”
The sudden reason he’d coveted Blen Industry and put pressure on Lumio.
Dechion had put up real estate as collateral, essentially emptying his entire fortune to push forward a certain venture.
“You wouldn’t know, would you? The information you provided contained no specifics about the nature of this enterprise.”
“Yes. All I know is that he needs a well-maintained, beautiful building. Perhaps an art museum or a theater of some kind?”
“Wrong. An entirely different business sector. Even I couldn’t guess what it was until Winter told me.”
Winter had uncovered it using her network of back-alley informants.
The grand venture that Dechion was staking everything on was none other than—
“True to form for a man who’d sell his own country. Recently, Dechion has been quietly purchasing women of exceptional beauty from Tomak Village. If Winter’s assessment is correct, he plans to operate as a procurer for the upper echelons.”
A beautiful building was needed for this enterprise?
The building’s true purpose was a brothel.
Repugnant work.
“It seems you find it repugnant as well. And rightly so—a man who fattened himself by selling his nation, unable to break his habit, prepares to sell again what ought never be sold. This is why Deber people cannot be trusted. Isn’t that so?”
Zion continued, studying Kreyna’s expression.
“Worse still, this wretch even surrendered his own country’s last royal bloodline into the Empire’s grip. Or rather, he actively assisted in doing so.”
That was the moment.
Kreyna covered the back of one hand with the other.
A sign of extreme fury.
“Are you saying Dechion was involved in the capture of Zion Blije? I hadn’t known—he accomplished quite the feat.”
“You wouldn’t know. It was kept strictly confidential.”
Why hide a merit so significant?
The answer was already prepared.
It was the true reason Zion had sought her out.
“Because if the Deber Liberation Army found out, they’d launch an attack immediately. The man’s betting his entire fortune to build a brothel and ply that trade—the last thing he’d want is terrorism.”
Zion watched Kreyna’s face with meticulous care.
She tried to hide it, but her expression could not escape his gaze.
He could feel it—the emotion boiling beneath the surface.
‘Go now, Kreyna. Deliver the message.’
Whether assassination or terrorism made no difference.
So long as the Liberation Army’s blade turned toward Dechion.
Starting with Dechion, Reijo’s downfall would cascade in sequence.
Everything unfolded according to Winter’s design.

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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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