IACGD 39

Chapter 39

A sky heavy with dark clouds. Thick curtains drawn. Zephyrus had extinguished every light in the room and was alone in the darkness.

It was a kind of training.

Ever since Clemens had stepped out to briefly visit the stables, he had been doing this.

It was practice—pushing himself into the dark tension and enduring it.

In truth, even if Clemens left the room, some of that warmth lingered for a while, making the exercise somewhat ineffective.

He was only made more aware of Clemens’ importance.

‘Still, it’s better than doing nothing.’

Even if he went to bed early, sleep wouldn’t come. Zephyrus ran through the simulation one more time: how he would act when meeting Harbi, the Noven merchant lord.

His expression would be confident yet polite. His movements, graceful yet unhesitant.

He based this on Rosia’s advice that a Grand Duke’s position demanded nothing more than commanding trust and respect from others—and resolved to act perfectly.

‘Just a little more practice.’

He devoted himself to the training for some time. The less urgent reports could wait until tomorrow, so nothing disturbed him.

“Impossible!”
“Your Grace! Harbi Noven requests an audience!”

But there was commotion outside.

Harbi Noven—the merchant lord.

No meeting had even been arranged yet. More importantly, it was almost night, and showing up unannounced was rude. It would be unthinkable for him not to acknowledge the Grand Duke.

“Master of the caravan, this really won’t do!”

The knight assigned to escort Harbi tried to hold him back.

“Meet him at once! Immediately!!”

The scraping of the door echoed. His voice carried a desperate urgency, almost compelling one to open the door and let him in.

‘Still… not yet.’

Zephyrus knew his own state. Meeting alone, without Clemens, was still too dangerous.

Besides, the current merchant lord had been in the position long before his father became Grand Duke. Old and frail, clearly. If his nurse were still alive, she’d be of similar age.

Biting his lip, Zephyrus spoke coldly and sharply:

“Do you realize the rudeness you are committing?”

The commotion outside quieted—briefly.

“Your Grace! Please, hear my plea! This old man begs you!”

He had shouted so much that his voice was already hoarse. He continued calling for Zephyrus, as if he would not stop until the door opened.

“Return. I will not see you today.”
“Please! If I see you today, I will never ask again. I beg you, Your Grace!”
“Master of the caravan, you will return today, yes?”
“Your Grace! I will remain here until I am granted an audience!”

Night had already fallen pitch black.

The northern night was cold. Even inside the estate, it was chillier than outside the region. A frail Harbi could hardly endure it.

Kneeling, his knees pressed against the marble, began to ache.

“I said return.”

The Grand Duke’s door remained immovably closed.

‘This is the only time.’

Of course, he hadn’t failed to anticipate being turned away like this. He had intentionally raised his voice to make the estate hear. Surely Nerhi had noticed this too.

Hence the note he left inside the room—threatening that Tey’s medicine would not be delivered if Harbi did not depart tomorrow.

If he couldn’t meet the Grand Duke and left the estate powerless, Nerhi would be reassured.

Even in despair that the sky might collapse, Harbi had thought this through and acted accordingly.

But he had not come with hope.

Hope that the Grand Duke would care for the estate. Belief that the child born between the matron and the previous Grand Duke would not be irresponsible.

But that hope was in vain.

Whatever the current Grand Duke’s problem might be, he still knew perfectly well that not showing his face would leave the people of the estate destitute—and yet…

“Your Grace, today is the only opportunity.”

Harbi made a final plea to Zephyrus.

There was no response.

He rose silently. Knees cracking, legs going numb.

The Grand Duke’s escort knight steadied his staggering body.

“Are you alright?”
“I am fine.”

He did not look fine at all. His gaunt face had gone pale as death. His body shivered uncontrollably.

“Please convey my apologies to His Grace for my rudeness.”
“That is…”
“And tomorrow morning, you must depart immediately—”

Harbi trailed off, suddenly noticing a warm breeze.

Heat spread through his body, stiffened from the cold.

“Looks like Clemens is coming!”
“Clemens?”

The knight’s voice carried relief. Following his gaze, a flash of crimson caught his eye, fluttering through the dark hallway.

“Oh, Kael! You’ve been here all this time?”
“Yes. But… what… what is he bringing?”
“This? A troublemaker?”

Clemens answered casually, then looked at Harbi.

“He must have a reason to see Your Grace today, right?”
“…Yes.”

Nodding, Clemens pounded on the door.

“Master, I’m entering.”

It was not a request. It was an announcement. The knight did not stop this woman.

Harbi had not fully grasped the situation, yet the door opened.

The door, once as solid as stone despite his shouting, moved with startling ease.

Through the open doorway, Zephyrus appeared.

The beautiful Grand Duke seemed relieved.

Harbi and Clemens stepped inside. Clemens closed the door after seeing Kael silently signaling to stay strong.

But there was yet another person accompanying them.

“What is he holding?”

It was someone Clemens had brought.

Their wrists and ankles were already tied with thin ropes, and a cloth was stuffed in their mouth.

“I’ll explain later. For now, talking with your grandfather comes first.”
“Grandfather… are you talking about me?”
“Yes. Just converse comfortably. Consider me the fireplace.”

Clemens deflected Harbi’s question with ease and stepped back.

Naturally, Zephyrus and Harbi faced each other.

Silence fell. Zephyrus, still unprepared, struggled to maintain his composure.

It would have been rude for Harbi to speak first.

But having committed rudeness already, with little time, Harbi knelt and spoke.

“Your Grace, I apologize for my rudeness.”
“…It’s fine. Surely you have urgent matters to discuss.”
“Yes.”

The thought that he could have opened the door sooner lingered at the back of his throat—but he swallowed it. Patience had been one of the virtues that brought him this far.

“I wanted to meet you personally.”
“Did Nerhi command you to see me?”
“Actually… yes?”

Zephyrus could not hide his surprise that the Prunina Grand Duke knew about Nerhi.

“And what did he instruct you to do after meeting me?”

Zephyrus added coldly,

“Sit, and let us talk.”

He gestured, and Clemens brought a chair to the doorway. It reflected Zephyrus’ wish to converse from the maximum possible distance.

Harbi sat slowly. Warm. So warm that a single misstep could loosen his tension.

He exhaled slowly, regaining focus.

“Your Grace did not command this meeting.”
“The merchant lord insisted on seeing me?”

Zephyrus studied him, silently inviting him to continue.

“Why have you abstained from public activity? Why have you secluded yourself? If not, he would not have been able to act so recklessly.”
“I have no desire to speak of myself. I only wish to hear the merchant lord’s account.”
“Why must the Noven merchant lord be with your Prunina? Convince this old man!”

Harbi glared at Zephyrus, eyes bloodshot.

Zephyrus said nothing. This scenario had never appeared in his simulations.

He had anticipated interrogation, denial, eventual confession, and using the lord’s guilt to secure more supplies—but not this face-to-face urgency.

Hence, he was curious. If Nerhi hadn’t sent him, why did he want to meet Zephyrus so desperately?

“Master of the caravan, I understand there must be a reason. But if you do not speak, there is nothing I can do.”
“….”
“You wouldn’t be doing this without wanting something, would you?”

Harbi opened his lips but no sound came out.

Could he trust this person? It was apparent he was thinking that.

Harbi was among the top ten merchants in the Empire, typically skilled at controlling his emotions—but even someone inexperienced like Zephyrus could sense his urgency.

The pressure on Harbi was immense.

Tapping the desk to organize his thoughts, Zephyrus spoke first.

“Are you being threatened?”

Harbi, who had been staring at the floor, slowly lifted his head.

“Certainly Nerhi’s hand is not strong enough to shake the Noven merchant lord. Have you been compromised? Something like corruption?”
“That is impossible.”

Harbi set his jaw with determination.