The Scoundrel Prince Sold Out the Empire - Chapter 48

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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 48 No Touch! I Said No Touch!(1)
Clatter!
Each time the wheel struck a rut, Aleon Lemiconin’s stomach lurched in sympathy.
Even the custom-built Magical Automobile imported from the Dwarven lands was being rattled to pieces by roads in this condition.
At this moment, the Duke Aleon Lemiconin was being dragged toward the Wasteland.
“The scenery outside is quite lovely, wouldn’t you say, Duke?”
The oily tone of voice set his teeth on edge, but the Duke smiled without showing a flicker of displeasure.
“It’s refreshing to the soul. I am grateful once more for your invitation to accompany you, Your Highness.”
Even as he spoke, the Duke’s thoughts turned inward.
‘I’d meant to use this worthless fool. How did I end up in this predicament?’
But he already knew the answer.
It was because of his one and only precious son.
“Your son Macalister Lemiconin—he reminded me of you. Such impressive bearing.”
“It is only because Your Highness looked upon him with such kindness.”
“No, not at all. In all my years, I’ve never heard anything like it. To take complete responsibility in such a situation—his ambitions are truly remarkable. Ha, ha, ha!”
It had been a chaotic day, filled with incident and mishap, the funeral ceremony of an empress—and the blunder his son had committed.
‘And yet it was the Army that lobbed bombs at the Casino. Macalister, why did you…!’
He would take responsibility for every indiscretion.
He would accept the Crown Prince’s Complaint Petition as well.
All he asked was cooperation.
That was the reckless declaration his son had made.
‘You foolish boy. How is that any different from offering your neck on the block?’
Compensation had come down under the Imperial Household’s name, and the Governor’s Office had officially settled damages.
But that was then, and this is now.
When it came to the dignity of the Divine Race, the Empire let not even the finest needle-prick of a blemish pass without notice.
That the Ninth Crown Prince was the Empire’s vilest degenerate, that he’d been deposed—all of that was secondary.
A single Complaint Petition could see his only son’s head on a pike.
‘And if that judgment rests in the hands of the Empire’s greatest wretch…’
The Crown Prince’s face, grinning as though he’d caught him red-handed, was a sight he couldn’t bear to look at.
“Duke.”
“Your Highness?”
“My throat is parched. Do me the honor of pouring tea, won’t you, Duke?”
The Duke Aleon Lemiconin was counted among the great powers known as the Five Palace Enemies.
Yet now he was reduced to clutching a teapot in the corner of an automobile.
“Sir. The car is swaying—be careful not to spill.”
“…Thank you, Winter.”
“Duke.”
“Your Highness?”
“My knees are numb.”
“…I shall fetch a blanket, sir.”
The attendants rode in the car behind, leaving only the driver Winter, the Crown Prince, and the Duke in this vehicle.
Which meant the Duke had to attend to the Crown Prince’s every whim himself.
“Your Highness… I cannot find a blanket. Would you take my coat instead?”
“Oh, won’t you be cold?”
“I shall manage, sir.”
He was freezing. Without thinking, the Duke shot a glare at the back of Winter’s head.
‘Common birth gives him such airs…’
When his own father was enduring such humiliation, shouldn’t he step forward and take his side?
Born as he was of half-base blood, his sense of honor was correspondingly narrow.
Yet even as such thoughts crossed his mind, not a single shadow crossed the Duke’s face.
“Ah, Duke. Do not be too harsh with your son. Sons have a way of vexing their fathers, do they not?”
“Ha, ha… A wise observation, Your Highness.”
In truth, Macalister was indeed the sort of son to give his father considerable grief.
He had not understood his father’s deeper designs; instead of taking up the succession, he had left Seiel and enlisted in the Navy at Ainzen of his own volition.
‘Macalister, you are meant to inherit my position and lead the house. Not like some common fool!’
Clatter!
A violent jolt of the Magical Automobile sent the tea sloshing, wetting the Duke’s sleeve.
“My apologies, sir.”
“…Ha, ha. It’s nothing. Just be careful.”
After offering Winter a polite smile, the Duke quietly clenched his teeth.
* * *
Terragrad was even more desolate than the rumors had promised.
As far as the eye could reach, there was nothing but the Wasteland, and whenever the wind picked up, clouds of dust rose in thick, choking waves.
The Prince’s own farm was in a similar state—cleared, yes, but the sort of land where stones seemed to thrive better than any crop.
‘He paid that astronomical sum to acquire this place?’
The mental arithmetic wouldn’t add up. No matter how he calculated it, there was no profit to be made from this farm.
But that wasn’t even the strangest part.
It was the workers.
“We greet Your Highness.”
He’d been told that all the laborers on the farm were Dever convicts serving out Labor Sentences.
Yet somehow.
Every face gleamed with health, and their shoulders stood as broad and squared as those of palace guards.
‘Do convicts serving Labor Sentences usually look this robust? They rival noblemen’s sons.’
“Duke. Why are you staring like that?”
“Ah, forgive me. I was merely admiring how well-disciplined the workers are. And their health appears excellent as well.”
“Of course it does. The key to working them hard is to keep them working for as long as possible. Can’t get good labor out of starving men—they’re useless that way.”
The Prince shrugged and gestured toward the buildings.
Every structure standing as a dormitory was plainly newly constructed.
Clean, orderly barracks and warehouses rose like islands in the middle of the Wasteland.
“Same with sleep. Good rest means good work.”
“Your Highness’s wisdom is remarkable indeed—most impressive. But tell me, Your Highness, where are we to lodge?”
There were plenty of clean, tidy dormitories, but they were all built for the lower ranks.
There was nowhere fit for a Divine Race or nobility to stay.
“Oh, right.”
‘Right?’
“I haven’t stayed here before, so I forgot.”
‘Forgot?’
A chill crawled up the Duke’s spine.
“Well, I came out here to build a villa anyway. Might as well do it now.”
“Your Highness, the sun is setting. Surely it would be better if we returned to the nearby city for the evening and—”
“Too much trouble. We’ll build the villa quick and stay here.”
‘What kind of madness is this? Your Highness, you’re not seriously trying to make a fool of Aleon Lemiconin, are you?’
Even in this age of Magical Engineering, constructing a villa worthy of a Prince would take at least a month.
And he wanted to build it quickly and sleep here?
It had to be mockery.
Whether or not the Prince noticed the Duke’s suspicion, he proceeded with apparent glee, issuing orders.
“That spot looks good. The ground’s elevated so the view is clear—perfect for the site of my villa.”
A slightly inclined patch in the middle of an otherwise empty field. Equally barren, littered with stones.
“Reianna.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“We need to level the ground first. Begin.”
Even with maximum deployment of Construction Magical Equipment, leveling alone would require at least a week.
“Don’t worry, Duke. I’m not planning to stand around like an idiot swinging a shovel. Reianna, you’re ready, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
Zion spread his arms wide and tilted his chin up.
“Bombs! Blow it all up, hahahaha!”
Finally, the Duke’s smile froze in place.
Bombs?
Ever since the execution, regulations on explosives had become extraordinarily strict, and of all things—?
“W-Your Highness! Bombs?! If the goal is to level the ground, wouldn’t it be better if I brought a large quantity of Construction Magical Equipment instead? Winter, say something!”
“His Highness is not a man who can be reasoned with.”
……
The Duke’s gaze shifted to Reianna.
“You there—you’re a guard, yet you’re performing demolition work? Are you in your right mind? Do you even have a Handling License?”
All magical explosive materials could only be detonated by those holding the proper Handling License.
There was no way a guard would possess such a—
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
……
Reianna tucked away the bundle of licenses she’d been displaying and bowed her head respectfully.
“Resuming operations now.”
“Yes, yes! Don’t hold back—blow it wide open, Reianna!”
“Understood.”
For reasons he couldn’t quite name, the Duke detected a spark of something in the bodyguard’s response.
Reianna hefted the crate of explosives and began placing charges across the slope.
Her hands moved with absolute certainty.
One, two, four, eight.
So many. Far too many!
She was refined, dignified, and blessed with striking beauty—he’d entertained the thought of requesting her services from the prince one day, if opportunity allowed.
That notion evaporated entirely.
“Your Highness, please reconsider——”
Winter tapped the Duke’s shoulder twice.
“Duke. You’d best cover your ears. Your eardrums are about to say goodbye.”
“……!”
“Initiating detonation sequence, Your Highness.”
Fire raced along the fuse toward the ridge.
Kaboom!
Bells rang in his ears as gravel cascaded down in a torrent.
The Duke found himself falling backward onto his haunches.
‘This is going to kill someone!’
His hat flew away, and the world filled with dust.
Why in all the hells had he been dragged out here to witness this madness?
The only pleasure to be salvaged was catching glimpses of golden light through the haze—wait. Golden light?
“Gold……light?”
It wasn’t just one.
In the slanting rays of the dying sun, dozens upon dozens of reflections scattered and danced.
It was gold.
Pulverized gold ore lay strewn across the hillside in its entirety.
Large ore fragments revealed their sallow insides.
Deep golden veins gleamed along the fractured edges.
Dust—or rather, golden dust—caught the wind and scattered.
“A…a gold vein…….”
The entire field glittered in the glow of the setting sun.
As if someone had scattered gold dust across it—or rather, gold dust actually had been scattered.
A veritable golden spectacle.
The Duke rushed forward and picked up a piece of ore.
Yellow flecks of gold embedded throughout.
“This can’t be…… the concentration…….”
If the surface deposit was this rich, what scale lay beneath?
By rough estimation alone, annual yield would reach hundreds of millions of Luon.
No—if the vein ran deep, ten times that was possible.
‘It had to be.’
Zion watched the back of the Duke’s head with mild interest.
This location had always been where gold concentrated near the surface.
He’d simply prepared matters further—drawing ore from the depths closer to the surface using magic beforehand.
Murmur. Murmur.
He turned at the commotion. Workers drawn by the blast came streaming toward the base of the hill.
“Did you see that?”
“Is that gold?”
“It’s gold, isn’t it?”
“It’s gold…….”
Eyes that glimpsed gold grew wider, one by one.
Gold holds a fascination over the human soul.
Dever or Empire, all were equally captivated in its presence.
“You fools!”
The Duke shot to his feet.
He shoved the foreman aside and screamed until his voice broke.
“Stand back! Get back! I said get back!”
Zion’s eyebrows rose slightly.
Well, that was unexpected.
Until now, the Duke had never spoken Deverien once.
“Don’t touch it! No touching! You fools, no touching!”
‘His homeland’s tongue tumbles out when he’s flustered. How unlike the Duke.’
How strange to hear Dever spoken by someone so steeped in the Empire’s ways.
Though stranger still it wasn’t.
After all, Aleon Lemiconin was the sort of man who’d dyed even his hair gold in his desperate bid to become truly Imperial—his every word shaped in the aristocratic cadence of the Imperial tongue.
Looking at him now, Zion felt a smile pull at his lips.
But the Duke seemed to have misread that smile entirely.
“Your Highness! This is no time for amusement! They’ve seen it! If word gets out, we’ll need to silence them at once!”
“Perhaps.”
Zion picked up a piece of Gold Ore and rolled it across his palm.
“Well, well. Gold, and from my own land no less.”
“Y-Your Highness?”
“I should send word to President Reijo thanking him for such generosity. That ore-laden wasteland, passed over to me so freely. Isn’t he in prison now, serving time for economic crimes?”
Zion turned to look back.
“Winter.”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
“Have a cake sent to President Reijo’s cell. Dust it heavily with gold dust.”
“Very good, sir.”
Then Zion looked at the Duke and twisted his mouth into a smile.
‘The bait is cast.’
Gold enchants people.
Now the hooked fish would open its mouth of its own accord.

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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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